Free Out of Sight by Cherry Adair Page B

scuffle, more blood. A lot more blood. Fresh. A body's worth of blood and fluid puddled on the matted carpet.
    Kane's gut twisted. They'd hauled the man, battered and bleeding, into the living room to interrogate him. When he'd refused to talk they'd cut out his tongue to show they meant business, and then dragged him back into the bedroom. Kane could see how it all had played out. It ran like a video in his brain.
    Struben had still been alive. His nails had left striped furrows in the matted carpet on either side of his body as he lay bleeding. He'd tried to crawl. Fallen over. Here. And here.
    They'd offed him. Right here. Three feet from his fully loaded weapon.
    The foul smell wafted from the small adjoining bathroom. The door was ajar. Kane kicked at it. Hard.
    Stuck.
    Bingo.
    Wedging his shoulder into the eight-inch gap, he used his full weight to force the door, and whatever was behind it, to move enough for him to see inside.
    Struben. Or what was left of him.
    "Jesus. You didn't go quietly into that good night, did you, you poor, sorry bastard? "
    He'd bled out, but defensive wounds on his hands indicated he'd got in a few good hits. Too few, too late.
    "Anything?"AJ called, coming into the bedroom soundlessly.
    "Don't come in here." Kane's voice was grim. She'd been cool so far, but this was sure to set her off.
    "Why no—" She narrowed her eyes, then the penny dropped. "Oh, hell. Who?"
    "Struben."
    "Let me in there." She came up behind him and lay her hand on his arm. "Call for cleanup."
    Kane glanced down at her fingers on the black fabric covering his forearm. Her slender hand was filthy, the short nails broken and chipped. He didn't know why he noticed her hand, or how fragile it looked. All he knew was, he didn't want her to see what the tangos had done to Richard Struben.
    "He's beyond help," he told her flatly, braced for her tears, and probably hysteria.
    "Yeah, I know," she said gently, but he saw the shudder that coursed through her body. "Dead operatives are an unpleasant reality in our business, aren't they?" The rim of her full lips was white, and a rapid pulse skittered at the base of her slender throat as she stood, straight as a soldier, looking at the carnage. "It doesn't get easier to deal with, either, does it?"
    "Wait in the other room."
    "It's okay—I'm okay. Let me do my job." She looked at him through cool green eyes that looked a hell of a lot steadier than he'd expected.
    She'd seen death close up and personal a few months before. Was her therapist right? Had she worked through it? Kane would have said no yesterday. But now? Maybe. Curious, he stepped aside. AJ slid between his body and the door-jamb, then crouched down beside Struben's body. Teeth biting her lower lip, she felt, unnecessarily, for a pulse at his throat, then gently closed the man's staring eyes.
    She stepped over the body, and turned on the water in the sink to wash her hands. She caught Kane's eye in the mirror.
    "I'll call it in," he told her. "Go ahead and collect what we'll need. I want us gone before the garbage detail arrives."
    Calmly she finished washing her hands, her booted heels inches away from a dead man, who looked like a raw side of beef, and smelled like a latrine.
    Her throat worked as she dried her hands then stepped over the body a second time. "I wasn't finished in the other room. Be right back."
    A few seconds later he heard her puking her fear out in the kitchen. He was tempted to go in there and help her, but he knew damn well she wouldn't appreciate it right now.
    While water ran in the other room, he made the call. Arranged cleanup of the body and told Control they were on the way to the Ra.
    Christ. The hits just kept on coming. "Clear," AJ said, coming back into the room. Her face had been scrubbed clean. Her eyes were shadowed, but she met his gaze with a steel he hadn't noticed in her before. She'd puked, yeah, but so would most people when faced with what had been left of Struben. And damned