She nodded, sitting on a stool. “The real pisser is I don’t know why. Why does this asshole have it out for me?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“I know. I just want to catch this bastard now so I don’t have to think about him anymore.”
She hadn’t told Jonathan about the words carved into the table at the café. They were a message—her guy was getting impatient and things were escalating. It was only going to get worse if she didn’t make things better.
Jonathan clinked his glass against hers. “And you will. But I’m sick of this douchebag ruining my life. Let’s not talk about him anymore tonight. Or anything else work related.”
Abbie pursed her lips. That was a tall order, but she enjoyed a challenge. And it would do both of them good. “Okay.”
“Why don’t you change into some comfortable clothes and we can veg out on the couch like normal people?”
She pretended to fall off her stool in shock. “What?” She crossed the room to wrap her arms around his neck. “Congressman Lassiter, what is this crazy talk?”
He chuckled, then touched his lips to hers teasingly. She leaned in, wanting more, but he pulled back and shook his head. “Change your clothes. I’ll order pizza.”
Ten minutes later, Abbie met Jonathan in the living room. He was rifling through a stack of movies.
“Ooh, Die Hard.” Abbie reached for the movie. “That one’s a classic.”
Jonathan held it out of her reach. “Figured you’d like that one. It’s a little too close to your reality, though.”
I wish, Abbie thought. Answering phones and tracking an expert hacker hadn’t required any stealth or ass-kicking lately.
“This.” Jonathan showed her his selection. “Have you ever seen this?”
“Spaceballs? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“What? Then it’s definitely time to educate you.”
Abbie settled onto the couch while he set up the movie. “What’s it about?”
“It’s Mel Brooks. You’ve heard of him, right?”
Abbie shrugged her shoulders.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jonathan shook his head, looking at her like she’d said she didn’t know who the president was. Or you know, anything else that actually mattered. “He’s the master of parody movies.”
“What’s it a parody of?”
“Star Wars. The original ones.” Jonathan joined her on the couch, remote in hand. “Tell me you’ve seen those.”
Abbie grimaced and shook her head.
Jonathan groaned. “This is making me sad.”
She rolled her eyes as he started the movie. Five minutes in and she gave him the side eye. Who knew that the debonair politician had such a nerdy taste in movies? She certainly hadn’t known. She guessed there were a lot of things about him that she still didn’t know.
The doorbell rang, and he paused the movie to meet the deliveryman. While he was gone, she took out her phone to type up a to-do list: Hire movers. Sublet apartment.
Tell Jonathan.
Though she’d decided to move in, she hadn’t taken any steps toward doing so. Technically, she still hadn’t—had only compiled a list—but when Jonathan returned with the pizza, she couldn’t help her goofy grin.
“What?” He set the box on the coffee table.
“Nothing,” Abbie said. “I’m just happy.”
And she was. Despite all the shit they were both dealing with, simply being here with him made it all bearable.
Chapter 23
Abbie’s team was small. The mission was routine, almost like a grab-and-go. Agent Hurst had to get in, secure the intel, and get out. If things went according to plan—and they nearly always did on Abbie’s ops—Hurst would be home in time to tuck her son into bed.
Though most agents didn’t have children, some did. Deandra Hurst was one of those. Abbie didn’t know the other woman well, but she often wondered how she balanced her work and life. Hurst was a top-notch agent, but Abbie was waiting for the day when her family status would affect a mission. How could it not? If Abbie had a child at home, she’d have trouble leaving every day to put herself at risk.
It wasn’t something Abbie thought about often. After all, she’d never considered children. But now that Jonathan was in the picture, things were different. Kids weren’t on her radar—though they weren’t entirely off it anymore, either.
She hadn’t gone into the field since she’d been shot protecting Jonathan. The idea that her relationship with him was keeping her out of the game still plagued her. But it also meant that she hadn’t had to kiss him good-bye in the morning knowing she was going into a life-threatening situation. In her line of work, those situations could arise unexpectedly. But seeing as anyone could be hit by a bus crossing the street, she didn’t give it much thought.
Now that she had Jonathan, though, the risks she took as part of her job somehow seemed to matter more.
But she’d have to think about that later. Right now, she had an op to run.
“Agents, check your systems. Sophie, are we set?”
Sophie nodded. “I’ve got her. She’s two blocks out.”
Sophie had pulled a twenty-hour shift getting their systems back online, and had only finished yesterday. Yet, she refused to cede her place in the op to someone else. Abbie was glad—she preferred to work with the best.
“Williams? McIntyre? Are your eyes open?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Williams replied. “I have clear visibility of the interior.”
“Ditto,” McIntyre added.
“Hurst, we’re ready. Waiting for your signal.” All communication would flow through Abbie. During some ops, multiple agents were on the line, but in this case, they’d opted for a singular line of communication to streamline things.
“Going in,” Hurst said, and Abbie watched as the blue dot that signaled her location on Sophie’s map moved toward the building. “Multiple individuals on the street. None of consequence.”
Abbie surveyed the feed from Hurst’s body camera. She was in a part of town that Abbie wouldn’t advise frequenting after dark, but so far the passersby seemed harmless. Residents were going about their business.
“Confirmed,” Abbie said.
Director Oliver came out of her office and stood off to the side, observing the op, as she often did.
Abbie tensed as Hurst pulled open the door to the building, but the security guard at the front desk waved her through, like they’d anticipated. Hurst had been working undercover as a cleaning lady for the past six months, so as far as onlookers were concerned, this was just another ordinary day.
But Abbie knew it wasn’t. One wrong move and things could go to hell pretty quickly. If she ever lost the small amount of apprehension that filled her whenever she was involved in an op, she would quit on the spot, no matter how much she loved her job.
Because once that apprehension was completely gone, it meant she didn’t value human life—hers or others—enough. It meant that she’d become reckless.
“Selvak is in the back west corridor,” Williams stated, and Abbie relayed the information. He was their primary concern. Though Hurst didn’t have confirmation, she believed Selvak had begun to grow suspicious of her. That was why they were going after the data now—so Hurst could be done with the job. While the intel was a priority, it wasn’t as important as Hurst’s safety.
Hurst stuck to the east corridors, making her way toward the server room. The door was locked, but Hurst had acquired a key the week before. She easily could have picked the lock—all agents have that basic skill—but having the key made their procedure run smoother.
Once in the server room, Hurst located the hard drive and set up the data transfer. It would take approximately three minutes and fifteen seconds. Abbie could attest from personal experience that this was one of the hardest parts of the job—waiting. There was nothing they could do to speed up the process and every second Hurst was there put her more at risk. It felt l
ike she was waiting forever, but it was their best option. She would have never made it out of the room and back with her cleaning supplies. The files would have to be transferred first.
“Sixty seconds,” Sophie said.
“Okay. And what’s the status of the corridors?” Abbie asked. The loud fans inside the server room meant Hurst couldn’t hear anything that was happening outside the door, so she was blind. Abbie would need to guide her out, helping her avoid people and the camera, which panned the hallway.
“Empty.”
Abbie nodded. Everything was going according to plan. For the past year, Selvak had been on their radar as one of the most dangerous individuals in the DC metropolitan area.
“Wait…” Sophie said. “Selvak is there, right outside the door, with a man I don’t recognize.”
Abbie leaned over McIntyre’s shoulder to view the feed. She didn’t recognize the other man, either.
“Hold your position,” she told Hurst.
“Copy.”
“What the hell are they doing?” Abbie muttered, watching the screen. The other man appeared agitated, but Selvak maintained his normal, even expression.
Until he shot the other man at point-blank range.
“Shit.”
Then their screens went black, followed by the server room.
What the hell?
They were at the pinch point of the op and they couldn’t see Hurst. Oh, shit.
“Get the lights on,” Abbie commanded. “Get our eyes back up. Hurst, do you copy?”
The emergency lights kicked in, as well as the back-up generators. The computers began to hum, but it was taking them too long to come back online.
“Hurst!”
Nothing. Abbie had lost her.
“Whitmore? Are you there?”
“Hurst! Hurst! Do you copy?”
“Whitmore?” Hurst’s voice cracked, so Abbie could tell she couldn’t hear her.
“Sophie, get the systems back up!” Abbie bellowed. “Goddamnit!”
The first to come back online was the feed from Hurst’s body camera. Abbie watched in horror as Selvak opened the server room door and began pulling the body inside. There was nowhere for Hurst to hide.
“Hurst! Deandra!”
The last thing Abbie heard before the audio went out was gunfire.
Then they lost everything.
Chapter 24
Jonathan stepped off the elevator, took a right, and almost ran headfirst into a line of agents. Though there were plenty of seats, they all stood. If not for the gravity of the situation, he would have laughed. They each reflected a bit of the fierceness he so admired in Abbie. That must be what it took to do their job day in and day out.
This evening, the fierceness was matched with something else: concern, worry, and support. Their sister-in-arms had fallen, and if these women were like Abbie, none would rest until they were assured she would pull through.
And then they would avenge her.
Abbie was among them, with them, but also distant. Her expression matched everything the tone of her voice had already told him over the phone. She was pissed and worried, but above all that, she felt guilty.
He went to her, wanting to embrace her, wanting to take her in his arms and hold her while she unleashed the tears he knew she was holding in, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Not now. So instead he simply squeezed her hand.
“Any word?” he asked.
She shook her head. “She’s in surgery now. She’ll make it, but the damage is…extensive. Her knee was shattered.” Abbie rubbed her hands over her face and her lip trembled as she struggled to get the next words out. “And she’ll probably need a hysterectomy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The op was going perfectly. Until it wasn’t. It all went to shit in a matter of seconds. We were almost in the clear.”
Jonathan put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”
She didn’t need to tell him that she took responsibility. She also didn’t need to tell him everything that happened. He knew she would have done anything to protect Hurst.
“He’s right.” A handsome older woman in a sleek black suit stepped forward. He’d never been formally introduced to Director Oliver as Abbie’s boyfriend—Abbie preferred to keep her personal life separate—but he knew this had to be her, the formidable woman Abbie praised so highly.
“Ma’am, we should have planned for this. There should have been a contingency.”
Oliver shook her head. “You had that op under control. Every measure was in place. Even if the systems hadn’t failed when they did, the likelihood of things playing out the same way are high. Perhaps Hurst could have drawn her weapon sooner. Or perhaps things may have gone worse.”
“See?” Jonathan kissed Abbie’s temple. To hell with the professionalism she thought she wanted. She needed the affection. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“But you will.” Director Oliver’s expression was knowing. “No matter what anyone tells you, you’ll take responsibility. But Agent Whitmore…responsibility isn’t the same thing as blame. There’s a difference. Subtle, but it’s there.”
A man holding a toddler with chubby cheeks and black curly hair entered the waiting room. All at once, the agents stood taller and straighter. Jonathan only needed one guess as to who they owed the extra show of respect.
“That’s Tyrone,” Abbie said. “I should speak to him.” She stepped toward Deandra’s husband.
“He’s a teacher in DC,” Oliver commented. “Works with troubled youth. He’s a good man.”
“He’d have to be, to be married to a Cartwright agent,” Jonathan said. “That’s not a position for the weak or faint of heart.”
The all-female Cartwright Agency boasted some of the fiercest individuals he’d ever met. The agency was committed to hiring the brightest and best women—and paying them more than what the FBI would.
Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a position you’re vying for?”
Jonathan easily maintained the neutral expression he’d perfected from years of practice, but he hadn’t been expecting that question. Then again, from what Abbie had told him about Oliver, she wasn’t a woman who beat around the bush.
“Time will tell.”
“I suppose it’s none of my business, but you’re good for her.” Oliver paused for a moment to watch Abbie with Tyrone. “I’m retiring soon.”
“Abbie had mentioned that might be a possibility.” She’d also mentioned that when she’d directly asked Oliver about it, the older woman hadn’t confirmed or denied the rumor. So why was Oliver discussing it with him?
“I want Abbie to replace me.”
Shit. Abbie hadn’t said anything about that. So did that mean she didn’t know? She loved working in the field and hated being stuck in the office these last few months. Would she even want the position?
The farther up the bureaucratic ladder one climbed, the more bullshit and red tape there was. He knew that better than anyone. It’s not like the director of the agency would take on many—if any—field assignments.
“I’m sure she’ll be honored,” Jonathan said finally.
Oliver laughed. “I hear everything you’re not saying. I’d never force her into the position, but it’s the best move for the agency. Hopefully she’ll realize it’s the best move for her, too.”
Chapter 25
“Mr. Hurst?” The nurse stepped up to Abbie and Tyrone with an apologetic expression. “The doctor would like a word.”
“Of course.”
Agent McIntyre stepped forward. “I can take Jayden if you want.”
Tyrone looked down at the toddler, then over at McIntyre. “I don’t know.…”
The agent held her arms out. “We’re already friends.” Jayden let out a gurgled laugh and reached for her.
Tyrone handed the toddler over. “Thanks. Excuse me.”
Abbie watched as he walked away with the nurse, feeling even
more like an asshole than she had before. She hadn’t even offered to watch Jayden so Tyrone could focus on his wife. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. But he’d be a fool to leave a toddler with her, anyway.
McIntyre took Jayden over to a corner table covered in magazines and picture books. She pulled the little boy into her lap and picked up a book.
Abbie turned away. Jayden would probably never have a little brother or sister. The failed op had robbed the family of the possibility of adding another child to their household.
She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the tears to abate, willing the overwhelming sadness to turn to anger. Because rage she could deal with—she knew what to do with that—but sorrow? That was another matter.
Her phone rang, and she clutched at it greedily, grateful for the distraction.
“Whitmore.”
“It’s Sophie.”
“What did you learn?”
“The first security breach was a screen.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were breached, all right, but so were our backup protocols. So when we started the recovery methods, that’s what caused the second infection.” Sophie sighed. “When we reinstated everything, we handed him control of our system.”
A sick feeling hit Abbie’s gut. “It’s a mind game.”
Once he broke through their security the first time, he could have done whatever he wanted. But he was toying with them. That made him the most dangerous kind of criminal. She couldn’t figure out his end goal, other than to screw with them.
“I didn’t see it,” Sophie said miserably. “I should have seen it. I should have—”
“It’s not your fault,” Abbie said, knowing full well her words would fall on deaf ears. “And anyway, we don’t have time to worry about fault. We just need to stop this asshole.”
“Agreed. I’m bringing in a second set of eyes this time. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
Abbie ended the call. Sophie’s words ran through her mind. What mistake had Abbie made in her past that caused this? Who was seeking vengeance against her and why?
Goddamnit. She had to be missing something. He was right under their noses—she could feel it. But even if she found him, they still didn’t have the evidence they needed to lock him up. It was beyond frustrating.
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