Ian’s noncommittal mask fell smoothly into place once more. “Now that she’s here and she knows what she knows, however, 5 has other uses for her.”
“Uses for me?” Jenny cried. “I’m not your property.”
“You’re still a citizen,” Ian pointed out.
“Drop it for now, Ms. Ainsley,” Günter said, knowing Ian had to be fucking with her. “5 can’t possibly have any intention of holding you.”
He gave Ian a hard look, even as he wished they were still on the same side. Instead he found himself facing a future that smacked of his past—only this time without his friend’s support. That 5 had marked Jenny as their method of manipulation meant their analysts had read him like a book. What he didn’t fathom were the whys. Why him? Why now?
“Why did you have Gray bribe us? Why would he even mention the White Tiger?” he tried. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of your plan. It’s extra and it’s sloppy.”
“Hold on there, mate.” Ian jerked around in surprise and the vehicle swerved. He faced forward again. “Those weren’t our operative’s orders.”
“Are you lying to me?”
Ian clenched the steering wheel hard enough the vinyl squeaked. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me a liar when you’re the one asking for asylum for murder.”
Günter’s vision tunneled. MI-5 had him so thoroughly backed into a corner, he’d never get out without doing whatever they wanted. One person—Weber—had already died to cement this operation, which meant they didn’t give a shit if someone else went down too. Especially if that someone were him.
“I didn’t shoot Weber as 5 well knows.” Günter slammed his fist down on the door rest in frustration. “I can’t believe I came here. How you must’ve wet yourself laughing after my call. I played right into your power-hungry hands.”
“Bollocks.” Ian brought the SUV to a skidding halt at the side of the road and grabbed the back of the headrest for leverage as he pivoted in to face Günter. “Don’t you dare lay this at my doorstep. I’m not in charge here. You ended any chance I had at promotion with Dublin.”
The mention of Dublin acted as a slap. Günter flinched.
“Bravo.” His voice dripped sarcasm in self-defense. “Judas couldn’t have played it any better, Ian.”
“I was there, or have you forgotten?” A tic pulsed beneath Ian’s left eye. “I’m such a fucking Judas I dragged your arse out of that building you weren’t supposed to be in. If it weren’t for me you’d be dead.”
Dimly, he realized Simon said something—tried to de-escalate the ominous tension. He and Ian might as well have been alone for all Günter noticed. Scenes of those last moments in Dublin—the last time he remembered feeling hope and the courage to love without restraint—gripped him. Saliva flew from his lips, landing on Ian’s face with the accusation. “If it weren’t for you, my wife and my men would still be alive.”
Ian flinched, the wrecking ball of Günter’s words taking his expression from livid to crestfallen in one blow. A savage sense of satisfaction clawed to the surface of Günter’s emotions. He savored Ian’s pain, the beast of his rage licking at his opponent’s defeat like a choice piece of bloodied meat.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” Ian swallowed hard. “Best to just spit it out I guess. Alona was an informant. She’s the one who set us up in Dublin. In fact, she’s—”
One moment Günter was in the car, the next he hauled open Ian’s door and dragged him from the seat. Wool abraded his palms. Bunched in his fists. He slammed his adversary into the side of the SUV. Metal buckled. His fist flew back and connected with flesh and bone. Blood flew from Ian’s mouth. Landed on Günter’s face.
With a roar, Ian grabbed him around the middle. Threw them both off-balance. Toppled them into a shallow culvert. Cold mud slid beneath his back. Ian towered above him. Grabbed his head and
“Uses for me?” Jenny cried. “I’m not your property.”
“You’re still a citizen,” Ian pointed out.
“Drop it for now, Ms. Ainsley,” Günter said, knowing Ian had to be fucking with her. “5 can’t possibly have any intention of holding you.”
He gave Ian a hard look, even as he wished they were still on the same side. Instead he found himself facing a future that smacked of his past—only this time without his friend’s support. That 5 had marked Jenny as their method of manipulation meant their analysts had read him like a book. What he didn’t fathom were the whys. Why him? Why now?
“Why did you have Gray bribe us? Why would he even mention the White Tiger?” he tried. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of your plan. It’s extra and it’s sloppy.”
“Hold on there, mate.” Ian jerked around in surprise and the vehicle swerved. He faced forward again. “Those weren’t our operative’s orders.”
“Are you lying to me?”
Ian clenched the steering wheel hard enough the vinyl squeaked. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me a liar when you’re the one asking for asylum for murder.”
Günter’s vision tunneled. MI-5 had him so thoroughly backed into a corner, he’d never get out without doing whatever they wanted. One person—Weber—had already died to cement this operation, which meant they didn’t give a shit if someone else went down too. Especially if that someone were him.
“I didn’t shoot Weber as 5 well knows.” Günter slammed his fist down on the door rest in frustration. “I can’t believe I came here. How you must’ve wet yourself laughing after my call. I played right into your power-hungry hands.”
“Bollocks.” Ian brought the SUV to a skidding halt at the side of the road and grabbed the back of the headrest for leverage as he pivoted in to face Günter. “Don’t you dare lay this at my doorstep. I’m not in charge here. You ended any chance I had at promotion with Dublin.”
The mention of Dublin acted as a slap. Günter flinched.
“Bravo.” His voice dripped sarcasm in self-defense. “Judas couldn’t have played it any better, Ian.”
“I was there, or have you forgotten?” A tic pulsed beneath Ian’s left eye. “I’m such a fucking Judas I dragged your arse out of that building you weren’t supposed to be in. If it weren’t for me you’d be dead.”
Dimly, he realized Simon said something—tried to de-escalate the ominous tension. He and Ian might as well have been alone for all Günter noticed. Scenes of those last moments in Dublin—the last time he remembered feeling hope and the courage to love without restraint—gripped him. Saliva flew from his lips, landing on Ian’s face with the accusation. “If it weren’t for you, my wife and my men would still be alive.”
Ian flinched, the wrecking ball of Günter’s words taking his expression from livid to crestfallen in one blow. A savage sense of satisfaction clawed to the surface of Günter’s emotions. He savored Ian’s pain, the beast of his rage licking at his opponent’s defeat like a choice piece of bloodied meat.
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” Ian swallowed hard. “Best to just spit it out I guess. Alona was an informant. She’s the one who set us up in Dublin. In fact, she’s—”
One moment Günter was in the car, the next he hauled open Ian’s door and dragged him from the seat. Wool abraded his palms. Bunched in his fists. He slammed his adversary into the side of the SUV. Metal buckled. His fist flew back and connected with flesh and bone. Blood flew from Ian’s mouth. Landed on Günter’s face.
With a roar, Ian grabbed him around the middle. Threw them both off-balance. Toppled them into a shallow culvert. Cold mud slid beneath his back. Ian towered above him. Grabbed his head and
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