by Pema Donyo
“I didn’t want to do this, you know.”
“Do what?” I spat.
“You’ll see.”
I ran one of my fingers over the rope bound around my wrists, searching for weak spots in the rope. “What are you talking about?” He couldn’t be talking about... I froze. “Adrian.”
“Exactly, kid.” Tristan got up from the chair and sighed. He twirled the gun in his hand and walked toward me. His gun wasn’t aimed at me, but it might as well have been. The effect of panic and confusion and betrayal in my chest would have remained the same. “It’s all about him, isn’t it?”
I went back to testing the ropes around my wrists. Ah! Found a loop. “Adrian’s too important to the mission. You wouldn’t harm him.”
“I don’t plan to harm him.” The spinning stopped. “I plan to kill him.”
Maybe reasoning would work with him. “Marge would never let you back into the CIA.”
“She would if she knew Adrian was leading the investigation to find the spy in CO.”
I held my breath. “Why would you think that?”
Tristan spun the gun again. “Do you think Marge would let it happen? Let Adrian continue searching for the spy?” He shrugged. “Why not him? It could be.”
I suppressed the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. So Tristan had no proof. He only suspected Adrian led the investigation. “How did you even find this warehouse?”
“I followed you the last time you left the hotel. And here you are now.” He cuckolded me, shaking his head.
I suppressed the urge to groan. Adrian selected this warehouse because he thought it was safe—far from it!
“I never betrayed you.” He gestured to the gun the man next to me held. “Sorry about the blow, but you would have never agreed otherwise. You won’t die today. No, kid, you’re getting out of this alive.” He cocked the gun in his hand, unable to keep the slow leer off his face. “Adrian, however, is not.”
“Please, Tristan, if you ever truly cared for me.” I widened the loop in the ropes I’d found, but not large enough to stick my whole hand through. “If you ever truly cared for me at all, even a little bit, don’t do this.”
“Oh, I care about you. As soon as this is over, you’ll understand how much better off you are without Adrian. We’ll work for the CIA together. You won’t have to spy in CO anymore.” Tristan stroked my cheek with his free hand and frowned when I recoiled from his touch. “But this is more than you. This is about my dead fiancé, and my dead partner, and all the other innocent people Adrian’s killed. It’s time I put an end to it.”
“You can’t stop the organization by killing Adrian.” I protested, all the while knowing my efforts grew more and more useless as each second passed. “Don’t do this. I’ll scream! I’ll warn him away!”
Tristan sighed and made eye contact with one of the men standing behind me. Without warning, a gag wrapped around my face and against my mouth. My protests muffled into strangled sounds against thick cloth. So there was someone behind me now. I halted the work on my ropes before I was caught.
Footsteps started down the entrance again.
“Jane, you cannot leave the door unlocked…” Adrian’s voice halted, along with his footsteps. He appeared as dressed up as I was—blue suit, shiny shoes, polished appearance. The only thing not so composed was the expression on his face. Within seconds, Adrian sprang into action.
He launched himself at one of Tristan’s men, leading into his attack with a swift kick. He cut a punch across the guard’s cheek, staggering the guard backward. One of the guards who had held the gun to my head took a swing at Adrian, but missed, due to Adrian’s ducking underneath his swinging arm in time and springing back up to knock him to the floor. The guard hit the ground, unconscious and with serious damage to his ego.
“Stop!”
Adrian’s arm froze mid-swing toward the man’s cheek, his arm frozen at the sound of Tristan’s cry.
“Keep attacking my men, and I’ll shoot her.” Tristan pressed his gun against the back of my neck.
I tried to talk through the gag with desperation. “Don’t listen to him! Keep attacking!” But all that emerged were muffled screams against the cloth. Fear and adrenaline rushed through my system.
Adrian lowered his arm, his eyes wide. A cross between pure fear and pure shock settled on his face. My hands worked back on the ropes on my wrist, taking advantage of the distraction.
“Russia. 2012. Remember the woman you killed, and the CIA agent you found with her?” Tristan lifted up his own gun and aimed it at Adrian. Another guard filled in for Tristan and pressed a new gun against my neck. “I was the CIA agent who got away. I couldn’t defeat you then, but I can now. You’re a murderer, Adrian King.”
Adrian scoffed. His hands were in the air in a position of defeat, but his expression seemed amused. “You’re going to kill me and her to avenge them? Looks like you’re the murderer here.”
“Shut up!” The idea had clearly crossed Tristan’s mind before, and the gun in his hand began to shake a little. “This is about avenging the deaths of everyone you’ve killed! You deserve to die!”
I watched the barrel of his gun with bated breath.
Tristan composed himself. “This ends today.”
He took careful aim and shot at Adrian’s leg. Adrian groaned. He dropped down on the other knee as he doubled over in pain. I screamed behind my gag.
My fingers finally wormed through the hole in the ropes and I pulled my hands free. Tristan and the guards’ attentions remained focused on Adrian, and I used the distraction to yank at the bounds on my legs.
Tristan aimed a viscous kick and Adrian doubled over as it connected with his stomach. I could see his jaw set as he fought the urge to cry out. Fight back! I wanted to scream. Adrian glanced up, not to look into my eyes but at the gun pressed against my head.
“My fiancé was innocent. You killed her to fill a contract!” Tristan kicked Adrian again, harder this time. His shirt hid bruised flesh, but the cracking sound of a bone sliced through the air.
My heart broke.
Adrian managed to remain on one knee and forced himself to straighten against the pain of the assault. “Your… fiancé was sleeping with your partner.” His gaze remained fixed on the gun next to my head. He swallowed, and I witnessed fear in the gesture.
“Why would you kill my partner then, huh?” The gun in Tristan’s hand was shaking now. He tried to brush off the information as lies, but his mind clearly remained affected by it. He wobbled where he stood and I spotted the telltale sheen of perspiration dripping down his forehead. My gaze dropped to his gun. His sweaty, shaking hands increased the likelihood of his finger slipping on the trigger.
I removed the ties on one of my legs and began to work on the other with as little sound or movement as possible. The room around us was dark, but I still couldn’t risk anyone seeing my movements. I looked up at the man holding the gun to my head and I realized even he was staring at Adrian with rapt interest.
“Your partner was the real target. He’s the father of a CO agent.”
Tristan swiped the butt of his pistol across Adrian’s cheek and I winced at the impact. Adrian fell down with a heavy THUD, but no words of pain escaped his lips. The sweat from his palms slipped the gun from his hand. He didn’t seem to notice.
“No, no, you’re lying.” Tristan’s voice sounded in control, but his body language gave him away. He shook all over, and his fingers trembled. “I’m going to make you suffer like you made me suffer. You’re lying!”
With a cry of rage, he lunged for a rough wooden crate. He lifted the heavy bulk with a deadly swing and smashed it down to Adrian’s kneeling form.
I yanked the last of the ropes free and flung forward, twisting to take the full brunt of the assault on my back. My body hurtled down toward the tile. Pain throbbed everywhere. Pain was all I could feel.
Adrian cried out and limped toward me. A hand touched my neck, checking my pulse. Suddenly,
he launched himself toward one of the guards approaching him. I heard blows and blocks of flesh colliding with muscle.
“No… no…” The hoarse voice of Tristan captured my attention, and I tore my gaze toward him. His hand clapped over his mouth, and he shook his head. There was something manic about him. He crouched down next to me, his hand taking mine. I pulled back, and his face fell. Shock became sadness.
Adrian knocked out Tristan’s men and left them unconscious on the floor. With his back-up wiped out, Tristan remained standing. The pain ebbed, and shapes formed before my eyes more clearly. Yet my body ached. I couldn’t stand up to help defeat Tristan.
He didn’t move. He just kept looking at me strewn out on the floor. His eyes flickered between my curled up frame and the table which lay next to me.
Adrian’s fist slammed into Tristan’s cheek. The blow penetrated Tristan’s daze as his eyes widened. He cupped his hand over his cheek. After one last glance at me, he dashed away from the room and out the door.
Adrian's fists still clenched from the anger Tristan had unleashed as he walked back toward me. He dropped down and pulled me toward his chest and rocked me back and forth, like he had the day I’d killed the woman and her baby. Something wet and salty entered my mouth, falling in a steady stream. I was crying.
Adrian finally lifted up my face and kissed me. The touch was soft, unlike our passionate kisses I remembered. No, this was feather-light, as if he needed to prove I was here, in front of him, still alive. He cradled my face in his hands with tenderness, like he was holding a child.
“Try the gun,” I croaked.
“What?”
“Pick up the gun aimed at me and try it.”
Adrian pushed me off him enough to look me straight in the eye. “What are you talking about?”
I pushed myself up and crawled toward the gun which had been aimed at my head. I picked it up from where it lay on the ground. The cool black metal contrasted the heat of my mortal touch.
I had to know. I had to find out the truth.
Adrian grabbed the gun from me, finally understanding what I wanted to prove. He walked toward the still open door and aimed the gun toward the sky. Without a word, he pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the nearest wall. Relief swelled in my chest, not quite enough to smother Tristan’s betrayal, but relief nevertheless.
Adrian dropped the gun on the ground and sighed.
The gun hadn’t been loaded. The gun aimed toward my head had never been loaded, and Tristan had known all along.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Excerpt from the CIA interrogation of Tristan Morelli by Margaret Hastings, January 15th, 2014
MH: Who were the men who assisted you in inflicting harm upon King and Lu?
TM: I paid them. They worked for Croyden, and for enough money they worked for me. Italian henchmen, loyal enough to do what I asked them to. They were not hired to harm Jane.
MH: Why did you use force against CIA operative Lu?
TM: She was never supposed to be hurt. The bullets were meant for Adrian.
MH: Why did you seek to murder King, given Lu’s mission?
TM: Adrian killed my fiancé and my partner from my last mission. He’s a cold-blooded murderer.
MH: The appropriate response would be to contact Central Intelligence. Is there any other reason the CIA should know about?
TM: Just… suspicions I have.
MH: Such as?
TM: …
I let the paper slip from my hands, the sheet falling back toward the wooden coffee table. Tristan hadn’t told Marge about Adrian conducting the investigation within CO after all.
Maybe Tristan was still in denial, I mused as I gathered up the other papers from the interview transcript. He hadn’t mentioned Adrian telling the truth about his fiancé cheating on him with his partner, either. In fact, I thought as I bit my lip, the transcript wasn’t helpful at all.
With one last sigh, I picked up the papers and put them back into the folder Marge gave me. She’d slipped it to me the day after the demonstration for Croyden, after I told her CO finally signed on Croyden as a client and she told me Tristan was removed from all Central Intelligence activity.
I’d finished slipping the folder back into my vault when I heard the knock on my apartment door. I smiled, already knowing who it would be.
My feet padded across the new carpeting in my CO apartment, renovated after successfully gaining Croyden as my client. I still remained the executive in charge of the contract, and Professor George eased up my workload after my real work with Croyden.
I opened the door and was nearly knocked off my feet. Arms embraced me and a giggle echoed in my ears.
“I missed you so much!”
“Lucy!” I hugged her back. She seemed less tanned than before, and her light brown hair was dyed a deep shade of auburn.
“It’s been what, almost four months?” Lucy squealed, finally pulling away to look me up and down. “You look exactly the same! So beautiful and wonderful!”
I motioned for her to follow me into the kitchen. There was already a bottle of red wine I’d poured out for us, and cola bottles to mix the red wine with. I poured her a kalimotxo into a glass tumbler and handed it to her.
Lucy drank first. Apparently college had changed her alcohol policy, because there was no way she’d down a drink so fast four months ago.
And apparently I hadn’t changed at all, Lucy gushed as I poured myself a drink. The apartment was great, my hair was great, my body was still fit, and even the vast amount of unwashed dishes sitting in my sink hadn’t changed.
“Some things have,” I shrugged as I leaned against my counter. I swirled the drink in my hand before taking another sip.
“I always knew you were going to have an amazing career.” She poured herself another drink, to a reception of raised eyebrows from me. Yep, college had changed her alcohol policy.
“It’s because of Adrian, too. He outdid himself with the investment in the remote-controlled bullets. No one else believed they’d increase profits so much, but they’ve definitely contributed to more contracts being signed.”
“How is Adrian, anyway?” Lucy drawled the name, as if his actual name had ten syllables instead of three.
I blushed. I needed another drink before I could talk about this.
“It’s been a month since you guys reunited, right?”
“Not quite a month.”
“Close enough!” Lucy set down her drink to join me on the other side of the counter. She elbowed me, and I nearly spilled my drink. “What’s happened since the crazy kidnapping last month in Rome? I heard a rumor Adrian crashed a helicopter into the room you were kidnapped at, and then took you away into the sunset!”
“It was nothing.” I downed the drink and set the empty glass on the counter. The rumors circulating around my disappearance had become somewhat insane. I wasn’t sure where the stories came from, but whoever started them glorified Adrian. He had become some sort of superhero. “His leg is healed. I was afraid the limp would be permanent, but with enough physical therapy his walk has returned to normal.”
Lucy glared.
“What?” I kept my look innocent. “What else do you wanna know?”
She pressed the base of her palm to her forehead and gave me an exasperated look. “You told me he kissed you. You never told me what happened afterward.”
“We finished the demonstration for Croyden.”
“Then?”
“He congratulated me with the demonstration.”
“THEN?”
“He asked me out to dinner.”
“Finally!” Lucy clapped her hands. I half-expected her to start jumping up and down or blow colorful kazoos in celebration. “See? I told you he still cared about you.”
“You never told me.”
Lucy pouted. “I totally did.” She brightened up, her eyes alight with excitement at the turn in my
love life. “Third time’s the charm.”
“It’s not about the third time, Lucy. It’s about the last time.” I walked toward the sofa with the red wine bottle in hand. I set it on the table in front of me and picked up the remote. “Adrian and I are serious about staying together this time.”
“How cute!” Lucy leaped onto the sofa with the enthusiasm of a child. She took the remote out of my hands and set it back on the table. “You have to tell me—have you guys ever…”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?” Admitted I was a spy? Admitted he would never let go of the CEO position, no matter how many times I asked him? Admitted we were terrified every time one of us broke up with the other person, something bad happened to one of us?
“Had sex.”
Oh.
“Uh…” I scratched my head, eyeing the red wine bottle. The alcohol sure seemed attractive right about now. I reached for it, but Lucy blocked my hand. “Well…”
“Oh my!” Lucy clapped her hands together. “You totally have.”
“Have not,” I corrected. Fine then. The cat was out of the bag.
Lucy tilted her head. “Are you joking?”
“Why would I joke about that?” Yep, definitely need some of the wine. I took a sip, feeling the warm burn sliding down my throat.
“I thought…” Lucy’s words faltered “I mean you two are so…”
“What?”
“You know, physical. Like you’re great at martial arts and he loves fighting and you’re both eighteen so I thought…”
“Plenty of eighteen-year-olds are virgins.” I protested, setting down the bottle. Unless it was just me.
Jeez! I had bigger fish to fry than my virginity. Like sharing top-secret information about assassinations with the CIA. And making sure I kept my cover hidden from CO. Not having sex.
“Yes, of course.” Lucy didn’t sound convinced.
“Just because you and Dave have sex now that you’re in a relationship doesn’t mean every other relationship involves sex.” I bit my lip. Right? Having sex wasn’t important.
“Oh, oh no! Not what I’m saying at all. You don’t need to have sex. Especially if you don’t want to have sex with him. You’re still totally okay.” Lucy gave me a pat on the shoulder, the kind you give six-year-olds when they’re told they’re not tall enough to ride a roller coaster.
