Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(21)

Just a few more hours.

Which meant he needed to sleep now, because when the plane landed it’d be balls to the wall.

…

Zhang Wei felt the subtle pressure change, the disturbance in the flow of energy through the apartment. He tilted his head, waiting.

Someone—someones—were in his home.

Meditation would have to wait.

Whoever these intruders were, they’d bypassed the security system, which meant they were better than the average would-be thief.

Wei remained seated in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave him a view of his balcony covered in greenery, listening to the subtle, almost silent sounds.

The two in the entry had paused, their breathing giving them away. A third crept through the front room, the gentle whish of feet through the plush rug betraying him. Judging by the weight of their steps, they were male, trained but not comfortable in their surroundings.

The whisk of a blade leaving its sheath was the loudest sound in the room.

It would be foolish for them to bring guns.

The one man was the strongest of the three, probably their leader. Wei wouldn’t kill him, just maim him a bit. The other two were fair game.

He waited until he glimpsed a shadow out of his left eye.

Wei tugged the dagger in his boot loose, twisted, and rose to one knee, hurling the throwing knife. The wet slick of the blade slicing through flesh, the splatter of blood, and the man’s gurgle were music to Wei’s ears.

The other man froze, gaping at his fallen comrade.

Wei didn’t hesitate.

He vaulted over the sofa, kicking out, and struck the second man in the chest, knocking him back against the wall. Wei yanked the knife out of the fallen man’s throat and slashed at the second.

The third man yelled something—Korean? Figures—and charged around, through the galley kitchen.

The crackle of a Taser only made Wei grin.

Please. He’d had more dangerous toys as a child.

The man jabbed the Taser toward Wei. He grasped the man’s wrist, twisted his arm, sidestepped, and slashed the knife across the back of his attacker’s thighs.

The Taser clattered to the ground, the man screaming.

That was likely to annoy the neighbors. He stomped on the guy’s neck, cutting off the scream.

The leader of the little group charged around the corner. Wei grabbed his arm and rammed the man up against the wall, twisting his limb up behind his back.

This was going to be fun.

…

Sarah smoothed her hands down the borrowed sweatpants, her stomach in knots. This was far, far above her pay grade. Before this, all of her briefings were done in a suite several floors above Wishing Well’s headquarters. Besides her initial training, she’d never been to an official company site. That’d been years ago.

She turned right, following the numbers until she saw 122.

She’d woken up to a piece of paper under her door telling her to join them “at her earliest convenience.” For some reason, that casual wording made her nervous.

Muted voices on the other side weren’t easy to make out. Two or three people? She couldn’t be certain.

Was Rand gone? Was he here? She hadn’t seen him since they’d parted ways at the Seoul airport.

She pulled the door open and conversation ceased.

Rand and two others stopped speaking and stared at her.

Sarah swallowed and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. She was supposed to be here. She had to be here.

“Sarah, Mitch McConnel.” A lean man with ash blond hair stood and thrust his hand forward, a polite smile tugging at his lips. He had one of those ageless faces, and the paleness of his hair hid a liberal sprinkling of gray. “No relation to the senator.”

“Hi.” She was woefully underdressed in the sweats and a T-shirt. Even Rand had on jeans and a button-down.

“I’m Charlie’s handler.” All of the warmth left Mitch’s face.

Oh, no…

What had happened to Charlie? Why was he looking at her like that?

“This is Hector Martinez, he works with Rand, who you already know. Sit, please.”

“Is Charlie okay?” She gripped the back of the closest chair.

“He hasn’t missed his contact window yet.” Mitch’s expression didn’t soften. It was hard, as though he were expecting the worst.

What weren’t they telling her?

“Ms. Collins?” Hector pulled out a seat.

“Thanks.” She sat, still at a loss for what to think. “Where’s Irene? Shouldn’t she be here?”

“Irene took some personal time,” Hector said.

“Oh.” Sarah didn’t know her handler beyond the few times a year they handed off the briefcase.

Yes, Sarah had known the risks, that what she transported was valuable, but she’d never really expected this. Charlie…

She swallowed.

A warm hand wrapped around hers.

She glanced at Rand sitting to her left, but he didn’t look at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand while he stared at a piece of paper in front of them.

“Let’s get to it,” Mitch said. “Four days ago, these men followed Sarah from the airport in Seoul to her drop location. We were able to get a clear enough visual that we could place one of them. This man.”