throat and jostled his trousers before perching on the very edge of the toilet seat. If he had to sell it, he was doing his part. He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and peered through the cracks in the door.
How ridiculous was this horse and pony show?
Should he have gone straight to the target? Waited in the hall? Would it be better to draw his weapon and have the showdown here and now?
The seconds ticked on.
Logan pulled out his phone. Other than an affirmative that the others had received his update, there was no news.
Should he update the others? What the hell should he tell them? Playing possum in the toilet?
Kelsey wouldn’t hesitate to do something. The problem was that Logan didn’t know what he should be doing.
Before he could overthink it, he tapped Kelsey’s name and started tapping out a message to her and her alone.
Followed into men’s restroom. We’re both waiting the other out in a stall.
Logan hit send, then thought better of it and added one more line.
Thoughts on next move?
He knew it wasn’t terribly likely she’d be able to see these and reply, but he could hope. The senator’s staff were kept on a tight leash, and Kelsey had somehow gotten herself into the thick of it all.
A foot scuffed the tile.
Logan lifted his head and listened.
There was the slightest rustling of fabric.
Was Oliver making a move?
Logan’s screen lit up.
He glanced down at the message from Kelsey.
Wait him out. Make him move first. He has a time constraint, not you. He’ll be ready for you to make a move, but he won’t expect you to have back-up.
Huh.
Waiting was the best option.
Logan nodded despite her inability to see the move.
He felt better with her guidance. This was, after all, her specialty.
The rest of his team must be moving in. That was good. Between himself and the others, they’d take Oliver down quick and get him out fast. Then Kelsey could cover his ass, say she sent him out for something so he didn’t get in trouble the first week on his new job.
The seconds ticked by.
Oliver’s appointment with the senator was fast approaching. Would he be late? Miss it?
Logan’s gut tightened. Everything in him wanted to act now, but he remained where he was. Kelsey cautioned patience.
At long last, a man coughed, and a toilet flushed.
Logan used that opportunity to stand, pocket his phone and zip his fly. Before the sound completely faded, he turned the door handle, but kept a tight grip on the latch. A zip of electric awareness coursed through him.
It was time to make a move.
Finally.
A figure passed the stall quickly before Logan could glimpse more than the sheen off a very bald head.
Logan stepped out of the stall, acutely aware of the gun pressed against his side.
Oliver reacted immediately, whirling toward Logan and slashing out with a knife. Training kicked in. Logan struck out, blocking the man’s attack with his arm. Adrenaline surged, making his temples pound while his mind focused his awareness down to only Oliver. Logan lost no time throwing a solid punch into the guy’s side. Oliver grunted and stared into Logan’s eyes with rage. Oliver’s face twisted into a snarl. He kicked out, connecting with Logan’s calf.
Pain shot up Logan’s leg.
Oliver twisted his right arm, breaking out of Logan’s grasp. The knife gleamed in the bright, florescent lights, cold and deadly. In many ways, a man armed with a knife who knew how to use it was more dangerous than a gun.
Logan staggered back, putting distance between them.
He had to end this before some random person walked in and got caught up in this There wasn’t time to wear the guy down. It needed to happen now.
Where the hell was the rest of Logan’s team? Shouldn’t the guys be here already?
“Who the fuck are you?” Oliver demanded.
Logan kept his gaze on the target while counting off the stalls in his mind. He’d gone over every public inch of the building, committing every nook, cranny and imperfection to mind for exactly this moment right here.
Oliver lunged toward Logan.
Logan yanked the broken stall door, swinging it out into the walkway, and braced it with his forearm. Oliver barreled into the metal door, knife first. The blade clattered to the floor. Logan quickly kicked the weapon away, toward the toilets. A poorly aimed punch glanced off his shoulder.
Where were the others? How long did it take to get inside?
One last shove on the door sent Logan staggering back