They waited in silence, no one moving a muscle. A few minutes later, Jared and Hoyt jogged back into the room. “Empty,” Hoyt said.
Mack stared bullet holes into Mankel’s head.
Mankel just smiled, acting as if he were the one who had a gun on Mack and not the other way around. “How much is the girl worth to you? Is your revenge worth more than an innocent life?”
Rage ripped through Mack. He roared, leaping across the desk in an adrenaline-surged rush, and tackled Mankel to the floor. He wrapped his hands around the man’s throat and squeezed. Mankel’s satisfied smirk slipped away as he gasped for air and tried to pry Mack’s fingers from his throat. But Mack’s blood loss and injuries were nowhere near enough to bridle his unholy fury. He held his fingers locked in an immovable vice around the man’s vice. His vision tunneled; his whole being pulsed with the desire to end this man. Death. Death was the only solution for a man like this.
And then Marley’s face popped into Mack’s mind. He was acting like an animal, a thoughtless beast. What would she think if she saw him like this? Allowing Caroline to meet her fate simply so he could have the pleasure of killing this man.
Mack had killed men before—he was a soldier—but only when they were threatening his life or someone else’s. Mankel, murdering bastard that he was, had been sitting in that chair, unarmed.
Mack knew that if he crossed that line, he’d never be able to come back so he forced his fingers to loosen and backed off, leaving Mankel wheezing and grasping at his bruised neck. Grabbing the edge of the desk, Mack pulled himself to his feet. Disgust roiled within him and he spat on the floor next to Mankel. “Hunter, secure the prisoner. If he so much as twitches an eyebrow, put a bullet right between his eyes.”
“Roger.” The room faded, but Mack leaned back and tightened his focus as much as he could. Marley. Fight for Marley. He couldn’t give up on her, not yet.
Hunter jerked Mankel up off the floor and threw him face down on the other end of the desk, roughly yanking his arms behind his back. He wrapped 550 cord around them, tight enough to cut off a little bit of blood circulation.
“We need to secure Reaper’s team in the lab,” Mack managed to say. “Those men—they were normal once. We have to find out what’s been done to them.”
And find out if they had to be put down.
“We’ll handle it, boss,” Hunter said.
Mack’s ears roared as Riser helped him from the room. The long walk down the hall seemed to stretch on forever, and then they were climbing the stairs, heading out of the foyer and into the bright sunlight. The light was blinding, but Mack didn’t have the energy to lift a hand to shield his eyes. Riser popped a smoke and tossed it a few feet away—the red, billowing cloud was Aaron’s signal to pick them up.
Mankel was restrained and on his knees, Hunter’s gun pressed into the back of his head. The rest of the team shuffled out with the now-conscious assassins secure—heads held up straight, hands tied behind them.
The sound of the approaching chopper fought for Mack’s attention. He needed to see Marley. He needed to tell her that he regretted snapping at her. Capturing Mankel felt hollow, not even halfway filling up his cup when he’d thought it would be overflowing. And Mack thought he knew why. Mankel was his past. Marley was his future. If she’d still have him.
The west gates of the compound burst open and two small black SUVs charged through. Mack couldn’t muster the energy to go for his weapon, but his men leveled their guns at the newcomers. The vehicles skidded to a stop, and the front passenger-side door of the first one swung open. A pair of huge hands emerged first, raised overhead, and then Reaper exited one of the vehicles.
“Holy shit, man, where the hell have you been?” Merc asked.
“Getting him.” Reaper slowly lowered his arms.
The back door of the SUV opened and a dark-skinned man in an expensive-looking navy pantsuit stepped down. “I’m here for him.” The man had a thick accent.
“You’re too late. I’ve been arrested by the US government,” Mankel said.
“Who are you?” Mack said.
“I am President Ali,” the dark-skinned man answered. “This man is responsible for selling weapons to rebel leaders, weapons that were used to massacre an entire village of my people. I have come to see that he meets justice.”
Mack managed to hold onto his wits long enough to study Mankel. There was no longer any triumph in his gaze; as a matter of fact, he looked nervous.
“And what will you do with him if we give him to you?” Mack asked.
“I will return him to the remaining survivors of the village. Their leader wants justice. I want vengeance. Either way, I’ve come to ask you that you turn him over.” President Ali’s tone was congenial but severe.
“And if I say no?”
“Then I will have no choice but to have my Army detain you until we can safely remove him from your custody.” President Ali held up his hand and gestured to his men. Three of them broke off from the group and crossed to Mankel.
“No! You can’t do that. I have to go back to America, face my trial there,” Mankel said frantically.
Mack ignored him and stared hard at the president. “And what guarantee do I have that you will actually see it through? Jack Mankel has managed to escape from more than one government. That’s a big risk.”
“Now that his deadly protectors have been stripped from him, there will be no escaping for this man. There is no one in my country who would not kill him on sight.”
