Shiver

terrible fact of the matter was, as undercoverFBI Special Agent Daniel Panterro, he had no value to Veith or the Zetas at all. With no reason to keep him alive, Veith would kill him instantly. And Sam, too.
    Telling the truth would be tantamount to signing his own, and Sam’s, death warrant.
    The thought made his gut clench. Cold sweat beaded his brow. His mind kept wrestling this thing around and around, which wasn’t good. He kept getting the feeling that he was missing something, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what, and wasting time worrying about it wasn’t what he needed to be doing. What was important at the moment was to stay coldly focused, but he was having trouble getting there.
    Because of Sam.
    If he hadn’t stepped up, Veith would have taken Sam, and he would have killed her. Danny had no doubt about that whatsoever. The bastard would have done exactly what he had threatened, and enjoyed himself doing it. He would have tortured her, done God knows what to her, and in the end he would have cut her up just like he had said he was going to, and left the remains somewhere where they would be found. That was how Veith operated.
    Just thinking about Sam with Veith made Danny want to kill the bastard. It was his newest, most pressing ambition. He only hoped that he would be afforded the chance. If not, well, he was going to save Sam. Or die trying.
    At this point he was perfectly willing to give his own life if that was what it took to protect Sam, and Tyler, too. Theymeant something to him, something personal. Something special. In giving up his weapon and turning himself over to Veith, Danny had done what he had to do, following the devil into hell in hopes of maybe being able to bring Sam out again.
    Not that success was looking likely.
    When the van stopped, every muscle in Danny’s body tensed. Adrenaline flooded his system. His instincts went on red alert. This might very well be it.
    The van door opened. Hands reached in to haul him out.
    In the rear seats, the thug guarding Sam stood up, unsnapped her seat belt, wrapped his arm around her throat, and stuck a gun to her head.
    Even in the dark, he could tell her eyes were on him. They looked wide and scared.
    It killed him that there was nothing he could do or say to reassure her. But any attention he paid her just gave Veith more reason to think that he could use Sam to get to him.
    “Let’s go,” Veith said, shoving Danny with his foot.
    Danny groaned, and let himself be hauled out of the van. The object was to pretend to be still groggy from the blow, and a lot more hampered by his leg wound than he was. If he had to put up a fight, the element of surprise was always good. Having free hands was even better, and he couldn’t use a crutch with bound hands. The crutch was the key: he really needed to keep the crutch with him. He was out the gun—Veith had taken it—but the phone Crittenden had provided was still inside the crutch. The phone could be tracked, and by now Crittenden should betracking it. Rescue was what Danny was hoping for, either by Sanders and company or by Crittenden, although he figured that the chances that it was going to happen were dicey.
    During the van ride, while he was mostly feigning unconsciousness, he had hit on a workable plan to keep at least Crittenden on their trail: Danny was a big guy, and if he couldn’t walk, somebody was going to have to help him get from place to place, maybe even carry him. The phone was why he had stopped to pick up his crutch before getting into the van with Sam. He hoped the memory of him needing that crutch enough to stop for it would resonate with Veith now. With only two men and himself, Veith didn’t have the manpower to spare for hauling Danny around, not and keep a gun on him and deal with Sam at the same time. Easiest thing to do would be to free his hands and let him walk with the crutch to wherever Veith was taking them.
    If he were taking them anywhere. Danny had a bad feeling that whatever was getting ready to go down would go down now.
    But no, as it turned out Veith apparently had a different killing field in mind.
    Which was the good news.
    The bad news was that, hands bound behind her, Sam was being hurried along ahead of him at gunpoint, the better to keep him docile, he knew. Still, Veith was taking no chances: Danny had a gun pointed at him, too, every step of the way.
    The other good news was, Danny was hobbling to wherever they were going on