Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

The book was too large to fit in a pocket, so she put it back in the bag, stuffed it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back and covered it with her T-shirt. She drew a deep breath and mentally centered herself, putting her dojo habits to use in the real world. She moved to the steel rungs and began climbing.

The ascent went quickly, partly because she did not take the time to test her footholds, but also because the impending confrontation, like the last day of summer vacation, was something she dreaded. It was the exact opposite of the old saying about watched pots never boiling.

She maintained her calm focus by counting down the rungs. When she got to fifteen, she could see the faces of her tormentors, silhouetted in the ambient light, staring down at her. When she got to eight, Carlos called out.

“Unless you’ve got a wad of ten thousand dollar bills in your pocket,” he said in a low menacing tone, “I think I’m about to be very disappointed.”

She climbed a couple of rungs higher before giving the answer she had mentally rehearsed. “The money isn’t here. It’s in a bank account. Cayman Islands.” She thought that sounded pretty plausible. “My dad hid the account number here. I’ve got it now.”

Carlos did not look convinced. “Give it to me.”

She reached into a pocket and found the strip of paper on which Noah had written the coordinates for the silo. It was still damp from her plunge into Boca Chica Channel but she succeeded in taking it out intact. She waved it for Carlos to see. Then, she took another step and held it up like an offering.

Carlos reached out to snatch the paper from her fingers, but as he did, she let go of it and encircled his wrist with her hand. His face registered surprise, but she only caught a glimpse as she yanked down hard on his arm.

As he started to fall toward her, she let go and pressed herself flat against the smooth concrete wall. There was a tug of friction as his body slid past hers, but she held on tightly, and an instant later, Carlos was gone.





20



2:24 a.m.



Jenna exploded out of the silo like a missile, leaping toward the stunned figure of Raul. He was too far away to be pulled in. She knew that trick wouldn’t work twice, but she had something different planned for the younger Villegas brother.

She landed on the iron-clad floor, coiling like a rattler getting ready to strike, and then she unleashed all her energy in a kick aimed at Raul’s head. Even as she moved, she saw him struggling to draw his gun, just as she thought he would. She corrected her aim at the last moment, striking his right shoulder. Raul spun around, unbalanced. The pistol flew from his hand.

Jenna did not stop. She had committed to this course of action the moment she had started climbing out of the silo. She would not stop. Not to catch her breath. Not to assess the results of her attack. Not until Raul was…

Dead?

Yeah, dead.

She felt no guilt about that. She had already sent Carlos to Hell, and that didn’t bother her at all. She felt about as much remorse for Carlos as she would for a roach ground beneath her heel. Truth be told, it was a rush. It was like she’d been given an invitation to a secret and very exclusive club. Noah had been in that club. Something told her that Ken was not the first man he had killed. Noah might not have wanted her to join the ranks of killers, but he’d prepared her for it, perhaps knowing this initiation might be unavoidable.

I’m a killer now. I passed the test, and I’m ready to do it again. Raul, your brother’s holding the door for you.

She advanced, throwing a pair of mid-body punches that rocked Raul back again. With each strike she shouted her kiai, using the sound to focus her energy and intimidate the man. Despite the attack, he stayed on his feet. She might have been able to punch through boards and bricks, but Raul was probably twice her weight, and flesh yielded whereas planks and cinder blocks cracked. Punches, she realized, weren’t going to do the trick. She took another step forward and with another shout, spun into a roundhouse kick, aimed low to sweep him off his feet.

Her foot struck his calf, a few inches below where she had aimed, and she rebounded away, struggling to recover her balance and irritated with herself for missing. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, but it did erase any advantage her surprise attack had given her.

Raul snarled at her. She could see in his eyes that he was now little more than an enraged animal. His fury would allow him to tap into reserves of near-superhuman strength. If he got close enough to grab hold of her, she might not be able to break free. She took a step back, forcing herself to stay calm and focused.

He charged but she stepped aside, whirling around to deliver a powerful blow to his already pummeled kidney. It was enough to knock him off his feet. He went sprawling on the metal plates that covered the silo. A few feet to the left and he would have plunged into the hole.