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Brick nodded slowly, lumbering alongside. “So you’re moving on. Okay then, now that we’re clear on that… Who’s the new lady in your life?”
“There isn’t one and you know it.”
“Fair enough. I can help. Sunny has this great friend she met at a recycling fair. A hot babe, truly, blonde with an unbelievably awesome rack. But don’t tell Sunny I said that part or she’ll kick my ass then serve me those granola bran pancakes of hers.” He shuddered. “Anyhow…”
“Quit with the mind games,” Jose interrupted, stopping outside their door, the rest of the team already climbing the steps to go inside the concrete building for interrogation. “I’m not interested in seeing anyone else. There? You got what you were fishing for. Are you happy?”
“Why would I be happy, dude?” He clapped him on the shoulder. “I feel bad for you. Because for whatever reason, you keep turning your back on an incredible woman who, honest to God, seems perfect for you.”
Brick’s hard-hitting truth made heading into a CIA debrief sound like a cakewalk. Jose didn’t bother denying a thing.
The words rolled around like acid inside him. “I’m not a total idiot. You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know. She is perfect. I get that. Man, I really do. She’s not the problem. I am.”
***
“Henry Pope, we’re very disappointed in you.”
Fear gripped the CIA agent in an icy hold at odds with the sweltering sun overhead. Nothing compared to the heat these bastards kept pouring onto him. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but the hell they were putting his family through back in the States while he was stuck over here. “I did what you said, damn it. I sent all the transcripts of Sutton Harper’s debriefs. I covered his ass when he slipped away instead of leaving the country.”
“But he got caught and that could create a real problem for your family.”
A scream sliced through the crackling connection. Charlotte. In agony. Oh God, he was going to lose it.
“You bastard, let her go.” He hissed, terrified of being overheard by one of the spies crawling all over this place. Even more terrified of what was happening to his wife.
Her scream dwindled to a low moan. Whatever they’d done to her had stopped. She was still alive. For now.
“Daddy,” his daughter, Ellie, sobbed hysterically in the background, hiccupping with fear. “Make them stop hurting Mommy. They cut Mommy. Daddy!”
“No, goddamnit, stop!” He wanted to howl out his frustration, to claw his way across continents and oceans to get to his family, vulnerable and alone because of him. He considered just turning himself in, sacrificing his career and even his life for his family.
He’d heard about agents being blackmailed, flipped because of one mistake. He’d never thought it could happen to him. But they were that damn good at finding a person’s vulnerability.
“Henry,” the mechanical voice came on again. His own personal demon. “Henry, we’ve been very generous with you. We paid off your gambling debts so you wouldn’t lose your job and your family wouldn’t lose their pretty house.”
Slumping back against a concrete wall, he felt the weight of his own guilt hammer down on him. Even now, the addiction whispered to him, tempting him to win enough money to take his family and hide from everyone forever.
But he owed these bastards too much and they were too well connected to crime syndicates around the world. If he betrayed them, there wasn’t a hole deep enough for him to climb into. They would find him, find his family, and slaughter them all.
He dragged his wrist across his damp eyes. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“Piddly little tasks to test your competence and your compliance. Dry runs for this mission. We thought you were ready, now we’re questioning that assumption. I hope you can come through for us, Henry. Your wife’s life depends on you.”
His head thudded back against the concrete wall. He had no choice. No way out. Only the hope of buying time. “What do you want me to do?”
“Kill Sutton Harper.”
Chapter 12
Rain hammered the roof of the airplane hangar. Rain, of all things. Rare as hell in this part of the world, but choosing today to make her life more complicated.
Stella assessed Sutton Harper as he glared at her from across the interrogation table. She rolled a mango between her hands while Smith and Brown observed the interview from off to the side. She’d been given the lead on this for now since she’d spent the past month with the traitor.
Apparently they’d both been pretending to be a student.
Harper was posturing and he was tough, tough enough to make her wonder how long he’d been involved. He looked so benign in surgical scrubs and wet hair from his decontamination shower—for a toxic bomb he’d brought into a crowded reception. She’d been questioning the treacherous bastard for well over two hours with only minimal success. She could only hope when analysts reviewed his statement that they could detect some thread, some inconsistency that could be traced back further until his story unraveled.
What had she missed before, when she’d been undercover with the students? After weeks cultivating a friendship with him, she should have picked up on something. She was a trained professional, for God’s sake, and she’d totally missed she was brushing elbows with a monster who’d joined forces with separatists bent on killing thousands of innocent civilians just to make a statement. At the moment, she didn’t feel all that confident in her professional skills.
