“Look,” he tried, “it’s nothing personal. I have a job to do. I was ordered to bring you in, and that’s what I have to do.”
“No. It’s not. That’s what youwantto do. The right thing is to let me prove I didn’t kill Fayez Khoury before I go in. It’s the only way I’ll clear my name. Once the CIA has me in custody, they won’t let me do a damned thing to prove my innocence.” He added accusingly, “And you know it.”
“We’ve been over this already. I’m not disobeying an order so you can maybe try to save your precious career. For all I know, you’re lying to me and trying to get me to help you kill someone who crossed you.”
“You’re such a self-righteous prick sometimes.”
Was Dray right about that? A niggling uncertainty that Drago was in the right and he was in the wrong started rolling around at the edges of his mind.
He tried moving his limbs. Everything worked. He was just creaky as hell. The good news about spending a couple tours in the SEALs was that he was physically tough and could take the kind of beating he had last night and bounce back quickly. Furthermore, he had the capacity to set aside pain. He’d hurt at least this bad by the end of Hell Week. It would suck, but he was operational.
“Let’s get out of here,” he bit out.
“Fine with me,” Drago snapped.
The hurt and anger in Drago’s voice scored his skin, leaving bloody trails in its wake.
Fair enough. He probably deserved that tone of voice. He was being a jerk.
Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that Drago did have the right of it. The guy had proven himself trustworthy and had kept his word over and over. He should unlock Dray’s wrist. Let him go. Give him a chance to prove his innocence and save his career and his life—
Drago stood up, yanking Spencer’s left arm upright. Pain shot through his whole body. “C’mon, Sleeping Beauty. I’ve got places to go and things to do.”
God. That man could be so infuriating.
“Right,” he snapped back. “I’m taking you to the airport and putting you on a jet bound for Washington, DC.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Drago was surly as they checked out of the hotel, but at least he wasn’t putting up a fight. They’d nearly reached the parking lot and the Land Rover when Drago said sourly, “By the way, while you’re busy accusing me of having my head up my ass and only thinking about my career, I’d like to point out that you’re doing the same damned thing.”
Spencer glanced over at the only man he’d ever loved. The only man he’d ever left. “Unlike you, Dray, my career is the only thing I have.”
Drago’s response was a long time coming. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
“I know enough.”
“Do you? Or have you rushed to judgment because you think you know me? What if I’m nothing like you seem to think I am?”
“You have no idea what I think of you, Drago.”
“I know you think I’m a liar and won’t keep my word. Both of which are dead wrong, FYI.”
Was he right? Had he violently misjudged Dray?
“Did you ever know me, Spencer?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but Drago cut him off, rattling the handcuffs. “After this, I can say for certain that I sure as hell never knew you.”
Chapter Seven
GETTING INTOthe Land Rover while handcuffed together was an ordeal. Drago ended up climbing over the center console into the driver’s seat from the passenger side. While Spencer painfully eased into the passenger’s seat, Drago was uncharacteristically silent.
A silent Drago worried the hell out of him. The man was a talker, and when he stopped, it meant his formidable brain was working in overdrive. Undoubtedly, he was figuring out his plan of escape in earnest now. All truces between them were officially null and void. Of that, Spencer had no doubt.
“Where to, Captain Hypocritical?”
Spencer’s gaze narrowed, although the glare made the swollen side of his face hurt. “I’ll need to make flight arrangements for us. We should head for a hotel over by the airport. Someplace low-key where we can hunker down until our flight leaves.”