Page 84 of Dark Soul

Slate hadn’t even bothered opening his eyes. “You do know the idea that you shouldn’t sleep after a concussion is a myth, right?”

“I didn’t know, no,” Ash said unapologetically. “But you’re the medic.”

Seconds later, the former SEAL was asleep, his chest inflating gently with each breath he took.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Griffin said. And he had. Even now, hours later, he was sitting quietly in a corner of the room, cleaning an already-clean Glock-19.

Dark wondered at the man’s familiarity with the weapon. He’d worked with several CIA analysts in the past, and none of them had treated weapons like they were part of their family.

Dark was a soldier—or had been a soldier, at least. He knew how important it was to grab some sleep whenever one could. And there’d been nothing for him to do while they waited for their breakthrough. He should have been napping, but hadn’t even tried, because the thought of Alexia in pain was more than he could bear, and he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep until she was back.

He rubbed at his eyes, looked up at Rogue, whose stone gray eyes were red behind his glasses.

Dark had refilled the man’s cup of coffee often enough overnight that he didn’t dare do it again. He was going to have to stop him and get him to take a break. But he let the man go a bit longer, out of pure and utter selfishness.

He counted the minutes down on the clock on the wall. In ten minutes, he would force a two-hour break, kick everyone except for Slate out of this room and into their own bedrooms.

“I’ve got something,” Rogue said suddenly. Though his voice wasn’t loud, everything stopped around them.

“What is it?” Dark asked, making his way to Rogue.

“I just intercepted a new communication between Lemercier and Kvyat.”

“They’ve organized the meet?” Ash asked, his voice tight.

Rogue nodded, his fingers still typing away. “It’s going to be in a private airfield.”

“We’re in Gstaad. There must be six or seven private airfields in the surrounding area.”

“Kvyat seemed to know about this one, about twenty miles southwest.”

“I have it,” Rogue said. “Rütnerweg Airfield. It looks small—we definitely won’t find any commercial flights leaving from here.”

“But Lemercier could have booked a private flight?”

“Or it could be a decoy,” Ash said, not blinking. “Maybe he doesn’t intend to fly out at all.”

“Kvyat doesn’t intend to go on his own. He’s fired off several emails already.”

Dark nodded, impressed with Rogue’s ability to get into people’s electronic footprint. One clearly didn’t want to get on the man’s bad side.

“Has he called the police?” Dark asked worriedly.

“No, not the police. I’m guessing he can’t be sure Lemercier won’t find out if he does, and he doesn’t want to risk it. But he’s got people from his security team at home on their way already.”

“What is he thinking? Does he want to get Alexia and his son killed?”

Ash shook his head. “From what we know about him, I’d say he prefers to see his son dead than in Lemercier’s hands.”

The big man didn’t say anything about Alexia, and for that Dark was grateful. Because he knew as well as all of them that Alexia would only be collateral.

“How long do they have?”

“The meet is at eleven. Lemercier isn’t stupid. He’s not going to give Kvyat time to get a team in place.”

“That gives us three hours to prepare,” Dark said. He picked up his glass and took a sip of water—wondered if Alexia was going thirsty, even now. After that thought, it was a struggle to keep the water in his stomach.

If Lemercier hurt her…