They reached the end of the hall, a rat's maze that dead-ended in a set of double steel doors. Mack blinked until he regained focus. He squeezed his handgun, that small feat sapping his strength even more.
You have to keep going. So close.
He was past the point of ordering his men around; it took all his energy to remain standing. They busted in the door, Riser's shoulder digging into his armpit as he held him up. Gunfire erupted; there was a scream. A couple of thuds-bodies hitting the ground. Alarm swept through Mack, giving him enough energy to bite out, "Don't kill him. Let me."
Shrugging off Riser's arm, Mack walked himself to the door. There were two dead guards lying on the floor in front of a stark desk. A desk as black as the soul of the man who sat behind it.
Jack Mankel.
He no longer had the look of arrogance and pride, not with Hunter gripping his shoulder, forcing him to stay put in his seat. He looked tired; there were bruises underneath his eyes; his long, black hair was unkempt and dirty; and the right side of his face looked like he'd just eaten a punch.
"It's been a long time," Mack said. By sheer force of will, he moved deeper into the room.
"Too long," Mankel said, using the soft tone of a man who knew he was about to meet his fate.
"Why?" Mack stopped a few feet from the front edge of Mankel's desk, sweat and blood mixing as it dripped down his skin.
Mankel shrugged, as casual as if they were talking about the weather. "You want an excuse?"
"No, I want a reason. I want to know what would cause you to betray your team, your country. Everything."
Mankel's mouth tightened; his eyes hardened. He made as if to move, but Hunter slammed him back into place. "Do that again and I'll put a bullet in your head myself."
"You always were more stubborn than the rest." Mankel yanked his lapels, straightening his wrinkled suit jacket. "Part of it was for the power; part of it was for the money."
"Fuck that," Mack said.
"So, the famous interrogator thinks he can read minds now?" Mankel paused.
"Just giving you a few more minutes to enjoy the feeling of being alive."
"How generous. All right, I'll play, but only if you agree to take me back to the States, give me a shot at a trial."
Mack slowly lifted his gun, fighting to keep the trembling at bay as he leveled the weapon at Mankel. "How about you tell me, and I'll make it quick instead of drawing it out like I planned."
Mankel steepled his fingers together, a subconscious move of power. And Mack realized he wasn't through.
"Or I could agree to give you the location of Caroline Cotter-who is not here, by the way-in exchange for your word that you will see me safely back to America."
Fuck. "Jared, Hoyt-search the place."
The Crowe brothers disappeared from the room and down the hall as Mack fought to keep his arm straight, the gun seeming to quadruple in weight.
They waited in silence, no one moving a muscle. A few minutes later, Jared and Hoyt jogged back into the room. "Empty," Hoyt said.
Mack stared bullet holes into Mankel's head.
Mankel just smiled, acting as if he were the one who had a gun on Mack and not the other way around. "How much is the girl worth to you? Is your revenge worth more than an innocent life?"
Rage ripped through Mack. He roared, leaping across the desk in an adrenaline-surged rush, and tackled Mankel to the floor. He wrapped his hands around the man's throat and squeezed. Mankel's satisfied smirk slipped away as he gasped for air and tried to pry Mack's fingers from his throat. But Mack's blood loss and injuries were nowhere near enough to bridle his unholy fury. He held his fingers locked in an immovable vice around the man's vice. His vision tunneled; his whole being pulsed with the desire to end this man. Death. Death was the only solution for a man like this.
And then Marley's face popped into Mack's mind. He was acting like an animal, a thoughtless beast. What would she think if she saw him like this? Allowing Caroline to meet her fate simply so he could have the pleasure of killing this man.
Mack had killed men before-he was a soldier-but only when they were threatening his life or someone else's. Mankel, murdering bastard that he was, had been sitting in that chair, unarmed.
Mack knew that if he crossed that line, he'd never be able to come back so he forced his fingers to loosen and backed off, leaving Mankel wheezing and grasping at his bruised neck. Grabbing the edge of the desk, Mack pulled himself to his feet. Disgust roiled within him and he spat on the floor next to Mankel. "Hunter, secure the prisoner. If he so much as twitches an eyebrow, put a bullet right between his eyes."
"Roger." The room faded, but Mack leaned back and tightened his focus as much as he could. Marley. Fight for Marley. He couldn't give up on her, not yet.