Elimination

by Jackie D.

  Emma pushed the food around on her plate, looking uncomfortable with Tony’s calculations. “The team is going to ask what you need from them. What should I tell them?”

  “As soon as I’m familiar with her schedule, I’ll give them a window to grab her.” She forked a piece of chicken. “Hopefully one that won’t land me in the bottom of a river.” She saw Emma wince at the statement, and she wanted to make the pain on her face go away. “Don’t worry, if we’re all as good as we think we are, everyone should make it out of this alive.”

  Tony shook his head. “Very doubtful.”

  Dylan took a deep breath. “Thanks, Tony. I always knew I had your vote of confidence.”

  Tony shrugged and continued eating.

  “I’m also having security cameras set up in her apartment, and I’ll have a location tracker on her as well,” Dylan said. She slid her phone to Tony. “I managed to clone her cell phone too…you’re welcome.” Dylan suppressed a laugh when Tony’s face lit up. “There will be audio attached to the surveillance in her apartment. I trust you two can get into it without being caught.”

  Both Emma and Tony nodded at the same time. Dinner took all of twenty-seven minutes, and Tony announced they had forty-four minutes remaining and that he’d do the dishes. After, he’d get the cloned information out of Dylan’s phone and transfer it to his computer.

  Dylan reached into her pocket and slid over a thumb drive to Emma. “Here’s what you asked for. I trust you’ll use it appropriately.”

  Emma looked at the device and then at Dylan. “I’ll plug it into an air-gapped computer. Thank you for trusting me. I know that must not come easy in your line of work.”

  Dylan leaned closer, captivated by the changing emotions on Emma’s face. “Are you always so transparent with your thoughts?”

  Emma let out a nervous laugh. “Unfortunately, yes, it’s a terrible habit.”

  Dylan had an overwhelming urge to touch her arm, but she stopped herself. “I think it’s rather endearing.”

  Emma’s eyes were so profoundly blue, they might have seemed green in specific lighting. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and Dylan absently wondered what it would look like if she let it down. Beautiful.

  “Dylan?” Emma asked, pulling Dylan from her thoughts.

  “Hmm?”

  “Will you come back to the States after this?” Emma asked without eye contact.

  Dylan took a sip of her wine. “I’ll go wherever the CIA wants me. Best-case scenario is that my cover isn’t blown and I’m able to finish out my mission here. I’m hoping the team can help me with at least part of that.”

  Emma traced the top of her glass with her finger. “What has your mission entailed, exactly?”

  Dylan gave her a half smile and shook her head. “Tsk-tsk, Ms. Quinn, you know I can’t tell you that.”

  Tony appeared beside her a moment later, startling her. “I’m done with the dishes and the phone. We should leave now.”

  Dylan knew better than to argue with him, so she stood to say good-bye. “Tell the team I’ll be back over as soon as I can. If I need you before then, I’ll find a way to let you know.”

  Emma looked like she was going to hug her, but changed her mind and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Be safe.”

  “Good night, Dylan. I’ll see you soon,” Tony said, and then turned to leave before she could answer.

  Emma got to the open door and Dylan would’ve given anything to know what she was thinking. “Thank you for dinner,” Emma said in Russian.

  “My pleasure.” Dylan shut the door behind them.

  Dylan took a deep breath after the door was closed. She was trying to shake off a feeling of loneliness she wasn’t accustomed to that was working its way through her chest. She walked around her apartment and thought briefly of going out, finding a bar, and falling into a woman she wouldn’t be able to pick out of a lineup the next day. She decided against it, figuring she needed a hot bath and a good night’s sleep to clear her head. She needed to be on her game if she was going to get out of this in one piece. She poured the remainder of the wine into the glass and headed toward the bathroom and the hot bath she’d just promised herself.

  There was no valid reason for Emma to be affecting her the way she was. It wasn’t as if Dylan hadn’t been in the presence of beautiful women before. Dylan knew what the look in Emma’s eyes had meant. Emma wanted her too. Dylan would typically use this to her advantage, but she got a distinct impression that Emma was different. Emma wouldn’t take well to being manipulated for any reason, and she wasn’t the kind of woman you bedded and walked away from. Dylan knew she was attractive. She knew the way men and women alike looked at her. It had always been an advantage she held, a card she could play. But with Emma, she didn’t have the desire to play any of the games she’d mastered. Dylan didn’t know why, but she cared about how Emma would feel about it, how it would affect her.

  She climbed into her bath and let her back descend through the slippery surface. She picked up her wine glass from the table next to her and took a sip. She wondered if Emma’s lips would’ve tasted like this wine had she taken the chance to find out. Dylan rolled her eyes at her internal musings. You’re ridiculous.

  Chapter Ten

  Tyler listened intently as Emma and Tony explained the plan Dylan had put in motion. Well, it wasn’t a plan yet, but it was definitely the beginning of one. Brooke and Jennifer were busy transferring the cloned phone information onto one of the monitors in the room, as well as opening the video feeds from Carol O’Brien’s apartment.

  Caden swiveled in her chair. “I have to admit, I had my doubts about Prey, but this is fantastic.” She slid her chair over to the video feed and watched. “This is really going to be it. We’re finally going to get her.”

  “What do you think?” Tyler asked Emma.

  Emma looked surprised that she was being consulted but leaned forward to give Tyler her full attention. “I think this is good for us and bad for Dylan. If the Russians find out what she’s doing, they’ll kill her.”

  Tony put his finger in the air. “There is a ninety-six percent chance she gets found out and eliminated.” He put his hand back down and nodded his head once to make his point.

  Tyler’s hand twitched at the information. “Is it really that high?”

  Tony looked confused by the question. He furrowed his brows and stared at her. “Yes.”

  There was an inherent risk to their jobs, to the choices they made daily, but the probability of this ending in Dylan’s death was a lot to plug into the calculations. Tyler got out of her seat, needing to move her body. She paced in the small room, trying to sort out her thoughts.

  Brooke walked over to her and put her hands on her shoulders to stop her movement. “What are you thinking?”

  Tyler rubbed the back of her neck and looked at Brooke, her heart rate slowing under her calming touch. “We aren’t just going to go in guns blazing. I know Dylan says she’ll give us an opening, but we need a better approach than that. We need to ensure her safety as well.”

  Brooke nodded and continued to rub Tyler’s arms. “Nothing is set in stone yet. Let’s do surveillance for a few days, then we’ll regroup with Dylan and come up with something we can all agree with.”

  Tyler nodded her approval and put her hand over Brooke’s. “Yes.” Tyler reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “I need to call Captain Hart and update him.”

  The captain was thrilled with the progress Dylan had made and with the direction the mission was heading. He informed Tyler that he had a few meetings the following day and then would arrange for a place they could meet in Moscow. It would be too conspicuous for him to head out toward the sparser countryside where they were staying.

  Tyler ended the call and took a seat next to the others. Everyone was glued to the screen, watching Carol O’Brien mill about her apartment. Her behavior seemed so ordinary, so unexceptional. She didn’t look like an individual who wa
nted to incite civil war in her own country. She didn’t look like she’d cultivated a plan that would have murdered the leaders of the free world, someone who hoped to make white supremacy a way of life. Tyler felt her jaw tighten as she watched her, wanting nothing more than to reach through the screen and pluck her out, to lock her away in a dark hole from which there was no escape.

  Tyler reached into her pocket and felt the box that now seemed like part of her uniform, she’d been carrying it for so long. The thought of placing the ring on Brooke’s finger calmed her anger and brought a sense of serenity. She decided to focus on that sensation, instead of one she couldn’t control at the moment. Brooke. She was everything.

  * * *

  Carol inspected the cameras the crew had installed. There was one in the northeast corner of her ceiling, one facing her balcony, and one pointed toward the entryway. She thought it was a bit excessive, but she was glad someone was finally taking her safety seriously.

  She poured herself four fingers of scotch and walked to her balcony window, taking in Moscow at night. She wanted to get out of the suffocating apartment, but she knew the risk involved for momentary excitement wasn’t worth it. She had no idea if Tyler Monroe or Caden Styles were here, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. All it would take was one surveillance picture of her wandering the streets, and they’d descend like locusts. She took a large gulp of her scotch and silently cursed the women.

  She sat at her coffee table and opened her laptop. White nationalism was taking the country by storm, her disappearance giving fuel to the cause. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d envisioned when she first started out down this path, but she never dreamed it would turn into such a movement. She read op-ed pieces about the way society was shifting, how prejudice was winning out, and what happened to the country.

  She chuckled and took another large sip from her glass. What happened? The morons who wrote these pieces, they were so out of touch with the real America it was ridiculous. Academic types who thought people were inherently good and wanted peace were falling all over themselves to come up with an answer. Such a naive little world they lived in, where ignorance was indeed bliss. People weren’t inherently good; people were inherently selfish. People could be relied upon for one thing, and that was to look out for themselves. Most people didn’t care about the poor, the homeless, the people held down by systemic racism. They wanted to know how to keep those things out of their communities, scared it might be contagious, scared of being a victim. She just happened to be brave enough to say it out loud. Media outlets wrote her off as a blip on the radar, an anomaly that could be flushed out—punished and dealt with. She knew better. She had contacts all over the world who shared the belief system she helped bolster. She’d benefit from her connections while she sat back and watched America crumble, only to be reimagined by the very people they feared. Writing off her followers as weak or stupid had always been a mistake her opponents had made. There was security in numbers, and danger with people who thought they had nothing else to lose.

  She opened her phone and leaned back on her couch, swirling the scotch around in its glass. She entered the familiar number and started a text message thread.

  Where are you? She sipped her scotch, waiting for the reply.

  I’ll be there soon. Are you safe?

  She almost rolled her eyes. He didn’t actually care if she was safe; it would be easier for him if she weren’t. Still, part of their passionate affair relied on their love/hate dynamic.

  Just hurry up and get here. It annoyed her that she was at his whim now, and he was free to roam about while she was trapped in this cage, albeit a very nice cage.

  I’ll see you at the gala. We’re nearly there.

  The gala. Even if Monroe and Styles weren’t here by then, they’d hear she was there and show up shortly after. She’d make certain they’d never be an issue again. Then, she’d finally be able to move on with her life. She finished the remainder of her scotch and set the glass on the table. She waved to the cameras as she walked toward her bedroom, hoping Sasha was watching her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dylan’s morning run along the river edge at Gorky Park was her favorite time of day. The city was just starting to wake up, foot traffic was minimal, and the cold air from the river was a perfect natural air conditioning source. She’d just started her fourth mile when a person appeared next to her. Dylan had to do a double take and fight the instant reaction to punch the woman because of her surprise appearance.

  “What are you doing here?” Dylan asked as she quickly glanced around, more out of habit than anything else.

  “O’Brien has a boyfriend she was texting with last night,” Emma said, her breathing labored.

  Dylan slowed her pace, wanting to give Emma a chance to explain. “Who?”

  Emma shook her head. “We don’t know. The number is encrypted, and it hasn’t hit on any of the programs we’ve run it through. Brooke, Jennifer, and Tony are still working on it, but it’s very odd.”

  “Do we know anything?” Dylan started walking.

  “Oh, thank God.” Emma slowed to match her pace. “I thought I was going to die. I’ve been out here running for almost two hours looking for you.” She put a hand on Dylan’s arm and breathed heavily. “We think he’s from the States, but it can’t be good if he’s high up enough to have that kind of encryption.”

  “What does Monroe think?” Dylan was trying to keep the conversation on track but was very focused on the hand that rested on her arm.

  Emma shook her head. “She’s not sure what to make of it, but she’s worried we all may be sitting ducks now.” Emma seemed to realize she was still holding on to her and removed her hand quickly.

  Dylan pointed to a bench, and Emma sat down. “I need to go see O’Brien this morning, but I’ll try to stop by the safe house this afternoon.” Dylan stretched. “Why two hours? Surely Tony could have given you my location.”

  Emma pulled up her shirt and dried the sweat from her face. “What?”

  Dylan watched Emma’s stomach muscles move in and out and turned her attention quickly back to the ground. “Why didn’t you just have Tony give you my location?”

  Emma leaned against the bench, her breathing more in control. “You don’t have your phone.”

  “Yes, I do.” Dylan reached into the zipped pocket of her pants. “Shit. No, I don’t.”

  Emma motioned, indicating the expanse of the park. “You left it in your car. Hence, the two hours.”

  Dylan laughed. “Sorry, I parked, had breakfast, watched the ducks for a while, and then started my run.”

  Emma stood and pulled on her leg, stretching her quad. “You had breakfast and watched some ducks? Perfect.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I never leave my phone. I don’t know what my problem was this morning,” Dylan said.

  Emma stretched her other leg. “It’s okay, I needed the exercise. Maybe not this much of it, but I’m trying to make the best of it.”

  Dylan watched Emma’s lean body move back and forth as she tried to ease the tension out of her muscles. Emma was in much better shape than Dylan had initially thought. She’d assumed she was built more like Tony, thin and soft from their sedentary jobs. That definitely wasn’t the case. Emma clearly took care of herself, and Dylan allowed herself to appreciate Emma’s efforts.

  “What? Is there something on my face?” Emma asked, breaking Dylan’s focus.

  Dylan started walking back toward her car, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. She motioned for Emma to follow. “No, I’m just surprised you could run so long. It’s not really in your job description.”

  Emma quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do you only do what’s in your job description?”

  Dylan realized how ridiculous that sounded and shook her head. “No, I guess not.”

  Emma bumped her shoulder. “Running is one of the only things I enjoy outside of work. I don’t really have any friends, I don’t watch a lot of television
, and I have no family in the area. So, if I’m not working, I’m reading or running, and sometimes I do both at the same time.” She shrugged.

  “I don’t have any friends either. This job is hard on all relationships.” Dylan was surprised to hear the sadness in her voice. “But it does have its perks,” she said, wanting to sound more upbeat than she had.

  “Like what?” Emma squinted when she looked at her, the sun in her eyes.

  “Lots of beautiful women,” Dylan said it to be funny but wished she could take it back when she saw the look on Emma’s face.

  Emma’s expression was one of hurt and annoyance. She put her hand over her eyes to shield the sun and pointed down the road. “I should get going. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before you went in today.” She increased her pace toward the direction of her car.

  “Emma, wait. We’re going the same way.” Dylan didn’t fully understand Emma’s reaction, but she wanted to fix things.

  Emma was already several steps in front of her when she yelled back in Russian. “It was nice seeing you.”

  Dylan watched her disappear into the distance and wondered what had happened. A throwaway comment about women shouldn’t have made her run, and it wasn’t like they were a couple or anything, although Dylan knew Emma found her attractive. Well, this is why you don’t get involved. She shoved the confusion aside and pushed on to complete the rest of her run, putting a little more exertion in than was necessary.

  * * *

  “You’re overreacting, Quinn. Get it together,” Emma said to no one as she drove back toward the safe house.

  Dylan’s comment about beautiful women had caught her off guard. It wasn’t that she thought Dylan was a saint of some kind, in fact, she knew she wasn’t. It was that she wasn’t prepared for how her body had reacted to the comment. Dylan’s casual comments had ignited a burning sensation that started in her chest and worked its way down to her fingers. It wasn’t until she reached the car that she was able to identify the anomaly as jealousy. Fucking perfect.