Page 11 of Out of Control

What he wouldn’t give to have his team with him right now. He’d send out a couple of scouts to spot the danger he could feel but not see. As it was, he was left wondering what the locals knew that he didn’t.

“Have you heard rumors of action in northern Jordan by any major players?” he threw over his shoulder.

“Where in northern Jordan?” Drago asked sharply.

He sighed. “Ruwayshid. We’re in Ar Ruwayshid.”

“Oh joy. The garden spot of downtown Hell.”

“Dray…,” he said warningly.

“All right already. No. I haven’t picked up any recent intel. I’ve been lying on my face in the desert for the past week, waiting for a target to show up. Until you military yahoos decided to barge in and fuck up my op for funsies.”

“I didn’t call in that missile!” Spencer exclaimed.

“No. You just placed the homing beacons on those cars so the Air Force could send in its toys.”

“They weren’t homing beacons. They were GPS trackers.”

“Why?”

“In case I didn’t find you out in the desert, I wanted to be able to follow the people attending that meeting and maybe catch a lead on you. My intel said you were interested in who all showed up out there.”

Drago said bitterly, “Your missile blew up a bunch of women and kids. There were dozens of civilians in those buildings.”

“It. Wasn’t. My. Missile. I wasn’t working for the US military out there.”

“Whowereyou working for?”

Spencer sighed. “You know who. I told you I’m here to rendition you.” A topic he really would rather not talk about. Not yet.

Instead he changed the subject to one he knew was a hot button for Drago. “You know as well as I do that the local terrorists use civilians as human shields and that the unofficial US policy is human shields are acceptable collateral damage if the target is of enough value.”

“You know I think it’s a war crime and barbaric,” Drago answered more calmly than Spencer expected. Huh. Maybe the guy had grown up a little in the past decade.

Spencer shrugged. “On that we agree completely.”

“How did you know I was out there observing the meeting?” Dray asked.

Damn. He wasn’t going to be distracted. Spencer sighed. “The CIA told me as part of my in-brief to bring you home.”

“Fuck. There’s a leak in my team.”

“What team?”

“You don’t have the security clearance to hear about it, little SEAL.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. As a SEAL, he had most of the clearances in existence, and Drago knew it. The bastard was pulling his chain. Trying to get a rise out of him. Throw him off-balance. And damned if it wasn’t working. Just being in the same room with the guy like this was messing with his head.

Spencer tried another feint to change the direction of the conversation. “You know those CIA types. Gossipy bunch of desk jockeys who can’t do their own dirty work. Of course somebody leaked something to someone about you.”

Dray snorted in patent agreement. Without missing a beat, he asked, “What’s going on outside?” He lifted his chin toward the front of the restaurant.

“Absolutely nothing. That’s what’s got me worried.”

“Lemme see.”

“Can’t. You and I need to have another conversation before I’m turning you loose.”

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