I led them downstairs. Above us, there were long bursts of gunfire from the bad guys as they closed in, then the sound of JD’s lone gun trying to hold them off. He was making a last stand. My chest went so tight I could barely breathe. JD!

We burst out of the parking garage and ran across the street, ducking down behind some bushes just as police cars pulled up outside the exit. We’d made it out by seconds.

Cal climbed silently down a fire escape and dropped to the ground beside us. “Where’s JD?”

I turned to him, my voice ragged with emotion. “They got him.”

11. Danny

11

DANNY

When we arrived home, Bethany, Olivia and Stacey were waiting for us. As their men climbed out, the couples all silently embraced. No one knew what to say. We’d never come home a man down, before.

Inside, the tables were set up for the big homecoming dinner Stacey had organized, but the fairy lights had been switched off and the food put back in the refrigerator. As Olivia took Colton off to take a look at his leg, the rest of us walked into the briefing room.

Kian was on a video call on his laptop. Emily was sitting beside him, just out of view of the camera. On the screen was Roberta, our contact at the CIA. She was about sixty and, normally, she was a model of cool control. Right now, she looked frazzled. “You were just supposed to take pictures and quietly grab the guy!” she snapped. “You got into a firefight!”

“Your intel was bad!” yelled Kian. His Irish accent got stronger when he was upset and right now, it was the strongest I’d ever heard it. “We walked in on someone selling old Soviet files and getting killed by the buyer!”

Roberta turned away for a second as someone off-screen handed her a document. Her eyes flicked over it. “Your man’s alive,” she announced..

We all slumped in relief. Roberta visibly relaxed, too. Some of her anger had been down to guilt, I realized. “What do you know?” I asked.

“We had a satellite over the area. The gunfight on the roof ended with your guy being captured and bundled into an SUV. That’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news?” asked Kian.

“We ran the photos you took through our computers. We can’t identify the seller, but the buyer’s name is Otto Becker.” An image of the guy with the silver beard appeared next to her on the screen, and even in photo form, his eyes gave me the creeps. Roberta paused, looking worried.

“So who is he?” Kian asked. “Mafia? An arms dealer?”

Roberta took a deep breath. “He’s the head of Special Operations at the BND.”

“What?!” The BND is Germany’s CIA. “So the German government has JD?”