Except for his eyes. Those were the eyes of someone who’d already died inside, leaving behind something cold and calculating that wore human skin like a costume.
“You’re really him.” Her voice came out much steadier than she felt. “Cipher.”
She was maybe the first person to see him since he faked his death.
Daniel smiled, and the expression was all wrong—too bright, too pleased with himself. “I have to admit, Izzy, this is working out even better than I’d hoped. I can’t wait for your SEAL boyfriend to charge in to rescue you. You thought you were smart, didn’t you? Poor, sweet Izzy.” He shook his head in mock admiration. “That was beautifully stupid.”
“You know they’re coming for you.” She lifted her chin despite the fear clawing at her throat. “They’re going to rescue me.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Daniel’s smile widened. “That’s the whole point.”
The words hit her like ice water. “What?”
“Did you really think this was about you? That I’d go through all this trouble for one washed-up journalist with PTSD?” He leaned forward, his eyes bright with malicious glee. “You’re bait, sweetheart. The perfect lure to bring everyone I want to kill right to me.”
“No.”The word tore from her throat as the horrible truth dawned on her. “It’s supposed to be just me! Take me! Take my life for a life!”
“A life for a life?” Daniel laughed, the sound echoing off the container walls. “Oh, Izzy. I’m not interested in one life. I want all of them. Your boyfriend, his team, maybe even those pretty girlfriends they all think they love—as if love is real. Everyone who played a part in letting my mother die.”
The consequences of her mistake tightened around her throat like a noose. She hadn’t saved anyone.
She’d doomed them all.
After a long moment of crushing despair, something else kicked in—her journalist’s instinct that had kept her alive in Syria. She’d watched several lives of Americans get snuffed out right in front of her eyes, but she’d managed to stay alive, and she chalked it up to her quick wits.
If she was going to die here, if Hudson and his team were walking into a trap because of her choices, she was damn well going to understand why.
“Give me this much.” Her voice found a strength she didn’t know she still possessed. “If you’re going to kill me, if this is my dying wish—let me understand. Let me interview you.”
Daniel tilted his head, studying her with the fascination of a scientist observing an interesting specimen. “You want to interview me?”
“I count on you wanting to boast about your actions. Most killers do, given the chance.”
“Most killers,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s what I am now, isn’t it?” He settled back in his chair, looking genuinely delighted by the prospect. “You know what? Why not? We have time to kill before your rescue party arrives.”
Izzy took a steadying breath, slipping into the professional persona that had carried her through war zones and hostile interrogations. Izzy Cruz morphed with Callie Northwood in a smarter, savvier version of the two personas she claimed.
“Let’s start with Alyssa. It doesn’t make sense to target her. She was just doing her job, trying to negotiate the release of the hostages. She was trying to save lives.”
“My mom was just doing her job too.” Daniel’s casual tone was at odds with the darkness in his eyes. “Look how that turned out for her.”
“So you blame everyone who was involved in the hostage situation in Syria? What about the soldiers on the military base? Those servicemen failed to respond to the Red Cross bomb threat too.”
He shrugged with chilling nonchalance. “Their time will come.” He smiled. “Just like the journalist who needed someone to free her instead of just dying like the rest.”
The evil oozing from him sent goosebumps rippling over her skin. But she refused to react to him, to show him a single weakness.
His smile was as sharp as broken glass. “Do you know what it’s like to see your mother’s burned body, knowing that if abunch of Americans had just done their jobs properly, she’d still be alive?”
Izzy forced herself to ask the next question, though every instinct screamed at her to stop. “What did you feel when you killed the man you hired to act in your stead when you donated to the charity? What did you feel when you had Drysdale killed?”
“Relief,” Daniel said immediately. “Like finally scratching an itch that had been bothering me for years. He was just a loose end, really. I saw him die, you know. The men I hired to kill him were wearing body cams. Watching the life leave his eyes...” He paused, seeming to savor the memory. “It was remarkably satisfying.”
She gulped down the bile in her throat. “And Dr. Webb? The man who tried to save your mother? Will he die like the rest?”
“Oh, I’m not going to kill him.” Daniel’s expression brightened. “He may still serve my purposes.”
The casual way he discussed murder and psychological torture made Izzy’s skin crawl, but she pressed on. “What about the people who had nothing to do with Syria? The innocent bystanders who might get caught in your traps?”
