Exit Strategy Read Free

without the glasses that he’d pocketed when he found them on her bedroom floor. Most ­people in her position would have cowered before him instead of acting like a little warrior, trying to bite through his shirt even though he was twice her size. He’d had to work at not laughing when she’d threatened to kick his balls up to his throat. She definitely had spunk and courage, which—­unfortunately—­only added to her appeal.
    When he’d carried her through her backyard, her sexy, round bottom bouncing so temptingly next to his face, a fog of lust had slammed into him until all he could think about was the feel of her soft thighs beneath his hand. He hadn’t planned on stopping in the clearing. It had been an act of desperation, to put some space between them so he could reengage his brain. And then she’d ruined that plan by pelting him with questions while her nipples formed mouthwatering, tight peaks against her shirt. Add to that her arrow-­straight, no-­nonsense black hair that swished halfway down her back, and sassy bangs that framed her defiant blue eyes, and he’d been lost.
    He swore viciously. He was a fool to have let her rattle him. The only reason she had was because Ramsey, his friend from his army days, had raised questions about Sabrina’s guilt. Or, more accurately, the concerns of Ramsey’s friends —­a former enforcer and his wife who both believed Sabrina’s EXIT order had been faked, even though they were still trying to prove it.
    Mason had always been honored to work as an enforcer for EXIT, to bridge the security gap left by the traditional alphabet agencies. Killing, when he was called upon to do so, wasn’t something he relished or enjoyed. But sacrificing one evil life in exchange for dozens, hundreds, or even one innocent life, was a trade he was compelled, and duty bound, to make. He couldn’t stomach the idea of waiting for a heinous crime to be committed if he could stop it ahead of time. Inaction, allowing ­people to die when he could have saved them, was inexcusable.
    But only if the target, the mark, was truly guilty of the charges listed in the EXIT order.
    Mason was betting—­ hoping —­that Ramsey’s friends were frauds and they couldn’t prove their claims. Because, if Sabrina was innocent, if her EXIT order was wrong, then other orders could have been wrong. Which meant that ­people he’d terminated in the past could have been innocent too. That prospect was too horrible to contemplate.
    He checked the GPS tracker on the multipurpose unit on his wrist. The tiny transmitter he’d tacked onto Sabrina’s nightshirt when he’d first picked her up gave a strong, clear signal. She was heading due west. Convenient.
    After taking off in a jog, he noted the GPS coordinates on his watch and made a call on his cell phone. “Guide to base. Over.”
    The phone crackled. “Base here. Over.”
    “Tracking target. Heading your way. ETA ten minutes. Over.”
    “ Tracking? You didn’t acquire the target?”
    Mason gritted his teeth. Having someone question his actions was another new and entirely unpleasant experience, especially since the person doing the questioning was a man he’d spoken to only once, in the rushed meeting Ramsey had arranged less than two hours ago. A meeting that had put him behind on his mission.
    Since he hadn’t called in and sent a picture as proof of death, EXIT had probably already dispatched another enforcer to terminate Sabrina. Which was why Mason had been in such a rush that he’d been sloppy, breaking the glass in her door to get in quickly and get her out of harm’s way before someone else showed up. A decision that had ended up being a mistake since it had warned her of his presence and sent him on a time-­eating search through the house for her.
    Now he was risking his career—­and his life—­based on his friend Ramsey’s trust in a former enforcer turned rogue whose past was shrouded in rumors and secrecy. Ramsey might