“I know whatitis,” she snapped. “You want both Michal and me dead.”
“We’re wasting time,” Fran put in, tapping the watch she wore on her left wrist and looking pointedly from Tanner to Ami. “Nicholas is waiting.”
Ami swiveled toward the woman, ready to tear into her, as well. “How could you taunt me that way? I thought you understood—”
Fran cocked an impatient eyebrow. “I do. Now let’s get out of here before sleeping beauty over there wakes up and we have to do permanent damage.”
For the first time since she’d recognized the CIA operative, Ami realized she was serious about helping. “My son is here?”
The mere idea sent warmth and relief flooding through her, weakening her knees, very nearly overwhelming her.
“That’s what Jack has been trying to tell you,” she said succinctly. “Now, let’s get a move on.”
At the door Ami hesitated, she looked straight into Tanner’s eyes and demanded the truth. “What about Michal?”
For two excruciatingly long beats Tanner didn’t respond, then he made her worst fears a reality.
“He’s dead.”
THE JOURNEYto the basement was made in a kind of shocked silence. Ami didn’t speak, she scarcely breathed. She was capable of nothing. Tanner, with one arm around her shoulder, ushered her forward as necessary, forcing her legs to make the required movements.
Michal was dead.
Nicholas would never know him.
And somehow, even though she didn’t fully understand it, she was partly to blame.
She had been the bait, of that she was certain now.
She didn’t need Tanner or Fran to spell it out for her. In two years they had not been able to bring him down, but once they’d brought her into the picture, the feat had proved painfully simple.
A shudder worked its way through her when she considered that the whole Nathan Olment thing could have been an elaborate setup. Tanner had told her she was one of theirs. Had she simply lain dormant—a sleeper, so to speak—until they needed her back in action?
None of it mattered now.
It was too late.
Michal was dead.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she attempted to console herself with the realization that she was finally going to see her child again. But even that left a gaping wound in her heart.
Tanner stopped next to a long black SUV and opened the rear passenger door. “We’ll—”
The tip of a gun barrel suddenly pressed against his temple.
Ami gasped.
Tanner froze.
Fran had taken a position, her legs spread wide, her gun held in firing position and aimed directly at the interloper.
Michal Arad.
“Let her go,” Michal said harshly, his weapon cocked and ready to fire.
“I thought you were dead,” Tanner argued, a frown creasing his brow as he attempted to reason the situation.
“Obviously you were wrong,” Michal countered hotly. “Now, let her go.”
