world imploded.
She’d taken a bribe from the mafia, betrayed Cole and her country for money, and because she knew he would figure it out, she made damn sure she was ready for him.
When he caught her in France on Thurney Bridge, they stood in a face-off, guns aimed. Until she held up her phone and showed him a live video of an assassin in Danni’s house.
There was no leverage more powerful than a threat to Danni’s life.
He had a split-second to make a decision. Let Marie kill him and save Danni. Or kill Marie and guarantee Danni’s death.
Lucky for him, Marie didn’t know about the high-tech, bullet-resistant clothing he wore under his jacket.
He let her shoot him.
The bullet hit his chest, fractured his ribs, and sent him crashing into the river below. When he didn’t surface, Marie believed he was dead. Everyone believed it. His unit, his employer, Trace, Danni…
Danni grieved his death for three years while he remained hidden, covertly hunting Marie.
The fucking bitch was a trained operative, same as him, and always a step ahead. But he had the element of surprise. She thought he was dead.
Maybe he should’ve killed her when he caught her, but she wasn’t a threat now. It’d taken him three years, but she was finally in prison, serving a life sentence without parole.
All of this flashed through his mind with a horrifying sense of déjà vu as he stared at the Russian woman. She’d shown him a video, threatened his friends, and now, in a race against the clock, he had a decision to make.
But this time, it wasn’t as simple as kill or be killed. Bullet-resistant clothing and a fake death wouldn’t get him out of this.
If he shot the woman, his friends would die. If he died, his friends would die. If he pretended to die, his friends would die.
The only way to save them was to go with her.
But if he did that, he faced gruesome, prolonged torture. They would methodically rip him apart until they extracted what they wanted from his mind.
Unless this was about revenge. In that case, torture would serve no purpose beyond their sick enjoyment. Electrocution, starvation, dismemberment—the ways a man could die were limited only by the imagination.
“It’s a two-hour ride.” She leaned a hip against the motorcycle and tapped her fingers on the seat. “We’re officially late.”
There was only one thing he could do in the face of such grim inevitability. He had to trick his brain into fighting for a sense of control and dignity.
Straightening his spine, he pulled in a slow, deep breath.
He wouldn’t die for his friends.
He would go with the woman and find a way to survive for them.
“I’m driving.” Everything inside him hardened as he regarded the motorcycle, its tires and suspension, and the spare helmet on the back. “I’ll get us there in time.”
“Leave your weapons and communication equipment.”
He ejected the round from his pistol and tossed it. The knife from his boot went next.
With razor-sharp focus, he felt nothing as he switched on the transmitter. “Come in, esé.”
“Go ahead,” Van said.
His entire team was tuned in, listening. Dammit, there was no easy way to say this and no time to mince his words. “Our aircraft has a drone on its tail. Armed with hellfire, it will shoot down our plane at twenty-three hundred unless I arrive at the designated place and time with this Russian cunt.”
He glared at her.
She glared back.
The radio went silent. He had to give it to his friends. He’d just delivered the worst news imaginable, and not one of them lost their shit. Not outwardly. They kept it locked down tight. Because they were survivors.
They would survive this, along with every person on that plane.
“I’m going with her,” he said. “Listen carefully. This is important. Contact the pilot and tell him not to deviate from his course. I repeat. Do not change course. Do not engage the drone. Or it will strike. Follow these orders, and our aircraft will land safely.”
“Copy.” Fury leaked through Van’s voice. “Do you know who these fuckers are?”
“Negative.”
“How do we find you?”
“You don’t.”
“We will, goddammit. We’ll be there with an army.”
“When the plane lands, I need you to disappear. All of you. Go somewhere I don’t know about.”
“They’re going to fucking torture you.”
“I need you alive, esé. Do exactly what I said. Out.” He turned off the transmitter and dropped it in the sand. The earpiece followed.
His pulse throbbed in his temples as he shifted toward the house.