Betrayal of Ambra: Mercenaries of Fortune, #6

By Lyn Brittan

Still reeling from months in solitary confinement, Lisa Avery desperately wants a fresh start with Team Ambra. Scotland’s finest import, royal pilot Reginald Remington, just might be the man to save her – so long as his dangerous past doesn’t catch up with him first.

Together, they must overcome their personal demons as they race around Eastern Europe to find an ancient treasure. As they battle those who would kill to get it first, will they be able to save themselves? And more importantly, will they be able to save each other?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gryy Brown Press
• Release date: Feb 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386454205

Lyn Brittan

Lyn grew up wanting to live like her heroes, James Bond and Indiana Jones. She wasn't totally successful and never had to shoot her way out of a hotel bedroom. She's still coming to terms with it. Awards and woot-woots include: USA Today Bestseller, 2013 and 2014 Galaxy Award Winner.

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No part of this eBook or bound book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. This eBook/Book may not be sold or given to other people. If you would like to share this story, please purchase additional copies.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Also by Lyn Brittan

Mercenaries of Fortune

The Knight of Ambra  (Brant and Michaela)

The Sergeant of Ambra  (Eric and Glori)

Duke of Ambra  (Kent and Elena)

The Soldier of Ambra  (Anderson and Kendall)

The Protector of Ambra (Pierce and Melody)

The Betrayer of Ambra (Remington and Lisa)

The SEAL of Ambra (Ethan and Ava)

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Dirty Djinn

The Genie’s Witch  (Tig and Dinah)

A Genie’s Love  (Faruq and Cassia)

The Cowboy Genie’s Wife  (Fazil and Rosa)

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Outer Settlement Agency

Solia’s Moon  (Giancarlo and Solia)

Anja’s Star  (Retzi and Anja)

Quinn’s Quasar  (Prio and Quinn)

Lana’s Comet  (Cyprus and Lana)

Vin’s Rules  (Vin and Allie)

Maricar’s Gamble (Dario and Maricar)

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Waters of London

The Clocks of London  (Patrick and Moira)

The Doctor of London  (Kennerick and Lady Hala)

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Balloc Manor

Of Magic and Engineering  (Roland and Prudence)

Of Machinery and Thievery  (Liam and Suzette)

About this book

Still reeling from months in solitary confinement, Lisa Avery desperately wants a fresh start with Team Ambra. Scotland’s finest import, royal pilot Reginald Remington, just might be the man to save her – so long as his own dangerous past doesn’t catch up with him first.

Together, they must overcome their personal demons as they race around Eastern Europe to find an ancient treasure. As they battle those who will kill to get it first, will they be able to save themselves? And more importantly, will they be able to save each other?

THE BETRAYAL OF AMBRA

Mercenaries of Fortune

By

Lyn Brittan

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Chapter One

Vienna, Austria

July

Remington followed his target through the nightscope of his gun. Three millimeters to the right, and he would have Jonas Macdonnal bleeding out. With that bastard dead, he could move on with his life and look at his brother’s grave without bitterness clawing up his insides.

Remington settled in as the gravel on the rooftop dug into his elbows. The tar and mold on the roof burned his nostrils. The smell, however, didn’t detract from the sweetness of revenge. He’d been waiting for this moment, desperate for this opportunity. Taking a life didn’t come lightly, but for someone as evil as Jonas, it didn’t come hard.

A crowd of sequined revelers poured out of the doors of the dance club. The marble steps of the old Viennese building looked as though they had once led to something far grander. Tonight, he would paint those white steps red.

He still had a clean shot straight through the center of the bastard’s chest. Good. Some of the women next to Jonas would catch a little blood on their chests, but he tried not to let that thought bother him. Accidental blood spatter tended to happen to folks around Jonas.

Remington’s target stood off to the side, speaking with a woman whose dress was so short that she couldn’t bend over without catching a breeze on the inside. The girl was young and attractive... and stupid enough to hang out with gangsters.

Jonas, always the showman, didn’t allow any of the ladies to surround him. With his arms wrapped around their stick-thin waists, he stood with his chest pumped and facing the street as if wanting to make sure everyone saw who he was. He flaunted the women as though they were cars or fine watches.

Remington adjusted his aim to hit somewhere with a little more blood. Maybe with enough of Jonas’s guts splattered on them, they would get scared enough to walk the straight and narrow.

He moved his finger from the guard to the trigger. It was time to end this. He was a breath away from a reality in which Jonas was dead. He would be able to close his eyes without seeing his brother lying cold or hearing their grandmother sobbing. In less than a minute, he would fulfill the promise he had made to his grandfather to avenge Nick’s death.

This was the beginning of his new life. His fatherless nephew, Harry, would soon move in with Remington in Massachusetts. The three-year-old was getting to be too much for Gram to handle. Remington should have stepped in sooner, but he hadn’t been able to look at the boy, knowing Nick’s murderer was still walking free. That weight wouldn’t burden him anymore. He could go back home to Scotland for the first time since the funeral.

Remington readjusted his shoulders and brushed the side of his gun against the cool metal railing. Laughter broke out within the group below, and a couple of men blocked his perfect target. Shit.

He could still take the shot and cut right through the men in front of his target. Remington associated them with the worst of humanity. These losers were gunrunners and traffickers who deserved to be shot. He would be doing the world a favor in a two-for-one—or hell, three-for-one—deal.

Remington’s cell phone thrummed against the tiny rocks on the roof he’d chosen as his lookout point. Double shit. He’d had the phone set to silent. Only one man had the ability to override that—his boss, the ex-CIA and military agent codenamed the Dragon.

Remington cringed. His cheeks warmed as an unexpected round of shame coiled to life inside him. The noblest man he’d ever met was calling him in the middle of... well...

Well, it sure as shit wasn’t cold-blooded murder. Jonas was as evil as they came. Some said he’d even killed his own father so he could lead the crime syndicate. So technically, cold-blooded wasn’t the best word.

The phone vibrated again.

Not answering wasn’t an option. The American on the other end was the only man alive who sent shivers through Reginald Remington’s very Scottish core. Leaving the Royal Air Force and the UK to join Team Ambra had been the best and worst decision of his life.

The work was good. The money was amazing. The Dragon paid him well to protect archeological treasures across the globe. Remington didn’t pocket all the cash. Instead, he took enough for himself to keep a small flat in Leicester, Massachusetts, and sent the rest back home to his grandmother and nephew. It was the financial break his gram had needed. In other words, the Dragon and Team Ambra had saved his family.

That meant Remington had to answer the damned call. Sir?

It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Vienna to Budapest. I’m sending direct coordinates to your phone. We have a problem.

Sir, I—hello?

The phone went dead on the other end, as dead as Jonas was alive. The goon and his crew slid into a limo and drove away. It might be ages before Remington got this close again. But that was hardly the worst of it.

It was bad enough that the Dragon had ordered Remington to go to Budapest. But the worst part was that the Dragon knew where Remington was in the first place. How?

Everything about this situation raised the red hairs on his arms. If the Dragon knew where Remington was and why he was in Vienna, this appointment in Budapest could quite possibly be his last mission with the team. And why the hell had Dragon called directly, anyway? The man had been deep undercover for over six months. His own family hadn’t heard from him. What had gone so wrong to make him call Remington now?

Chapter Two

Budapest, Hungary

Lisa Avery stared at her two brothers across the hotel suite. The eldest, Clay—the Dragon—stared as impassably as he had for her whole life. Her younger brother, Kent, glared back at her with damp cheeks, reddened eyes, and clenched fists.

Not at all how she expected the reunion to go.

She stepped toward Kent, but he pulled away, shaking his head. She had to try again. I could use a hug, little brother.

You’re supposed to be dead.

Well, there’s that. And that apparently was a big deal. She’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes explaining that her supposed death had all been in the name of work. Her little brother had spent the better part of those same fifteen minutes kindly telling her to fuck off.

She reached out, but he smacked her hand away. Are you serious?

Kent, I—

The boy she’d had chicken pox with was now a man gasping for air between quivering lips. I mourned you. I damn near died when they put your casket in the ground. They told me they’d only found tissue and— Kent gasped and jerked to face their stone-faced brother. You knew, Clay? What about Mom and Dad?

Clay, who’d always commanded so much attention, flinched for the first time in years. Do not call me that outside of home. I am your employer. My code name is the only—

"Fuck you. You’re my brother, and she’s my not dead sister. Fuck both of you."

She had a job to do.

Kent’s hand flew upward. Some things are more important than work.

"Nothing is more important than my work, Clay said. Our sister has never forgotten that. You’d do well to remember it."

She’d never seen Kent raise a hand in anger, but his punch sent Clayton Clovis Avery clear across the arm of the hotel sofa. Clay popped up in an instant, fists by his side, but Kent was already heading for the door.

Lisa ran after her younger brother, but Clay slapped his arms around her waist, dragging her back a few inches. No. His voice deepened in that tone of command she’d obeyed without question for so many years. Have you forgotten all your training from the navy? From me?

Lisa stumbled and twisted out of his grasp before turning away. Clay—or the Dragon or whatever the hell he called himself—had a lot of nerve. This was all his fault. She’d only joined the navy and its intelligence division at his insistence, and now, both had ruined her life. She’d faked her death to save Clay and Team Ambra, but she had done it at the expense of her own freedom and family.

Now she was here, hidden away for over a year in some Eastern European hotel, while everyone else went on with life. It’s not fair.

I know. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. For a second, he was the big brother who’d cleared her closets of boogeymen instead of the unbending agent he was today. You hated Father’s teachings, but you still learned them. The few shoulder the burden so that others may never know it. We’re the few, Lisa.

I know that. But she didn’t always want to be. With Navy Intelligence, she helped tracked down the worst of humanity. And Clay was right—work like that had to be done. He pulled his weight too, leading a team that hunted those who would destroy or endanger the world’s cultural artifacts. Every so often, her work would intersect with his. This time, its effects had been devastating.

While tracking someone for NI, she had run into a massive smuggling ring. Someone had been hunting religious artifacts and stealing them from churches and monasteries. She’d done the right thing and sent the information to Clay. His organization had the best chance of following up. Only she hadn’t been careful. Intelligence authorities found out, charged her with espionage, and readied her prison papers. A fake death saved her and kept Team Ambra’s existence quiet, but at the loss of her family, freedom, and worse.

I want out, Clay.

You don’t. You understand your duty and respect it. This? He flicked his fingers in the air. This is loneliness. Grief. Regret.

And you don’t feel any of that, do you?

I don’t have that luxury.

Yeah, well, I want my life back. I’ve been gone long enough. She needed people she knew. She needed her apartment and her stuff. She wanted her family, wanted to feel safe again, and wanted all of those things her brother had taken away. When do I get to see Momma? You promised that I’d...

Clay’s long lashes drifted toward the floor. He cleared his throat and straightened his cuffs at the wrists. Whatever you think of me, Lisa, and however many lies I tell, I always keep my promises to you.

That catch in your voice? Is that guilt?

Her brother wasn’t to be goaded. Instead, he stepped back, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Nope, the jerk wouldn’t feel a thing. It was all honor and obligations with him. Incidentals like others’ emotions didn’t come into play in the least, especially if they interfered with mission and duty.

She’d come to hate those words. It was a mission and duty that had gotten her there. Another mission might set her free. Now that Clay needed her, her exile might be over. She could return to the States. She would have to live undercover, but at least she would be home.

Grumbles of conversation bubbled over from the next room. Someone slammed a door, and a chair scraped across the floor. I guess Kent’s gone.

Clay stood in the sunlight, hands clasped behind his back and his chin tucked close to his chest. I believe you’re right. And perhaps we’ve lost one of our newer agents, Kent’s partner. They’re quite close. He looked over his shoulder with a tight grin. Then, as if remembering he didn’t have emotions, his face went blank, and he walked toward the door. We have work to do. Follow me.

Work meant dragging her embarrassed ass into the attached hotel suite filled with ex-SEALs, former Army Rangers, and every other acronymed group on the planet. She waved at those she recognized, though her hand never made it too far from her belt.

They all stared back with wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and throwing off pretty legitimate what the fuck vibes.

Clay pointed to the chair next to Remington, the Scottish guy she used to think was so attractive. He was still hot, but the years hadn’t been kind to him. He was beaten up, roughened by life. His russet eyebrows looked as if they were running from his face, and his deep-reddish-brown hair was clipped shorter than she remembered. Clearly, duty had stolen the joy from him too.

She was used to business hot, roughneck hot, and preppy hot. But Remington was tough guy on the street hot, like an ancient Gaelic warrior or some Spartan king.

Remington’s smoldering gaze landed on her face. His eyes were the craziest shade of blue. They flashed at her like lightning in the night and not in a good way. Men like him couldn’t hide when they were angry. He was raw emotion, and it showed. He must think the absolute worst of her. Who wouldn’t? Kent was popular, and she’d been the one to send him out of there in tears.

Yet every other person turned to Clay—their leader—with something close to fatherly reverence. Typical. Clay had been just as guilty as Lisa, more so, but she was the one taking the heat.

Lisa sank back into the chair with her arms crossed, while the self-appointed Second Coming