Beneath the Surface

by Amy McKinley

  “I’m waiting.” I’ll wait forever—at least until you’re dead. A flash of her sister’s smiling face, then her mother’s, sent a tremor through her body. He robbed us of our childhood and our mom. She locked her body and mind down. Nothing would get in the way of the interrogation. There would be time to grieve all over again later.

  “Put your gun down, Hannah.” He motioned with his weapon to the office behind him in a slight move, nothing major. The barrel remained pointed on her. “Come have a seat, and we’ll talk. Would you care for a drink?”

  “When hell freezes over.” She bared her teeth and spoke through them in a growl. “Here’s fine. Let’s start with the car accident.”

  “Very well.” A partial smirk crossed his stoic features. He shook his head. “Your mother… Your sister was so much like her. Not you, though. You take after me.”

  Nausea swirled in her stomach. “Stick to what happened and why.”

  “Very well.” Silence fell between them, and a calculating gleam entered Ivan’s eyes. “But if I’m going to relive losing your mother, I’m going to need a drink.” His gun lowered, and he turned for the office.

  Her finger strained against the trigger. Shit. Damn. Fuck. She eased the tension in her hand. The need to kill him warred with her starvation for answers—she needed to know why he was alive and the rest of her family was dead. Unable to resist, she followed him into the office, where he indicated a chair across from the desk he sat behind. A shot glass slid across the table’s surface. Ivan—she refused to call him Dad—poured vodka into the glasses.

  “Both hands on the table.” There was no way in hell she would drink with him, even though she desperately wanted the alcohol. “I’m waiting.”

  He inclined his head in her direction. “Of course.” He placed his hands where she could see them, the gun still clasped in his right one, the shot glass in the other. “Where was I? Ah, your mother and the accident. It wasn’t an accident.”

  Not one muscle moved. Her gaze stayed locked with his, and she focused on giving nothing away. At least all the years of training was good for something other than killing. He didn’t deserve her reactions, her emotions, or even a glimpse inside her soul.

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re not surprised. Had you heard about the nature of the crash?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I’d wondered as much. There was a trainer who liked to run his mouth. We didn’t stop him, as his methods, although unorthodox, yielded results”—his head tilted to the side—“one way or another.”

  Pushing her toe into the ground, she transferred her tension to her foot, something he wouldn’t notice from where they were positioned.

  “You and your sister were young, and your mother and I didn’t see eye to eye. That was the catalyst for what happened next.”

  “You orchestrated the crash to eliminate Mom?”

  “I did. You see, I’d been involved with the Academy and, at the time, recruitment. She didn’t agree, but it wasn’t her choice. You and Elsa were in gymnastics for a reason. Both of you girls—and your mother—thought you were involved in the competitions and heading to the Olympics because your mom was an Olympic gold medalist.” He leaned forward. “I married her for a reason. With hopes she would pass down the same skills to our children.”

  Hannah choked down rising bile. “You married Mom not because you loved her, but because you wanted children you could use?” Her foot ached from the constant pressure while she listened to how sick he was.

  “I’m true to the cause.”

  “To the detriment of your family?” With a slow nod, he held her gaze. He could search her features all he wanted. She would give nothing away.

  “If that’s what the cause calls for, then yes. I prepared ahead of time. The only problem was that your mother wasn’t in agreement and fought me on integrating you girls.” He shrugged. “Needless to say, I won, and you both were brought into the fold. In hindsight, I should have split you two up. Maybe then Elsa would’ve worked harder to succeed on her own.”

  “There was nothing wrong with Elsa. She mastered every task thrown our way.”

  He harrumphed. “She completed the tasks. She did not excel, not like you did.”

  She was beautiful, both inside and out. Rage bubbled, but she banked it. Cold and calculating were the only things that would aid her.

  “Like your mother, Elsa lacked focus.”

  “I don’t think accomplishing world titles in gymnastics says Mom wasn’t focused.”

  “I thought the same until I married her. Then the truth came out. I still had hopes for our offspring, though. At least one proved worthwhile.”

  He’s sick. More than anything, she wanted to put him down like a rabid dog.

  “But you…”—he paused—“exceeded all my expectations. You were worth all the sacrifices. When Sergei completed his first assignment to advance into our organization by eliminating your sister, we gained two highly potential operatives. Elsa’s death should have hardened that idealistic flaw in you, that tiny speck you shared with your mom and sister.” With his free hand, he waved at her. “I never thought you would turn your back on Russia and align yourself with the enemy.”

  “How could you not expect that? Everything I’ve ever loved has been taken from me.”

  “I’m disappointed, my daughter. It should have made you stronger.”

  “We are off track once more. All this and what?” She shook her head, needing to get away from her personal nightmare. “Tell me about the weapon. Why was it taken? Who was it meant for?”

  Ivan smirked. “So you haven’t figured it out?”

  “I have my theories.”

  “My dear girl, none of that matters now. The weapon has already been used as a tool in severing an alliance and reviving the old ways. With this one act, blame will be cast and befall not the American Secretary of Defense, but you—an American, a US secretary with an agenda. Suspicion has already been cast and documented. In the wake of our prime minister’s death, our organization will rise again.”

  Oh no! I… No, there isn’t anything I could’ve done if I’d stayed back with the team. “But you won’t.” Her vision tunneled as Ivan’s eyes widened. Her intent was clear, and his gun hand rose as she took aim.

  Bang. A small puncture wound appeared on Ivan’s forehead as she dove for the ground. Not my gun.

  Her father was gone but not by her hand. Grief hovered in her, mingling with confusion and betrayal. Soon, there would be time to examine her feelings.

  Twisting on the floor, she turned to where the shot came from, her arm extended and gun ready. Jack. He approached with his weapon lowered, a frown marring his handsome face. As he neared, her heart pounded, as if it were the first time all over again. She pushed herself up, sitting with her back to where her father lay dead on the cold cement floor.

  Concern darkened his eyes and etched lines around his mouth. Naked emotion danced across his features—care, love, and… fear. No. What her father alluded to was going to happen. She would take the fall for the prime minister’s death. I’m the scapegoat.

  As seconds ticked by with neither of them saying a word, she accepted the hand he extended to help her up then splayed her fingers on his chest. What she didn’t understand was why he took the shot, rather than taking her father into custody. “Why?”

  “There’ll be other ways we can get information. Leaving him alive would only cause additional pain. I couldn’t let you pull the trigger. That’s one death you shouldn’t have staining your soul.”

  A muscle pulsed in Jack’s jaw just as Mike and Connor filled the space behind him, their expressions devoid of emotion. This isn’t good.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah,” Connor said. Mike remained silent, wearing an unreadable expression.

  Jack’s fingers curled around the wrist of the hand she had pressed against his chest. He stilled, and she looked deep into his eyes. Determination hardened them. “Just trust me,” he said as he
secured her hands together with a plastic tie while Mike removed her weapons.

  She didn’t have luck with trust. All she knew was betrayal.

  Chapter 37

  Hannah

  The click of the lock sent a jolt of pain through her heart. Jack’s words ran in a loop through her mind: “You’re under investigation for the murder of the Russian prime minister.” Deep in the bowels of the CIA, she moved farther into the recesses of the holding cell that she would call home for however long they determined.

  Before they locked her up, they’d taken her bag, phone, and keys. Oddly, she still wore the earbuds that would protect her from a soundwave attack. In fact, they’d been removed then given back by Jack. She’d slipped them into place, unwilling to take any chances. Thankfully, she had been able to clean her face and hands as best she could. There was nothing she could do about the blood that speckled her clothing. They hadn’t offered anything clean. It didn’t matter.

  Jack’s barely noticeable wink did more for her than anything. If he betrayed her, she would never be able to trust another again. His fingers had brushed along her back, gentle in every touch as he stayed by her when they’d locked her up. Her heart clenched. It would be all right. It had to be.

  The night before, she had talked with Jack briefly, but others were present. All he did, in a voice devoid of emotion, was tell her what her rights would be and that she would be held there until they determined where to transfer her.

  It didn’t matter. She would break free during transit. She still wore her clothes from the day before, which was a mistake on their part. Her eyes drifted shut, and she tried to rest despite her racing mind.

  Jack had asked her to trust him, but she was behind bars. How does that work, exactly?

  The sad part was that she did trust him and was holding onto that fragile thread despite her circumstances.

  The quiet click of the door shutting down the hall pricked her ears. But it was the lack of noise from whomever approached that told her more than anything. It was Jack or one of the members of his team. They moved like ghosts—like she did.

  It didn’t take long before he stood before her. She rose and approached him. The only separation was the bars between them. He stood tall, his commanding presence speeding up the beat of her heart. She reacted to him even when she didn’t want to. The green of his hazel eyes flashed as he rubbed the ever-present stubble on his square jaw.

  “Are you doing okay?” He dropped his hand, hooking it in the front pocket of his jeans.

  One side of her mouth curved up in a crooked grin. Really? That’s what he asked? “As well as can be expected. What can I do for you, Jack?”

  “I thought you’d like to know that Chris is back and doing better than ever.” He grinned, and his eyes flashed mischievously. “In answer to your question. There’s a lot you can do for me, babe. But right now, it’s what I can do for you.” He leaned in, and she followed his lead.

  He pulled his hand from his pocket and cupped her neck through the bars, drawing her closer. Even with the limited space, his lips caressed hers, and her eyelids fluttered closed. With subtle pressure, he tilted her head, and her hair covered his hand. She gripped the bars. Their bodies did not touch, only their lips and the hand he still had on her neck.

  With another nudge, he tilted her head back and trailed kisses along her jawline to her ear. A moan escaped her parted lips. One touch from him, and she was in serious trouble. But there was more there, and she went with it, making sure to look lost to his ministrations.

  As he nipped her ear, he whispered while she emitted a breathy moan to cover his words. “Pin is hidden in your collar. Trust me a little longer.”

  When he withdrew his hand and took a step back, putting some distance between them, she kept her hands curled around the bars, just to show there was nothing there and to give her a moment to regain her balance after his lips were on her. She didn’t need to look to the corner to know there was a camera there.

  “I wanted to say goodbye.” A husky timbre had invaded his deep voice, letting her know he wasn’t unaffected from touching her. “You transfer to a maximum-security prison in a few hours.”

  “What? Why?” She cleared her throat. “I want a lawyer.”

  “It won’t do you any good, Hannah. The sonic weapon was recovered.”

  “Then why am I being held here?”

  “Because the prime minister is dead, and several others were injured. Not to mention that the weapon was found in a locker at the train station.”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

  “The locker was opened with a key from your purse.”

  Oh. The sound of the door shutting and locking jarred her from what he’d revealed. Dammit. Jack had gone, leaving her alone with the bitter taste of betrayal.

  It could not possibly have gotten any worse. Hannah sat on the single cot with her back to the cold steel wall. In the dim light, she stared at the bars that held her prisoner.

  She’d been careful not to touch the collar of her shirt, where Jack had secured the tiny recording device and camera that was half the size of a toothpick. The end of it would be the only thing visible beneath the fold of her shirt, and it was small enough to escape detection. There was a reason he’d given it to her, so she shored up her shredded faith and trusted that he knew what he was doing.

  When the sound of a door opening echoed down the long, empty hallway, she didn’t bother to get up. It can’t be time already. Jack said she’d be transferred in a few hours. By her calculations, she had just under an hour left.

  Footsteps neared, and from the sound of the walk, she knew it wouldn’t be Jack. He didn’t make noise. As the noise stopped, she turned her head to see who’d come to visit—or interrogate—her.

  Henry stood on the other side of her prison. He looked good. His complexion had returned to normal since he’d been back on American soil. Before, she would have been relieved, even grateful, that he was there to see her. A cauldron of emotions stirred inside her. I trusted you.

  She’d been trained well. Trust wasn’t something she could spare. But with him, she’d faltered. It’d been a huge mistake. I thought of you like a father. He’d betrayed her like so many in her life.

  Her eyes narrowed. His time would come. They couldn’t hold her forever, or even for a day. She’d let herself be caught, just as she had in Colombia. There was a reason she’d let Jack overtake her on the roof during the rain. She’d needed to get back to the States, and he provided transportation.

  The problem was her feelings where Jack was concerned. It was a risk, but one she had to take.

  But Henry… She hardened her resolve as she got to her feet. There was a reason Jack had given her the pin. She would uncover what she could from Henry despite the distance that separated them.

  Henry drew his bushy eyebrows together. “Hannah. How are you holding up, dear?”

  She wrapped her hands around the bars, giving herself a moment to decide the best strategy to wring the truth from him. “Why did you come?”

  “I heard you will be transferred, and I wanted to see you. I did everything I could. I just don’t understand it. How could this have happened?”

  “Cut the crap, Henry.” She hardened her heart. “That key you gave me? You set me up. What I want to know is why.”

  Seconds ticked between them until a calculating gleam entered his eyes. “I’m not sure what you are referring to.”

  She snorted. “You’re just like me, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, dear.”

  The term of endearment grated on her nerves, but she didn’t let on. “How long have you been in place? In America?”

  “Hannah.” He tsked. “This is the end of the game.”

  No doubt. I’m the scapegoat for the rise of the Academy. “Where are you within the organization?” God, he has to give me something.

  Sweat beaded along his hairline. Has his heart conditio
n worsened from the strain of our time in captivity? He should’ve been the scapegoat. At this point, he can’t have all that much to lose.

  “Level with me. Tell me why I was chosen to take the fall.”

  He pursed his lips for a brief moment. In a slow nod, he conveyed his agreement. “I suppose I could do that. It won’t do you any good to share the information. No one will believe a known spy.”

  Everything inside her stilled as he rocked back on his heels. He’d planned something else, possibly aside from the Academy’s goals. He’d been there so long that he could have had another agenda.

  “As you know, we needed to do all we could to restore rightful power to our Academy, to our cause. The target was Nikolaev, our very own prime minister. Over time, he’d bent our president’s ear, turning him against our cause and toward others, ones that did not benefit us but left our country at a disadvantage. Our country is a pillar of strength, an iron fist in the face of opposing rulers. We do not share power. We wield it. We take it.”

  She held still, not yet ready to interrupt his tirade. It wasn’t anything she and Jack didn’t know. What she needed was his confession, the first turn of the key to her freedom.

  “I know you’ve learned your father is alive.”

  He’s not alive anymore. She nodded, allowing that much of a response.

  “I’ve been in place for many years. In fact, I was once your father’s handler, before he rose up in the ranks. But that didn’t happen until after I took the assignment to assume the former Secretary of Defense’s position.”

  “How did that happen?” She knew, but she needed it on the recording.

  “My dear, you should know all this.”

  Dammit. There were other ways she could get him to confess. “Of course. Plastic surgery. You must be the same height and build? Where did you make the exchange of life?”

  “Very good. It was at a summit meeting many years ago. Seamless. Perfect. What our organization is known for. And it’s been years of access to useful information. Such a wonderful decision on our Academy’s part.”