Page 26 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

I handed the key to the valet at the Grand Hyatt resort and walked inside like it was just another day. Which, of course,

it wasn’t. The sun had gone down during our time at the Panaji police station, and I still wasn’t sure if we were good to

go. Our cover of GRS appeared to have held up well enough, and the event had been chalked up to a random mugging, but you

never knew who was looking at what. The last thing we needed was a foreign government digging deep into our company.

As for me, I was sure it wasn’t a random mugging. Those men were after us for a specific reason, and that reason had something

to do with the meeting between the RAW, the CIA, and Thakkar. I had no proof of that, but the circumstances were too coincidental,

and the leader of the group had made that strange statement before I crushed his ass, telling us that we were “not going home.”

Not something a mugger who was out for a score would say but something a team on a mission would let slip out. A mugger would have wanted compliance, telling us sweet nothings that would make us feel that if we gave him our stuff, he’d let us go. Threatening to kill us right off the bat didn’t fit. I was convinced that they weren’t after our valuables but instead were after us, specifically. The police didn’t care about any of that, and in the end, I thought they were more concerned with us posting a negative review on TripAdvisor than they were about solving the crime.

Jennifer and I had gone back to our room to clean up, getting ready for our meeting with Nadia, and she’d finally cornered

me. Something I knew was going to happen.

“What was that back there?”

I said, “What? Back where? You mean when you were having trouble with your guy?”

She put a finger to my lips and said, “No lies. What was that? I haven’t seen you like that since Amena was in danger. Actually,

since we first met and I was in danger. You lost it for a minute against some guys you knew we could handle. Why?”

I took her hand in mine, moving it away from my face, and said, “I didn’t ‘lose it.’ I did what was necessary.”

In truth, I didn’t have an answer, and that alone scared me. I had gone from zero to a thousand miles an hour over three guys

I could have handled in my sleep. She was right. That had never happened unless someone I cared about was in extreme danger.

Something had slithered out from my soul, and I didn’t control it.

I didn’t know why I had reacted the way I had, like an old man trying to cut an apple, only to find he didn’t control the

knife, the hand tremoring and doing something outside of what the brain said it should do.

I really had no answer.

She said, “What you did wasn’t necessary. It was primeval. You know it and I know it. Why?”

I held up my hands and said, “I don’t know. For whatever reason, those men cut into my scab. The one that keeps me normal.

I just... wanted to smash them.”

She stared into my eyes for a moment, then said, “Can you control it? Like you did before?”

“Of course I can. I always have.”

She continued staring, her eyes boring into mine, and it was disconcerting, because she knew I was lying. She said, “I used

to think I had the ability to keep you from going berserk. From letting the beast go free. Now I’m not so sure.”

She and I had had long conversations about my inner demons, and we’d labeled my inability to control myself “the beast.” It

was something inside of me that she tried to understand. She knew intimately about the death of my family and what it had

done to my psyche. She’d seen up close and personal what I could do when I let the beast free, but she’d been able to keep

it contained simply by trusting me, which led to me trusting her and the beast going back into its cave. It really hadn’t

reared its head again until Amena, and when it had, it had been brutal. The men it was directed against deserved it, but my

actions had frightened even me.

Every time it showed its head, I wondered if I was a hero saving lives for the greater good, or simply a psychopath leveraging

my position to kill. And whether such a distinction even mattered.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but the beast was still there, looking for a release, poking at the cage walls to find

a seam. It scared me that it had come calling during a simple mugging, but I wasn’t going to let Jennifer know that.

I said, “Honey, come on. It’s not like that. The assault ended up okay. I didn’t kill anyone, for Christ’s sake.”

She kept staring at me for another heartbeat, then said, “You have issues, and you’re too big of a coward to admit it. Your

brain saw something else in that mugging, and your body followed. You’re letting the beast control your actions.”

Without saying it, she was telling me I had PTSD, and that aggravated the hell out of me. I wasn’t like the average soldier.

PTSD didn’t factor in my world. At least that’s what I told myself.

I snapped, “That’s bullshit and you know it. All I did was keep us from getting mugged, and you’re turning it into some psychobabble bullshit, like I need to go to a head farm or something.”

She heard my tone and said, “Okay, Pike, okay. But when you feel the beast breaking free, when you want to satisfy it, I want

you to look at me.”

“What the hell does that mean? ‘Look at you,’ like you’re some sort of Buddhist sensei?”

Now completely serious, without an ounce of humor, she said, “Yes, that’s what I am. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

I wanted to tell her to pack sand, that I didn’t need any help controlling my demons, but I knew she was right. She’d been

telling me to seek counseling for years, and I hadn’t. Now she was the one doing the counseling.

I said, “Yes. I can do that.”

She smiled and said, “Good. Maybe I’ll keep you out of a prison.”

She went to get her purse and I said, “There was no prison, damn it. Nobody locked us up. It was just a mugging.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder and said, “I’m not talking about one with physical walls.”

I heard a knock at the door, and she said, “We’re not done here.”

Relieved, I went to it, saying, “Okay, okay. We’re done for a little while anyway.”

I opened it to see Knuckles standing there, out of his T-shirt and flip-flops, now wearing a pair of khaki pants and a loose

button-up short-sleeve shirt.

I said, “So you can meet with the head of the CIA looking like a beach bum, but when it comes to Nadia, you have to shave?”

Indignant, he said, “The Hyatt Club has a dress code. That’s all it is.”

I smirked, turned to Jennifer, and said, “You ready?”

She nodded and said, “I wish you’d take the time to change clothes for me.”

Jesus Christ. Can I do anything right?

We left our room and wandered through the grounds, dodging the golf carts driving around until we reached the Hyatt Club.

Like before, we had to show our room key to prove we were allowed to enter, and took a seat in the corner. Unlike before,

I never had to tell anyone what we wanted to drink, as Nadia came over with a tray, dressed yet again like a Hyatt employee.

She set the drinks on our table, then said, “You guys had a little trouble today, huh?”

I said, “How would you know that?”

She pointed next to me, at an open space on my couch, and said, “May I?”

I nodded, saw Knuckles scowl, and smiled at him. She took a seat and said, “People talk here. It’s a small town. Tourists

getting mugged spreads like wildfire.”

I said, “People talk? Or you’re tied into the police here? If I went to the other waiter over there, would he have any idea

that we were mugged?”

She smiled and said, “Probably not, but he’s not that smart.”

I chuckled and said, “Sure. He probably sees so many random muggings it doesn’t even register.”

She said, “Your mugging wasn’t random. I think you were targeted.”