as Oliver’s feet thudded on the tile.
He was running.
Logan shoved the door shut and bolted after the smaller man. One stride and he was almost on the target. Oliver glanced at the mirror, his face twisted into rage and panic. Another stride and Logan grabbed the back of the man’s sport coat and spun, flinging Oliver toward the vanity.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Logan shoved Oliver’s head down, cracking his skull against the porcelain sink. Logan flinched at the sound, but didn’t hesitate to use the momentary surprise to yank Oliver’s arm up behind his back.
“What’s taking you so long?” Kelsey groused.
Logan whipped his head around and gaped at Kelsey dressed in today’s slacks, creamy blouse with the frilly bow under her chin and matching vest. She pushed a large trashcan in ahead of her.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Logan demanded.
Kelsey arched a brow, then kicked the trashcan toward him. “Backing you up. Has he said anything?”
He peered over her shoulder. “Where are the guys?”
“Waiting outside.” Kelsey closed the distance between them and pulled a pair of FlexiCuffs out from under her vest. They were essentially disposable plastic ties used in place of regular handcuffs.
“Let me go and we can all walk away from this,” Oliver said.
“I thought the guys were going to come inside,” Logan said slowly, keeping a tight hold on his frustration.
“Why?” Kelsey frowned at him and held out the first cuff.
He opened and closed his mouth.
“Hand,” Kelsey said. “Oliver Reid, whatever your real name is, you have the right to remain silent. You have a bunch of other rights someone else will make clear to you. Yadda yadda, we are running out of time. Get him in the trash can.”
Oliver didn’t struggle when Kelsey fastened the cuffs on his wrists. He scowled at both of them in the mirror.
“Make sure to tell the others to properly Mirandize him.” Kelsey stepped back and gestured at the trash can. “Check his pockets, too.”
“His—what?” Logan muttered.
Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Pockets.”
When he didn’t move, she stepped in close. Logan tightened his hold on Oliver and pulled him to stand upright while Kelsey searched his pockets.
“Did he have a weapon?” she asked.
“A knife.”
“Huh. I guess that’s why you came in here then?” Kelsey tipped her chin up and looked at Oliver. “You needed your knife?”
Fuck.
Logan hadn’t considered that. A knife like the one Oliver had would be detected. So the plan had been to enter the bathroom all along then. And do what?
“Here’s his phone, wallet and notebook. Get him in the trashcan. I’ll get the knife.” Kelsey yanked a paper towel out of the dispenser.
“Third stall from the end,” Logan said over his shoulder.
Just what new hell had he gotten himself into?
He should have put in his notice. He should not be here doing these absurd things.
Was he really going to put a suspect in a trash can? Did he have any other choice?
He was pretty certain any and all power of choice had sailed weeks ago. Probably the day they pulled Kelsey out of that hell-hole.
Logan was, in short, screwed.
THURSDAY. UNKNOWN.
Skilton leaned back against the plush leather. The plane vibrated and shuddered with a touch of turbulence, but that was to be expected. Another eight hours and he’d be in DC.
All of his plans were in place. Things were going smoothly.
Hell, he might actually get to enjoy this little trip. It had been a while since he’d been in the field like this. Once he’d craved it.
Age changed things.
He was better behind a desk, anyway.
“Um, sir?”
What now?
Skilton wanted to grumble, but he kept his frustration to himself and pealed one eye open. He’d brought a new assistant with him. Someone with no connections. Someone who couldn’t yet be on anyone’s payroll.
“What?” Skilton asked.
“We received a communication from one of the assets on the task force.” The young man’s throat flexed. He held out a tablet.
“What is it?” Skilton took the device.
Just what was this so-called task force doing, anyway? What tree were they barking up now?
He skimmed the first line and his blood went cold.
Skilton sat up and re-read them to himself. “I regret to inform you that the asset operating under the name of Oliver Reid has been compromised. I’ve taken measures to corrupt the data on his cell phone. I cannot as of yet ensure his silence yet. I await further instructions.”
Anger spiked hot then cold.
Skilton flung the tablet into the seat across from him, curses sticking in his throat.
The new assistant—what was his name?—cowered,