Midnight Pursuits Read Free Page B

searched for her clothes, dressing soundlessly while her companion continued to snore on the queen-size bed.
    Henry couldn’t die.
    He
couldn’t
.
    He’d been Juliet’s rock when they were growing up, her only friend, her one confidante. He was two years younger than her, yet he’d always felt decades older, even when they were two kids sleeping on a ratty old couch because their foster mother had been too much of a bitch to give up the spare room she’d used as an office.
    They’d protected each other back then—though, if she were being honest,
she’d
done most of the protecting. Henry was too damn sweet and kindhearted, and if it weren’t for Juliet, he probably wouldn’t have survived a day in that foster home. Those protective instincts had stuck with her even when their lives had gone in drastically different directions. They might not be related by blood, but Juliet considered Henry her brother, and if her brother needed her, then she would damn well go to him.
    For a second it occurred to her this might be a trap, but she refused to dwell on the unsettling notion. A woman in her line of work made a lot of enemies, but the good thing about being an invisible assassin was that the people connected to those she killed had no idea she even existed.
    But . . . what if someone had tracked her down? And what if that same someone had shot Henry and was now using him as a pawn to lure Juliet into the open?
    Then you’ll deal with it when you get there
.
    She slipped a thin black sweater over her head, then buttoned up her jeans and bent down in search of her leather boots. She zipped them up without making a peep, having perfected the art of silence. She possessed the ability to move like a ghost, and the man on the bed remained oblivious to the fact that he was about to be ditched in a Vegas hotel room.
    She didn’t feel any remorse. Joe/John had known the score when he’d approached her in the bar.
    What he
hadn’t
known was that he’d just picked up a wanted thief–turned–contract killer who could murder him in his sleep if she chose to.
    As she gathered up the meager items of clothing she’d packed for her weekend getaway and shoved them into her carry-on, she couldn’t help wondering what she might encounter in Minsk. She hadn’t spoken to Henry in six months, but the last time they’d touched base his life had sounded great. He was still working for the Red Cross, still volunteering as a medic in rural hospitals, still madly in love with his longtime girlfriend.
    Had the shooting been a random occurrence? A robbery gone awry? Or were there more sinister undertones to the whole thing?
    She chewed on the inside of her cheek, wishing like hell she wasn’t walking into the situation blind. Her colleagues teased her about being reckless and impulsive, but the truth was, she was more cautious than they gave her credit for. Every move she made was a calculated one, even those that seemed spontaneous. Hopping a plane to Belarus and strolling into a public hospital without vetting it ahead of time wasn’t just impulsive, but potentially dangerous.
    But she had no choice. There were only a handful of people she cared about in this world, and Henry happened to be one of them.
    She conducted a quick sweep of the room, making sure to wipe down all the surfaces she’d touched. She wasn’t particularly worried about anyone lifting her prints, but, hey, better safe than sorry. She had no intention of winding up in the authorities’ clutches again.
    Been there, done that.
    After she’d erased all traces of her presence from the suite, she zipped her leather jacket, picked up her suitcase, and slid out the door. All without sparing another glance at the sleeping man in her bed.
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    Fourteen hours later, an exhausted Juliet was being led to Henry’s private hospital