Page 28 of Lethal Vengeance

The door swings open, and two more guards rush in, quickly following the first. Neither of them looks up.

I let my head drop back to rest on the concrete wall. This is as good a place to hide as any. Once it’s dark, I’ll make my way out of the facility. Hopefully, the guards will soon return to their normal routines.

* * *

Standingin one spot for two hours is brutal. Why have I never realized that fact? Maybe because I never could be still. My mother used to laugh and tell me I skipped crawling and walking and went straight to running, because I was in a hurry from the minute I was born.

My mouth twists at the memory. It’s been so long since I thought of her. With a laid back personality, her green eyes constantly sparkled with life and laughter, and her zest for fun infected everyone around her until we had no choice but to join in on her shenanigans.

An ultra-serious child, I would roll my eyes in protest, but even I wasn’t impervious to her charms. She once told me it was her job to make sure I spent time laughing and playing, so I would look back on my childhood with no regrets.

She was right. I treasure those moments more than anything.

Sometimes when I dream, I see her in heaven with my father and stepfather, their arms around each other, laughing. It hurts more than I can describe to know I won’t ever be there with them.

Sophia is never with them, either. She’s here, waiting for me to avenge her death and give her peace. When I’m done, she’ll be able to move on and join them.

A soft whistle jerks me out of my dark thoughts, and I look down to find Cruz below me with his arms outstretched. He came back for me.

Blinking, I scramble to maneuver around until my body hangs off the beam, then I let go. Strong arms catch my waist, and he lowers me to the ground.

He holds a finger to his lips. Moving fast, he heads for the door.

Following tightly behind him, I watch the fluid way he moves, his body weightless against the gravity that pulls me down. Pure stealth.

A clumsy step to my right, and a sharp sound punctures the silence.Damn it.We can’t stop, though. With my lip between my teeth, I focus on making the next step quieter.

The open gate at the corner finally appears.

“How far to the car?” I murmur, swiping at the sweat on my face.

“Three miles,” his low voice answers.

“How did you learn to move so quietly?” I ask, curious about the training one must go through to become a ghost.

He says nothing for a minute. “When I was a kid growing up in North Carolina, a man came to visit once a month. He would train me—how to walk silently, hide in plain sight, use weapons, take a hit without sound. After he left, I’d practice every day until he returned to teach me something new. By the time I was an adult, it was ingrained in me.”

His voice is full of undercurrents. I tilt my head. “Did your parents hire him?”

“No. He’d show up, my mother would kiss me on the forehead, then send me with him. He stopped coming when I went off to college,” he states, his tone matter-of-fact.

His mother.“He was your father.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

A lot of muddy water under that bridge.

“Did you ever see him again?” I tentatively ask, wondering if he’ll answer.

“When I graduated from college, he offered me a job with the CIA,” he reveals nonchalantly, but I can’t help but shiver.

If it quacks like a duck…

“He trained you all your life so he could offer you a job with the CIA? He was a spy, too?” I press, knowing the answer but wanting him to confirm it.

“Yes. We’re almost to the car. Another half mile,” he informs me.