Snakebite: Alpha Squad Book 1

Chapter 3

Leaving the carnage of bloody bodies and broken windows in our wake, we crawled out of the hotel room. We took the stairs down to the lobby and exited through a back door. Earlier in the day, Wolfe had parked a car behind the hotel in a back alley. We piled in and headed straight for the airport.

"It's General Cobra," he snapped into his cell phone. "I need a full cleanup at the Grand Marriott hotel in Moscow. Entire room containment, including body removals." He paused. "Four. I also need media control." Another pause. I shifted in my seat so I could see him. "No idea." His eyes narrowed into a deep glare. "Enough questions. Get it done. Now!" He ended the call, no doubt hanging up on the poor soldier who'd answered the phone.

"Who was that?" Wolfe asked from the driver's seat.

"Some idiot from our base outside of Saint Petersburg," Cobra answered, pocketing his phone.

"That's almost a ten-hour drive from here," Medic commented from the backseat, where she sat beside Cobra. "If housekeeping goes in, they'll call the police. The cleanup crew will have to deal with the hotel staff as well."

"I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door before we left. That should give them some time," I said, slipping on a black sweatshirt. Good thing I'd left spare clothes in the car. The blood on mine grossed me out.

"Still," Medic said, "there are dead bodies and blood all over that room, including yours, Phoenix. People in the adjoining rooms may have already called the police because of all the noise we made."

"None of that is our problem. No one can trace anything back to us even if they do find Major Phoenix's blood. She doesn't exist," Cobra answered.

"What about the cam—" Wolfe started.

"Enough." Cobra cut him off. As always, ending the discussion and getting in the last word.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Wolfe gave me back the knives he'd removed from the men I'd killed. He'd cleaned them, so I slid them back into their designated spots, my boots and bra. I settled back into my seat and flipped down the visor.

Yikes. Maybe I shouldn't have looked. My long brown hair had an extreme case of bed head. I'd tied it into a braid earlier, but now stray pieces shot out of the tattered mess in every direction. Sometimes I could see natural red highlights in my hair, but the only red I saw now was blood splatters. I looked like death warmed over. My skin always tended to stay on the paler side of the spectrum, but my cheeks usually held a healthy pink glow. Right now though, my skin was paper white, and my cheeks appeared sunken. Dark circles under my eyes caused the emerald color to look pale and dull.

My eyelids drooped as I stared at my reflection. I needed sleep. Adrenaline takes a lot out of you, and today kicked my ass.

Things had gone very wrong with our assignment. How could we have missed the other shooter? We'd spent yesterday and early this morning scoping out the downtown Moscow area. Cobra, Medic and Wolfe even kept up surveillance while I chatted with Alekandrov. Did Alekandrov's boss hire the hit on him, or did Damiri have someone monitoring him?

It seemed surreal that Cobra almost got hit. Above everything else, our job was to ensure each other's safety, especially his. He was not only our squad's leader, but also our military base's second-in-command. That made his life a valuable asset we couldn't afford to lose. None of us saw that bullet coming, though. Something about the whole situation wasn't sitting right with me. From the silence in the car, I didn't think it sat right with anyone. Cobra dying by accident wasn't how I imagined someone so powerful meeting their demise.

That was the main reason I refused to sleep. I needed it, my body begged for it, but I resisted the urge to curl up in my seat and pass out. I had to stay alert. In no way would I allow myself to relax until we all arrived back on base.