Page 40 of Out of Control

“On the job, maybe,” Drago bit out. “I keep telling you, I keep my personal life separate from the work. Why can’t you grasp that?”

“Maybe because I know for a fact that once upon a time you didn’t?”

“People change.” A pause. “At least, I did. Or won’t you believe me becauseyoucan’t keep work and your personal life separate?”

They’d been over this already. Tiredly, he replied, “I keep telling you. I don’t have a personal life.” God. That sounded pathetic, even to his own ears.

“Tell you what,” Drago said slowly. “I’ll offer you the same truce you offered me. Will you swear on your word of honor not to attempt an escape until after we’ve visited the brothel? I have no idea if I’ll find anything there to clear my name, but will you at least give me a chance to try?”

Spencer thought longer about it than Drago had in the same situation. The law was on his side. The rendition order was on his side. He had no real, tangible reason to trust Drago. But…. Drago.

They had a hell of a lot of history between them, both ancient and recent. And to his credit, Drago had never been anything but forthright with him. He might be an asshole, and impulsive, and pushy. But not dishonest. Never that.

If he was having trouble trusting Drago, it was his own hang-ups causing the problem, not anything Drago had done.

He huffed. “Fine. Truce. But I’m still renditioning your ass when this truce is over.”

“Even if I conclusively prove my innocence to you?” Drago challenged.

“I’ll take your evidence back to Langley with you, and you can try to clear your name.”

“C’mon, Spencer. You know that’s not how these things go. Someone has decided I’m persona non grata, and no amount of evidence is going to lift the rendition. Somebody has set me up, and you’re going to knock me down for them.”

“Oh, now you’re being framed too?”

Anger suffused Drago’s face. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Took several deep breaths.

Then, in a surprisingly calm voice, he said, “I did not kill Fayez Khoury, but somebody seems to have gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like I did. You tell me why someone would do that unless I’m getting too close to something—or someone—and they need to stop me.”

“Are you suggesting that Jabril Hamza set you up? Don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch?” Spencer asked.

Drago shrugged. “I’ve been working on tracking him down for years. I finally got within a few minutes of catching him before that missile hit… if he’d shown up. I was close, Spencer. Really close. I could have had him.”

Dray wasn’t entirely crazy to suspect the terrorist of setting him up. Hamza was known for having a wide net of informants. Why wouldn’t that net reach into the American intelligence community? Plus, the terrorist had a vengeful streak a mile wide.

“How would Hamza set you up to look like you killed Khoury?” he asked reasonably.

“He must have found out that someone told me about Khoury being at the brothel. Hell, maybe Hamza had the information slipped to me. He lies in wait until I show up and move to go inside, and then he takes out Khoury just as I go in. For all I know, the police were already called before I walked in the door. They did arrive on scene damned fast. I barely made it out before the cops barged in.”

Drago sounded convincing. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He knew how to sound convincing.

“How do you plan to prove any of that?” Spencer asked.

“I have no idea. But I have to try.” A pause. “If you were accused of a crime you didn’t commit, a crime that would ruin your life, wouldn’t you desperately want to clear your name?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I would. I get where you’re coming from.”

Drago looked him square in the eye and said quietly, “Thank you, Spencer.”

That serious, sober murmur of gratitude shook Spencer more than anything Drago had said since he’d picked the guy up off the floor of the desert. All of Dray’s usual bravado was absent, and for a moment he’d let show just how worried he was about being renditioned.

Funny, but that did more to reassure Spencer than all of Drago’s logical arguments.

They rode in silence for a while, the train clacking busily beneath him. Eventually the train slowed as it approached the outskirts of Berlin. It was a gray day with low-hanging clouds and a fine haze lingering in the damp air.

“You gonna cut me loose or what?” Spencer muttered as the train came into the station, and with a prolonged squeal of brakes, eased to a halt.

“Oh. Right.” Grinning, Drago fished out the key and popped open the cuffs.

---