“Just sign it and all of this can end.” hissed the interrogator.

“Never.” rasped Gil. His voice was ragged, as if he’d swallowed glass. As his interrogator fumed, Gil drew in a painful breath and closed his eyes. He needed to focus on his training. Control your emotions. Remember the mission. She is what matters. Pain is only temporary.

The other man drew his fist back and punched him across the cheekbone with such velocity that the chair he was tied to was knocked over. Gil felt the blessed coolness of the concrete against his raw skin and as his chair was set upright, his mind cleared. He opened his eyes and stared hard at his captor. A slow grin spread across his face, angering the other man.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” he asked, his face inches from Gil’s.

“This.” he replied before whipping his head forward with vicious force, knocking his captor out cold.

Gil felt soft, delicate hands on his shoulders. “Honey,” she said. “Just sign the check. The bills aren’t going to pay themselves.”