Out of Sight Read Online Free PDF Page A

laugh. "Thanks, Manny."
    "Yo!" Kane said with deadly calm. "Shut the hell up, or every single sorry ass one of you will be on that flight back home." He gritted his teeth. Fuck it. He was going to send them all back home and do the job alone, like he'd wanted to in the first place. "Pay attention to your job. You can have your pissing contest after we're clear."
    He glanced into what was left of the rearview mirror—Struben didn't look happy. Escobar had crawled up from his biting position on the floor and was exchanging meaningful I want-to-smash-your-face looks with his partner, and Cooper looked ready to spit nails. She opened her mouth to say something.
    "Not," Kane cut her off, "another word. From any of you. Unless it's directly related to where we are, and why we're here. Got it?" He gave AJ, who looked ready to speak anyway, a hard personal glare, and added, "Just nod."
    The two in back gave reluctant jerks of their heads. A quick glance at Cooper showed her gimlet-eyed and tight-lipped, but she bit her tongue and remained silent. Looking at her, it was hard to remember she was an operative.
    She wasn't anything as tame as pretty, or attractive. She was jaw-droppingly beautiful, even with the layer of dirt she was wearing at the moment. Her skin was fine-grained and lightly tanned, her face a perfect oval. Her eyes ice-green. Her hair, a red-gold that even sweat-slicked and tightly bound shone like fire. She had a tall, long-legged, curvy body, and full, firm breasts.
    AJ Cooper was a walking centerfold.
    A woman that beautiful was used to fending off unwanted attention from men. And if she wasn't, she'd learn soon enough.
    "Just a reminder, Cooper," he reminded himself, "when you're with me you're not a woman, you're an operative."
    Struben snorted, forgetting, or not, that every word was transmitted on his mic. "The cold son of a bitch must be deaf, dumb, and blind."
    Kane ignored Struben's comment. For now. The man had just punched the last hole in his ticket home. One more off-color remark and he'd be in the cargo bay on the transport Stateside with Escobar and Cooper.
    AJ's mic clicked off. Kane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was moving.
    Smart of her not to let him hear whatever she was saying. Hell and damn.
    In the midst of the pissing contest being played out in the car, he'd been keeping an eye out for the vehicles that had been following them. The white car wasn't behind them anymore—not anywhere Kane could see it, anyway. But it was there. Somewhere.
    Cars, trucks, horse-drawn carts, and livestock vied for position on the roads. It was early evening, and the streets were crowded. Fiats and Hondas hemmed in plodding wooden carts, tinted-windowed BMWs vied for space with flocks of sheep and boys driving camels.
    The sidewalks were Disneyland-packed with crowds of people from rich to poor. Mingling, chatting, and drinking coffee in outdoor coffeehouses, they were a moving, shifting tapestry.
    The air was thick with the smell of days-old produce, smoke, diesel fuel, and the pervasive, dank odor of the Nile. The river ran through the concrete jungle as a sewage system as well as the city's water-supply and laundry.
    Kane took familiar, and unfamiliar, side arterials, swooped up onto a busy freeway, shot over another bridge, the one remaining chase vehicle tight on his ass.
    He took a turn, cornering without slowing down. Skipped lanes to avoid a flock of sheep, made another right. The other maniacs on the road separated the chase car from them. But it was still there.
    Most of the streetlights had been shot or burned out on these narrow side alleyways. Zebra-striped pockets of light and shadow slashed across his vision. One part of his brain concentrated on losing their tail. The other tossed the problem of AJ Cooper around like worry beads through nervous fingers.
    If her reputation was accurate, she could do the job. Given the situation she'd been briefed on, she could do it. But was