Free Out of Sight by Cherry Adair Page A

the k—" Her mouth snapped shut.
    The door was closed, but not latched. AJ tightened her grip on the Sig. She wouldn't be caught flat-footed again. Weapon held in both hands, she motioned she was going in.
    He nodded.
    They burst through the door, Kane high, AJ low.
    She did a quick visual scan of the large, shabby room. Her nose wrinkled at the rank smell in the place, and she quickly started breathing through her mouth.
    Nothing was out of place that she could see, but there was definitely something wrong. Something…
    Weapon at the ready, she rounded the dirty beige sofa, making certain her eyes followed the same line as the barrel of the Sig. Constantly in motion, she scanned her surroundings.
    Shabby. Cheap. Transient. A typical safe house. Nothing unexpected.
    Living room. Open-plan kitchen. Two bedrooms.
    Quiet as a tomb.
    Smelled like one, too.
    Narrow-eyed, she turned in a slow circle, the Sig leading the way, keeping Kane in her peripheral vision. He moved soundlessly about the room and into the kitchen. For a large man he walked as silently, and as gracefully, as a dancer. AJ completed her circle.
    Something on the sofa snagged her attention. She stared for several moments at the obscene splash of dark brownish-red on the oily cushions.
    Droplets of blood sprayed out in a high-velocity pattern from a central point on the middle seat. Resting smack dab in the center lay a small object. A small bloody object.
    Clearly something severed right where it lay…
    "Jesus God!" she whispered. The blood drained from her head.
    Kane came back around the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. "Nothing. I'll check the be—"
    AJ pointed. "Is that what I think it is?"
    "Yeah," he said grimly, coming up beside her. "If what you think it is is someone's tongue."
    "Oh, crap…" She breathed a little heavier through her mouth, and looked a bit paler under the dirt, but she took it well. Thank God she didn't freak out. He had enough to deal with.
    AJ's head turned toward him, but her eyes were still glued on the gory calling card, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She blinked, then switched her focus and looked at him steadily—in control again.
    He'd never noticed just how green her eyes were before. Must be her pallor and the dirt. He'd never seen anyone with eyes quite that clear, pale, summer grass color.
    Christ. He really didn't want AJ Cooper here. A woman—hell, nobody—should have to see shit like this. Looking at her standing there in her filthy black clothing, her face pale and streaked with dirt, her sleeve torn from a gunshot, Kane felt every protective instinct inside him rear up and shout. She was made for silk sheets and candlelight, not cordite and blood.
    She shouldn't—Christ.What the hell was he thinking? She wasn't his to protect. Cooper was an operative. It was her job to deal with things like this. She'd made the choice to enter the game. Now it was time to learn the rules.
    She cleared her throat. "Whose?"
    "Only two choices. Struben or the houseboy."
    "God, what's that smell?" She frowned, absently rubbing her forehead. "Never mind. Let's get the search over with. I doubt they left any other evidence, but we can check, anyway. I'll take this one. You take that one."
    "Yes, ma'am," he said tongue in cheek. He'd gotten the closest bedroom and, he suspected, the source of most of the stench.
    Weapon up and ready, he moved through the doorway. His glance was swift and all-encompassing.
    The bed had been slept in. Struben. He'd been napping, had been hauled up and out of it, taken by surprise. A Glock was exposed by the strewn bed pillows, but there'd been no time to fire it.
    The prints of several pairs of feet on the carpet indicated at least four men besides his operative. Struben had had the shit beaten out of him against the far wall—blood splatter indicated blunt force, probably many well-placed fists, then he'd been dragged across the carpet—here, more indications of a