WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) by Vanessa Kier Page A

last thing he could afford was Bureh complaining to his blackmailer that Seth had interfered with his men’s mission. Seth feared that his blackmailer would see his helping Kirra as a violation of the upcoming agreement to work for Bureh.
    Cold fingers of dread tightened around Seth’s throat at the thought of the hit man pulling the trigger on his niece.
    No. Only Komi knew that Kirra had left with Seth. And Komi hated the rebels with a passion no amount of money or pain could erase. His brother, sister-in-law, and their four children had died in the Festival Day attack. Komi wouldn’t report Kirra’s whereabouts, no matter what happened. Although, if he ever discovered Seth’s role in that attack, Komi would try to kill him.
    The rebels suspected Kirra had run into the bar, but they had no proof that she’d hooked up with Seth.
    So, all right. His family was probably safe for now. Still, he’d get rid of Kirra as soon as possible.
    Seth shut off the burner and had just set the plates down on the table in his dining area when Kirra walked in. He straightened and studied her as she moved toward him. With the dirt and blood gone, her scrapes didn’t look as bad as they had before. Except for the handcuff marks.
    Her wet hair hung straight to just above her breasts, appearing longer than it did when the springy mass was dry. She’d changed into a pair of loose pants and a long-sleeved tunic top. Her flip-flops gleamed in the lantern as if she’d worn them while showering in order to clean them off.
    He nodded toward the bowl of stew he’d just ladled out. “For you.”
    “Thank you.” Kirra sat down at the little table, then glanced up as he passed her the plate of fried plantains. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
    He shook his head. “I ate at the bar.”
    “Oh. Okay.” She picked up the spoon and ate with surprising restraint. If he’d been that hungry, he would have shoveled the food in.
    “Where were you headed before the rebels attacked?”
    “The United African Republic,” she answered. “I’m performing Friday at the Shine a Light benefit concert in the UAR. We’re raising money to support victims of the rebels.”
    “So what possessed you to get on a public bus instead of flying up there?”
    Kirra stiffened and jabbed her spoon into the remaining bit of stew. “My plane was grounded due to mechanical problems and there were no other flights. I can’t miss my performance. With the forecast predicting bad storms, I decided to take the bus.” Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how I’ll get there now.”
    Seth paced away. Dammit, he had no business getting involved. Yet he’d seen the photos from the Hospital Massacre. Having flown Natchaba’s men into the area, he bore some of the responsibility. While it wouldn’t bring back the people who’d been killed, taking Kirra to safety would be a small act of defiance.
    And maybe one step toward redemption.
    “As I said before, I’m a pilot. I can fly you out of here.” Seth closed his eyes in defeat as the words came out of his mouth. “Give me the name of the city we’ll head up there in the morning.”
    He opened his eyes to find Kirra staring at him. He braced himself for rejection.
    “I—” She glanced at the window. His bungalow was too far away to have a view of the beach, but he was confident that the rebels were still searching for her.
    “How else are you going to get up north without the rebels spotting you?” he said, trying to convince his hands-off side as much as Kirra. “They must have alerted their entire network by now. No place will be safe. But unless they surround the airfield with more weaponry than they had tonight, there’s no way they can stop me flying you out of here.”
    Kirra chewed her lip, then said hesitantly, “I could go to the police. The authorities will keep me safe.”
    Seth snorted, although part of his mind cataloged the fact that she sounded less than enthusiastic about turning herself