CARLOS CAUGHT GABRIELLE-if that really was her name-under her arms before she sank to the floor.
He’d found Lee.
Gabrielle was making those gut-wrenching noises.
She’d been doing so good, holding up far better than he’d have expected from any civilian. He turned her to face him and held her against his chest. “Breathe through your mouth.”
Carlos felt the cold barrel of his own 9 mm poke his neck.
“Keep moving,” Turga said.
Carlos held her arm as she stepped along with him, slowly, not a drop of color in her face. “Don’t look at him,” he told her, wishing he could vanish the image of Lee strapped to the wall spread eagle.
Lee’s head rolled to one side. He was alive.
Classic Turga location. This would be one of no less than three spots in the area his men would have scouted out for this night.
His men must have found Lee with Baby Face while Carlos had been out in the lake with Gabrielle and assumed Lee had shot Baby Face and knew what the electronics felon was after.
At least Turga and his men weren’t a professional snatch team that would have known to cover his and Gabrielle’s heads with pillowcases, then separate them. Turga was the equivalent of a vulture and he hired bottom-feeders.
Carlos had met him a few months ago when Turga tried to hire Carlos for an operation he declined. If he’d accepted the first time, Turga would have been suspicious, so Carlos had expected a second meeting. Just not this way.
When the chopper pilot entered the building, Turga waved his weapon, indicating a spot where he wanted Carlos and Gabrielle, over to the side. Once Turga was satisfied with their position, he spoke quietly to his pilot.
Carlos averted Gabrielle’s gaze from Lee’s naked body, covered in lean muscle and bloody gashes. His face had already swollen to a hideous shape.
Tattoos scrolling across his shoulder and down one arm explained why Joe had taken him in. BAD didn’t recruit from colleges like the CIA and the FBI.
BAD would be more likely to hold a job fair at a prison.
Joe had drawn Carlos in from the street by offering him a chance to legally use his skills at things like breaking and entering. BAD needed an expert on South America, someone who could move around the country undetected.
One thing about Joe, he had timing down to an art. Having refused to choose a gang in San Francisco, Carlos had been living on borrowed time since he poached on all territories back then.
But Lee had clearly taken a different path.
Lee’s inked designs belonged to a Chicago gang known as the Firing Squad, which dealt in interstate drug trafficking, car thefts, shakedowns, and money laundering. A tight group no one undercover had been able to break into.
To become a member, a man had to pass only three tests.
One was to be under the age of twenty.
The second was to be vouched for by a member with five or more years in the gang.
The final and defining test determined if he could kill to survive. The gang pledge had to challenge a member of a rival gang to kill or be killed in thirty days. Sort of the street version of international athletic competition, but in this one the gold chain went to the last one breathing.
The losing opponent won a one-way ticket to hell.
Once the challenge was made, Lee would have had to remain inside the city limits and keep a visible profile for a month with no support.
If he lived, he was in.
The chances of survival were so small it was laughable.
But Lee had made it or he wouldn’t have the ink, because no tattoo artist was stupid enough to ink a gang design without authorization.
But Lee must have turned the corner somewhere. Joe had seen something decent in the kid to bring him into BAD.
Maybe the same thing that had caused Joe to prevent Carlos from going to prison and give him a chance no one else would.
Dammit, Lee couldn’t be over twenty-five.
Why did that seem so young when Carlos was only thirty-three?
Because he’d lived a hard thirty-three years.
Someone moved into view close to Lee. Just as Carlos had suspected, Turga had backup inside the building. Bald, not quite six feet tall, another stocky, dark-skinned Turk.
This guy had tortured Lee.
He would die first.
Carlos glanced around for a place to put Gabrielle so he would have his hands free. The only chairs were next to a table beside where Lee hung. Carlos wasn’t letting Gabrielle anywhere near that animal who had tortured the BAD agent.
What had Lee given up?
Carlos would know soon enough.
“Sit over here.” He moved Gabrielle to a crate and she followed without a word. If she went deep into shock where she wouldn’t respond, getting her out of here unharmed would be tough if he got a break.
He’d deal with that when the time came.
If the time came.
Deep voices murmured behind him. Carlos had to find out what Turga wanted and determine what, if anything, he could negotiate. But he couldn’t leave Gabrielle yet.
He cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look up at him. Violet-blue eyes stared back with the full force of her terror. But he’d expected a glazed look, so that was promising.
Before he could say another word, a howl of pain from where Lee hung clawed the air.
Carlos clenched his jaw.
Gabrielle jerked. Her face changed from pale to a sick green, but she was holding up damn good for a woman obviously not trained for this. He’d seen men in similar situations completely shut down by now.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Carlos instructed her, then waited on her nod before he turned around. The pilot was gone.
“Why was he with you, Carlos?” Turga asked, indicating Lee. “You share your dates?” Mockery dripped from his tongue.
“Just hired some muscle to watch my back while I stopped in to see her. We were on our way to a job. I caught Baby Face at Gabrielle’s house looking for me. If you’d have waited five minutes, I’d have been back around the house. This”-Carlos pointed at Lee’s battered body-“wouldn’t have been necessary.”
Turga merely smiled. “You paid this kid to back you up? You insult me.” He scowled and turned to his torturer. “What you find out, Izmir?”
“This one claims the same thing.” Izmir shrugged. “Said he made some quick cash to help. Hired to watch the woman’s house. Took some work, but he did give me Carlos’s name.”
Carlos would not fault Lee for that. In fact, he commended him on keeping the story straight and only using a first name. This way they were corroborating each other’s story.
Turga jerked his head in a sign for Izmir to come to him. When Izmir reached Turga, they spoke quietly.
Turga was a poacher, an opportunist who waited for someone like Baby Face to make a deal and do all the work before Turga showed up at the last minute to snatch the prize out from under everyone. His success depended on timing. Right about now, he was trying to figure out if he’d made a mistake by jumping too soon before he found out what Baby Face was after.
Turga would have given Baby Face one chance to tell him, then cut his throat since he was too damn big to carry out easily.
Carlos glanced at Lee, who lifted his head an inch and angled his face toward Carlos, but there was no way to tell if he could actually see anything out of those bloated eyes. Carlos gave him a slight nod he hoped translated into a promise that he’d make that bastard pay.
Lee moved his chin up and down a fraction, just enough to let Carlos know he had seen something.
Carlos glanced at his watch. How could he use the fact that it was eighteen minutes to six?
“Ask him more,” Turga ordered.
Izmir walked to a table next to Lee where a couple towels were piled. To clean up his hands when the blood got too sticky?
You will pay, asshole.
Izmir lifted a pole with a loop on the end like the kind used to catch a snake, except the loop on the end was a wire that ran to a machine plugged into the wall. Carlos flinched, guessing at what Izmir had in mind. The bastard moved the loop toward Lee’s genitals.
“Stop!” Carlos ordered.
“You want to talk?” Turga asked with so much humor Carlos shook with the need to rip him to pieces.
“Turn him loose and we’ll talk,” Carlos offered in as even a voice as he could muster.
“Don’t think so.”
“You’re going to kill all of us, Turga. I’ll give you what you want if you leave the kid alone.”
“So you’ll tell me your deal with Baby Face? I know it was big score, something that electronic ferret lucked into.”
So Baby Face had found Mirage for someone else he planned to shop her to and Turga didn’t know.
Hard to imagine that the woman behind Carlos was the infamous electronic informant, but to be honest he’d seen stranger things.
He made a production of checking his watch, then sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal. Baby Face offered me a cut to help him make a risky trade. He wanted professional backup, not the clowns he normally dragged around. He had to contact someone by six tonight or the deal was off. I was out of the country. Just got back and found out he was offered more money to deliver sooner, and I know who has the money. So he was trying to snake me on the deal. You cut the kid loose,” Carlos said, nodding at Lee, “and I’ll tell you the deal, names, everything. In trade, no torture, just a bullet between the eyes.”
Turga glanced at his watch and back at Carlos, his eyes twitching as if he couldn’t decide whether to kill Carlos or make a deal. He finally cursed something in Turkish.
“If you lie, you look worse than him when I get through with you.” Angling his head at Lee, Turga’s face creased with confusion, the time element now causing him grief. “Not like Baby Face to pick up an asset himself. Don’t fuck with me, Carlos. Only reason she not strung up yet is I’m still not buying this girlfriend bit. I no risk damaging merchandise in case she is what Baby Face selling. If not, she all mine.”
Carlos forced himself not to charge Turga. Fury rode up his back, demanding immediate payment for Lee’s bloody body. And, yes, for Gabrielle’s terror even if she had put herself in this predicament.
“Take him down and I’ll tell you what Baby Face was really after and how to cut the deal…or risk missing Baby Face’s deadline.” Carlos delivered that with a venomous finality that assured he was through negotiating.
Turga finally nodded at Izmir, who grumbled, then tossed his stick to the ground. He produced a switchblade and cut Lee’s ankles loose, then his wrists.
A hiss of pain and moans escaped when Lee fell to his knees before his arms and head slapped the floor. He didn’t move.
Carlos had covered several steps toward Turga while his attention was turned.
When Turga cut his gaze back, he waved the 9 mm. “Stop there.” A jingle played, interrupting the tense silence. Turga dug a cell phone out of his front pants pocket and answered with “What you find out?” After a pause, he smiled and said, “He put out a bounty? No, no, we’re old friends. I contact him soon. Good work. You almost as good as Baby Face.” He closed his phone and shoved it back into his front pants pocket.
“I thought we were going to talk.” But Carlos knew deep in his gut that call had complicated things.
“Yes, yes. First, you tell me what she knows about this Mirage Durand Anguis has bounty on.”
Hell. Wait. Turga thinks Gabrielle only knew something about the Mirage.
Carlos offered his most arrogant smile. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. Durand made Baby Face a new offer for more money to deliver her to him. Durand’s far more persuasive than Izmir when it comes to making someone talk.” He ignored the feminine gasp behind him and continued, “Baby Face figured he’d save what he was going to pay me and make a bonus amount by picking her up. Not a bad plan even for Baby Face. As you said, he doesn’t normally do his own dirty work.”
“So she has information?” Turga’s smile gleamed with anticipation.
“You’re smarter than that.” Carlos doubted the possibility, but hoped a threat would force Turga to hesitate. “Touch her and Durand will take your balls off with a pair of pliers.”
Turga shrugged. “So, no reason to keep you alive, eh?”
That was a tricky one. Carlos needed a minute to come up with an answer. “Go ahead and shoot me.”
Turga smiled, shoved the gun inside his waistband, and swung the rifle up.
“But it will cost you,” Carlos said quickly.
That unglued the bastard’s smile. “What you mean?”
Good news? Turga’s greed outweighed his intelligence.
“Let’s sit down and talk.” Carlos started forward, angling toward the table and chairs, gaining another two steps closer to Turga.
“Stop. We discuss nothing until Izmir tie your hands so you no make one of those moves you famous for.”
“Me famous?” Carlos laughed, keeping his eyes on Izmir, who grabbed a length of cord he snapped with pleasure and headed for him.
“I hear stories.” Turga scowled. “I would keep you alive if not so risky. Bet someone has price on your head, too.”
Carlos shrugged as if he couldn’t care less about Turga’s debate to kill him or shop his head. He put his palms together, lifting his wrists in front of him all compliant and nice.
Turga’s gaze danced past Carlos to where Gabrielle sat behind him.
Carlos turned his head to look at her.
Gabrielle frowned up at him, lips parted in total confusion.
He winked at her.
She blinked, then closed her mouth and gave a tiny dip of her head. A nod he took to mean she was still on the same page with him.
He turned back around and used the opportunity to shuffle another step forward. Izmir stepped between him and Turga, lifting the cord to wrap around Carlos’s wrists. It was now or never. He could only hope Lee had a breath of life still in him.
Carlos swung a feigned look of shock toward Lee and yelled, “No, don’t!”
Izmir jerked around to Lee, who amazingly lurched to his feet.
Turga swung the weapon at Lee. “In a hurry to die?”
Lee lowered his chin to his chest, submissive.
Turga grunted with satisfaction, so confident with a gun against a naked and beaten man.
Just stay there, Lee. Carlos used the two seconds he’d been given to curl his fingers tight and lunge, ramming a fist into Izmir’s throat, snapping his windpipe. Out of the corner of Carlos’s eye, he could see Lee move, but Izmir grabbed at Carlos with one hand and clutched his choking throat with the other.
A gunshot-Turga’s rifle-exploded, echoing against the concrete walls.
Screams ricocheted behind the echo. Gabrielle’s.
Izmir sucked air, staggering back, eyes bulging. Carlos spun and kicked high, knocking Izmir back at Turga.
Another gunshot. The bullet ripped through the middle of Izmir, catching Carlos across his side, a gash at worst.
The air reeked with curses, screams, and fresh blood.
Izmir tottered. Carlos ran headfirst, ramming him all the way into Turga. The gun exploded again, so close Carlos lost his hearing, but the bullet deflected high.
Carlos crashed down on top of Izmir, who landed on Turga with a heavy thud. Rolling over, he pushed to his feet.
Turga struggled to squirm free of the dead body pinning him. His hand still clutched the rifle. Carlos slammed his bootheel down on Turga’s wrist, satisfied with the snap of bone and the howl of pain that followed. He kicked the rifle out of reach and found his 9 mm nearby on the concrete floor. Turga cursed, yelled, and beat his undamaged hand against Izmir, who didn’t move. Carlos wanted to kill the fucker, but that would be murder. He had to get to Lee to see how bad he was. Izmir’s bulk had Turga pinned.
Carlos hurried to Lee’s sprawled body. Fresh blood poured from a hole ripped into his chest. His first duty was to get Gabrielle out of here, but she’d live.
The kid wouldn’t.
Dropping down on his knees, Carlos gently lifted Lee’s ravaged body into his arms. When he did, his fingers slipped into a gaping wound in Lee’s back no bandage would plug enough to save him. Warm liquid gushed down Carlos’s arm and pooled on the floor.
“You just had to be a hero, huh?” Carlos said in a voice raw with regret.
Lee’s lips twisted up on one side, teeth missing from the perfect set he’d had just an hour ago.
Carlos pulled him close to hear the whispered words Lee struggled to form.
“Sorry.” Lee drew hard for a gurgling breath that shuddered through him. A scarlet trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “Failed…first time.”
“No.” Carlos swallowed against the lump in his throat. He’d never get used to watching the young die. “You aced it.” His eyes stung.
“Carlos!” Gabrielle yelled.
He swung, instinctively lifting the handgun as he did.
Turga had somehow freed himself of Izmir and was running at him with a knife.
Rage blinded Carlos.
He unloaded four shots in succession…all into the lower hips and genital area. Not the spot a marksman of his ability would normally aim for, but Turga didn’t deserve a bullet between the eyes.
Turga hit the ground, hands grabbing himself. Guttural howls rocked the warehouse for several seconds, then he just cried, rolling from side to side.
When Carlos turned back to Lee, the kid’s lips were moving, his eyes bright. Carlos leaned his ear close to Lee’s mouth.
“Thanks” wheezed out, then one hard shudder racked the broken body before Lee’s soul passed on.
Carlos dropped his chin to his chest, breathing hard. His eyes stung. There was nothing more helpless than feeling the last breath of someone he held, knowing he couldn’t do anything to save that person.
Just as he couldn’t sixteen years ago.
Pain knifed through him, dredging up a memory from the past with brutal clarity. He’d held another battered body, that of the young girl he’d loved with all his being, as she’d drawn her last breath.
His heart beat erratically, aching in his chest.
Light footsteps approached him. Not Turga, who had finally silenced. Dead at last.
Lee was no longer in pain. Carlos still had a job to do and another woman to protect. He eased Lee to the floor. With one phone call, BAD would have a cleanup crew here in a half hour. He couldn’t wait that long and risk one of Turga’s people coming back.
Leaving Lee uncovered just seemed wrong, but Carlos couldn’t expend the time to put his clothes on him.
He stood and turned to Gabrielle, the informant everyone wanted. She’d stopped on the other side of Turga. Chestnut brown hair scattered from having gone overboard and drying in a wild wind. Face white as a ghost and hands trembling, she sure as hell didn’t look the part of an international operative. The baggy workout clothes underneath her open trench coat were still damp.
Turga lay dead on the floor between them, the room littered in carnage.
She lifted misery-filled eyes to his, punching him in the gut with her suffering. “Is he, is he dead?”
Carlos wasn’t sure which he she referred to, but since they were all three dead he just said, “Yes.”
The blank stare worried him. They had to go. Chances were they’d have to interact with someone in the public once they were out of here. He needed her lucid.
When she showed no real signs of coherence, he stepped over Turga to reach her. He held her shoulders, careful not to get blood on her. Considering everything, she should be screaming her head off right now or completely catatonic. Her eyes drifted past him to where Lee lay silently.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me, too. He was a good man.” Carlos shoved his mind back into gear. “We have to go before someone else shows up.”
She nodded, but when he started to move around her, she pulled out of his grasp.
“What?”
Gabrielle didn’t answer. She just took her trench coat off as she stepped over Turga, then draped the coat over Lee’s body.
Nothing could have endeared her more to Carlos in that moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and waited until she returned to his side.
She stopped short and stared at him. “Is any of that your blood?”
“Not enough to bother with.” However, he couldn’t walk around in public like this if he didn’t want to draw attention. “Go get your bags.”
She took a deep breath that seemed to fortify her, then she walked past Izmir to where she’d been sitting.
Carlos grabbed the towel already soiled with Lee’s blood from when Izmir had cleaned his hands. He made quick work of wiping the worst of the blood off his arms and searched the floor beyond the table for Lee’s clothes. Ignoring the twist of guilt over taking Lee’s clothes, he yanked off his turtleneck and pulled on the long-sleeved T-shirt that had been tossed aside. He exchanged his jeans for Lee’s, which were close in fit, and spread his bloody shirt over Lee’s face, then walked back to gather up Gabrielle and her belongings.
No point in worrying about DNA at this point since his blood was in the mix and BAD should get here first to clean up.
He reached for her computer bag and she came alive.
“No.” She snatched the bag to her chest. “Thank you, but I’ll take it.”
That reminded Carlos of just whom he was transporting. The Mirage. A woman with a bounty on her head, including one from Durand.
Right now she was a woman he didn’t believe had ever been this close to guns or killing. His informant needed fresh air soon or once her shock passed, the sick smell of death would overtake her.
“Don’t look at anything but the door.” He pointed that way to get her moving.
The slash of disbelief she cut at him brought a flare of color back to her cheeks. “What? You think I’ll have nightmares? Like I missed seeing any of that?”
He sighed. She might have seen gunshots and some bodies hit with bullets, but her eyes had been glazed when she stood within inches of the blood surrounding Turga and the lower half of his mangled body. She hadn’t actually seen the gore.
“Do you want to see it again?” he challenged, sure of her answer.
“No, of course not.”
“Then keep your eyes on the door.” He walked her to the exit and opened the door halfway, then dropped her backpack on the floor. “Stand here, breathe in some fresh air, and close the door immediately if you hear a car or see anyone.”
She grabbed his forearm right where the glass had cut it. He managed not to curse, but snapped at her, “What?”
“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded in a whisper.
“I’m not.” He gently pried her fingers off his gash that would now seep blood again. “I’m going to get Turga’s phone and make a call.”
She exhaled a sigh that partnered with the relief in her eyes. “Okay.”
Carlos moved carefully around the bodies to stay out of the blood. Turga had kept his cell phone in his right pants pocket. The one shredded to pieces. Part of the phone had fallen out of his pocket into the plasma puddle.
Well, hell.
He checked Izmir, whose phone had been in his vest pocket before Turga blew that to shreds.
What did it take to get just one break on this freakin’ job?
Carlos shoved his weapon inside the front waistband of his jeans and strode back where Gabrielle faced out the door opening. He could hear her taking deep breaths. When he touched her shoulder, she yelped and bumped her head against the door.
She turned a panicked face to him.
“Sorry.”
“What now?” she asked.
Underneath the fragility glistening in her eyes, she made a damned impressive effort to pull herself together.
“We leave.” He opened the door. “Let’s go.”
“What about…them?”
“No one’s phone works. I’ll send someone to get Lee and deal with this as soon as I get a phone.”
“Where are we going?” She finally started walking when he put his hand to the small of her back.
“Somewhere safe.” Guess he’d earned the dubious look she gave him, but she continued without question until they reached the end of the building.
Hallelujah. A break.
A dual-cab pickup truck was parked beyond the security lights that shone over the lot.
“Stay here.” Carlos eased her against the wall in a deep shadow, then hurried over to the truck. He dug around to all the normal places a guy would throw a set of keys if he didn’t want to carry them. The key ring was under the driver’s seat. Probably Izmir’s truck since the interior stank of strong European cigarettes and the goon would have left his keys in easy access in case he’d had to run.
Carlos waved Gabrielle to the truck. She rushed forward and climbed in on the passenger side. He tossed the backpack on the rear seat.
Once he pulled the truck out and motored to the opening of the industrial center, Gabrielle said, “We’re in Tyrone.”
“Yep. What’s the fastest route to the library in Peachtree City?”
“What? You’ve got an overdue book?”
He couldn’t believe the spark of sarcasm in her voice. “No, that’s where I left my car. I figured you might know a quicker way since you live down here.”
“To the right, then stay on this road. It will merge into Highway 74 southbound.”
“Thanks.” Carlos gave her points for not trying to steer him the wrong way. “Dig around in the glove box, under the seat, anywhere you think someone might stick a cell phone.”
She started searching. “Who leaves keys and a cell phone in their vehicle?”
Anyone who lived on the wrong side of the law. “All of Turga’s men,” he answered, speculating as much as lying.
“Really?” She paused, seemed to process that, then kept searching. “Unbelievable.”
Carlos did a double take at her soft curse. “What?”
She stared at him with new respect and pulled a cell phone from the glove box. She handed it to him.
“It’s not that unusual. These guys carry three or four of everything they need.” Carlos flipped open the phone and damn. A signal. He punched in numbers for Joe’s direct line.
When the ringing stopped and no one on the other end spoke, he said, “It’s me, Carlos.”
“Glad to hear it,” Joe snapped. “What about Lee?”
Carlos didn’t say a word.
Joe muttered, “Shit.”
Carlos gave him the address in a coded phrase. “If you don’t get there first-”
“Hold on.” Joe rattled the address and orders to someone, then turned back to the phone. “We’ll get Lee and handle cleanup.”
“What about the first bunch?” Carlos asked, indicating Baby Face and his backup’s body plus their SUV at the place he’d found Gabrielle.
“Already gone. You on your way in?”
“No. The source is in rough shape and I need some sleep. We’ll head in tomorrow.”
“Going to our secure location?” Joe asked, indicating the safe house in north Georgia where Carlos had been heading earlier.
“Yep. I’ll text a new contact number in about ten minutes.” Carlos also had another phone in his car.
“Want backup sent to meet you?”
“No.” Carlos didn’t want another human being to keep alive for the moment. “I’ve got this. I’ll fill you in later on everything.”
“Your call,” Joe said, letting Carlos know he understood until they had the chance to speak over a secure line.
Joe would let him know at that point what he planned to do with Gabrielle. Carlos doubted it would make any difference she was a female if Joe and Tee, Joe’s codirector at BAD, decided to lock her up tonight.
In spite of how Joe had left their conversation, there could very well be an unmarked van with two armed security guards at the cabin waiting to take her into custody by the time Carlos reached north Georgia.
For the first time since signing on with BAD, he faced having to make a decision he hesitated on. Could he really hand this woman over to guards after all she’d been through tonight?
Carlos ended the phone connection and glanced at Gabrielle. He read her body language-arms wrapping her body, eyes staring ahead, rigid posture-as withdrawing.
Why that pinched him, he couldn’t say.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, turning her head to finally look at him with suspicious eyes.
“We need to talk to you.”
“Who wants to talk to me?”
He didn’t answer at first, debating on how much to say. No point in trying to get anything out of her right now when she was probably holding herself together with sheer will.
“I can’t get into all that until tomorrow,” he said. “You have to know by now I’m not going to harm you or let anyone else. I’m taking you somewhere safe for the night. That’s all I can tell you.”
She didn’t make a sound of acknowledgment or to argue.
Carlos kept his speed within the limits. The roads intersected, just as she’d said. Once he was on the main highway, he knew where he was going. A thought popped into his mind.
Was anyone waiting to hear from her?
“Gabrielle?”
“Yes?” That answer came out on a weary sigh. She sagged against the passenger door, a rag doll that had been dragged through the muck and run completely out of batteries.
“Who knew you were living in Peachtree City?”
“No one but the man I rented from and I never see him.”
The mumbled answer combined with her sad voice tugged at his insides. She was connected somehow to all of this. That put her squarely on the wrong team.
A sigh escaped on a cough…or a sob. No, she hadn’t cried yet. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t now.
The adrenaline power charge he’d been relying on was spent. He rubbed his forehead, aching from jet lag, seventy-two hours of running a mission without sleep, and the last few hours of fighting for their lives.
Not to mention finding out the informant everyone wanted was a woman who could more easily pass as a schoolteacher than someone involved in international espionage.
She leaned against the door, her head touching the window. He fought the urge to draw her next to him and tuck her close out of reflex.
Not exactly protocol for taking a felon into custody.
They both needed sleep tonight, but he didn’t know what waited for him at the cabin.
He also couldn’t allow her to see where they were going.
The throb behind his eyes pulsated. Taking down an armed felon would be easier than treating her like a prisoner once they reached the safe house, but he still had a job to do and couldn’t risk letting his guard down.
Not after finally capturing Mirage.
She slumped back against the seat. He shouldn’t have looked over at her.
The tear running down the side of her face started a war between his conscience and his duty.