Page 92 of Enemy of My Enemy

Doc ducked as bullets smashed through his car, shattering his windows and thudding into the frame. Jerking the wheel, he tried to ram the other car, but the driver swerved away. He came back, firing again, and a bullet popped one of Doc’s tires. His car jerked, pulling hard to the left, and he struggled against the momentum.

The bridge rose beneath them, taking their cars over the dark water. On his right, the black-clad driver lined up for another shot, balancing the barrel of his weapon on his forearm. He fired.

Doc’s right tire blew, and something ground in his engine. He cursed as his car jerked again, sliding to the right and heading straight for the shooter.

The shooter gunned it, flying forward, and Doc barely scraped past his rear bumper, flying toward the bridge’s guardrail.

“Fuck,” Doc hissed. It had to be water. Fucking of course. He closed his eyes, gripped the edge of his seat, and threw himself back as his car crashed through the guardrail and sailed out over the tributary, heading for the inky water below.

The car hit the surface like it slammed into a brick wall. His airbag burst. He flew forward, bouncing off the hard canvas. Dizziness crashed over him, his ears roaring and his vision going triple as the lights of the bridge bounced above. Blood trickled from his throbbing nose and the taste of copper filled his mouth. Water poured in through his shattered windows and his broken windshield, flooding the compartment. Cold; the shock hit his system, and he managed to order his crazed thoughts again.Escape. Get to safety. Report to the L-T.

He fought out of the seatbelt as water rose to his neck, his car plunging to the depths. The impact had crumpled its frame, and the car door wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t kick out the windshield against the water, and instead took a deep breath and twisted through his shattered driver’s window. Glass scraped over his skin, cutting into his sides and his legs, but he kicked free and rose to the surface.

Breathing hard, he floundered toward the shore. His eyes still swam, blacking out every third stroke. He fell beneath the surface, sputtering, coughing, hacking up dirty bay water and spitting blood.

When he made it to the shore, he crawled up the wet, sucking mud and collapsed, facedown.

His eyes slipped closed.

* * *

Taif, Saudi Arabia

Summer Palace of Prince Faisal

His bodyguards layin the palace entrance, their throats slit.

Blood pooled beneath him, coating the marble tiles.

Faisal tried to put pressure on his wounds, but the blood kept coming. His hands were dripping, coated in his own blood, and he smeared messy palm prints across the tile as he dragged himself across the floor.

They’d trashed his office. Destroyed his computers. Cut his phone lines. Set fire to his palace. Flames curled up his walls, ate through his curtains. Destroyed centuries of art and hand-painted wooden panels, millennia old. A rafter came crashing down, splintering behind his feet.

He kept crawling, his bloody fingernails digging into the seams of his tiles. He gritted his teeth as he pulled himself forward, using his knees and his thighs and all of his waning strength. A trail snaked behind him, too much blood leaking from his wounds.

The attackers had destroyed his cell phone, but they hadn’t found the sat phone, the one he used to communicate with Adam. The one he kept hidden, protected. His one link to Adam, and he kept that phone safer than he kept his office.

Faisal had to wipe the blood staining his palm on his Turkish carpet when he got to the safe in his bedroom. At first, the palm reader denied him entry, but after he rubbed the blood away, the lock chirped, the electronic bolt sliding back. Inside the safe, his mother’s gold jewelry, her wedding gift, and a picture of his father lay next to the sat phone.

He grabbed it and rolled to his back, slumping against his bedroom wall. Smoke filled the air and his nose, acrid and poisonous. He coughed. Blood dribbled down his chin. Ash floated, sticking to his skin and to his blood.

Shaking fingers turned the phone on. Dialed Adam’s number.

“Hello?” Half a world away, Adam’s voice crackled through the line, hard and cold, like the strongest steel. Still, Faisal smiled. His head fell back, hitting the wall.

“Adam,” he breathed. Coughing stole his voice.

“What’s wrong?” The steel in Adam’s voice wavered. “Fuck! Faisal, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

Fire licked over his ceiling, curling through the panels over his head. He watched the flames spread. “I love you, Adam,” he said. “I never stopped loving you. Ever.”

“No!” Adam shouted. “No! Not you too!” Panic had replaced Adam’s normal steadiness, and his breaths came harsh and frantic over the line. “Hold on, Faisal! Hold thefuckon!”

“Want to hear your voice,” he whispered. “Please. Please, say something to me.”

“Fuck!” Adam shouted across the satellite line, his voice falling apart as he gasped. “Faisal,” he moaned. “Faisal, Goddamn it. I love you too. I do. I love you so Goddamn much. I’m such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot—”

“Adam,” he breathed. “Adam—”