Wraith (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) Read online

  Wraith (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

  GSG 9 - CIRO Book 4

  Kendra Mei Chailyn

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kendra Mei Chailyn

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  Books by Susan Stoker

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2018 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Special Forces: Operation Alpha Fan-Fiction world!

  If you are new to this amazing world, in a nutshell the author wrote a story using one or more of my characters in it. Sometimes that character has a major role in the story, and other times they are only mentioned briefly. This is perfectly legal and allowable because they are going through Aces Press to publish the story.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I might have assisted with brainstorming and other ideas about which of my characters to use, I didn’t have any part in the process or writing or editing the story.

  I’m proud and excited that so many authors loved my characters enough that they wanted to write them into their own story. Thank you for supporting them, and me!

  READ ON!

  Xoxo

  Susan Stoker

  About the book

  A missing priceless piece of art and an impromptu trip to Russia– what could possibly go wrong?

  Amelia Hemmingway’s estranged father goes missing for ten years and in one day, he manages to upturn her perfect life. Soon, she’s hurtling to the cold white north of God’s Nowhere, North Bay. Even though all she wants to do is hide, Amelia knows if she wants her life back, she will have to fight. To make matters worse, the man who is supposed to protect her is a grumpy as all hell, wolf owning, ex Canadian Special forces soldier.

  Could things get any worse?

  Ex-JTF2 soldier Liam “Wraith” Snyder never thought he would ever step foot back on Russian soil much less be dodging bullets and playing chicken with armed crooks. He is way too old for that mess. But when Amelia shows up on his doorsteps, a promise Tex made to her father will come back to haunt Liam.

  As the bullets fly, and they venture deeper and deeper into the frozen tundra, it will take all his connections to get them out alive—and keep his heart.

  Prologue

  They say when someone was about to die, their life flashes before their eyes. Liam didn’t have the pleasure. All he had was darkness. Perhaps it was because his anger outweighed everything else. In frustration, he dragged his fingers through his dark hair, pushing the strands off his forehead. It didn’t escape him, he needed a haircut, but he looked Russian with it having some length

  Liam stared at his reflection in the mirror—partly to ask himself what he was thinking taking this job and partly to remember what he looked like under all the smoke and mirrors. His green eyes were set with angry determination as he pressed the tiny silver phone against his ear.

  When no answer came to either of his questions, Liam paced the room in frustration. He had been tracing the same man for three months. The drive to find Melora was unlike anything he’d ever felt. It was wild, all consuming—an obsession driving him almost to the brink of madness. It was his life’s work. Nothing else before this mattered and nothing after would. Now they wanted him to give it all up and leave.

  Ivan Melora was bad news. He was the type of reprobate who sold drugs to children, pushed kids into sexual slavery and didn’t care who he harmed in the process. As long as the money kept rolling in, he didn’t mind scarring kids for life and ruining families.

  Liam’s blood ran cold through him and to calm his racing heart, he folded the fingers of his free hand into a fist. Give up? How could they ask him to? Liam didn’t like the idea. The truth was, he didn’t want to leave until Melora was in jail or six feet under.

  “We’re pullin’ you out,” John “Tex” Keegan said, his rich accent troubled. “It’s not safe.”

  “What do you mean?” Liam Snyder growled. “Melora is still out there. We’re no closer to getting him than we were a year ago and you want me to leave?”

  “I understand you want this guy, Wraith,” Wolf said from the other side of the world. “And I would be the first to applaud you when you do get him. But if you don’t get out now, you’re dead…”

  “You’re being dramatic,” Liam pointed out. “It’s not like my cover’s been blown or anything. I haven’t compromised myself.”

  Tex and Wolf went quiet.

  Silence wasn’t at all like them.

  “Guys?” Liam asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Um—Wraith, your cover’s been blown.” Wolf was the first to speak up.

  Liam’s heart sank. He stopped pacing the room and arched a brow. Those were the words an agent never wanted to hear when under such deep cover.

  “Head to the embassy in Moscow,” Wolf advised. “I don’t know how yet, but we’ll extract you.”

  Liam was numb. For a moment, he’d even forgotten he was on the phone.

  “Did you hear me, Liam?” Wolf questioned urgently. “Did you hear what I just said? Get out now. You’ve been made. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t have people coming to you as we speak.”

  “How…how?”

  “I don’t know. I think we have a leak,” Wolf said. “Tex is already working out the logistics. The only thing is, we can only get you help in Moscow without starting a new cold war.”

  A knock came at the door. Liam swung around to face it. He frowned and flipped the phone closed before Wolf or Tex could say anything else. His heart raced.

  He moved without focusing on any of the blasting red alert alarms inside his head. Nerves could get him killed and Liam did not intend on dying in some sketchy hotel in ass-fuck-nowhere Russia.

  He moved quickly and quietly across the room out of the range of the peep hole. He wanted whoever was knocking to think he wasn’t there or he was taking some time to answer the door. It wasn’t a friend knocking. No one knew he was there—well, no one but Wolf and Tex. In the neighbourhood, someone didn’t just walk up to a strange door and started knocking.

  Making such a mistake cost lives.

  Moving like a crab, he picked up his always packed bag and shoved his arms into it before slipping out the balcony door. He stayed low and glanced
over the railing. They were all standing there, waiting. At first, he was disappointed they thought he was so stupid as to rush out the back without checking. But then he shook his head to bring himself back to reality. These people wanted him to die—slow and painful or quick and painless—they didn’t care how.

  Liam pressed his back against the filthy wall and squeezed his eyes shut. He had to find a way out without going out the front or the back. The knockers were getting more impatient by the second and were banging on the front door.

  A decision had to be made—fast. As much as he hated the fact, the front door was the only way out. They wouldn’t have brought many men. There were way too many eyes around.

  In that second, it dawned on him, he was way too old for this mess. Liam fidgeted with the straps of his back pack and then inhaled. He held the breath, exhaled and looked around one final time, a way of ensuring nothing was left behind to track him. He then took off running in a sprint for the locked door. Leaping in the air, He slammed into the door feet first. The impact caused the wood to splinter outward.

  The men waiting outside screamed in pain—perhaps because of flying splinters to the face. Liam didn’t care. His brain was focused on getting out of there without a bullet.

  To take the pressure off his feet and hips, Liam hit the ground and rolled before springing to his feet. Someone grabbed him around the waist. Liam planted himself then shoved backward until they both stopped against a wall. His captor grunted but it had the desired effect. The man’s arms loosened, and Liam took advantage by sinking his nails into the man’s arms. He gained his freedom but knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  Liam swung around and sent a kick to the man’s head as two hands grabbed one of his. He spun behind the second man and slammed his free fist into the man’s elbow. The sharp sound of bone snapping filled the air, and Liam shoved the man away from him.

  Pushing backward, he took off running, ignoring the pain pulsing through him and taking the stairs two at a time. The corridors and stairwells were crowded for some strange reason. There always seemed to be a crowd during a chase.

  He crashed into a man but gripped the rail to keep from faceplanting on the concrete. The man wasn’t so lucky. He tumbled down the stairs in front of Liam. Though he felt bad about it, Liam quickly jumped over him and continued shoving by people. They screamed at him and a baby started crying.

  They yelled Russian profanities and if he wasn’t running for his life he would have laughed.

  You have never heard the F word until it was said in Russian!

  A bullet whizzed off a rusted rail close to where his hand had just been, and he ducked before moving faster. Jumping down the last set of steps, he shoved out into the wet air of Omsk with no idea where he was going and he couldn’t say he cared much. All he knew was, he had to get out and hide before he was caught and terminated.

  A bullet zinged by his head and he dodged through a bunch of cars and down a laneway he hoped wasn’t one way. Dropping out at the other end, it was in time to see a car speed toward him. He hopped over the front slid off the hood and landed on the other side. The car screeched to a halt, but he was already on his feet and tearing down the street in the wrong direction

  It began raining then and Liam swore every profanity he could think of, both in English and Russian. He wondered why he had chosen this time of year to go to Omsk when he knew it would be bad. He was asked by friends for help and he hadn’t thought twice. The answer was easy. At least he was prepared and the bag he carried was like a giant raincoat for his things.

  “I hate the rain.” He muttered under his breath.

  Even though he looked back and didn’t see them, Liam didn’t stop running. He had a lot of things on his mind. He had to get to Moscow which was twenty seven hundred miles east which meant he was going the wrong way. Depending on his mode of transportation, it could take up to a day and a half to make his journey. Since he couldn’t fly—which would have been faster and more convenient. Liam needed a car, but he knew he couldn’t merely walk into a dealership and rent one. A million red flags would go flying and he didn’t feel like getting shot at again.

  Liam slipped through a group of homes and jogged along until he arrived at a small motel. He walked in and pulled out one of his many fake credit cards and handed it over. “I’d like a room for the night.”

  “Da?” the woman asked.

  This is bullshit!

  He repeated his request in Russian and was promptly given a room in the far corner of the broken-down place. It smelled filthy, but it was the best he could do on such short notice and under the circumstances.

  Making his way to the room, he looked out the back window and tested it for strength. He then made sure it was locked and pulled the curtains in place. He moved into the bathroom. It didn’t have a window. It didn’t even have a bathtub.

  There was roughing it and then there was whatever the hell this bathroom was.

  A hole in the ground must be where the water from the rusted shower head would go. He chuckled and frowned before walking over to the cabinet. Sliding the glasses from the frame, he walked back to the front door with the glass in hand. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he lifted the carpet two doors from his and placed one of the glass beneath it. He then moved to the one in front of his door and added the other piece of glass. He then tested the door’s strength like the last time.

  Locking it, he checked under the bed and in the old drawers. He then sat down on the side of the bed and yanked his laptop from his bag.

  He set to work sending an encrypted email to Tex. It took a little longer than normal because, Liam hadn’t used that particular set of skills in a while. Tex taught him a few things many years prior and those had come in handy. It took a couple of tries but Liam still focused and got it done. It was better to be safe than have the wrong type of people find him. Liam double checked everything before hitting send.

  When there was nothing else, he could do, Liam hunkered down for a long day to wait for night.

  Chapter 1

  Amelia Hemmingway’s designer stilettos clicked against the hardwood floor of her office. She paced back and forth, engulfed in the latest banking report to cross her desk. The outlook was grim to say the least. The Canadian dollar was nowhere near being on par with the American, interest rates weren’t where they should be, and people were starting to draw their purse strings a little tighter than usual. Add the current state of the real estate market, the unemployment rates and being a banker was downright suicidal. She removed her glasses and stopped by the window to stare out at the cityscape around her.

  The view always soothed her—from the peak of the CN Tower, to white smoke billowing from the top of the buildings. In the summer time, if she looked really hard, she could make out the shimmering gray of Lake Ontario on the far side of the city.

  It wasn’t summer, and she definitely couldn’t see the lake. Winter had taken Toronto in her grips and didn’t seem to want to let go. Every time she thought they would get a little break from the snow storms, Mother Nature proved her wrong by bombarding the city with either freezing rain or blowing Snow.

  Amelia always joked about running away to Fiji or Bora Bora during the winter. But no one took her seriously—hell, she didn’t take herself seriously.

  With a frustrated sound in her throat, Amelia sighed and looked downward. White snow had been turned to brown sludge on the streets. The sidewalks were no better as she watched people dodge around each other hurrying to their destinations.

  Amelia never liked the snow. There was just something unnatural about a Jamaican, living through the freezing temperatures of a Canadian winter which made her frown. During those months, she refused to drive downtown. She’d park at Kennedy Station then jumped on the train. That posed its own hardship. The ride to Yonge Station was comfortable enough. Afterward, she’d have to fit herself like a human jigsaw piece amongst the other bodies in the overly crowded train to Queen S
tation.

  Every morning, she’d think the same thing—there has to be a better way. But just the thought of being stuck in traffic on the highway, made her think twice. Inhaling deeply, she stuck her earbuds in then endured people invading her personal space with coffee breath.

  When she’d survived the ordeal, Amelia exited the train at Queen Station. She hurried up the escalator ahead of everyone else. The last thing she needed was to be stuck behind the crowd. She walked through the underground PATH to her office building. Every morning she would be barely in the door before the fires began. Usually, she thrived on the challenges. Lately, she’d become weary of them.

  A soft knock sounded at her door, and she pressed her eyes closed. “Come in,” she called, while wondering what fresh hell was about to land on her desk.

  “Ms. Hemmingway, I have some personal mail for you,” Sarah said in her usual sweet voice.

  Amelia smiled and turned around with an extended hand. “Thank you, Sarah.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She left the room and closed the door behind her as she went. Amelia set the report on her desk and began leafing through her mail. Normally, she didn’t get real mail at the office. But whenever she went out and cashiers asked for her address, she just gave them the one for the office. The little fib cut down on the amount of junk they sent to her house. Still, she always went through each piece in case she’d forgotten and given someone important the office address by mistake. She’d done it before. The one instance caused her to have to reapply for her health card.