For these reasons, she wasn't too worried about picking the lock. All that mattered was witnesses. Still wearing disguises, they parked in back and entered via a rear door as if they belonged there, feigning familiarity and relaxation, though they took the stairs to avoid elevator cameras. No one was on the fifth floor and Jordan didn't take long to pick the golden door lock. When she pushed the front door inward, a silent alarm sent a signal to Jake's phone, which Riley held in one hand and glanced at. In his other, he discreetly held a gun.

"Me first," he said, pushing past her.

She frowned but didn't stop him because she still had to pull her gun from her waistband. Following, she let him go toward the kitchen while she scanned the living area, too spa.r.s.ely furnished for anyone to hide. Of course, they knew Jake was dead, but there was a chance someone else was here.

"No sign of activity in the kitchen," Riley remarked.

Jordan nodded, realizing he meant freshly made food or drinks. Her eyes picked out an unhidden black ceiling camera aimed at the door and another pointed at the living area. Jake had apparently wanted an intruder to know they were being seen. They'd need to find the recording device, which was hopefully here, and take it, since they'd be leading Thomas here and letting him live. He'd undoubtedly investigate once freed. He'd also realize something had happened to Jake, but they didn't care what he thought. Let him wonder.

They went down the hall, ducking into a spare bedroom, and then checked the master suite. No one was here.

"Draw the curtains," Riley commanded, moving to do the same on another wall.

Jordan complied and said, "The computer in the guest room might be the recorder for the cameras, but it's probably a decoy. I know Jake."

"Okay, so where's the real one?"

"Gotta search for it."

"Let's do that in a minute. Do we think we're ready for this tonight?"

"Is there a reason to wait?"

"Not really. You know them. Will Thomas come here if Jake asks him to?"

Jordan nodded. "I can see Jake wanting to brag in person about killing me, or thanking Thomas here, instead of at HQ, where he wouldn't be able to admit it. I know they enjoyed wine together. I'm thinking to invite him for a small celebration."

"You're sure he'll bite? We only have one chance of doing it this way, and if he wants Jake to come to him, we're screwed. And when Jake doesn't show up, he'll start to get suspicious."

"Let's worry about that if he doesn't bite."

"Okay. Let's set up an interrogation site here and find that recorder. Then we'll start this."

A more thorough search turned up the real hard disk recorder the cameras were feeding, hidden beneath the carpet in the master closet, where Jake had cut out a section of flooring to put the recorder under the floor. They didn't bother confirming it had recorded them. Riley just opened it up with tools and smashed the delicate pieces so they'd be unreadable. Meanwhile, Jordan shoved the master bedroom's bed out of the way and brought a chair to tie Thomas to. Then the snipers sat together and initiated texting with their mutual enemy, who responded quickly.

Jacques: I'm here.

Thomas: Paris?

J: Just got in. Have a gift for you! To celebrate T: For a job well done? :) J: Ding dong the b.i.t.c.h is dead T: lol J: Come now. Already through half a bottle T: What's the gift?

J: A surprise. Will you come? At Rue Diablo T: Be there in two hours J: K.

"Should quit there," Riley suggested, not wanting to risk tipping their hand. The less said, the better. Jordan presumably knew enough about how Jake and Thomas interacted to mimic the dead a.s.sa.s.sin. Riley never would've made the Wizard of Oz joke. He gave her credit for style. It worked.

"Yeah," she agreed, putting the phone down but leaving it face up in case another message came through. "We have a couple hours to be certain we're ready."

"Or we could fool around," Riley joked. She rolled her eyes at him and they spent the next hour securing the rooms so that nothing accidental happened, like tripping over a doormat, or banging into furniture in the way, or even random knickknacks on tables being used as weapons. They kept the living room that Thomas would be captured in mostly intact so he wouldn't be suspicious on entering. This was where they'd grab him.

For the remaining time, they ensured their disguises were on and went outside, trying to get an idea of escape points, should they need one, and how many people seemed present in other units. They weren't antic.i.p.ating much fighting, and no gunfire, but things often went wrong.

Being in an urban area, the condo had pedestrian and vehicular traffic in solid numbers, and the number of lights on in the adjacent units caused some concern, but unless they fired a gun, it wouldn't matter. Just in case that happened, they returned to the room and made sure everything they didn't need for interrogation was already packed for quick exit. They also planned a route down the rear stairs and away. The Paris Metro wasn't too far distant, allowing them to take that and ditch the car if needed.

Sitting in the condo, with enough lights on to make it seem welcoming, they saw Jake's phone light up with a text from Thomas, saying he was five minutes away. They got into position, Riley exiting the condo and going to the stairs to watch for him on this floor. The hall had only six doors for rooms, plus the stairwell, where he stood as if having just climbed and about to exit. He kept the door open, peering out for signs of the elevator opening.

He felt a little nervous, which was unusual for him, but then he usually waited at a safe distance with a sniper rifle. His military training had prepared him for hand-to-hand combat, which he excelled at, but he had seldom set a trap for someone like this. The planning wasn't his favorite thing. He preferred the action to simply come upon him before he had to worry about it too much. What truly worried him was Jordan. She'd seemed calm, so he didn't think she'd overreact to coming face to face with the man who'd ordered her execution, but tempers could flare. And if Thomas somehow died tonight, and before Riley learned who'd ordered the hit on him, Riley would have nothing to go on. A lot was riding on this.

A ding announced the arrival of the elevator. He waited a moment and then stepped into the hall, pretending to be engrossed in the smartphone in his hand, his head down, but when the lone person turned away from him, Riley looked up and recognized their prey. He typed "all clear" and hit send while still advancing with his head down like a distracted walker.

He a.s.sumed Thomas had seen him and then disregarded him. Thomas was moving away toward Jake's door. On reaching it, Thomas turned to knock on it. The Marine pa.s.sed the elevator, noticing that Thomas still held a glowing smartphone in one hand. Just when Thomas glanced at him, Jake's door swung inward and Thomas turned back to find a gun pointed at his face. At the moment Jordan had opened the door, Riley yanked his gun from his rear waistband, aimed it at Thomas, and quickened his step.

Seeing Thomas look at him again, this time in surprise, Riley gestured with his gun at the open door, just steps from him now. "Inside, now."

Thomas nodded, casting wary and appraising glances at both of them. That prompted Riley to tell him not to try anything stupid. Thomas cautiously did as ordered while Riley grabbed his phone to keep it on and unlocked. They might need it.

As he stepped inside, Thomas said in English, his accent smooth and suave, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do. Stop talking. Eyes forward." Riley shoved him toward the master bedroom, letting Jordan close the door behind them so she stayed out of sight. She couldn't hide her hips and bosom but had otherwise disguised herself with a pullover mask that gave away no features. Thomas hadn't had much chance to look at anything more than a muzzle in his face, Riley suspected. The Marine still wore a wig.

All three entered the interrogation room, where Riley made Thomas sit in a lone chair, his back to them, before Jordan bound him to it. She stood behind Thomas with a gun handy as Riley, beside her, put a mask over his own head. Once done, he altered Thomas' phone to remove the security lock. Then he came around to the front.

Up close, Thomas' face had pockmarks and a couple small scars, suggesting he'd been a little hands-on at some point. Maybe Riley needed to be wary of any physicality from the guy, but he posed no threat bound as he was. The Marine thought to check Jordan's bindings, as she wasn't used to doing that sort of thing, but he trusted her. Before he had a chance to say something to Thomas, their captive spoke first.

"I a.s.sume this is no coincidence. You know who I am?"

Riley replied, "Thomas Beckett, a.s.shole."

"That's not my exact t.i.tle, no." He seemed more amused than threatened. Riley scowled.

"Would you prefer 'corpse'?"

"You aren't going to kill me."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll never get away with it. You're a dead man even now."

c.o.c.kiness had never been appealing for Riley. "You're starting to bore me. Let's get to the point. Who hired you to kill Riley Kendall?"

Thomas' eyebrows rose, a calculating look flashing across his features. "I don't know what-"

Riley punched him in the face, sending blood flying. Adrenaline and a surge of intense satisfaction tore through him. Thomas didn't look nearly so sure of himself anymore, preoccupied with pain as he was. Riley suppressed a smile. "Answer the question."

Looking dazed, Thomas spit out a tooth. "I see you don't mince words."

Riley slugged him again, hoping to get the message across quickly. If he got into a conversation about bulls.h.i.t with the guy, he lost ground. "Not real big on fluff. Answer me."

"If I tell you that," Thomas said, seeming partially defeated, "I just get myself in more trouble."

"You're never going to be in more trouble after today."

Catching the meaning, Thomas gave him a long look, eyeing the bloodied fist. "Well, if you're planning to kill me, I don't have much to lose."

"That depends on how much pain you want to experience first. Is protecting that person worth it?"

A sardonic smirk briefly appeared. "Not really. Look, lots of people know who wanted Riley dead."

"Then that guy will never be certain that you're the one who squealed. A name, now."

Thomas sighed, conceding that. "I can't argue with your logic. It was Abu Yasin."

"Who the f.u.c.k is that?"

"Leader of IJL, Islamic Jihad League."

Riley drew a blank. Countless terrorist groups existed around the world and keeping track of them all was hard. And not his job even while in the military. The name didn't ring a bell. All he knew now was that a terrorist was behind it. He glanced at Jordan and she shrugged.

When Riley didn't say anything, Thomas added, "Now you can let me go and maybe I'll forget all about this."

"I'm not worried about your memory."

"Then why are you wearing masks?" Thomas smirked, all smugness back tenfold.

Riley didn't care much for being beaten in a word fight, especially with this c.o.c.ky Frenchman. He yanked off the mask and wig as Jordan said, "No!"

Thomas' eyes widened in recognition, then squinted as Riley's fist hurtled toward his face. This time his nose broke with a loud crack as the chair flew backwards, smashing into the carpeted floor along with his head. Riley hauled the chair upright again and felt satisfied at the woozy look on Thomas' face. He grabbed the man by the jaw and leaned close.

"Who the f.u.c.k is Abu Yasin and why does he want me dead?" This time, fear appeared in Thomas' eyes. Riley had a suspicion and remarked, "He paid you for a job well done, didn't he? And now he'll find out that you didn't do it. I don't have to kill you, do I? He'll do it for me."

Thomas looked about to say something when he suddenly tried to turn toward Jordan, looking agitated. "If you're alive, then..."

She strolled around to stand before him, then pulled the mask off, a tumble of long hair spilling out, cold but fiery eyes on their captive. Riley felt great satisfaction to see Thomas' eyes widen, realizations rapidly crossing his face. He was so preoccupied that he never saw Jordan's punch until it connected with his broken nose and he stifled a scream that became a strangled moan instead.

"Surprise!" Jordan yelled. "a.s.shole. I've been wanting to do that since we met."

"Worth the wait?" Riley asked, putting an arm around her.

"Absolutely."

Thomas was still in agony. Few things hurt like a broken nose getting punched again. His eyes slowly moved back and forth between them, putting things together. What he finally asked was, "Jacques?"

"Dead," Jordan announced, beaming.

Thomas nodded, unsurprised. "So you staged the photos. Working together, for some reason. Interesting and very unexpected. I have to give you credit. Not the first time you surprised me, though."

"It will be the last."

He shot her a look. "You don't sound certain."

"We were going to let you live," she admitted, "but now we can't."

"Why were you going to do that?" He sounded disbelieving. "I wouldn't have."

"For your kids," Riley said, "even though they have an a.s.shole for a father."

Thomas smiled weakly, revealing missing teeth. "That just means you're soft. No guts to do what's needed."

Jordan answered, "No, that just means we have a heart, unlike you."

"Enough f.u.c.king around," said Riley. "Who is this guy, Yasin?"

Thomas met his gaze, still seeming defiant. "Small-time terrorist leader with his own group here in Paris."

"What's he want with me?"

"Revenge."

"For what? Never even heard of the guy or his group."

Thomas replied, "He's affiliated with Al Qaeda and ISIL, and his Islamic Jihad League was funded by Omar Al-Jabar, a Syrian." That name rang a bell for Riley, and Thomas saw recognition dawn. "You killed him for your government. In Pakistan, I believe."

The Marine seldom forgot a face or a name of a victim, though it had been a year or more since this one. That had been one of his last jobs. The kill hadn't been particularly hard, just five hundred yards from the three-story rooftop of an apartment on the outskirts of Islamabad. It had taken seven hours of surveillance for the target to make himself available for a bullet in the head. No number of bodyguards around you will stop a sniper.

Jordan asked, "What does killing Al-Jabar have to do with Yasin?"

Thomas didn't look directly at her as he replied, "With his death, Yasin was on his own for money to fund his admittedly petty brand of terrorism. Terrorists always claim they don't like capitalism and all that the U.S. stands for, but they love money, the hypocrites. He declared a jihad on you once he found out your name."

Unbelievable, thought Riley. I wonder how they learned it was me. A spy? Did a camera catch me? Brushing that aside for now, he asked, "He's been notified of the hit being a success?"

"Yes."

"So the jihad is off."

Thomas shrugged, indifferent and seeming a little amused for some reason. "Presumably."

Riley still thought it would be best to stay away from Comus for a long time just so no one bothered hanging around, waiting for him to appear if they hadn't heard the job was done. He needed to call Quinn and find out if any of them had reported anyone suspicious lurking nearby.

He asked, "Did Yasin contact just you for the job?"

"No." Thomas smirked. "I heard about the hit and was eager to have an American killed, so I contacted-"

Riley punched him in the jaw, sparing the nose because he was sure the guy couldn't take much more of that. The satisfaction felt the same, he noticed, and Thomas was clearly dazed and a little more frightened after that one. "You were saying?"

Sullenly, with blood dripping from his nose, and his lip split and already swelling, Thomas answered, "I told him my price and guaranteed success without it being traceable back to him."

"Apparently you were wrong about that."

Quietly, and without att.i.tude Riley noticed, Thomas said, "Apparently I was."