Chapter 12

TWELVE

Any hints of Asher's self-doubt were gone. He was focused, navigating for Harry as he checked guns, mag clips, pistols, and then he was googling, reading, searching...

He was hyper-focused.

And after his emotional outpour before, opening old wounds that had been left to fester with no attempt at healing, Harry was more than a little worried.

Asher had said before he worried that he'd hesitate out of fear and get them killed. But also not taking the time to assess every detail, to charge in blindly out of anger would just as likely see them both killed.

He was like this before. In Thailand, when he was in a flux about Yunho, and Harry had needed to calm him down. Almost shake some sense into him, telling him to get his head in the game.

He needed to do it again now, but he wasn't sure he should.

Asher had spent his entire fucked-up life with his emotions sewn up so tight, and then after spending the last two years living a civilian life, basking in love and happiness. For the first time in his life, he'd allowed himself to feel something. The wound was being unpicked stitch by stitch, emotions festering and bubbling, every other emotion was rising to the surface.

And now, like a dam about to burst, those emotions were threatening to spew out and annihilate everything in its path.

He had so much rage inside him.

Valid rage. He should be angry. Hell, Harry was angry for him. But now was the worst possible time. They couldn't attempt any rescue when Asher was about to go nuclear.

As they arrived at their destination, Harry pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. "Hey," he said, taking Asher's hand. "Are we good?"

Asher drew his eyes from the building to Harry. "We? As in us? Yes, why would you ask that?"

"I don't mean us... I mean are we good to do this?"

"You mean am I good to do this?"

Harry squeezed his hand, his gaze locking in on Asher's. "Are you good to do this? Asher, baby, it's been a crazy few days. Emotional, heavy days. If you want to stop and regroup?—"

"I want this to be over," he said. He looked at the building again, where a crowd was gathering. "I don't need to regroup. I need to get this over with, then go find Radovic and rip out his heart, then see what the fucked-up cold-war wannabe colonel fuckface has to say before I kill him too. And then we save Yunho and Lucas. Where they will tell us everything, and then I'll decide if I want to kill them as well."

Harry sighed. "Asher. "

His eyebrows knitted. "I know what you're going to say, Harry. Please don't. I just need to get through this, then I'll deal with the aftermath... God. Fucking feelings. I never asked to feel anything, I'll have you know. I was quite happy living my numb life, disassociating from everything I've done. Everything I've been through. And now I have more questions than answers and more emotions than I know what to do with. And fear. I've never been afraid before."

"I don't think you're in the right frame of mind to do this," Harry tried.

His eyes hardened. "You said before you needed the old Asher Garin. Well, here I am. The only thing that will make me feel better, give me back a sense of control, is to go kill a lot of assholes who deserve it."

There was no point in arguing, Harry realised, because hell, maybe Asher was right. Maybe they did need him hell-bent on killing everyone. Harry would just need to be extra vigilant.

"Are you ready? Looks like the fun's about to start without us."

Harry sighed. "Fine. But if I think for one second this isn't going to work, we leave. Codeword: coffee. We turn and walk, okay?"

"Fine." He put his hand on the door handle. "No guns or knives. There might be metal detectors."

Oh goodie. They were doing this unarmed. Asher did say he wanted to kick the hornet's nest first and, well, this would do it.

Harry wasn't sure exactly what Asher had in mind, and given Harry's grasp on the Serbian language was more than a little rusty, he really could do no more than stand beside Asher, to protect him or to pull his ass out of there, Harry wasn't sure.

But stand beside him, he would.

The Serbian police headquarters in Belgrade looked like any other government building Harry had seen all over the western world. It was teeming with badges, yes. But for all intents and purposes, it was an administration building.

Though as reporters gathered around the steps outside, Harry spotted at least four armed officers. Two to the right, two to the left, and wait... two more that came out with the police official made that six.

Awesome.

Harry had no clue what official rank and title this official guy held. He wasn't up to speed on Serbian police ranking insignias, but the stripes and stars on the shoulders of his jacket told him he was a major, at least.

And of course, everything he said was in Serbian.

Now, Harry could understand some passing words. He'd lived with Asher long enough to pick up a few Slavic words and phrases, though to be fair, Asher only normally slung them at Harry in a slew of mumbled curses.

What Harry did know was that this was a press conference regarding the shootout at ZBK headquarters outside of Sarajevo. Why did that concern Serbian police?

Because five of the dead guys were Serbian and the so-called drug-wars-between-gangs bullshit they were spinning for the media had the public concerned. Bosnian authorities were working in conjunction with the Serbians to find those responsible, blah blah blah .

It was all bullshit.

The police major finished talking, nodding to a female reporter to the right of Asher. She was holding a microphone with a TV channel number on it, and she asked her question. The police answered. Then another reporter asked another question, the cop gave his pre-determined response. Another reporter asked, another bullshit answer delivered with a smile.

Harry deduced the two cops beside the police official were ornamental, armed or not, more worried about looking good for the cameras and getting the right angle, nodding along to the bullshit their boss was spewing.

Two of the other armed cops had disappeared around the corner, and the other two police officers inside the door were having a private conversation, laughing, and paying zero attention to what was happening.

This press conference was purely a spectator sport, nothing else.

Harry was too busy getting mad at the entire debacle when Asher raised his hand and spoke.

Harry had not been expecting him to do that, and he did his best to appear as if it had been the plan all along. Not that he had a clue what Asher said, but from the way the major's smile tightened and the way he stammered his reply, Harry could guess he didn't appreciate it.

Then Asher glanced up at Harry before turning back to the front and then he spoke in English. "Can you confirm if the compound where Rozga was found had any ties to the new cold war support group known as ZBK? That Rozga was in fact the leader of a political faction with direct ties to Colonel Alen Radovic and Vadik Istomin? There are also rumours of them being tied to another ZBK compound at the abandoned airbase in Bukovac. Do you know anything about this?" Asher took a deep breath. "I know for a fact that Radovic was involved with the Kowalska House Orphanage. The same group that trafficked children from Bosnia and Kosovo in the war and turned them into drug mules and murderers. I know because I was one."

Harry slow-blinked, or maybe the world stopped turning for a moment. Asher had just kicked the hornets' nest.

Everything and everyone fell silent as if holding their breath, faces and cameras turned to Asher, and then as a collective swarm, the reporters turned back to the police major. He was a mix of pale and livid, stammering and blinking as the sea of cameras, phones, clicks, and reporters all pushed closer.

He might have tried to speak over them, to ask for the name of the man who dared ask such questions, but Harry and Asher were already gone.

Harry was strung tight as he drove, his gaze darting to the rear-vision mirror. "Care to explain what the fuck that was about?"

Asher leaned over to the back and pulled the backpack onto his lap. "That was our backup."

"Backup for what?"

"For what we're about to do," Asher said, as if he were mad at Harry for not catching on already.

"Which is what, exactly?"

Asher nodded to the GPS screen, to the address they were headed to, where apparently Yunho and Lucas were being held. "We're about to waltz into their base, Harry. We will be outnumbered and outgunned. Except now, in about an hour or so, there's going to be backup arriving."

Harry looked at him as if he were insane. "Cops who will not be on our side, Asher. Now there will be more guys pointing guns at us. Jesus Christ. Not to mention our faces will be splashed on every news channel, on TV, online, on every-fucking-thing. We're supposed to fly under the radar, avoid detection—" The penny dropped as soon as he'd said it. Harry stared at him. "That was why you did it."

Asher half smiled at him. "Agencies will be running facial recognition right now, and it's gonna ping national security alarms. All while the media is running stories, digging for information the cops and governments are trying to bury. It'll be a shitshow, and Radovic and Istomin now have more political shit to worry about than just us."

Fucking hell.

"A lot more to worry about," Harry grumbled. "Like kill teams, Asher. Guys like us, only younger and with all the guns and ammo they need."

Asher made a face that said he was very well aware and that he didn't exactly care.

"It ends today," he said. "One way or another, it ends today."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Asher," Harry cried. "Is this a suicide mission? Because it's starting to sound like you think we're not getting out of this. We're definitely not getting out of the country, that's for damn fucking sure. Now that our faces are all over the media and we don't have Yunho's contacts for new passports."

"I have his contact list, remember?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair, his mind racing, his blood pumping. He tried to take a few calming breaths, not that it did him much good. "Just tell me you won't do anything stupid. This is not a suicide mission, Asher. Whatever you have planned for this meeting, we need an exit strategy. No exceptions. We must have a way out and a plan B and a rendezvous point should we get separated."

"How can we have a plan B when we don't even have a plan A?" Asher asked. "We're walking into their web. They're calling the shots. Our only plan is to walk into their territory and find out what the fuck's going on."

"And now you've put a timer on us because every government agency in this part of Europe has been put on high alert. You named two high-ranking political figureheads as corrupt, going back decades, and responsible for ultimately planning to overthrow their governments, and you gave them the location we're heading to."

He made a face. "Cops will be too busy in damage control right now. And anyway, the backup I expect to arrive first isn't the police, Harry. Military, special forces, maybe even a swat team."

Harry stared at Asher, only sparing quick glances at the road as he drove.

Christ, he was serious.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Asher. This is a suicide mission. Just this morning you said you wanted to go home, you couldn't bear thinking about losing me or anything bad happening to me, and then you go and do this? What the actual fuck?"

"Nothing can happen to you," Asher said, ever so fucking casually.

What the . . . ? What the fucking hell . . . ? How was . . . what the hell does he think is . . . ?

Oh no .

"No." Harry shook his head. "Don't even think about it. Absolutely not."

"Yes."

"Absolutely fucking not!" Harry roared. His grip on the steering wheel made it creak. "You are not going in there by yourself."

"Harry, I?—"

"Absolutely not," Harry growled. "There is no way I would let you go in there alone, and the fact you think I would?—"

"You don't have a choice. He told me to come alone."

" He can get fucked. Whoever the fuck he is."

"His name is Radovic."

"He's a dead man, that's who he is."

Asher was quiet for a few moments. "Harry, it'll be better if I go alone. You can leave. Our rendezvous point will be our house in Tallowwood. I'll meet you there, and I'll know you're safe and?—"

Harry swerved the Jeep off the road and slammed on the brakes. "You think that's okay with me? You can tell me that if something were to happen to me that you'd just eat a bullet because you can't stand to think about life without me, yet you expect me to just go home and live happily without you? Is that what you think, Asher? Do you think I don't love you as much as you love me? Do you think for one second that I could live without you?"

Harry was so fucking mad. And hurt. He was so hurt that Asher would think like this.

Tears burned in Harry's eyes. His heart felt heavy and sore. "Does my love mean so little to you?"

Asher wouldn't look at him. "I just need you to live, that's all."

"And I need you to live. Our best chance of doing that is sticking together, and you know it. You're not going in there alone."

"What if you find a higher vantage point?" Asher tried, his voice quiet. When he finally looked at Harry, his eyes were glassy. "Take the 36s and?—"

"No." That would make tactical sense if they had time and intel. But they had neither. And Asher going in alone was simply not an option. "We go in together or not at all."

Asher's chin wobbled and he let out a shuddery breath. "I don't want it to end here. But you have to know something, Harry. If it does end today, if we don't come out of this, I need you to know the last two years have been the best years of my life. More than I ever deserved to have."

Harry took Asher's hand. "Same. I love you, Asher. But you need to stop thinking about dying today. We're gonna get through this. So enough of the martyr bullshit. Let's go in there and kick some ass."

Asher's eyes studied his, then his whole face, as if he was committing it all to memory one final time.

"Okay," he whispered. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, Asher."

He let out a long breath and whispered, "I don't like this. Everything feels wrong."

Harry knew why it felt wrong. They were willingly walking into a trap, outnumbered, outgunned. It went against every fibre in Harry's body. Every instinct he had was telling him this was bad.

If this was an op he'd been contracted for, he'd turn around and be long gone. That gut instinct that had kept him alive for a decade was telling him now to bail and be gone.

But he couldn't .

Asher was going in, which meant Harry would be right beside him.

He squeezed Asher's hand. "It'll be okay."

It has to be , Harry thought.

They drove the final few kilometres in silence. The litany of all the things he wanted to say went unsaid.

Because they would survive this.

Harry had to believe that.