Chapter 1

Belim Prison
Belim, Colombia

A cockroach was crawling up her arm.

Elena Kyler shuddered as she brushed it off. God, how she hated cockroaches. This cell was teeming with them, but at least they weren't as bad as the rats.

Close it out. Life was not this cell. Go away from here. Think of something beautiful. Father Dominic had always told her that was the only way to endure the unbearable. But this situation was not truly unbearable. The unbearable would be to give in and let that bastard win. So she wouldn't think of anything beautiful. She didn't want to bring anything she valued into this filthy cell.

She drew the blanket closer around her. So cold. It was warm during the day, but as soon as the sun set it became chilly. The cell was damper than the huts they'd kept her in on the way here, and the blanket she'd been issued was thin and worn. She hadn't slept all night.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

There might be more opportunity here. These guards seemed more complacent and they didn't know her. Just get ready. The time would come.

She threw aside the blanket and started doing the warm-up that preceded her routine. She'd exercised four hours every day since they'd captured her and she was even stronger now. Without weapons, she had to be. She'd eaten every scrap of the meager rations they'd given her to maintain that strength and spent the rest of her waking time planning her escape.

She'd be ready.

San Francisco

"Is he here?" Ben Forbes demanded as soon as he entered John Logan's office. "Did you get hold of Galen?"

"He's here. Or rather he'll be here in a few minutes." Logan leaned back in the leather executive chair. "But he told me to warn you that he has no intention of taking the job. He said he's had enough of all that bull happening in Colombia."

"Haven't we all," Forbes said wearily. "But it goes on and someone has to do something about it."

"Tell that to Galen. He lost two men on the last extraction job he did down there. He doesn't like losing men. And he doesn't like working with the DEA either. He wouldn't even be coming to this meeting if you guys didn't go way back."

"Not as long as the two of you," countered Forbes. "Can't you use your influence?"

Logan shook his head. "Galen goes his own way, and you don't stay his friend by trying to change his mind."

No one knew better than Forbes that Sean Galen walked to the beat of a different drummer. He had been everything from a mercenary to a smuggler, with a multitude of other shadowy careers in between. But, different or not, he was unquestionably the best at what he did. "I need him, Logan."

"He got paid over a million dollars for the extraction of that executive he did for Folger's coffee. Can you match that?"

"Nah," Galen said, appearing at the doorway. "Not unless he's suddenly gone on the take. And that's not likely." He strolled into the room. "How are you doing, Ben?"

"I've been better." He shook Galen's hand. "But things could look up for me if you'd cooperate."

"I just came off a tough job. I'm on vacation." He sat down in the visitor's chair. "Logan and I are going deep-sea fishing."

"You'll be bored," Forbes said. "I have something more interesting for you."

"I could use a little boredom right now." Galen grinned. "And my mum always said I didn't play well with others. Particularly the feds. They always want to run the show."

"Shall I leave?" Logan asked.

"Why should we run you out of your own office?" Galen asked. "This won't take long."

Logan leaned back in his chair. "Okay. Pretend I'm not...

 

"No One to Trust is vintage, fan-pleasing Johansen."

 

No One to Trust by Iris Johansen
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