He fixed his stare on the door as it opened way too slowly.
Juniper crossed the threshold with her hands behind her back and her chin up.
"You motherfucking asshole." Sterling twisted, yanking his arms, not giving a shit that he was ripping his skin.
"I've been called worse," Koda said.
Her hair was loose around her face and abnormally messy. There was a cut at the corner of her mouth and a bruise on her cheek, neither of which had been there this morning.
The woman standing behind her had gray hair. She was fit, and if Sterling was forced to guess her age, he'd say she was somewhere between fifty and fifty-five. But regardless, Sterling didn't like the angle of the gun she had pressed against Juniper’s side.
"Where do you want her?" the woman asked.
"In a chair next to me." Koda snapped his fingers, and Charlie actually moved like he was on fire.
He raced across the room, yanked open a folding chair, and placed it about four feet from Koda.
The woman guided Juniper to the chair and shoved her a little too harshly into it.
"Are you going to introduce us?" Nick asked.
"This is Bea," Juniper said. "My handler."
"I'm not fond of the way she's handling you." Sterling continued to work his hands, but the zip-ties weren't budging.
"Now, bring me that black case," Koda said. "And bring the table too."
"I got it." Doyle pushed off the pallet. He curled his fingers under the small table and dragged it, screeching, across the floor.
Sterling hated that noise.
Doyle yanked his cell from his back pocket, tapped the screen as he paced in front of Sterling and Nick.
"Is there a problem? Is there something more pressing?" Koda asked.
"Still have a job. Still have cases I'm working," Doyle said. "Don't I Rutgers?"
"He does, and one of them can be a little needy at times." Rutgers shifted, pushing the laptop and then went back to typing. "Whatever it is, deal with it quickly."
"Yes, sir." Doyle tapped a few more times, then dropped his hand to his side, holding the screen so Sterling could see it.
Interesting.
But was even more interesting was the text string—to Dawson.
Location. Situation. Number of guns.
What the fuck was Doyle doing? And why?
"I really don't want to have to do this the hard way. But I will." Koda stood and slowly opened the black case. Inside, were syringes, vials, tape, tools that operatives used in torture that wasn't allowed in any kind of situation. It was considered a war crime to do so.
"Do you honestly believe I've never been captured and tortured before?" Juniper asked. "You can make me scream and bleed all you want, and I'll tell you what you want to hear, because that's what happens when you hurt people. But what do you think that’s going to do to Sterling?"
"Create cooperation." Koda yanked her chair closer to the table and held up a pair of shears strong enough to cut fingers. "Bea, you have the honors."
Bea held up her hands. "I'm not going to do your dirty work." She shook her head.
"Oh, yes you are." He shoved the shears closer.
