Chapter 12

TWELVE

Worst. Decision. Ever.

Declan moved silently beside Meg as they crept through the dimly lit office corridor. They avoided the guard in the stairwell by using the Chief of Mission’s private elevator to get down to the second floor.

The air was thick with tension, every step calculated, and each one of their breaths measured. The rioters outside had not dispersed and now had set up metal barrels that flickered with fires, radios playing music at loud decibels, and shouts and laughter. It was a party.

So far, the SWAT team had made no appearance. Neither had any US military force. Declan couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

In here, the quiet was unnerving, broken only by the faint hum of electronics and the partying going on outside.

Whoever had the USB was playing a game, and it didn’t sit right with him. His gut told him something worse was about to unfold. He’d lost count of the many surprises they’d already encountered.

Megan nudged him, pointing at the rear entrance to what was considered the bullpen of the embassy—a sprawling office filled with cubicles. This was where most of the grunt work behind the public access areas went on.

He raised a hand to stop her, and the two of them squatted and peered over the ledge of one of the large glass windows that revealed the cubicles. Like in the other areas of the building, this one had been evacuated in a panic. Most of the waist-high dividers still stood, but some of the chairs had been tipped over, personal effects left behind on desks, and a variety of debris littered the floor.

The main door and matching set of windows were opposite them. The cubicle walls were a soft, blue fabric, and the closest one had pictures of kids pinned to a spot above the desk. Some school pictures, others of a family in various poses. Birthdays, Christmases, beach vacations. There was a framed photo of a couple in their wedding attire sitting next to a mug that read World’s Best Mom.

Had the woman escaped, or was she one of those in the gymnasium, hoping for a rescue?

He wanted to open up the comms and check with Spence and Tessa about progress on that end, but didn’t want to risk distracting them.

Or have another fight with Flynn.

Meg nudged him again, pointing at a group man with his back to them at one of the farthest cubicles.

Hagar.

Three squad members hung out near the main entrance to the bullpen, one of them pacing in front of the windows. Another occasionally glanced over his shoulder toward the rear set of windows they crouched under. Confident no one would impede their plan, he seemed unconcerned about unwelcome visitors.

That allowed Declan and Meg to keep their presence unknown while studying them and figuring out their best move.

Declan’s concentration was divided, however. He needed to assess the situation and make a plan, but part of him knew Meg needed to take the lead. Exacting vengeance—or justice, whichever term she preferred—would do her more good than hours of therapy or any of that other bullshit psychology stuff the CIA wanted to force on her.

He’d been in the trenches too many times, saw too many guys have their power stripped away, and could never regain it. A few who managed some form of retribution usually slept better at night. Not all, but some. When you’d seen the atrocities committed by criminals and terrorists, handing them their ass gave you more satisfaction than any other thing he could think of.

Hagar held a gun pressed to Anderson’s head, his demeanor calm and unflinching as Anderson typed frantically. The man had bought himself some time by claiming he could bypass the computer security protocols and access the needed files, but as he continued to work, Dec knew he’d lied. He was no computer whiz, and he certainly didn’t have the skills to hack into anyone else’s files.

As the bored minion made a circuit past them, Dec and Meg ducked, hiding under his line of sight. They listened intently for him to move on. Their eyes locked, and Dec searched hers for any sign that she was about to come unglued. She had to be holding herself together by a thread, knowing Hagar was only a few yards away, and he wished he could make this easier for her.

She gave him a tremulous smile as if seeing his thoughts visible on his face. He’d rarely been able to hide his from her. They’d always been in sync, no words needed between them.

A gun went off, and she recoiled. He started to lurch upward to see what had happened, but the sheer panic on her face stopped him.

Had Hagar shot Anderson?

He grabbed Meg’s hand and squeezed it hard. She blinked.

Her shoulders dropped, and releasing a soft breath, she nodded, reassuring him she was okay.

Was she?

Slowly, he eased up to peer into the room. Anderson had covered his head with his hands, and Hagar was lowering his gun from where he’d put a bullet in the ceiling rather than the man’s head.

As if that might encourage the man to work more efficiently.

Idiot. All he’d done was make Anderson crap his pants. As Hagar smacked him on the back of his head, he said, “Quit sniffling and do what I told you to.” He looked at his watch. “You have thirty seconds.”

The man was shaking so hard now that he couldn’t even type. Meg slid up to peer in at the scene.

He knew she was torn—should they save Anderson? The only way to do so would be to take out Hagar and his goons. Could they access the computer and find the intel they’d come for?

Dec started to tug her back down to tell her what he thought when the guard at the front door went on high alert. “He’s here.”

Hagar and Anderson’s heads snapped toward the entrance, and Dec’s stomach dropped to his knees.

Seeing who had joined the party, Meg sucked in an audible breath, her fingers gripping the ledge. “What the…?”

Tommy Mendoza stepped into the room. His hair was longer than the last time Declan had seen him, and he’d pulled it back into one of those stupid man buns. He’d put on some weight, too, and a beard outlined his jaw.

Gone was the young man so full of eagerness to serve his country, and in its place was a seasoned soldier. “Heard you were looking for me,” he said, sticking out his chest in a show of bravado.

Hagar’s face brightened. “Mendoza, come, come.” He held out his hand. “You owe me something, I believe.”

The guard used his gun to push Tommy forward.

“Tommy,” Meg whispered under her breath, her disbelief echoing Declan’s own.

The boy didn’t seem panicked. In fact, he looked almost…pleased. As if he’d planned this all along.

Surprise number…? Right, he’d forgotten to keep track.

Declan’s jaw tightened as Tommy held up a small object between his fingers. “Did you think I would renege on our deal?”

“You didn’t show up at the designated meeting spot,” Hagar said. “What was I supposed to think?”

The USB. In his gut, Declan had no doubt that’s what the kid held outstretched between him and the terrorist.

Was Tommy a traitor? Was this leverage of some kind? Had he lost his fucking mind?

Hagar started to swipe the drive from his fingers, but the young man snatched it back. “No need to waste time with my computer,” Tommy said to Anderson. “I wouldn’t leave highly classified information on there, anyway.” He jutted his chin toward Anderson as he met Hagar’s rueful smile. “He’s not part of this. Let him go.”

Meg whispered in Declan’s ear, “We can’t let that USB fall into Hagar’s hands.” She swallowed hard, her eyes on Tommy the way a mother would look at a son. “And we have to save Tommy. Hagar will kill him.”

She reached for the ultrasonic weapon and pulled out the earplugs. The weapon would incapacitate those inside for a couple of minutes, and that might be all they needed.

But then she dropped her hand from it. “Tommy’s in the line of fire.”

Which would make him a challenge to move if he was unable to walk on his own. It was risky—a blunt solution for a situation this delicate—but what choice did they have? They couldn’t shoot all the terrorists, save Tommy, and grab the USB.

Before Declan could insist she go with her gut and use it, footsteps thundered behind them, followed by the unmistakable click of a gun safety being disengaged.

He whipped around in time to see the trigger-happy suit who’d fired on Meg earlier. God, it seemed like a lifetime ago already.

He’d only left the man unconscious, and now, his good deed had backfired. The hidden doorway the suit had emerged from was still cracked open. Apparently, the chief of mission not only had a private elevator but also a private staircase.

The guy narrowed his eyes at Meg. “You.”

She raised the hand with the earplugs as if in surrender, but Declan saw the device in her other next to her side, ready to fire. “Yes, me,” she said quietly. “There’s a hostage situation in there.” She pointed at the bullpen. “I need you to turn around and go back where you came from. We’re handling it.”

His attention darted toward the windows, and he started to lower his weapon, but then his gaze flicked back to her and snagged on her half-hidden weapon that looked exactly like a handgun. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and…

Declan tackled Meg as he saw the man’s finger squeeze the trigger.

The shot cracked through the air, whizzing past Declan’s head as he slammed Meg to the floor. The bullet pinged off the elevator door, and shouts erupted inside the bullpen.

No need for quiet or stealth now. In one swift movement, he palmed his sidearm and shot the man in the knee.

The guard screamed and fell to the ground, gripping his leg and cursing. His weapon hit the ground and spun a few feet away.

Meg leaped to her feet, retrieving the weapon and pocketing it. Next, she snatched up the fallen earplugs and stuck them in her ear. I warned you,” she grumbled, staring down at him. “Wrap your tie around it to stop the bleeding. You’ll be fine.”

“He fucking shot me!” the man yelled.

Declan gestured for her to get down again as he chanced a glance into the bullpen. Hagar had spun toward them, gun raised, finger on the trigger. Anderson had scrambled for cover and was nowhere to be seen. Tommy just stood there, frozen.

Stupid kid.

Not a kid , he told himself. But still an idiot for all his swagger and fake confidence.

Hagar’s goons rushed for them, AK-15s aimed at the windows. Declan ducked and waved Meg toward the stairs. “Abort!”

“No,” she said and grabbed the handle of the door.

He knew what she was about to do, and he cursed under his breath but raised his gun and fell into step right behind her, bringing it up under her raised arm as he rested a hand on her waist.

It was a move they had perfected in Switzerland three years ago, and he still loved its beauty, its simplicity.

In sync once more, she launched herself through the door.