Next Exit, Use Caution Read online

  Next Exit, Use Caution

  CW Browning

  Also by CW Browning

  Kai Corbyn Series

  Games of Deceit

  Shadows of War

  The Courier

  The Oslo Affair

  Night Falls on Norway

  The Exit Series

  Next Exit, Three Miles

  Next Exit, Pay Toll

  Next Exit, Dead Ahead

  Next Exit, Quarter Mile

  Next Exit, Use Caution

  Next Exit, One Way

  Next Exit, No Outlet

  The Exit Series Box Set #1: Books 1-3

  Watch for more at CW Browning’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also By CW Browning

  Next Exit, Use Caution (The Exit Series, #5)

  Author's Note:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

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  Also By CW Browning

  About Next Exit, Use Caution

  The fight is far from over.

  After a mysterious assassin strikes too close to home, Viper has just one goal: retribution. But nothing is ever easy in New Jersey. Targeted by an invisible and nameless mastermind, Alina Maschik struggles to unravel the mystery cloaking her nemesis even as she fights for her own survival. When those closest to her become targets and the clock starts ticking, Viper knows her only hope lies with secrets from the past - secrets someone is determined to keep buried.

  From the balmy, perfumed streets of Singapore to the suburbs of New Jersey, the country’s top assassin must stay one step ahead of a deadly foe. But not everyone is what they seem, and Viper must choose who she can trust...and who is a traitor.

  Author's Note:

  This book is dedicated to wine – without which my sanity would not have remained intact.

  “Though they plan evil against you, though they devise mischief, they will not succeed.”

  ~ Psalm 21:11

  Prologue

  Downtown Singapore Mainland

  A warm breeze carrying the hint of orchid blossoms drifted across the large balcony. The sun had set an hour before, cloaking the city in a hot and humid darkness that offered only slightly lower temperatures from those dominating the daylight hours.

  Viper raised her eyes from her laptop and glanced across the balcony to the man lounging in the shadows a few feet away. He was dressed in dark khaki cargo shorts and a black tee-shirt, stretched taut across his broad chest. Her heart thumped of its own accord and she pressed her lips together in reaction, ignoring the leap in her pulse.

  “What if he doesn’t show?” she asked.

  The man smiled faintly in the shadows.

  “Then I hunt him down.”

  “So much for our relaxing getaway.”

  Viper stretched and closed her laptop, reaching for her bottled water.

  “Is that what this is?” Hawk asked, straightening up and going across the flagged stones with lazy, measured strides. He moved like a panther, and Viper knew he was just as dangerous. “Yesterday you were scouring the embassy, looking for ghosts. This morning you were gone before dawn and came back with a new wound on your neck. Not much of a getaway.”

  Viper shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

  “Old habits,” she murmured apologetically.

  Hawk stopped next to the chaise lounge where she was stretched out and looked down at her, his blue eyes glinting in the low light from the lamps on the rooftop.

  “I’ll take care of this as quickly as possible,” he promised, “and then we can get back to enjoying the evening.”

  Viper smiled up at him and set the computer aside, swinging her legs off the cushions and standing in one fluid motion.

  “You can only take care of it as quickly as the target allows,” she said. “Personally, I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Neither am I,” he admitted, turning to look across the street at the high-rise opposite. “There’s about a seventy percent chance he’ll show, but when is anyone’s guess.”

  Viper followed his gaze to a dark window directly opposite them.

  “Who is he?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  Hawk glanced at her.

  “A Chechen separatist,” he said slowly. “I’ve been watching him for a little over a year. It’s just pure luck I spotted him on our way from the airport.”

  “Is it?” she asked softly.

  Their eyes met and he shrugged.

  “Probably not.”

  Viper nodded, turning toward the small table holding the remains of their dinner.

  “Charlie?” she asked over her shoulder, reaching for a slice of mango.

  “Who else? He’s the one who sent us here.”

  “Good point.” She turned to face him again, biting into the mango. “I can’t help feeling there’s something else going on though.”

  Hawk looked at her.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You know how he is. Singapore isn’t just a whim. We’re here for a reason, and I think that reason is more than just an ex-soldier.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his lips drawn into a grim line.

  “Something connected to Asad?” he asked finally. “Or the leak in Washington?”

  Viper’s mask slid into place and she shrugged, popping the rest of the mango into her mouth.

  “I don’t know, but when I find...”

  She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as Hawk lunged in front of her, turning his back to her as he did so. For a split second, his broad shoulders blocked her view. Then, suddenly, they moved.

  She never heard the shot that threw him backwards. Viper reacted with pure instinct, reaching out to grab him as they both fell hard on the stone balcony. She grunted when they landed and immediately pulled herself from under his weight. Rolling onto her stomach, she low-crawled straight to his rifle, set up a few feet away. She didn’t need to hear the shot to know where it must have come from.

  Reaching the rifle, she set her eye to the night-vision scope and scanned the building opposite, rolling over windows quickly until she found the one she wanted. Viper watched as a man slung
a soft rifle bag over his shoulder, turning away from the open window.

  Viper exhaled slowly as she squeezed the trigger. The man opposite fell a second later as the 7.68 round blew apart his skull. She watched him fall, then shifted back to the window Hawk had been watching all night. It was still dark. No threat there.

  Viper closed the bipod legs attached to the rifle, lifting the gun and rapidly disassembling it with sure fingers before placing the pieces in an open case nearby. A moment later, there was no evidence a rifle had ever been present on the edge of the balcony.

  Viper turned then, and her heart surged into her throat.

  Hawk was lying perfectly still, blood soaking his abdomen and spreading across the stones beneath him.

  Chapter One

  6 Days Earlier – Somewhere over the Pacific

  “Tell me again why we’re going to Singapore,” Damon suggested, seating himself across from Alina with a glass in his hand.

  “If I knew, I’d tell you,” she said, amused.

  Damon Miles sipped his beer and watched as she plugged an external drive into the side of her laptop.

  “You’re the one who opened a box with two fresh passports and reservations to a swanky downtown hotel on the mainland,” he pointed out. “How do you not know why we’re on a 22-hour flight to South Asia?”

  “You’re the one who had a private jet on stand-by in Philadelphia,” Alina retorted, not looking up. “You tell me.”

  Damon grinned.

  “I make it a habit to keep transportation on stand-by whenever I end up in Jersey. Things have a habit of getting dicey there.”

  That got her attention and she looked up with a laugh.

  “You make it sound like a bad thing. You know you’d get bored if it was any other way.”

  Alina Maschik stretched her arms, rolling her head to loosen her neck, a smile playing on her lips.

  “I don’t think I will ever get bored with you.” He raised his glass in a silent toast. “Yesterday I was in Washington DC defusing a bomb, and you were in Maryland eliminating a target. Now we’re on a plane headed to Singapore. Not exactly a dull moment anywhere in there.”

  Damon watched as she closed the laptop and set it aside, reaching for her glass of water.

  “We certainly seem to keep busy, don’t we?” she agreed thoughtfully. “To be fair, this wasn’t my plan when I got back to the house last night.”

  “What was?”

  “A hot shower, take-out, and bed, in that order.”

  Damon leaned his head back with a yawn.

  “My kind of plans,” he murmured. “I should have waited to give you Charlie’s box.”

  “It certainly wasn’t convenient timing. Kasim is still at large on the East Coast, and I think Stephanie wants my head on a platter.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow.

  “Why? She and Blake can handle clean up. It’s their job.”

  Alina looked at him, amused.

  “I’d love to hear you tell her that,” she said dryly. “I was thinking more along the lines of her personal struggle, not the professional one.”

  Damon lifted his head again and looked at her steadily.

  “And what about you?” he asked softly. “Stephanie’s not the only one who lost someone.”

  Viper’s unemotional mask slid into place and she set the glass of water down with a clink.

  “John wasn’t mine to lose,” she said briskly. “I told you, I’ll handle it in my own time.”

  “Actually, what you said was that you’d take care of Asad, and then take care of you,” he pointed out, unfazed. “You’ve taken care of the target, but I don’t see you taking care of yourself.”

  “We got straight on a plane. I haven’t had time to take care of anything, let alone succumb to pointless grief.”

  “It’s not pointless if it helps you heal.” Damon sighed and finished his drink, setting the empty glass down. “I know you’re still trying to process John’s death. I also know you’ll go after the person who killed him. Let me give you some friendly advice, from one professional to another: get your head straight before you do. If you don’t, you’ll miss your target and you might get yourself killed in the process.”

  Alina considered him thoughtfully for a moment.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Harry put you up to this,” she murmured. “Or are you just taking a leaf out his book?”

  Hawk’s lips twisted and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

  “I’ve never had the patience for the kind of head games Harry plays. He can keep his psychology. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

  Viper watched him for a minute in silence.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she finally said, her voice soft and deadly. “I haven’t missed my target in three years, and I’m sure as hell not starting now.”

  Madrid-Barajas Airport

  The private lounge for first class passengers was nearly empty this time of night and the lone occupant had the room to himself. He dropped his carry-on onto a recliner before turning to walk over to the refreshment area. He picked up a bottle of water and grabbed a copy of the day’s paper before returning to his chosen seat. A flat screen TV displayed flight information, while another one, on the opposite wall, broadcast the news channel. He glanced at the news, reading the running ticker across the bottom of the screen, and shook his head.

  Moving his carry-on, he sank down into the chair and glanced at his watch. He had half an hour before boarding; just enough time to scan the paper.

  He sat back comfortably with his water and his paper, ignoring the drone of the news commentator on the TV and the occasional sound of the PA system outside the lounge.

  A flight attendant came in behind him and moved silently to the desk at the back of the room. The man heard him, but never lifted his eyes from the paper. No longer alone, he turned the page and continued to scan the headlines.

  “What appears to have been a coordinated mass attack on the United States was thwarted yesterday afternoon when US Federal authorities seized several bombs placed from Washington, DC to Boston,” said the newscaster on the TV, drawing the passenger’s attention.

  He glanced up at the TV.

  “While the exact number of bombs is unknown, authorities are treating it as a terrorist attack. Salvatore Consuelo reports from New York City.”

  The camera switched from the news studio to a man standing on a busy walkway in Manhattan.

  “I’m standing outside the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, in Manhattan’s Morningside Heights neighborhood, where, just yesterday, FBI discovered a bomb in the back of a car. This was just one of several uncovered yesterday along the East Coast, causing speculation of a widespread and coordinated attack on US citizens. Details about the attack are not being released, but a spokesman for the FBI did state the agency had advanced knowledge of the plot and acted to neutralize the situation. If the attacks were successful, they would have occurred on Palm Sunday and, at least here in New York City, there was a large crowd gathered for an event celebrating the launch of Holy Week. Other cities were also targeted with Philadelphia, Washington, DC, and Boston confirmed, but the number of bombs remains undisclosed. So far, no one has claimed responsibility for the attempted attack.”

  The passenger stared at the TV, the paper in his hands forgotten. Multiple cities? And Philadelphia was one of them?

  He lowered his eyes to the paper again, staring at it blindly as thoughts swirled around his head. A terrorist attack on US soil had been foiled at the last minute, and one of the country’s top assassins just happened to be in the Philadelphia area this week.

  Viper.

  The name was like poison, echoing like a death knell in his ears. When it passed the lips of the dying man in a hospital bed four days ago, he didn’t believe it at first. What would an FBI agent know about an assassin of Viper’s caliber? How would he even know the name? So few did. It was impossible, or so he thought at the time.
/>   He changed his mind a few moments later when he passed a stranger in the corridor, heading toward the room he himself had just vacated. When he turned back to look, he met cold, dark eyes that shot a warning clear through him. In that instant, he knew he was staring at the mysterious and illusive Viper.

  It was not impossible.

  The man’s lips tightened grimly. He’d heard whispered tales about the infamous assassin. They all had. The US government’s elite assassin had reached almost god-like status in the underworld. They said she never failed. Viper had a 100% success rate. There were others, most notably one they called Hawk, but Viper became notorious the moment her own government put out a contract on her.

  The passenger shook his head. He didn’t normally listen to rumors, but the contract had been real enough. He received it himself, reading it before the offer was rescinded a few hours later. Talk at the time was that she had already been terminated when the contract went out. Clearly it wasn’t true. She was alive and well. He’d seen her four days ago.

  What the hell did the FBI agent have to do with her?

  “Sir? I can board you now if you’d like,” the flight attendant said, breaking into his thoughts.

  The passenger snapped his attention back from his thoughts to find the newspaper crumpled in his fists. He released his hands, folding the paper before standing and tucking it under his arm. He picked up his bag and nodded to the attendant.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  The attendant nodded and waited for him to present his passport and boarding pass. The man watched as he was checked into the flight, then took his papers back with a nod before turning to walk out of the lounge and into the long corridor leading to his gate.

  In the intervening days since the hospital, he’d managed to convince himself that he imagined it. That the look from the stranger was just a look from a stranger, and the man was delusional with pain killers when he whispered the name. He even began to relax, and stopped looking over his shoulder. After all, why would an international assassin be on US soil to begin with?

  A foiled terrorist attack changed all that. If Viper was working, and her target led her to the United States, she would follow. They were trained to stalk their targets, and it didn’t matter where. If the target went, they followed.