Free Athena Force 12: Checkmate by Doranna Durgin Page A

Monihan from assassination attempts. Air Force Captain Josie Lockworth, Diana’s sister, had done recent breakthrough work on the Predator spy plane. And then there was Tory herself.
    He wondered if she’d take a call from a man who had an inside scoop on this story.
    But first he needed his scoop. Call me, Selena. Call.
    Trust me.
     
     
     
    Distraction almost did her in.
    Selena stopped to look into the hostage room on her way out of the not-so-secret passageway and almost betrayed herself with a curse. For just as she peeked, several guards stepped into the room, grabbing Deputy Prime Minister bin Kuwaji one to an arm and dragging him toward the door without giving him a chance to fully catch his balance. The man Selena had privately identified as Tafiq Ashurbeyli stepped into the doorway, just far enough to snap a command. The rebels stopped long enough for bin Kuwaji to reclaim his feet, their expressions resentful. Then they marched him out the ballroom door—and, when Selena hurried back to the ballroom peephole, she was just in time to see the deputy PM being hustled through the double-doored entrance.
    This can’t be good.
    Selena hesitated. Any influence she had would be used up in one great big splurt of glory if she was caught following them—and she was very likely to be caught. And meanwhile she could stay out of sight, taking the long way back to the prime minister’s office and his private phone, where she could pass along what she knew. She had a preliminary insider’s view of the situation no one else could provide.
    Unless, of course, she died before she made that phone call.
    Make the call. She tendered mental apologies to the deputy prime minister, hoping the best for him. And she was halfway back down the corridor when something bumped the wall, making a loud noise in a small space.
    As in, I’m no longer alone.
    She wasn’t ready for a confrontation. The Kemenis knew she was here, but they didn’t yet know how much of a problem she intended to be. They hadn’t placed a high priority on locating her—or else the ballroom would have been empty, and the rebels would have been out combing the building for her. Instead here came a clueless clod of a Kemeni, probably confident he wouldn’t run into anyone within this serving corridor. They were two trains on the same track, heading for a wreck.
    She would have rolled her eyes if she’d had time. She didn’t. She fumbled for the recessed push-ring for the thin door to the adjacent function room and slipped through, closing it as quickly as she could while remaining silent. Even so, there was the slight snick of the door settling back into place—little more than reinforced wallboard, it had no latch, just a snug fit—and if he was closer than she’d thought, he could well have seen the brief spear of light shafting into the corridor.
    Be careless, she thought fiercely at him—but she reached into her pocket and withdrew the ice pick, fitting it through the center of her fist so the knob settled into the natural depression between the wrap of her thumb and index finger. It wasn’t a kubotan, but it would do.
    She barely settled herself into place against the wall beside the door when she heard blunt fingers scrabbling against the inset latch on the other side. Great. Just once, she wanted a careless one. She slid down to crouch against the wall as he pushed the door open to scan the interior of the room.
    Selena drove up from beneath, whipping her arm up from the elbow to slam the side of her wood knob-enhanced fist into the man’s temple. Right on cue, his eyes rolled back; he dropped heavily to the floor. “Shhh!” she hissed at him. “Be quiet!”
    But she didn’t hesitate to see if the noise had been noticed. She shouldered his assault rifle and dragged him back into the corridor, closing the door firmly behind them. Without much care for his already insulted head, she grabbed his ankles and hauled him toward the kitchen, stopping