Page 31 of Steel Vengeance

He gave a small smile, the first she’d seen from him.

“Just happy I could help.”

“Sorry I pulled you away from Omari.”

The smile disappeared, and his eyes went cold. She instantly regretted bringing up the Afghan drug lord. She much preferred the calm, confident doctor with his steady hands over the grumpy, testosterone-fueled grizzly bear he usually was.

“No problem. He’s holed up at home anyway.”

“Will I see you tonight?” she asked softly.

He hesitated. “I don’t think there’s any need, do you?”

Reluctantly, she shook her head. “No, nothing out of the ordinary happened this morning.”

“Okay, then. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

He didn’t say when.

“Okay.”

With a sinking heart, she watched him stride back to his motorcycle, rucksack slung over his back.

CHAPTER 12

Stitch sat at the desk in his room, his Glock in hand. He double-checked that the chamber was clear, then popped out the magazine. Pulling back the slide, he released the lever and slid it off the front, disassembling the gun piece by piece. He laid the slide, barrel, recoil spring, and frame out in front of him.

Using a small brush and cleaning fluid, he worked methodically, cleaning each part before drying them with a rag. The motions were second nature—he’d done this so many times, he could probably do it in his sleep.

The weapon gleamed, clean and ready on the table.

He’d almost used it today. Before Sloane’s call.

How ironic was that?

Instead of taking a life, he’d saved one.

Two, actually. He thought of Fatima’s unborn child.

It felt good to help them. It had been a long time since he’d used his medical skills—since his village was destroyed. After that, there hadn’t been a reason. Not until today.

From village doctor to vigilante. His life had flipped in an instant.

His medical knowledge had been the only reason they let him stay when he left the military. They’d needed him—badly—in that isolated village.

That’s when he’d met Soraya.

He tensed, bracing for the wave of pain and grief that always followed thoughts of her. But this time, it didn’t hit as hard. The ache was still there, but it wasn’t as crushing.

Frowning, he reassembled the Glock. The familiar clunk of steel sliding into place steadied his mind.

Tomorrow, he wouldn’t be distracted. Omari had been granted one day’s grace, thanks to a woman who’d needed him.

One day.

Then it’d be Game Over for the drug lord.

Stitch metSloane at the teahouse around midday.