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you for weapons before you go in. Spread your arms, please.” He didn’t wait for her consent before resting his hands on her shoulders, and didn’t look sorry while he slowly ran his hand over every part of her body, including her breasts and crotch. When he was done, he winked at her.
    “Liked that, did you?” she asked in monotone.
    He ogled her then opened the outer door to Morgan’s prison-like office space, glanced back at her and nodded. “Go on in.”
    When the outer door closed behind her, she moved forward to the steel door in front. Placing her hand on the knob, she waited for the buzz to indicate the lock was disengaged. Instead, the door swung open.
    “Laila, this is quite a pleasant surprise,” the General said with a disfigured smile and elaborate wave to come inside. He leered down her body.
    She stepped away from him. Impossibly, her heart hammered harder and faster. Maybe his behavior at the meeting hadn’t been exclusively for Rock’s benefit.
    “Sir, I was hoping I could ask a favor.”
    “Of course.” He closed the door behind her, stepped back around his desk and sat. “Sit. Sit.” He motioned to a chair.
    The large slab of wood between them lessened the swell of panic at his nearness, though her heartbeat still surged, thumping hard at the base of her throat. She rubbed her clammy palms on her skirt and pulled the tiny microphone from the pocket as she sat.
    Morgan folded his hands on his desk and focused his cold, crystal blue eyes on her. “Would you care for something to drink?” He pretended to be so civilized, perched on the top rung of the food chain, looking down on his prey and feasting on the agony of others. Always with formal manners and an even tone.
    She maintained eye contact with him to avoid staring at the hideous scar marring his otherwise beautiful face. “No thank you, sir.” Her voice had quavered.
    He smiled, almost imperceptibly.
    She’d be dead in short order if she couldn’t stop signaling how petrified she was.
    “So what can I do for you?”
    She fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her legs, so planting the bug would appear to be a fidget like the ones preceding it. “Well.” She shook her head and laughed nervously. Jesus. She was a freaking basket case. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re a busy man.”
    “Go on.”
    She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “I know there’s a good chance I won’t make it back from the mission.” Curling her fingers under her seat, she pressed hard, hoping the adhesive side of the bug was sticky enough. After she let go, she held her breath, waiting for it to fall to the floor. Waiting for Morgan to ask her what she’d just done.
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    Rock sat in the solitude of his kitchen, picking up where he left off the night before, putting finishing touches on the pincer mechanism for Jordan’s prosthetic hand.
    A muffled noise emanated from the receiver sitting on the counter. Finally, someone was planting the bug. He set his work down and walked toward the tiny speaker. Turning up the volume, he listened intently. The bug was activated, but all he heard for some time were the indistinct sounds of the microphone rubbing against something. Finally, the reception became clear. “I know there’s a good chance I won’t make it back from the mission. The fact became exceedingly clear at the briefing yesterday.”
    “Laila.” Rock pounded the granite counter. “No. She is not doing this.” He scrambled to make sense of what he heard. His ordered and rational thoughts exploded, fragmenting into shards of unrelated facts. Was she in the Emerald Zone cell? Or was she simply in the room with someone else in the cell? What else had they asked her to do? This was the errand she had to run? When their training was over for the day, he hadn’t even asked her where she was going. He’d been too focused on the changes he needed to make in order for her to be better prepared. His bad. It