Free Claiming the East Wind by Anna Hackett

perfect target. She could have slaughtered them where they stood without any of them fighting back.
    Just like what had happened to his team.
    A shock of hot emotion stormed through him, churning his gut. For a second he was back in the Afghan desert—the scent of blood sharp in his nose, air hissing through his punctured lung, sand hot beneath his cheek.
    A flurry of motion snapped him out of his nightmare.
    The bank manager—a woman in a sharp black suit—looked sick, her face pale. Another employee stood wringing his hands in front of the yawning door leading to the vault.
    Gabriel Leven had just lost his prized necklace.
    Spinning, Sean aimed for the front door. He nodded at the men who’d come with him, and they fell in step beside him. Outside, he headed for two black SUVs parked on the street.
    He wrenched open the door. “I need the horologion. Now.”
    The driver grumbled then slapped a small device into Sean’s hand.
    Sean turned his back on the man. Leven’s men were sloppy and undisciplined. Nothing like the well-trained soldiers he’d served with.
    You aren’t a SEAL anymore. As the rest of Leven’s men stood idly around the cars, one lighting up a cigarette, Sean thought about just how far he’d fallen.
    Working for a criminal.
    No. He was nothing like Leven or his men. They were just a means to an end. He needed Leven’s knowledge and resources to rid the world of a dangerous threat it didn’t even know existed.
    He focused on the horologion. It looked like a cellphone with a slightly larger screen. He activated it and waited. Cooked up by the scientists Leven had working for him, this little thing didn’t measure time. It measured the residual trace of when time was stolen.
    The horologion gave a discreet beep. He held it toward the bank. The beeping increased.
    Gotcha. “Stay with the vehicles. I’ll call you when I need you.” He strode down the sidewalk.
    He followed the trail through the city streets. Went through the atrium lobby of the Brown Palace Hotel, pushed through shoppers on the 16 th Street Mall and ended up in the Lower Downtown district with its renovated warehouses.
    The time thief was far from stupid. She always left a complicated trail. He’d almost caught her in New York a week back, but the trail had ended at the East River and he still didn’t know if she’d risked disease by getting in the water.
    She couldn’t steal time again so soon after the bank. Or if she did, she could only hold it a few seconds. Thank God they didn’t have endless power. But her trail was dissipating.
    He glanced up. Union Station.
    Damn . If she’d gotten on a train, he’d lost her.
    Sure enough, the trail ended at one of the platforms. The light rail to Littleton had just left.
    He cursed, shoving the horologion in his jacket pocket. He yanked out his cellphone and barked orders to the men. A team would be waiting at the next stop, but he knew she wouldn’t be on the train.
    A fine job he was doing avenging his men. He ran a hand through his hair. It had lost its military precision, now more unkempt than anything. Just the way he felt most days.
    Something pinged along his senses.
    He stilled. His instincts had been forged in his intense SEAL training and honed in war. They’d saved his life too many times for him to ignore them.
    He turned slowly, careful to keep his shoulders slumped in failure.
    She stood beside a pillar on the adjacent platform. Straight. Still. Watching him. Somewhere during their chase, she’d ditched the wig and suit for well-worn jeans and a non-descript gray sweater.
    Sean really wished she looked evil. Like the thief who’d slaughtered his men. That thief had been a Taliban fighter, had looked like the enemy.
    This woman looked fragile. Medium height, compact frame, honey-blonde hair that was ruler straight. Eyes the color of the palest moss green.
    But she was tough. She’d evaded him for months.
    He strolled toward the entrance, hands in his pockets. He