Page 112 of Until the End

It was that same mission nearly a decade ago that had sparked all this. She’d stolen a breakthrough lead compound for the Agency from a German biotech company. The compound was so classified not even she was supposed to know what it was, but she wanted to understand what she’d risked her life for and looked. Curiosity nearly killed her when that psychopath had stalked her, tortured her, and almost put a bullet in her head.

And the Agency had gotten the compound, or at least enough of the formula to bioengineer the most devastating weapons the world had ever known.

“Holster your guns,” Sanborn said.

That pale-faced fucker behind him had the nerve to smile as if he were walking into a party, eager to make friends. It took every ounce of bitter restraint not to drop him where he stood. Her husband was so furious he was literally shaking with rage.

“Holster your weapons. Now!” Sanborn’s raised voice sent them both into reluctant compliance. “Yankee, Sierra. Or, shall I say, Logan and Ashley, let me formally introduce you to Bravo, the lead for Alpha team,” Sanborn said, obliterating all the degrees of separation at once. “You know him as Helmut Fuchs.” The name he’d gone by in Munich and Berlin when he’d impersonated a BfV officer—German intelligence. “Since he knows your real names, you should know his. Meet Howe Fuller.”

Her skin crawled at this farce of a let’s-all-play-nice introduction. Fuck that. “How could you work with him? Him of all people?”

“Do you know what he did to her?” Logan stormed up to Sanborn. “Kidnap, torture, interrogation?”

“Yes,” Sanborn said coolly. “Of course I do.”

Logan recoiled, looking so disgusted she wondered if her husband might spit in Sanborn’s face. “After everything we’ve done for you, how could you bring him here?”

“You’ve been paid very well for everything you’ve done. Let’s not mistake this job for a favor you’re doing me. For the last seven years, you’ve cashed checks from me and all you’ve had to do was wait until I activated you.”

The mission in Germany had gone FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition—and tanked her team’s careers with the CIA. The four of them—her, Logan, Mike, and Ethan—had been disavowed for insubordination. It was as if they no longer existed as far as the Agency was concerned. No pension. No work history. No unemployment compensation. They became ghosts.

And perfect freelance operatives for Sanborn. He’d kept them on retainer, paying them nicely over the years until the day he’d called and demanded service.

“Why choose him to lead Alpha team?” Ashley asked. “Why not one of us?” She knew Alpha team was comprised of a bunch of rogue operators, but anyone from Zulu team could have stepped up to do it. “Why would you work with him?”

Sanborn gave an impatient sigh. “I needed him to be something none of you could.”

They had stolen biological weapons for him, inadvertently killing an innocent woman. Crossed an ocean and captured a top-ten terrorist. They were prepared to go further still.

“And what is he that we can’t be?” Logan asked.

“A necessary evil,” Sanborn said matter-of-factly.

Howe Fuller took a bow with the flourish of a stage performer.

Ashley wanted to knock the grin off his face with a 9mm bullet.

“Some of the things he has done, you would’ve found difficult.” Sanborn looked from Logan to her. “Questionable. The end of this is at hand, but there is still so much more to do.”

“That doesn’t explain why the fuck you brought him,” Logan snapped.

Sanborn smiled, brittle and hollow, giving Ashley the chills.

It was only because the boss understood the raging depths of their anger that he put up with such disrespect, but judging by that smooth, sharp, razor-blade smile, he wouldn’t tolerate much more before he made them wish they could slither off into oblivion.

Sanborn was part spy, part ninja, and one hundred percent the Godfather rolled into one. He took his people under his wing, protecting them, guiding them, teaching them, arming them, sending them to war in his name. But if his soldiers decided not to toe the line, they might wake up one morning to find a horse head in their bed. A small reminder about the status quo.

Ashley touched Logan’s forearm, a light pat to say take it down a hundred notches.

Logan reeled in a heavy breath, picking up on her meaning. “You could’ve brought someone else from Alpha team for the pickup,” he said, better but still not calmly enough. “So we never had to see him. Why is he here?”

“He”—Sanborn gestured to Howe—“is supposed to be here. Whereas you”—Sanborn swung his finger at Logan—“are not.”

Regret was a foul taste in Ashley’s mouth. Sanborn had called her at 2:00 a.m., told her not to bring Logan, to come with Mike or Ethan instead. She should’ve listened. Sanborn had excellent reasons for every word that left his mouth, every action he took, every order he issued.

Always to spare us, protect us, even from ourselves.

“His team is short one body. I need to move a replacement from Zulu to join Alpha. They need four to do their job. Zulu doesn’t.” Sanborn’s hot gaze shifted from Ashley to her husband. “And it can’t be you, Logan.”