Page 85 of Shea's Hero

I would die before giving up the identities of the assets who trusted me.

But would I let Shea die?

No.

I would doanythingto save her.

But to do that, I need to use the same cool rationality I use on the job. I need to think through everything before I act, running through possible scenarios and outcomes.

Which means, no matter how badly I want to take action now, I need to wait. Make sure my strategy is sound. And be absolutely prepared to move without hesitation, because once I start, the only two things that can stop me are victory or death.

In the fifteen minutes I’ve been in the car, I’ve used that time to take stock. To quietly observe and formulate a plan while trying to tamp down my emotions.

What do I know?

Quite a lot, actually.

Of the two men in the car with me, I recognize both of them. First, Sergey Antonov, the man who went after Shea at her house. Hired help, as I suspected, based on the other man riding along with him.

And the other?

Alexi Sokolov. Right-hand man of Ivan Romanova.

With his presence, everything else makes sense.

Now I know why they went after Shea. Now I know what they want with me.

During those months I spent in Russia, one of the assets I managed was an employee of Ivan Romanova, the multimillionaire owner of a chemical production company in Moscow. Romanova caught the CIA’s attention because they believed he was working with extremist groups in the United States, selling them compounds that would allow them to make chemical weapons.

We wanted him stopped, of course, but Romanova was smart. By the time I got involved, the CIA had eyes on him for over a year, but still hadn’t found anyone on the inside to provide proof. Then I found Dmitri. He had been with Romanova for years, but only recently had learned the truth of what was going on. He learned about the extremist groups and their eventual plans to stage attacks on college campuses around the U.S.

Dmitri had a daughter attending college in California.

So he approached one of our case officers. Offered to help. And he slowly started to feed us information in hopes of taking Romanova down.

When I left the CIA, they still didn’t have enough evidence to get approval to take action. And given that Alexi Sokolov is here, no doubt hoping to force me to give up Dmitri’s identity, it’s a safe bet that Romanova still hasn’t been caught. But he mustknow the CIA is onto him, and now he’s desperate to find out which person in his organization is working against him.

So I know the who, and the why.

Now I just need to figure out how. How am I going to rescue Shea, and hopefully not end up dead myself? Because while I’m more than willing to sacrifice myself for Shea, I really hope it doesn’t come to that. I want a life with her. A home. Maybe even a family. And I’m not ready to give that up just yet.

It’s all going to come down to perfect timing.

There are still just three cars—in the lead, the one with Shea, with one of the men driving it. I’m in the middle, with Alexi and Sergey, and the final car is following about a quarter mile behind us.

Four men that I know of. And the sooner I can disable them once we get to our destination, the better.

“Hey!” Sergey turns around in the passenger seat to glare at me. He backhands me, his heavy ring crashing into my face and sending a rivulet of blood running down my cheek. “Why are you so fucking quiet? Shouldn’t you be making some noise or something?”

Alexi glances at Sergey with a look of contempt. Then he punches Sergey in the arm. “Idiot! He’s gagged. How is he supposed to make noise?”

Sergey blinks at him. “I thought he’d be moving around or something. Trying to get free.” He pauses, then adds defensively, “Not that he could, I tied him up really tight.”

“You’d better have,” snaps Alexi. “I gave you one job. Make sure he can’t get loose. If you fuck that up…” His eyes flash at me in the rearview mirror, flat and black like coal. “You already fucked up taking the girlfriend before. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you back then.”

“But… I wasn’t…” Sergey sputters. “It wasn’t my?—”

“Shut up!” Alexi slaps him across the face. “Maybe I should gag you, too.”

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