Turn the Tide

  “We’re on the same side.” Knox struggled to break free, his legs dangling like a rag doll’s.

  “I’m on Ash’s side,” Logan growled. “It’s her call.”

  What was Logan doing? Their now intermingled fate dangled on such a fragile thread.

  Ashley darted out of the apartment, barefoot, still wrapped in the white sheet, holding a backpack. Little did they know, her desperate flight and Logan’s misguided efforts were in vain.

  Knox slammed his skull into Logan’s face, smashing the bridge of his nose. The bone broke with a sickening crunch.

  The bear hug loosened. Blood gushed, and Logan stumbled back, lifting a hand to his face. He stared at Knox with furious eyes.

  “The Agency will get her and the thumb drive. One way or another,” Knox said, trying to reason with him. “This doesn’t end with me.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

  Playtime was over. A bullet in the shoulder would spare his friend’s life in the long run and save all of them time they didn’t have to waste. Knox raised the gun.

  Logan leaned back on his left leg and kicked out with his right. Quick and precise. His foot collided with Knox’s hand.

  The Glock skittered to the floor, rocketing into a corner. Logan pivoted, throwing another kick to Knox’s abdomen. The force of the blow sent him reeling into the wall.

  Things were going to get a hell of a lot bloodier before this situation got better.

  “Didn’t you say it was a bad idea for us to carry a gun?” Logan asked.

  “By us, I meant you.”

  Adrenaline sparked inside Knox. He whipped out his Applegate-Fairbairn and released the spring-loaded tactical blade. A gun wasn’t needed to end this fight. He was lethal with a knife. A serious stab wound could do as much damage as a bullet.

  But rather than carve his friend to pieces, he’d only injure him, give him a reason to think this through rationally.

  Logan bulldozed toward him.

  Knox held the knife low. Poised. Waiting, waiting. The blade was matte black, so light didn’t glint off it, and only three inches long. Lunging would make him vulnerable to a counterattack. Logan needed to get closer.

  When his friend was within range, three expert slashes across flesh had Logan in retreat.

  Neat, superficial slits bled on his forearm, stomach, and thigh, close to his exposed groin—a wake-up call.

  “That’ll feel like a tickle compared to what I’ll do next if you don’t stand down,” Knox warned. “We’re still family. Don’t make me really hurt you.”

  The sharp metallic click of a round chambering in a gun snagged both their attention.

  Ethan Diaz stood in the apartment with a gun leveled at Logan. “Calm down, man. What are you doing fighting Knox?”

  Mike Walsh hauled Ashley in the room by her arm, her backpack slung over his shoulder. He let her go and tossed her bag on the floor. She hurried to Logan, cupping his bloody face and taking in his minor injuries.

  Restraining an eye roll, Knox clenched his jaw.

  “You brought backup?” Logan said, glaring.

  “If you’d done what we discussed, it wouldn’t have been necessary. But since you’re a loose cannon, I told Mike and Ethan to go to Berlin before we boarded the plane.”

  “You put a tracker in me while I slept, didn’t you?” Logan asked. “Where? Arm? Leg?”

  “Back of the neck, near your spine.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Logan stepped toward Knox, but Mike jumped between them. “You’re worse than I remember.”

  “Thank you.” Knox smiled and straightened his tie.

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  Knox slid his gaze to Ashley. “You and I need to talk. Alone.”

  “Not going to happen.” Logan moved Ashley behind him and clenched his fists.

  “You had your shot, Logan.” Knox lowered to one knee, wiped his blade off on the blanket, and put away his knife. “Now it’s my turn. Two minutes.” He kept his voice light, easy-breezy as though this was a casual conversation and not one that might end with people he cared about in serious pain. “Time enough for you to get dressed and patched up. If we’re not done by then, you’re free to come back up here and check on her.”

  He nodded to Mike and Ethan, indicating Logan was free to return.

  “I’ll talk to him.” Ashley put a hand to Logan’s chest. “Two minutes.”

  “You’re leaving DNA everywhere.” Mike patted Logan’s shoulder. “We need to get your nose to stop bleeding.” Genuine warmth from the years of their friendship resonated in his voice.

  “You really need to stop fighting buck-ass naked and put on some clothes.” Ethan holstered his gun. “You gave Knox a pretty big swinging target. Not that I’m looking, dude.”

  Their old rapport came back as if there had never been a break. Ethan and Mike, two of Logan’s closest friends, wouldn’t have been Knox’s first choice as backup. But you get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit, as Sanborn tended to say, in his paternal way like they were five-year-olds. If there had been a better option of backup available, Sanborn would’ve given it to him.

  Logan hugged Ashley tight, as if he was afraid to let her go. He was smart to be scared, but not of Knox. Logan whispered something in her ear. Knox only caught the last part.

  “I’m with you no matter what, but please end this. Principles be damned.”

  Good of him to try to talk sense into her, but the determined expression on her face hardly inspired confidence that she was willing to reason. Ashley was going to force his hand. He’d have to play dirty, with people he loved. Knox’s stomach turned, but he had a job to do.

  Logan gathered his things. Mike and Ethan escorted him out.

  “We’re short on time,” Knox said. “Get dressed while we talk.” He turned, facing the window, but kept an eye on Ashley in the reflection.

  Not in a sexual way. Ashley was like a little sister to him. But he always guarded his six, and he needed to see how she reacted to what he had to say. Gauge her response, assess how hard he had to push.

  “You’re going to give me the thumb drive.” He folded his arms, watching her.

  Ashley shoved her legs in a pair of jeans. “Or what? You’ll take me to a black site?” She tugged on a bra. “Torture me until I give it to you?”

  She was half correct.

  “Yes. I will take you to a black site. But I won’t torture you.”

  He wasn’t trained in the type of interrogation that broke a person. It took a particular personality for it, and he had no taste for such ugly business. The idea of hurting people he usually looked out for made his skin crawl. Besides, torture wouldn’t work on Ashley. He’d made certain of it in the event she was caught on this op. No need to go that far anyway, as long as he convinced her that he was willing to cross any line.

  Sanborn had trained him to do whatever was necessary to protect their people. Even from themselves. Knox imagined the worst possible scenario for Ashley, something that’d eat away at her soul, something that’d break her heart and bring her to heel.

  “An interrogator will torture Logan,” he said.

  Ashley froze in the midst of pulling on a shirt.

  Yes, that love was her weakness. It shamed him to use it against her, but better to frighten her with a threat and spare her from the torment of what was to come if he failed to bring her and the thumb drive in before their deadline.

  “No ripping off his fingernails, or anything quite so trite.” He changed his tone from casual to chilling. “The interrogator will disfigure the other side of his face. With a blowtorch. Take his one good eye and ear. They’ll crush his spirit and once that’s gone, what will he have left?”

  Civilians had no idea the atrocities committed in CIA black sites around the world. And w
hen necessary, American citizens found themselves behind those walls in unspeakable agony.

  Knox didn’t have to persuade her such a thing was possible. Ashley was already well aware. He only needed to make her believe he was ruthless enough to have it carried out.

  Pivoting on his heel, he faced her.

  Her eyes watered as she finished dressing.

  “How long do you think Logan will want to live once they’re finished with him? Would he still want you after allowing him to suffer? He pushed you away once. Next time it’ll be for good. Is hanging on to the thumb drive worth it?”

  Quietly, she sobbed. The horrific picture he’d painted was demolishing her will. Her genuine tears made him question sacrificing their friendship for the sake of this mission. Made him contemplate hugging her and confessing he’d never allow such a thing to happen after all Logan had given to the Agency and his country.

  But Knox had to hurt her like this, open her eyes, to save her.

  “Where is it, Ashley?”

  She wiped away tears and glared at him with such contempt something in his chest twisted. “I hid it in a church. In the altar. Don’t hurt Logan, and I’ll take you there.”

  Chapter 7

  Berlin, Germany

  Sunday, March 6, 2:58 a.m. CET

  Logan drove one of the bulletproof cars, without wearing a seat belt, per orders. Smart move and safer for Knox, who sat in the passenger’s seat, his safety belt fastened in place, with a gun trained on him. The biggest threat should be behind the wheel, unable to put someone else in a choke hold while driving, no seat belt to discourage any accidents. And tonight, the roads were slick and icy.

  Ashley sat behind Knox, also without a seat belt, with Ethan beside her, gun in his hand as pure precaution since it wasn’t aimed at her.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, Logan looked at Ashley. What in the hell had Knox said to convince her to hand over the thumb drive she’d been so adamant about protecting?

  His stomach churned thinking about it.

  The dry clothes and sneakers he’d put on from his bag in Knox’s trunk were a small comfort, but the dense tension inside the car was unsettling. Ash had flipped a switch and was in cooperation mode. She wouldn’t even look at him.

  His chest constricted, his mind racing.

  Mike followed in a second vehicle. They drove along a sprawling curved road past the Brandenburg Gate awash in golden light. The streets were quiet, empty. Logan turned left at the corner as Ashley directed. They were headed to a church, but she hadn’t said which one.

  He glanced at the mirror, willing Ash to meet his eyes, to give him a sign this was okay.

  Not a single glimpse from her.

  A pair of headlights appeared behind them out of nowhere. The vehicle raced up quickly in the left lane. Logan hoped it was nothing more than a crazy driver, even though his gut told him otherwise. Watching from the wing mirror, he knew there was a chance the vehicle might simply pass them.

  No such luck.

  The van merged into their lane and chased up behind Mike. Logan twisted and looked out the back window, longing for the wide-angle mirror attachment he used at home to increase visibility around the car, reducing blind spots.

  A black van trailed close on Mike’s rear, making Logan’s palms itch. “We have a tail.”

  Knox, along with Ash and Ethan, swiveled their heads and looked.

  “Shit. We need to lose them,” Knox said.

  Logan’s gaze bounced between the street ahead and the mirror.

  The right front of the van clipped the left side of Mike’s rear. The sedan swerved, but swiftly regained control. Then to Logan’s horror, tracer rounds from an automatic weapon pierced the night in bright flashes, hitting Mike’s car in a series of raucous pings.

  Up ahead, another dark van careened out onto the road four hundred yards away. A burst of gunfire spit across the street in a fiery arc, cutting them off.

  Instinct kicked in, and Logan took evasive action. He yanked the wheel in a hard right turn, despite the treacherous icy road and the disadvantage of not wearing a seat belt. At the same time, the van approaching them cut down a parallel street. As Logan nosed around the corner, the rear tires slid left. Mike careened around the corner, staying right behind them. He slammed on the gas.

  The road led to a three-way T intersection, leaving them two options—turn left or right.

  Shit. The other van was going to try to cut them off.

  Logan had no choice but to make another hard right. He took the turn a little too fast. Rubber screamed against asphalt as they rounded the corner, and the rear tires slid left. He straightened out of the turn and gunned it, blowing into an underpass.

  A third van barreled into the tight two-lane tunnel from the opposite end and swerved, bringing the vehicle perpendicular to the road, blocking the exit. They were being funneled into the passageway. But it was too late to avoid the trap. They were already inside the chokepoint.

  Two men wearing balaclavas and holding automatic weapons hopped out of the van in front of them and opened fire.

  Behind Logan, the second van blocked the other side of the short tunnel, boxing them in, and more men wearing black ski masks emerged with weapons.

  Logan’s mind raced, trying to come up with a plan of escape, but bullets blew out two of their tires. He brought the car to a screeching halt. Mike stopped his car close to theirs.

  Since they were in bulletproof vehicles, this was going to be a Mexican standoff.

  They had to wait it out. How long would it take police in Berlin to respond to gunfire?

  One man lowered his submachine gun. The easily recognizable H&K MP5 hung attached to a sling over his shoulder as he pulled a red can of gasoline from the van.

  “No, no,” Ash said in a terrified whisper.

  The guy approached the car. Wearing the balaclava, only his eyes and glasses were visible. He opened the red can and threw gas on the windshield.

  Click-click. Click-click. The car was bulletproof. Not fireproof. Cold fear turned the taste in Logan’s mouth as bitter and metallic as a penny on his tongue.

  More fuel sloshed on the doors, and the last of the can was emptied on the roof. The smell of kerosene permeated the vehicle.

  A shudder chased down Logan’s itching back.

  The man stood in front of their car and spoke in German, too fast for Logan to understand. Ash had only taught him a few conversational phrases and how to swear.

  “They’re bluffing,” Knox said. “They won’t do it.”

  “Do what?” Ethan asked, alarm in his tone. “Toast us?”

  Logan clenched the steering wheel, his heart pounding.

  The man whipped out a flare and lit it. An angry tongue of bright-red pyrotechnics lashed from the tube. “Zehn. Neun. Acht.”

  Logan didn’t understand German but knew the sound of a damn countdown.

  A heavy coil tightened in his sternum, pulling tighter and tighter while a keening buzz rose in both his ears. He shut his eyes, fighting control.

  “Everyone stay cool,” Knox said. “They won’t do it. They need her alive.”

  “Sieben. Sechs.”

  Phantom fire raced over Logan’s skin, and heat sizzled his eye sockets. He recalled the smell of burnt flesh from the aftermath of the car bomb, the surreal scent mixed with the very real kerosene, electrifying his senses.

  “What if you’re wrong?” Ethan asked. “This might be an ‘if they can’t have the drive, no one can’ scenario. Then we’re fucked.”

  “I am not wrong.” Knox’s voice was unwavering steel.

  “Funf. Vier.”

  The inside of the car seemed to shrink, and it was getting harder for Logan to breathe.

  If he was going to die, the last thing he wanted to see was Ash. He looked up in the mirror, meeting
her gaze.

  She was staring at him, her stricken eyes glassy, but the strange, unexpected expression on her face slowed the blood in his veins and sent a chill to his heart.

  Logan shook his head. No, she couldn’t consider it. If she got out of the car, they’d force her to take them to the thumb drive and then they’d kill her. “Ash—”

  She rammed her elbow into Ethan’s face twice, catching him by surprise, and jumped out of the car, slamming the door shut. Raising her hands with her bag on her shoulder, she ran to the man holding the flare.

  The second guy wearing a ski mask kept his automatic weapon trained on the car.

  A different kind of fear, deeper and darker, sliced Logan to the bone. He grasped the door handle, but Knox jabbed the barrel of the gun into his side.

  “If you get out of the car,” Knox said, “they’ll get the drive and kill both of you.”

  “I can’t let them take her.”

  “Yes, you can, if you want her to live.”

  Glasses nodded to Ash, tossed the flare to the side, and grabbed her arm.

  Panic clogged Logan’s throat. Panic and guilt. She was doing this to spare him from the agony of being burned again.

  “Ash can take torture,” Knox said. “I prepped her to handle it. The only thing that’ll make her break is you. If they have you, they’ll get the drive. Without you, they’ll get nothing.”

  Nothing? Those men might not get the drive, but they’d take Ashley’s pain. They’d make her bleed. They’d get her suffering. That wasn’t nothing.

  “Don’t make me shoot you, Logan.” Knox put his finger on the trigger.

  The movement was tiny, but it meant he was serious. If Logan tried to get out of the car, Knox would put a bullet in him.

  Glasses ushered Ashley inside the van, climbed in, gave a two-finger salute, and slid the door shut. The black van wheeled around and tore off down the road. The other van behind them sped away.

  And the grim reality hit Logan like shrapnel.

  He pounded his fists on the dashboard, screaming and raging so hard he wanted to burst out of his skin.