“You injected Sophia with heroin. And you expect me to believe you won’t hurt her?”

“I told you. It was a personnel problem. That’s why I’m taking care of this personally.”

“Personnel,” I repeat.

The man in the red shirt steps forward. There’s a holster on his waist.

“Are you selling guns to the cartels?”

“Move.” He jabs the gun into my side. “Into the cabin.”

“So, Larry worked for you? You killed him so he couldn’t tell?”

“Get her up. Get her inside.” He stands, his back to the dock, his gun pointed at me. “Juan, let’s go.” The boat rocks and lurches forward. The other man comes to stand directly behind me.

“I don’t get it, Wayne. Why risk everything? You’re successful. Rich. You have it all.”

“Do I?” His latency and pitch suggest extreme anger. He’s speaking through gritted teeth. “You got that wrong. I do it all. But I don’t have it all. Not by a longshot. Now. Inside.”

It’s late afternoon. We’re the only occupied boat in this section of the marina. The parking lot is behind me, far off in the distance. I could lunge into him, but there’s a good chance he’d accidentally pull the trigger.

Keep the assailant talking.

“The security agent who dropped me off knows I’m meeting you. Did you see him? He was the one driving the sedan I got out of.”

“You think I didn’t know about him?” The man behind me grabs a fist full of my hair and pulls me up. “You think I don’t know about the security cameras out here?” The hard press of the red shirt man’s gun presses into my back. “You think any of the men out here right now don’t work for me?”

The moorings, one by one, pass by as the boat chugs out of the slip.

They’ll have to shoot me to keep me on this boat. They plan on shooting me anyway. I lunge forward, eyes on the dock and the murky water.

CHAPTER 29

Ryan

“How’s Germany treating you?” My question to Trevor has him chuckling.

“Let’s just say I’m ready to get the hell home.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Scheduled three days out. Flying back with Karsyn. We’ve got two employees Stella is working to reassign back in Syria.”

“CIA finally pulled their officer?”

“Yep. Not sure what was dragging those wheels.”

“And we’ll never know.” I’ve never understood the CIA. Never will. In my career as a SEAL, we didn’t come into close contact with them, but at times we did rely on their intel. Shaky, unreliable intel at times.

My phone buzzes. It’s Patel from the front desk.

“Glad you’re coming home. I gotta run. Patel’s calling.” She’s not one to call. She handles business matters with email.

I click over.

“We’ve got a problem. Shift change at Haley Street.” She pauses. That’s Alex’s house. A chill crosses my skin. My vision sharpens.

“Say it.”

“Lucca’s dead.” Fuck. “Someone shot him. Looks like a walk-by. Had to have used a silencer. He had the windows rolled—”