Yeah...sorry this story is taking a million years. And I'm behind on reading/reviewing yet again, real life is so inconvenient. Anyway, thanks for your patience and continuing support. I'll try to update relatively soon since I'm pretty excited for the next chapter.

"It has to be related to the aid. They must have seen something they weren't supposed to," Toby said for the hundredth time. "But we still don't know who's responsible, so how do we know what they're planning to do with Paige?"

"And Tim," Sylvester chimed in unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I'm less concerned about G.I. Jerk."

"Will both of you shut up? I can't think." Walter dragged his hands through his hair. The abductors had up to a thirty minute head start on them. Even if they'd driven carefully to avoid attracting attention, that was a significant lead. "Stop here."

He jumped out of the passenger's side, snapped a picture with his tablet, and climbed back in, waiting for his software to complete its task.

"Turn left." Happy obliged, angling the wheel sharply. The footsteps near the warehouse led them directly to the tire tracks made by whatever vehicle was used to move Paige and Tim, but traffic was heavy in the area and Walter found it impossible to distinguish differences between the tracks. Fortunately, computers saw what he couldn't.

"We're almost out of the business district. Should be easier from here," the mechanic assured him quietly. He nodded to let her know that he heard, but didn't respond.

Paige had been in worse situations. Loathe as he was to admit it, Tim was adequate on missions and had a proven record of protecting the liaison. Not that Paige couldn't fend for herself. She consistently amazed him in that regard.

But if she'd known how terrified he was each time she fell into danger, ever since that first case, she would never have doubted that he loved her.

Don't come, Walter. It's okay. Don't try to find me.

Please find me. I'm freaking out.

Paige exhaled shallowly. She'd been waffling for what felt like hours, although in reality their ride had only taken about thirty minutes. It was hard to tell exactly without her phone or watch.

Walter would scorch the earth as soon as he realized she'd been taken. He didn't know that this was the purpose of their trip or that the people she was about to meet were government assets. And if he came barreling through on some misguided rescue mission, Paige had no clue what would happen next.

But she hated when he wasn't there. Secretly, she'd always dreaded being separated from him on missions. They were at their best together. And no one ever had her back like he did.

The man with the falcon tattoo pulled open her door, motioning with his gun for her to exit. "Keep your hands where we can see them," he warned in English that was heavily accented but impressive. It was the country's official language, though the men had also been conversing in another dialect that was most likely Chichewa. She'd done some research on Malawi during their long plane rides, but right now it didn't feel like enough.

"Let her stay in the car," Tim insisted, breaking his prolonged silence. "She's not needed."

Paige fought the urge to roll her eyes. He's covering you. Just keep your mouth shut. "No," the man said forcefully, shaking his head. "Mr. Yamikani is expecting two. You both come or we have a problem. Do we have a problem?"

"No. I'm coming," she answered quickly, placing her hands out to calm both men and moving to get out of the SUV. The youngest man—he couldn't be older than twenty—was at her back immediately, training his rifle on her as Tim's feet dropped onto the dirt path beside her. She was getting really sick of people pointing guns at her.

"Remember our plan," Tim murmured, locking his fingers behind his head in a movement that was becoming uncomfortably familiar for them. "It's important that you—."

"I've got it," she snapped irritably. "Don't talk unless I'm asked to. Keep my head down until it's over."

He set his jaw and stared straight ahead. That look was familiar to her, too. Every time they disagreed about something. They hadn't fought, when they were together, just tried to ignore the tension driving a wedge between them. It never felt like their relationship would survive a fight.

That was true, as it turned out. In hindsight, Paige could see that if she had cared more, if she'd been desperate for things to work, she would have fought. But she didn't want to, didn't want to rock the boat and realize she was holding on to nothing. She wanted it to be easy.

He probably deserved better than that.

"Stop." Paige's self-reflection was cut short as the younger man grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Tim was a couple steps ahead of her, standing rigidly as the tattooed man guarded him. They were in a camp—a temporary base, she guessed, easy to erect and take down quickly. Four tents, a fire pit with pots and other cooking supplies, a radio and some outdated computer equipment strewn on a table. Although she hadn't been able to see where they were going, the lack of city noise told her they were in a remote area. Paige had to admit it wasn't what she expected after being picked up in a high-end customized SUV.

The other two mercenaries disappeared into the largest tent, emerging seconds later with an elderly man. "Mr. Armstrong," the man said, bowing his head respectfully.

"Mr. Yamikani." Tim mirrored the gesture. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."

From his appearance, Paige never would have pegged him as a powerful information broker. He was in his seventies, possibly older, with close-cropped gray hair. He was wearing a loose white shirt and dark pants, his face softened by the lines around his eyes.

But his tense expression and the scars on his cheek told another story she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Chatha turned his attention to her, tilting his head in curiosity. "You are not a soldier."

Paige stiffened, glancing at Tim. He offered her a barely perceptible nod. "Um, n-no." She cleared her throat. "I work with the U.S. government. I'm...a former colleague of Mr. Armstrong's."

"Ah. I see." He took a step toward the former SEAL. "That was not our original agreement."

Tim straightened up, using his full height to his advantage. He seemed unfazed, and Paige hoped she was projecting the same sense of calm, even if fear was clawing in her stomach. "Change of plans. But I can assure you that she will be discreet. We are prepared to make the trade according to your terms."

Chatha hummed in acknowledgement, clasping his hands in front of him. "I'm afraid I have also changed my plans," he said slowly. Paige swallowed. There was no way those words could lead to a positive outcome for them. "I will give you what you came for. But the price has doubled."

Tim raised his eyebrows. She'd never seen him look startled, but this was the closest. "We agreed on three hundred thousand. That's all I'm authorized to give you. The transfer will go through as soon as I confirm that I've received the information."

"It is increasingly dangerous for us to meet," the older man noted, extending his hand toward the camp. "My government has been cracking down. Many of my men are in prison. Any accounts linked to me or my activities have been frozen. My home is ashes now. This is why I must keep moving." He dropped his arm back to his side. "Gathering the intelligence that you find so valuable comes at a cost. There are many sharks in the water. Your government can pay what I ask, or our arrangement can end. It is your choice."

Whatever intel Chatha had was time sensitive. Tim insisted that he'd never been briefed on the specifics, but given the speed at which the meeting was arranged, the U.S. wasn't willing to wait for it. And Yamikani could use that to negotiate.

"I'll need my phone," Tim said evenly, nodding to the mercenary who had patted him down earlier. "Homeland may be willing to meet your terms."

"I think that would be wise." He turned toward the mercenary at his left. "Go get it."

The man nodded, heading in the direction of the SUV. Paige realized her phone must also be there and wondered if a genius could figure out how to get a message to Walter in this situation.

It's been less than an hour. He might not even know we're gone yet.

The guard was sixty feet away when he yelled something that Paige couldn't understand, changing course and rushing back toward the camp. A flurry of activity broke out as the youngest man yanked Paige's arm, causing her to cry out in pain and surprise, and the tattooed mercenary kicked the back of Tim's leg, bringing him to his knees. "Who?" Chatha demanded. "Who did you bring here?"

Paige and Tim went pale as they realized what was happening at the same time. They could just hear the engine of a distinctly government-issue vehicle that the guard must have spotted from a distance. "It's our team," Tim explained in a rush. "Just let me go talk to them. No one else knows your location. Give me a chance to—."

"You bring this woman to my camp unannounced, and now you bring a whole team?" Chatha pulled a knife from his waistband, lunging toward Tim, but the guard put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"There is no time. We must go." The guard pushed him in the direction of their transport while the youngest man released Paige to run into the tent. He was carrying a bag when he came out, likely a cache of important items that Yamikani kept close to him. If the intel wasn't on Chatha, it was most certainly in there.

Tim scrambled to his feet, attempting to follow them, but the tattooed man held up a rifle and he stumbled backward. "Please. We need that drive."

"Then you should not have double-crossed us," Chatha said, taking the bag from the young man and gesturing to Tim and Paige. "Shoot them."