Page 54 of Out of Control

He thought back. “I was careful to keep everything ops normal. I was communicating by secure text so the agency didn’t do any voice analysis that might have given away any stress from me.”

Spencer said soberly, “Then I’ll ask again. Do you have an enemy inside the agency? Somebody looking to take you down?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he answered slowly, his thoughts revving at light speed. He’d had his doubts before, but Spencer’s suspicion confirmed all his worst thoughts. He had been set up. Who could have possibly known—and how—that Khoury was about to die and arranged to have him walk in on the murder scene?

A cold chill crept up the back of his neck.

Grimly, he looked up at Spencer. “So. Are you going to help me or not?”

Chapter Ten

SPENCER STUDIEDDrago’s face, which had horror and alarm written all over it. Nope. The guy was not pretending. Regardless of his ability to lie, he knew Drago too well. The man thought his own agency had framed him.

Now what was he supposed to do? It was clear to him that Drago hadn’t killed Fayez Khoury. And furthermore, it was clear that someone at the CIA had it in for Dray. If Spencer renditioned Drago now, he would be playing right into the hands of that anonymous manipulator.

“What are we missing?” Drago asked thoughtfully.

The question sounded rhetorical, so Spencer didn’t offer an answer. A powerful sense of here-we-go-again rolled over him. Jabril Hamza’s cell had been so quiet, so low-key, that it had lulled him and Drago into a false sense of security too. Hamza and his guys hadn’t given even the slightest indication that they were in the final stages of planning a massive attack that would kill a thousand or more people.

Or maybe they had. Maybe he and Drago had been so intent on each other they’d failed to catch the signs. Had they missed something back then? Something they were missing again now? Hehadto keep his head in the game this time—not make another massive, fatal mistake.

Yes, Drago was distracting as hell. Yes, Spencer thought about taking Drago to bed pretty much every waking minute. Yes, he would love to pick up where they’d left off ten years ago. But no way could he give in.

One thing was clear: he couldn’t take Drago back to Langley. Not until they’d figured out what was going on inside the agency and not until they had more proof than the word of a young prostitute to prove Drago was innocent of Khoury’s death. Spencer had been there in person to hear the girl, Lena, speak. He’d seen her body language. He had no doubt she’d been telling the truth. But the powers-that-be in Langley would want more than that before they reversed a rendition order.

And as much as he would love to fuck Drago on every surface this apartment offered, theycouldn’tgo there again. At a minimum, they had to work together to clear Dray’s name. And while they were at it, if they happened to find Jabril Hamza and take him out, all the better—

Drago pulled two beers out of the refrigerator and passed one to Spencer before sitting down. “Shall we see what Fayez’s phone and wallet yield?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He sat down heavily at the table as well. This was a mistake. Drago’s enthusiasm was infectious. The guy would suck him into this whatever-this-was, and he would go along to spend a little more time with Dray. And other people would end up getting hurt, as sure as he’d just planted his ass in a chair.

Drago swore under his breath, and Spencer’s gaze snapped up alertly.

“Phone is password protected,” Dray announced in disgust.

“Obviously. Have you got someone local who can break into this phone? The only hacker I trust is somewhere in Afghanistan at the moment.”

“I’ve got a couple of guys I can call. But it’ll take time we don’t have. We have to move fast if I’m gonna stay out of spy jail.”

Not to mention, if Spencer didn’t bring in Drago in the next few days, somebody else would be sent to rendition them both.

Spencer reached for the wallet and emptied the contents onto the table in a pile. He picked up the first plastic card. “Driver’s license. France. Debit card from a French bank. I’m gonna go ahead and say Fayez lived in France.”

Drago rifled through the money and receipts. “Check this. It’s a dry-cleaning receipt. This must come from near where he lived.”

“There’s a phone number on it,” Spencer commented. “Prefixes are 33 and 1. That’s the country code for France and the Paris area code.”

“You think the driver’s license is real, then? Has his actual address on it?”

Spencer grinned. “It’s not the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen a terrorist do.”

Drago snorted. “It’s right up there, though.”

“Maybe he was so cocky he didn’t think he would ever get caught.”

“Dumbass. Paris makes sense as a home base, though,” Drago commented. “Big Middle Eastern community there. Easy place for Khoury to blend in.”

“Okay. So somebody he knew walks in on him and kills him moments before you walk in. It sounded from Lena like the killer was only in the room a minute or so tops. How big was the pool of blood on the floor when you walked in?”

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