Kite on the Rocks Book five of the MIT Series

Twelve months ago,

Benin City, Nigeria.

The chanted words had her skin tingling with dread. A sharp stone bit at her knee through her cotton skirt, and she clenched her hands tightly in her lap. Suehi cracked open an eye and glanced at the three girls beside her. Like Suehi, and her sister, Zinsa, the others were from a village in the Edo state. Suehi could almost taste their fear. Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck, making her itch. Her newly braided hair felt too tight, and claustrophobia ate at her control. The smell didn’t help—the tent stank of rotten meat. A dead mouse lay before each girl, and they were expected to eat the dirty rodents. The stained white tent sat in an open field, and men with guns lurked at the entrance. Suehi ignored them. Like the male witch doctor that chanted before the women, they were all posturing pigs. Suehi wasn’t here for the other girls or their maman; she was here for her sister. Suehi reached out and gripped her sibling’s hand. Zinsa sat close, and Suehi could feel her trembling bones. She risked glancing over at her sister’s profile. They’d both been told growing up that they were beautiful. In Lagos, her friends likened Suehi to the famous model called Agbani Darego. She’d seen a picture once of the Nigerian model and supposed they had similar eyes and mouth.

Thanks to their looks, their current guards and the maman treated the two sisters with a little more kindness. It confused Suehi, and she hated watching the other women getting hurt. The maman that they worked for would slap them across the face or push them to the ground.

How did they land in this evil place? They had little choice, and responsibility fell on Suehi’s shoulders. She was the oldest and the most educated daughter in her family. Her parents could only afford to send her away for school, and once she’d returned to their village, she’d been expected to travel to Lagos to earn a good living. Still, when she’d discovered that her sister had been ‘sold’ to a maman in Benin, Suehi had defied her family and traveled to the city in Southern Nigeria to find her younger sister.

She’d been too late, and their reunion was short-lived. Zinsa refused to leave Maman Giselle. She believed she was working towards owning a hair salon like the maman, and she’d been promised work across the sea, in Italy.

At sixteen, Zinsa believed in an uncertain future in a strange land, leaving Suehi with little choice. She decided to work for Maman Giselle, and join her sister on the journey. Before they made the long trek, they’d been forced to take the Ju-ju curse along with the rest of the women destined for Europe.

Maybe her sister was right, perhaps success and independence lay ahead, and the malice that clung to Maman Giselle was all in Suehi’s head.

Goosebumps broke over Suehi’s naked flesh. Like the other women kneeling around the fire pit, her chest and stomach sat naked and exposed. The masked witch doctor swayed in the gloom. The white mask looked grotesque in the dim light. His skinny, scarred chest gleamed with sweat as his chantings sped up. He rose, producing a knife. One of the girls shrieked, and a guard punched her in the side of the head.

The healer that stood before Suehi did not harbor good intent. She sensed the evil lurking beneath his sweating skin. He practiced black magic, unlike the traditional healers from her village. Suehi regarded the “Olorisa” in her community as friends—medicinal practitioners who used herbs and plants to heal and help the village. But, Suehi and Zinsa were far from home and from safety.

She watched the shaman slice a small sliver of flesh from each girl’s chest. Soon it was Suehi’s turn. Gritting her teeth, she eyed the dirty knife hovering above her breast before flicking over her skin. The slice burned, and the ‘priest’ ignored her flinch. He added her flesh to the small bowl that held her fingernails and hair.

He addressed her. “You will repay Maman Giselle for all she has done for you. This is how you keep your family safe. If you break this curse—if you run or defy your maman—your family will die. Do you serve Maman Giselle?”

Ignoring the blood trailing down and over her stomach, Suehi nodded. The knot in her chest grew as he did the same to her sister. Suehi did not buy into his evil magic. She believed in the earth, trees, and the science of life. The power of the written word and improving one’s mind through education kept her preoccupied. But her family believed in bad Ju-ju, and Suehi would forever be tied to the curse unless she could convince her sister to travel to the coast—to Lagos—where Zinsa could attend college. Suehi would work two jobs in order to pay for her sister’s degree. They could buy a house together in the friendly city and earn good money.

They had a long journey ahead, and Suehi had time on her side.

***

Four months ago,

The Creekside Community Center.

Layton, Utah.

Dylan Atlas Jenkins knew all of her quirks, thanks to the months spent getting to know her, and thanks to their past adventures in Morocco. But something seemed different. Elana held a nervous energy he’d never seen before. He watched the blond beauty grow restless as her glance roved between the exit points in the small space.

She sat at an adjacent table at the Veterans charity day—an event held at a local recreation center. Tables filled the room, and everyone built military-themed puzzles. Boxes of 1000-piece puzzles were on sale in the corner of the room, and all profits went to the Special Operations Warrior Foundation.

Derek Slater Banez had just proposed to his girlfriend, Kat. The room cheered at her acceptance. After congratulating the happy couple, Atlas zoned back in on his jumpy friend. Elana Celik was more than a friend—at least in his head and his imaginings.

Hell, she was a tall goddess. He knew he’d fallen for her from the first moment he’d seen her photograph on her Facebook page. When he’d rescued her from an assassin in Morocco, he’d never wanted to let her go. The memory rose of cradling an unconscious Elana in his arms as they ran through the streets of Ait Benhaddou. Her blood had soaked his shirt, adding to his surprising surge of possessiveness. Atlas never believed in insta-love or the concept of love, but he couldn’t explain the connection he felt for the elusive bombshell.

Elana checked her phone for the hundredth time. Glancing at the screen, she rose and exited the busy room. Atlas stood, ignoring his cramping leg. He still recovered from the shrapnel injury that had sliced apart his calf muscle two months ago.

His only focus was on Elana who’d withdrawn from their friendship around the same time as his injury. She’d visited him in the hospital a couple of times, but wasn’t taking his phone calls, and Atlas missed her company. Perhaps she’d met someone. That would suck, but he’d have to deal with remaining in the friend zone. They needed to talk and now was as good a time as any.

Catching a glimpse of the slender woman pushing through the front doors into the darkening lot, he trailed behind. Elana turned away from the parking lot and pulled out a second phone. Powering it up, she slipped around the opposite corner.

His neck prickled and following his instincts, Atlas slowed and eased along the wall. Her voice sounded clear on the autumn breeze.

“I said I’d be there… I’m on my way… I set the location—not you.”

Atlas frowned at her words. Elana shuffled farther away, and he stepped closer.

“Do you want the package or not?”

What in the hell?

“At the entrance to the canyon… I’ll be there in thirty… It’s none of your business where I am… yes… I’m coming alone.”

Retreating towards the lit entrance, Atlas almost growled out his concern. What the hell was Elana doing? And who was on the other end of that call? Adrenaline surged as he considered all the possibilities. As far as he knew, Elana was completing her Masters in a Bachelor of Arts in Human Rights Studies, and was a college student who worked for her father in a part-time capacity. Who was she mixed up with now?

He thought back to everything he knew about her, which was a surprisingly small amount, considering how much time they’d spent in each other’s company. Elana’s mother was from Wyoming and had met Elana’s Muslim father in Turkey back in the day. They’d married and moved to Jackson Hole. Her father was a human rights activist and lecturer who’d written numerous books on women’s rights. He was also a well-renowned architect who raised incredible homes for the rich and famous in Hollywood. Elana adored her parents, although from what Atlas had gathered, they weren’t around that much during her youth.

Elana’s alluring beauty stemmed from her father’s Islamic heritage and her mother’s Germanic beauty. Their daughter was well-traveled and regularly stayed with family members across Europe, also speaking multiple languages. Elana seemed stable, but sometimes, appearances could be deceiving, and she now hung out with his team and their respective loved ones. If Elana was mixing with a dangerous crowd and endangering his friends in any way, Atlas needed to know.

He chose a concealed doorway and watched her walk back into the building. Atlas climbed into his Jeep. Five minutes later, she re-emerged and headed for her brand new BMW. As an elite covert operative, Atlas had been trained to follow jumpy extremists from an undetected distance, and so trailing her through the city was a piece of cake.

When Atlas spotted her pulling into a rundown diner, at the mouth of a canyon, he kept on driving. Parking in the empty lot would be obvious, and he drove to a lookout point a mile down the road. Digging through his hiking pack in the trunk, Atlas retrieved a digital camera and attached a telephoto lens. Tucking his handgun into his holster, he broke out into a limping run along the deserted highway. His still healing calf muscle hindered his progress, and Atlas hoped he hadn’t wasted too much time.

***

Her fingers tapped on the tabletop, and Elana immediately caught herself and withdrew her hand from the sticky surface. The diner sat empty, and when the lone waitress handed her a menu, Elana put it aside. The health department should close down the filthy place—it probably broke numerous health code violations. That’s why Elana had chosen the spot. No cameras, hardly any customers or prying eyes. Still, she wore a baseball cap and a hoodie and sat slumped in the corner. Elana glanced at her watch. She’d been five minutes early, and now there was a minute left. The man would be on time. She knew it in her gut. He wasn’t the type to mess around—a player who knew the game.

Another deadly player came to mind. Atlas Jenkins. He must’ve been in the bathroom when she’d left the center. She’d wanted to see him one last time. That aura of safety boosted her confidence. The athletic warrior stood taller than her, which was saying a lot as Elana sat at almost six feet. That wide, white-toothed smile, and the way his forehead creased into a cute frown whenever his brows rose. Tousled blond locks paired with stubbled sexiness, and the small laugh lines that crinkled at the corner of his bluish-green eyes. Those sexy lips that always sported a cheeky grin. The guy must know how irresistible he was to the opposite sex. Pity that she had no room for him in her crazy life.

Ignoring the nervous fluttering in her stomach, Elana straightened her back and scanned the lot. She’d taken her enterprise to the next level, and this might be a foolish move. She hadn’t yet swum with a shark this deadly, and when his truck’s lights lit up the lot, Elana willed herself to relax.

The door pushed open, and Dimitri Kazak headed straight for her booth, sharp eyes darting around the empty space. He’d brought along a friend. Both men were large—over six feet of built muscle. Unlike Atlas, they exuded an air of weighty and solemn violence. Holy shit, she was out of her league. Elana suppressed the urge to run for the door. Both men were obviously armed, and they sat assuredly across from her, making direct eye contact. She willed herself not to look away.

“Let’s not waste time, Miss Celik—hand over the package.”

Elana hesitated. “Dimitri, who’s your friend?” She’d purposely used his first name even though it was the first time they’d met in person.

“This is Foster. He works with me.”

Elana held out her hand. The other man grumbled and exchanged a look with Dimitri. Not twitching, she raised her brows, and Foster passed along his ID. When she was satisfied, Elana handed it back, slipped a hand into her hoodie pocket and pulled out the baggy.

After glancing around, she slid the package across the table. “If you stick to your agreement, I’ll send another gift your way.”

“Fair enough. But if you screw us over in any way…”

“I know what I’m doing. I’ll be in touch.” Elana stood on rubbery legs and concentrated on striding for the door. She’d done it… she’d actually done it. Now, there was no stopping her.

“Elana,” Dimitri called.

She paused with her hand on the door.

“You’re playing a dangerous game. Be careful who you trust.”

With a nod, Elana pushed out and breathed in the fresh air. Not pausing, she headed for her car and for safety.

***

Atlas watched her leave, tempted to follow and confront her. Instead, he focused on the two burly men still sitting in the diner. He hadn’t been able to hear the conversation from his exterior lookout point in the concealing tree line, but he’d seen her hand off the ambiguous package, and he’d snapped several good photos of the two thugs and their vehicle. If they’d made any aggressive moves towards Elana, he would’ve charged the place, weapons blazing.

His damaged leg screamed in agony. Atlas limped back to his vehicle and made a call to the only man he knew that could help him to unravel the mystery meeting. Dave Donnie Wilson, the analyst on MIT2—his covert team, answered and Atlas began to talk. Elana didn’t know it yet, but he had her back. If she were into something illegal, Atlas would cross that bridge when needed. Until then, he’d fight like hell to keep her out of harm’s way.