Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Shadowing Milly (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

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  Special Forces: Operation Alpha, Shadowing Milly

  Alice Bello

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Shadow

  The Russian Princess had a busy morning: An early rise at noon, a venti macchiato from a gourmet coffee house across town (delivered to her hotel suite), half a dry bagel, a mani/pedi (also done in her hotel suite), then a twenty-minute massage, followed by…

  Fuck me!

  This was the dullest, most inane surveillance I’d ever done.

  My target was Nastia Sokolov, the twenty-five-year-old pampered, spoiled-brat-princess daughter of Kazimir Sokolov, the Russian oligarch.

  What’s an oligarch?

  Think gangster.

  Think a state-sanctioned billionaire gangster that serves no one but Vladimir Putin himself.

  And that’s why I, and my skills at surveillance (infiltration, bugging hotel suites, hidden cameras that no amount of sweeping can find, my utter immersion in my prey—I mean, my target’s most minute actions and routines.)

  I’m also really good at slipping in and dispatching said target if I get the order.

  Part of me is always anticipating—hoping for—a kill order.

  That’s why I transferred out of my old squadron, Delta Force, under Ghost (aka Captain Keane Bryson). I enjoyed killing and torturing targets far too much.

  Watching someone and chronicling their every move was better. I didn’t get a kill order that often.

  But that didn’t mean I didn’t hunger for it.

  That’s why I threw myself into spying on my targets—to keep my mind occupied.

  But this assignment…

  Mornings into the late afternoons were spent sleeping off the night before. She usually didn’t go out once she was up—not even to shop. The high priced boutiques and stores came to her.

  The only movement I’d get would be if she decided to eat out with one of her vapid friends before she headed out to the all-night clubs to party her skinny ass off.

  Every.

  Single.

  Night.

  That, at least, got me out of my little hide-e-hole apartment right across the street, commandeered from a recently incarcerated Columbian drug lord.

  But even then it was tedious: some dancing, some recreational drug use—a shit-load of overpriced champagne to rinse it all down, and then repeat.

  Repeat.

  Repeat.

  Repeat.

  At least I had to give her credit for not sleeping around.

  In the three weeks I’d been shadowing her, I hadn’t seen her even kiss a guy… or another girl.

  But all that was about to end.

  I was going on leave in twenty-seven minutes.

  Then little Miss boring-as-fuck Russian Princess would be some other schmuck’s problem.

  Usually, I didn’t like taking time off.

  Too much time off let my mind wander too much, and then I’d start going down the rabbit hole again.

  But this was just a week.

  I could do a week.

  Who was I kidding? I’d probably try and stay wasted on tequila or bourbon the whole week and dry out right before I had to come back—hopefully to a more interesting assignment.

  I didn’t like drinking, but abusing my liver tended to keep me from stalking and murdering some of the special assholes I’ve written down on my Naughty-Fuckers list over the years.

  Though they deserved to be stalked and murdered—and probably tortured for a while too—as I said, I’m trying to cut back.

  Way back…

  My burner phone dinged. A message from Command: Your relief is at the door.

  Finally…

  I opened the door to find Vasquez, a twenty-two-year-old Marine I’ve nicknamed Spider. He has preternatural patience, especially for a guy so young.

  But I’d bet the Russian Princess would test that patience.

  I smiled to myself just imaging him banging his head against the wall for the next few weeks.

  I headed back over to keep watch as Spider unpacked his bag of goodies. Some guns—a really nice Heckler and Koch VP9—a tactical knife or six, a couple changes of clothes and a really big bag of trail mix.

  That was when I noticed that the Princess was dressed already (about three hours earlier than usual) and she was sitting in the living room area of her master suite.

  Interesting…

  Even more interesting, she looked nervous, tapping her fingers on her thighs and checking her iPhone constantly.

  Is she expecting a man?

  Well, at least Spider would have something far more interesting to report on than I had.

  And then, on the screen for the hidden camera I installed over the front door of the hotel suite, a woman in an expensive, elegant business suit walked into frame and rang the doorbell.

  Not one of her usual partying friends. This was a total class act, from her designer duds to the way she had her long, straight hair pulled back in a whip-like ponytail.

  Maybe it’s someone from the Russian consulate?

  Maybe with a message from her father?

  She looked up and I saw her face fully in the monitor...

  And my world turned upside down.

  I gaped at what I was seeing, my mind spinning so fast I was getting dizzy, my heart thudding in my chest like it was trying to pound its way out through my ribcage.

  Milly…

  I leaned in to look harder. Same near black dark hair, same pouty red lips, and the same goddamn frosty blue eyes.

  No fucking way…

  The maid opened the door and ushered Milly in through the foyer and then into the living room, where the Princess waited. I was following her raptly, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t her, just some woman that looked like her.

  I zoomed in on her face as she was greeted by the Princess.

  Shiit…

  I saw her freckles, the light scattering of them on her cheeks.

  Okay, it was her.

  Milly Walsh.

  The only woman I’d ever loved.

  Shit, fuck, damn…

  My heart hammering in my chest, I stood there slack-jawed as Milly and Nastia embraced. Their hug wasn’t for too long. But it was long enough I saw they were definitely friends—not just acquaintances.

  Shiiit…

  I watched as they sat beside each other on the Italian silk sofa that Nastia was having her nails done not long ago.

  Christ…

  Okay… get a fucking grip.

  I inhaled slowly, letting my stone cold drop over me, smothering all other thoughts.

  This was just part of the assignment.

  Milly was now just a new focus. Something new to watch, to record, to study with internet searching, wire-tapping, and questionably legal surveillance.

  I felt a thrill run through me at the thought.

  Watching Milly.

  Stalking Milly.

  Memorizing everything about her.

  Every.

  Single.

  Thin
g.

  I gulped as that thrill turned cold.

  Milly…

  I can’t do that.

  Yes, you can.

  Yes… I can.

  That’s why they call me Shadow.

  I could be standing right behind a target and they would never know I was there.

  Not unless I got that kill order…

  And then it would be too late.

  I shook off all those racing thoughts buzzing around my head, and let my stone cold slide down over me again.

  I could do this.

  I would do this.

  And then the princess handed Milly an envelope.

  It was quick, and the envelope was folded to be easily palmed.

  But that didn’t fool me.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw movement on one of the street surveillance screens. The Princess’ security team (the one that has her bugged just like I do) had moved out of their unmarked black sedans.

  It hadn’t fooled them either.

  Nastia leaned in and whispered something to Milly. Too low for my bugs and hidden cameras to pick up.

  I needed to know what she was saying.

  Just then the security team on the street started moving toward the hotel.

  They’ve engaged.

  Fuck…

  Chapter 2

  They were on the move.

  That meant…

  They heard what Nastia had said to Milly?

  That alone chaffed my ass—they had better toys (professional jealousy).

  When I looked back to the hotel room feeds I saw Milly was up and walking briskly to the doors.

  Shit, shit, shiiit…

  This cannot be happening.

  But my years of training had me throwing on a jacket, strapping on my guns, checking for my knives and heading for the door.

  “Hey,” Spider said, moving over to the monitors. “Was there just someone there?”

  “I didn’t see anyone,” I lied, slipping out the apartment door and into the hallway.

  I pulled out my phone—my special phone—and tapped a few buttons, erasing the last five minutes of the surveillance tape.

  I needed to get downstairs and fast, so I took the stairs, two and three at a time.

  I crashed out the side entrance, out onto the boulevard, dropping my burner phone for work in a trash can and then running across the street and pushing through the gleaming glass doors to the five-star hotel.

  I entered the lobby just in time to see that part of the security team was already surrounding the three elevators, all dressed in matching suits, all wearing dark gray sunglasses.

  Double shit…

  One by one the elevator doors opened—

  And Milly was nowhere to be found.

  Huh…

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her walk past the windows on the other side of the hotel.

  I smiled.

  Sneaky…

  I slipped back out the front doors and started after her.

  She has long legs and walked with real purpose, so I started to jog to catch up.

  My mind was racing, trying to pin down my next course of action.

  One, I could tail her wherever it was she was going, not letting her see me.

  Two, I could scoop her up, take her to my safe house and then whisk her off to another country, disappearing forever. (No, that would be the biggest mistake of my life. I’m trashed inside, and could never inflict that on anyone I cared for. Especially not Milly.)

  Three, kill the security team. Which wasn’t logistically possible in broad daylight in the middle of a busy city street.

  But Milly’s in imminent danger!

  I passed a street vendor with a rack of baseball caps. I pulled a twenty out of my pocket and tossed it to him, grabbing a black cap with a sports team logo on it and drawing it on over my head, pulling the bill down to hide my eyes.

  Okay, four: Get Milly off the street, send her off in a cab, and then beat the unholy crap out of the guys in suits.

  Perfect…

  I glanced over my shoulder to see some of the suits coming out the front door of the hotel, looking around.

  They’d spot her in about five seconds.

  I poured on the speed, sliding through pedestrians until I was just suddenly walking right behind her.

  I was so close to her I could smell her.

  She didn’t wear perfume, but she always smelled like honey and butter and her…

  I licked my lips nervously.

  Do it… do it now!

  I moved up beside her and slid my arm around her shoulders like we were old friends.

  I felt her body stiffen, but I didn’t let her stop walking.

  “I have a gun,” she said.

  Her whiskey voice shot through my body, like the crescendo of a movie, my youth spent with her, first as frienemies, then as so much more—all playing in my mind at once.

  I staggered for a beat, but then pushed it away.

  “You’re getting in that cab,” I growled, putting menace in my voice.

  She gasped and I felt her arms move.

  I took the pepper spray out of her hand before she had a chance to get it in position to use.

  Kudos for thinking fast on her feet.

  She hated guns, so I’d known her I have a gun had been a total lie.

  I steered her toward an idling taxi, throwing the door open and then pushing her down into it, my hand pushing her head down so she didn’t accidentally hit her head.

  She cried out in frustration as I slammed the door shut, threw a fifty to the cab driver and barked, “Go!”

  That’s when Milly’s eyes opened wide and she stared at me.

  My eyes were covered, and I’d kept my face turned away from her.

  But as the cab peeled out from the curb her hand shot out and slapped against the cool glass of the cab’s back window.

  Crap…

  That didn’t go as planned, which was… so not what usually happened.

  I’ve been at this for a while, and when I set out to do something it’s fully thought out and goes just as planned.

  I only improvise when absolutely necessary.

  As the cab disappeared into traffic I remembered the rest of the plan—the plan that was, in part, going straight to shit.

  The security team. Time to beat the stuffing out of them.

  I turned on them as they lumbered to a stop. I didn’t have a weapon out, but they all stopped with their hands tucked in behind their backs, up into their suit coats—ready to pull out their weapons.

  They could tell I was in the business.

  They were better than I’d given them credit for.

  “Guys,” I drawled, walking toward them with my hands up. “Let’s not fight.”

  I could see them all plant their feet, their muscular bodies tensing as if they were a pack of wolves ready to pounce on their prey.

  There were three, so I’d back up a step when they attached, and then reverse course as I deflected, and then started breaking things on them.

  But then the suit in front held up his hand, commanding the others to stand down.

  The other two relaxed, both falling into an at ease pose. But I could tell they could act with violence in an instant. Well trained.

  The suit in front removed his sunglasses, his near-black eyes zeroing in on me like a bird of prey.

  “This isn’t your concern.”

  No shit…

  I hadn’t laid eyes on Milly in more than a decade, and the last time I had…

  It hadn’t gone well at all.

  But that didn’t mean a goddamn thing right now.

  “The woman is under my protection.” If Milly was anything like she’d been in high school, she’d get thoroughly pissed off if she heard me say that.

  The man stared at me, his eyes appraising me. “Then tell Miss Walsh it won’t work.”

  What won’t work?

  “They’ve been down this path before. HE
will not allow it.”

  He?

  And with that, the lead suit put his sunglasses back on, turned around and walked back the way he came, his two clones in tow.

  Okay, that was… strange.

  No fight.

  They didn’t seem to want to chase Milly any further.

  And they left with just one rather lame threat.

  It won’t work.

  This didn’t feel like life or death.

  Which was really… weird.

  Everything in my line of work was life or death.

  Okay… I needed to…

  I felt the cold, sharp blade of seeing Milly again slide into my chest. I replayed her voice as she lied about having a gun, and that made heat roll up my body from the soles of my feet, up through my crotch and then up into my chest, boiling my heart in its own juices.

  I was standing in the middle of Washington Avenue in New York City with a hard-on—and all because my high school sweetheart had shown up in the middle of my J.O.B.

  Crazy wasn’t really the word for it.

  I needed to distance myself from this, the Russian Princess, from Milly—the whole thing.

  That’s not happening.

  I pulled out my phone, the one I had loaded with enough stealthy shortcuts and dormant viruses I could take down a small country, or a couple of government agencies.

  Moments later I had Milly’s entire life since high school pulled up in a detailed report.

  She’d gone to Columbia and was a political science/law double major.

  She’d graduated Summa Cum Laude, and decided to join the state department instead of getting a job using her newly minted law degree.

  That was Milly for you. She’d rather change the world than pay off her student loans.

  She worked and lived on the other side of town, and from the tracking device I’d slipped into her purse (I’m a military grade spy, of course, I slipped a device on her) Milly was back at work.

  I slipped behind the wheel of my current mode of transport—a cherry, black 1976 Chevy Chevelle—and slid through traffic until I was at the United Nations Plaza. I secured a parking spot and then made my way to the US Foreign Mission Office.

  I wasn’t about to go in. That would put my face through their facial recognition software—they had cameras everywhere, so there was no way I could sidestep it. And if someone with my past and skill set walked into the State Department, all hell would break loose.