Savage Beauty (The Arrow Tactical Series Book 5)

Chapter 5

“Hey. Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to move. Sloane and I are headed to the airport.”

“Wait. What happened?” Knox sounds groggy. “Hold on a minute.”

I wait, sitting back in the den section of the hospital suite. There’s a nurse beside Sloane, preparing to remove the IV line. The doc cleared us to leave, but I’ve got a whole page of symptoms to watch out for. The flight we’re about to board is a long one, and Stella couldn’t get business class seats, but she managed to get us two first-class seats at the last minute. I can’t even imagine how much those puppies cost.

Click.

“Hey, I’m out in the hall. Sage is sleeping.”

“Figured. Sorry about that, man. We got an alert that two men connected to Solonov went through customs in Kuala Lumpur. Could be unrelated. In fact, chances are it’s unrelated. If they wanted to come through undetected, they would’ve come in on a boat somewhere in Malaysia and driven here.”

“Not everyone has the resources for a water entry. I’ll wake Sage.”

“No. I don’t think you need to. I found a small tracker inside Sloane’s shoe. You know those cloth things she was wearing with the grassy woven sole?”

“Yeah.”

“After we got the call, Sloane said she had nothing with her other than the clothes on her body. So, I found those shoes and dug a knife into them. Bingo.”

“Shit. I checked her for jewelry…didn’t think about the shoes.”

“Yeah, well, Sloane’s determined to get to the bottom of this. She and I are boarding a commercial flight to Los Angeles, then we’re going to take a private plane to the Caymans.”

“Run that by me again.”

“You’re taking Sage back to Asheville on the flight tomorrow, as planned. They shouldn’t have any way of locating you and Sage. But be alert.”

“And what exactly are you planning on doing in the Caymans?”

“Sloane wants to get her stuff. Her laptop. And…” I let out a loud sigh, letting him know I’m not totally on board with this plan. “She believes if she can get on her work server, she can figure this out. She wants to access that report she was working on. See who else accessed it. Look at it again to see if that could be what kick-started this. She’s as confused as we are about why someone would come after her. Why they’d keep her alive.”

“If they’re killing over data, it’s no longer accessible.”

“I’m aware, bro. But she’s determined. And I can see it from her side. What’s she going to do? Run from all this indefinitely? Plus, she’s worried about her boss. Wants confirmation that she’s okay. Reason dictates her boss is involved, but Sloane swears she wouldn’t be.”

“Dammit.” Frustration drips in his huff. “Sage is going to want to be there.”

“Sloane mentioned that. She said we couldn’t tell Sage the truth. Suggested we tell Sage about the men, so she knows to be careful, and that we moved her out of the country tonight as a safety precaution. She says we should tell Sage that she’s flying to DC, and that she’ll meet up with her in Asheville soon.”

“I don’t mind that plan.”

“Figured you wouldn’t.” Sure, he promised Sam he’d take care of both sisters, but he’s in love with only one of them.

“What about you? Is Arrow sending someone to join you?”

“Still working on that. Spoke to Jack about an hour ago. He says there are other parties interested in this, and to do whatever we need to do.” Of course, Jack’s also committed to finding those responsible for Felix’s death. We all are.

“Did he say which parties?” Knox’s question comes through hushed and laced with frustration.

“Interpol. CIA. They want whatever information Sloane can gather. Did you know that Sam Watson met with Jack Sullivan?”

“Jack mentioned it to me once. He was considering a gig with the CIA and wanted to gain insight from Jack.”

“Right.” I force the fact Knox didn’t mention it to me earlier to slide off my back. “Well, it’s not unusual to consider all options. But do you think that’s why Jack’s so supportive of helping the Watson sisters? I mean, obviously, now Arrow is engaged. Felix’s death guarantees we’ll see this through to the end. But at the beginning? Do you think that’s why he didn’t hesitate to help Sage?”

“A man like Jack has so much money, it’s beyond our comprehension. The man probably earns hundreds of millions of dollars in interest and dividends each year. He doesn’t think like we do, Max. And he’s also a good businessman. If he’s got outside entities interested, he’s either charging them or seeing this as a way to deepen relations.”

Right. Sure, he’d bankroll us without outside interest, but he’ll take advantage of outside interest if he can. Just like a good businessman. “Well, the boss man also shared with me he can’t tell me everything that’s going on. You can take the guy out of the CIA, but you can’t take the CIA out of the guy.”

“You’d think he’d want you to have all the information before you went out there.” Knox’s statement mirrors my thoughts.

“Agree.”

“I’m sure it’s some rank level, security clearance BS,” Knox says.

“No doubt.” The BS part is especially foul, though, when we’re working for a private entity. “Well, you keep Sage safe.”

“Want me to get your stuff from the hotel room?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’d say I’d go back to get it, but I risk bringing a tail right to you.”

My phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming text and emits a beep, something that only happens when there’s an urgent text.

Erik

Spotted Solonov’s associates on traffic cams. Possibly headed your way.

Shit. And there’s got to be a delay on that information. Unless maybe the source is Interpol.

“I gotta run,” I say to Knox.

“I see that,” he says, making it clear he got the text, too. “Get out of there. We’ll be behind you tomorrow.”

When I end the call, the nurse is wrapping up with Sloane. There’s a bandage on the back of Sloane’s hand that secures a large cotton ball over the IV needle insertion point. The nurse is probably in her mid-thirties, and her black hair is pulled back into a tight, rounded bun. Her English is solid. We haven’t had any issues speaking English since arriving in this prestigious hospital.

“All okay?” I ask the nurse, wondering how quickly we can move. I’d like to get out of here and as far away from that disabled tracker as possible.

The nurse smiles and nods. Sloane swings her legs off the hospital bed, and her bare feet remind me she can’t very well wear the shoes I decimated with my knife, and she’ll stand out walking through the Kuala Lumpur airport in the tattered dress.

“Where can I get some clothes for Ms. Watson?”

“There’s a shopping center nearby,” the nurse answers with her back to me. She’s writing information on a chart.

“Anything in the hospital?”

“The gift shop might have something. I believe they have sweatshirts, sweatpants, that kind of thing. But I don’t believe you’ll find shoes here. Maybe bedroom slippers.” She tilts her head as if she’s giving it serious thought.

“You okay coming down in that gown?” I ask Sloane. It ties in the back, and I’m not about to mention this to her, but I have a view of her spine and the top of her ass. My gaze catches on the divots along her spine and her noticeable ribcage. Christ, they must’ve starved her for the last several weeks. Hopefully, that IV loaded her up with nutrients as well as hydration.

“I can’t go down like this. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Her statement doesn’t exactly surprise me. I’ve got a sister, and I’m pretty sure Natalie would say the exact same thing. Trouble is, we’ve got two tangos in the wind. The nurse must sense my apprehension.

“I can stay with her if you like. The shopping center is just?—”

“I’ll go to the gift store. Where’s that?”

“Main level. There’s an information desk you can ask for directions, but it’s around the corner from the elevators.”

I come around to face Sloane. Her gaze is on the ground, making it a little difficult to get a read.

“You okay with that?” I ask.

It’s not exactly my preferred plan, but we need to be quick. My other option would be to wait here with her until Knox made it over with clothes. Sage had already thought about clothes for her, and I’m pretty sure she has some back at the hotel. But I don’t want to risk exposing Knox and Sage. And we need to get on the move.

“I’m fine,” Sloane says. “I need to go to the restroom, anyway.”

All right. She probably doesn’t want me here for that. There’s a thin panel bathroom door that does nothing to muffle sounds.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

The nurse smiles brightly. “I’ll stay with her. She’ll be fine.”

I don’t waste any time making my way to the elevator and then locating the gift store. As I’m paying for an oversized sweatshirt with the words “Kuala Lumpur” down one sleeve, sweatpants with a hospital logo on the top right side, plain white socks, and silky slippers decorated with golden dragons, I read the name tag of the person checking me out.

A vision of the nurse flashes before me. No name tag.

My gut twists. It’s got to be nothing. Solonov’s associates would be men.

At the elevator bank, I stand around checking my phone for any updates, blending in with all the others waiting, but with every glance seeking a green arrow, I wonder if I shouldn’t find a stairwell. But no. By the time I found a stairwell, the elevator would’ve arrived.

I shoot off a text to Erik, requesting details on the associates.

The elevator dings, and I, along with five others, shuffle on. One nurse pushes an elderly man in a wheelchair. She’s speaking to him in Mandarin. A middle-aged woman holds the hand of a young girl. The girl is holding a small teddy bear and a balloon. They were in the gift shop with me. And there’s a man in scrubs, lost in the phone in his hand. He’s wearing a name tag that identifies him as Hilmi.

When we arrive on the second floor, the nurse pushing the old man’s wheelchair moves as slow as molasses. It takes every bit of self-control not to push her aside and shove the wheelchair into the hallway.

Forty-five seconds later, we’re on my floor, but damn if it didn’t feel like forty-five minutes.

I barge down the hallway, ignoring the greetings from the front desk. Sloane’s suite door is closed, and I shove the door open, scanning the room like I’m on deployment.

Blood coats the tile floor.

Sloane stands over the nurse’s body, a bloody scalpel in her hand. The nurse’s eyes are open in surprise, but her eerie gaze tells me all I need to know. She’s no longer alive.

“Are you okay?” I close the door behind me as I scan Sloane for injury.

“She told me I needed to come with her. I refused. She picked up a needle. It was self-defense. They aren’t taking me again.”

I nod, approaching slowly. She’s still holding the scalpel, no doubt processing what happened. “It’s okay. Sometimes death preserves life.” It’s a phrase I held to my heart over the years as a soldier.

“I know that,” she snaps, holding the scalpel higher. “My fingerprints are on this.” Is she in shock? “The scalpel was on a tray of instruments. If I could’ve put it through her eye, there would be less blood, but I didn’t have the right angle. I like this scalpel better than any of Sam’s knives. It slices easily.”

“Sam taught you knife skills?” I continue my cautious approach, careful to steer clear of the pooling blood. We don’t have the time to get caught up in an interrogation. We have a flight to catch, and the sooner we get to the airport and out of this place, the better off we are. If she’s in shock, I’ll have to ease her out of here.

“He wanted to teach me to shoot guns. But I don’t like guns. I refused. I will not touch a gun. He taught me how to use knives.”

“You want to give that to me?” I’m close enough now. The shopping bag is in one hand, and I hold out the other arm for her to hand me the weapon.

“Then your prints will be on it.”

“How about I clean it? You get dressed.” I glance around the room, knowing I need to buy us time. We need to be through security before they discover this body. If I put the body in a closet, maybe we’ll get lucky and no one will discover her until after we’re long gone.

“What about the blood?” Her gaze is fixed on the floor and the slowly spreading pool.

There are blankets near the sofas, and a container for used hospital gowns and sheets stands in the corner. Towels might be in the bathroom or a closet.

“You get dressed. I’ll take care of it.” Cleaning a scene isn’t an area of expertise, but I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years from some of our more covert operations.

“Did you get me shoes?”

“Slippers.” With a glance at the body on the ground, I say, “More like fleece lined silky socks. She was right. That was all they had.”

Sloane twists the scalpel, placing the handle in my palm, and bends down next to the nurse’s feet where she unfastens the dead woman’s shoes. “I think she’s about my size.”

Who would’ve thought it? Sloane Watson is a cutthroat badass.