Author: Logan Ryles

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himself huddled in the corner, frozen in fear.

Wolfgang swallowed. His mind reproduced the moment as though it were yesterday or just hours ago.

“Sir?”

Wolfgang shoved the wallet back into his pocket and set the box on the counter.

“Actually, I have to go. Would you take this to her? You can open it first if you need to.”

The woman continued to smile, but her brow wrinkled in confusion. It was a strange facial contortion, and it made Wolfgang even more uneasy.

“I don’t understand . . .”

“Just give it to her, please. Tell her…tell her it’s from Ricky.”

Without another word, Wolfgang rushed out of the building, back into the bitter blast of the Buffalo winter. He sniffed back a runny nose and buried the memories beneath enough virtual cement to choke out the smells. The feelings. The sounds.

The bite of the wind stung his face again, and he turned back toward his parked rental car, sliding in and slamming the door. His cell phone sat in the cup holder, and he looked down to see a text message lighting up the screen.

He didn’t need to read the message. The contact was enough, simply labeled as “E.”

Wolfgang started the car and turned back onto the street, navigating to the airport. An hour later, he cleared security and boarded a non-stop flight to Saint Louis.

Wolfgang reached the Bank of America Plaza in downtown Saint Louis early the next morning and right on schedule. The sun had yet to rise over the Gateway Arch, and the city was still dark and clogged with snow, much like Buffalo. But the Plaza was warm inside, and he grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to the fourteenth floor—the operational headquarters of Charlie Team, an elite group of espionage operatives that Wolfgang was a member of.

Wolfgang joined Charlie Team—a branch of the private espionage provider, SPIRE—the previous summer, working under his long-time boss and personal friend, Edric. Together with the other three members of the team, Wolfgang and Edric completed missions in Paris, Cairo, and Moscow before attempting a rescue operation in Rio de Janeiro the previous November. That mission had almost gone down in flames, nearly killing them all.

Wolfgang exited the elevator at the fourteenth floor and dusted snow off his shoulders before approaching Charlie Team’s private suite. It was unlabeled, as unassuming and nondescript as everything else Charlie Team used. The art of this business was to remain under radar, and nobody was better at it than SPIRE.

The conference room on the other side of the door was small, equipped with a table, a selection of mismatched chairs, and a minibar. Edric’s favorite marker board was pinned against the far wall, and the sun shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Everybody was present. Edric, next to the marker board, tapped on an iPad while Kevin—Charlie Team’s muscle man—sipped a glass of whiskey next to the bar, and Lyle—Charlie Team’s tech wizard—sat behind a laptop.

And then there was Megan.

When Wolfgang saw her he forgot about Buffalo. She stood next to the window with her back turned to the group, watching the sun rise over Illinois and spill through the Gateway Arch. Golden light framed her petite body, and Wolfgang couldn’t help but stare as memories of Rio rushed in. But not just memories. Feelings, also. The feeling of her lips on his, and the way his body came to life when their fingers touched.

Those remnants of passion were shrouded by memories of Megan inexplicably turning cold as soon as the mission was complete. Without explanation or excuse, she simply went dark and refused to answer his calls or even return a text.

Somehow, the unexplained distance hit him harder than the boots of the drug gang that almost killed them both.

“Wolfgang!” Edric said. “Glad you made it.”

Wolfgang tore his gaze away from Megan and made a show of checking his watch. “I thought I was early . . .”

“You are,” Edric said, walking to the minibar. “I guess we’re all a little restless. Sprite?”

Wolfgang held out a hand, and Edric tossed him the beverage. He cracked it open and took a sip, then returned Kevin’s expressionless nod.

Kevin was a dark, brooding sort, with an attitude only a millisecond away from erupting into an outburst. Wolfgang had only recently learned of Kevin’s background in the Army, which had concluded with some kind of mission gone bad in Afghanistan. Wolfgang wasn’t aware of the specifics, but knowing about it gave him patience for Kevin’s moods.

“Gather up,” Edric said. Wolfgang took a seat and didn’t look up as Megan pulled back a chair at the end of the table. He wondered if she felt the tension between them or if it was all in his head. He wondered if everything in Rio had been a dream.

“Everybody feeling good?” Edric asked. He spoke with a bit too much pep, and for some reason, it annoyed Wolfgang.

Nobody answered, and Edric groaned. “You guys need some caffeine.”

“We need somewhere to go,” Kevin said.

Edric walked to the marker board, uncapped a blue pen, then wrote a single word.

He turned back to the group. “How about Tokyo?”

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About the Author

Logan Ryles is the author of the action-thriller Reed Montgomery series, and the Wolfgang Pierce series. Originally from Alabama, he now lives with his wife in Tennessee. You can learn more about Logan’s books, sign up for email updates, and connect with him directly by visiting LoganRyles.com.

Also by Logan Ryles

The Wolfgang Pierce Novella Series

Prequel: That Time in Appalachia (coming soon)

Book 1: That Time in Paris

Book 2: That Time in Cairo

Book 3: That Time in Moscow

Book 4: That Time in Rio

Book 5: That Time in Tokyo (coming June 4)

Book 6: That Time in Sydney (coming June 18)

The Reed Montgomery Thriller Series

Prequel: Sandbox, a short story (read for free at LoganRyles.com)

Book 1: Overwatch