Chapter 169

HASSAN CRACKED HIS EYES open, staring at the ugly patterned hall carpet. His ears rang. His body pulsed with the feel of the concussion blast. Yeah, that last pound of C4 had probably been a bad idea, but he'd wanted to be sure it got the job done.

Fuck, that hurt.

He hadn't gotten clear of the blast in time.

He pushed to his feet, his head still spinning, ears ringing, and glanced over his shoulder. The suite doors were blown off their hinges, and smoke billowed into the hall. His hearing was still sketchy, but he didn't see any movement.

Any second now, Omar would race up the stairs with the Jordanian police at his back, ready to make an arrest. Hassan had made sure to give them just enough information that they'd be in the area when the blast happened.

He shook his head and stumbled down the hall.

It was time to stop being Hassan.