The Omega Team: The Lion (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Cerise DeLand

leave, he knew every inch of this city. He’d read the history books that recounted tales of those who had run through the tunnels of the Underground Railroad. He knew what tunnels still existed. He’d jogged from Kennedy’s grave up the hill in Arlington Cemetery and knew exactly how long it would take him to fight the Potomac’s current downstream to swim upstream one mile. Even in the not-so-tip-top shape he was in now, he’d make it. He wasn’t that disabled. Or that weak.
    So he just needed to know where they’d taken Becka and he’d be fine. So would she. He’d find a way because he always did.
    Except the last time when your mission went belly up. Analysis said that failure wasn’t all his. Still he felt it like ice picks in his fingers and toes.
    He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
    Stop that.
    He’d get her.
    Had to.
    Would.
    He sat straighter. Closed his eyes and memorized the direction of the van.
    Up and around. Over a bump. So. We’re out in the street. Which way?
    He sniffed the air. Stuffy August evening air.
    If they really were going for a boat ride, then traveling north along the Potomac did not seem logical. Not much traversed the Potomac going upstream. Folks usually traveled downstream in canoes and occasionally, a few very small houseboats, all of which had to use the locks in the Canal to get around.
    Most who owned vessels docked them south of the city in the port of Alexandria. But the docks were few and the dock master was known for his rigid rules and short temper. If you wanted to sail in or out, you had to notify the dock master in writing well before. Going out at night—and Mike bet that’s what they wanted to do to get rid of his body—would not be welcomed on short notice. So if they were moored at Alexandria City marina and Vince and Maurice thought they were going to pull out their boat tonight, that wouldn’t be happening. And too, depending on how big their vessel, Alexandria might not be able to accommodate them in size.
    If they were headed beyond Alexandria, Mike would say they were going for a private marina farther south. One where the master was not so finicky that he’d prohibit a sailor from leaving port at night—and venturing on to dump a few bodies out into the Chesapeake Bay.
    Though before they hit the Bay, they’d sail past Quantico, the Marine base.
    Mike smiled.
    Just the thought of a few Marines close made him feel brighter. He bet Grey Holden had a few buddies who lived nearby.
    If the little tracking device he’d tucked inside his trouser waistband sent out a strong enough signal for Grey Holden to find him, he’d hit pay dirt.
    And if the similar tracker he’d dropped inside Becka’s bra was as good—and her attacker hadn’t found it, they’d be golden.
    * * * * *
    In the backseat of an SUV, Becca steadied herself to gain serenity for the challenge ahead. She avoided straining at the ropes around her wrists because she wanted them as loose as Valmont had so ineffectually made them. She could not untie them, but she had a good chance at sliding out her thumb and then a finger, and another. Given enough time. And that was the problem. She had no idea how much she had because Valmont had been tight-lipped about where they were headed. And they’d been riding for at least two hours.
    She inhaled the tangy salt air, a whiff of grilled seafood and the fumes of gasoline as the Range Rover she rode in pulled to a stop. Valmont pulled into a parking space on the pier of a dock. At least a hundred boats lined the marina. The boats bobbed in the water. Most of the residents were inside their cabins, a few lights twinkling inside, lighting up the starry August night.
    There was no one around that she could call out to.
    No one to help her.
    She bit her lips to stop a shiver. She would not show them fear. Would not.
    Keep your cool.
    They’d driven for so long that this could definitely not be Alexandria City marina.
    She was out of her