“You have to hurry up,” Patrice said. Her words emitted from the shooter’s earpiece. Lucy flinched, shock paralyzing her.
The shooter’s body writhed beneath her. He was choking and then she saw white foam on his mouth and smelled burned almonds. She jumped away from him, careful to avoid contact with the poison. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for the bastard. “Kicking and screaming it is.”
“They’re one minute out, Lucy.”
No choices left, she sheathed her knife, retrieved her gun and wrapped the shooter’s head with her suit jacket, needing to protect herself from the poison dripping from his gaping maw. If he wasn’t dead yet, he’d soon be. Then she hauled him over her shoulder, picked up his rifle and carried him, moving slower than she wanted, but headed in the direction of the waiting transport truck.
“Patrice. Which way?”
“You’re good. I’m almost at your side.”
Lucy was breathing heavily under the weight of the shooter. “Someone needs to retrieve my gear bag.”
Patrice shot out of the brush at a run, past her. “Keep going. I’ll get it.”
Lucy slogged ahead, fear building as she wondered how long she could continue to carry this guy. Soon there’d be a swarm of security guards in the area, and the Agency’s objective was to steal the file undetected.
Then she saw Troy, Cat and Phil running toward her. They’d already dumped the bodies onto the pickup truck and had time to run back. They must have double-timed it, so it was with a fair amount of guilt mixed with relief that she allowed Troy to grab the shooter off her shoulder. He didn’t pause, just pivoted and ran back the way he’d come. Lucy followed and then Patrice caught up, and then they were all running full bore. It took two and a half minutes to run the half mile to the transport. Everyone had to squeeze inside, out of breath, the dead next to the living. Lucy had to suppress her gag reflex as she stepped on bodies to get to her seat.
Troy was brooding and seemed to be building up a good rage. Lucy couldn’t handle any drama right now. The distinct smell of the recently dead combined with the poison’s burned-almond scent made the ride unbearable. She couldn’t help thinking too much of her life was spent in the company of dead people.
Nobody was complaining outwardly, though. They were alive and should be grateful. Lucy needed to keep them that way by covering his mess up before they got to the helicopter. She waited for Patrice’s signal that they’d driven far enough from the op site to dump the bodies.
“There’s a river down this road,” Patrice said to the driver. “Stop there.”
“There were no witnesses, no satellite feed linked to the Agency, no evidence left behind.” Lucy scanned her crew and Troy, gauging their opinions. “We have the files and the target is unaware. I call that a win.”
Cat nudged the shooter with her foot. “Any idea who he is?”
Lucy felt Troy’s gaze on her. She knew he wanted her to keep quiet until he could debrief her, and the information she had was too explosive to share with her crew, so she lied. “No. And we never saw him.”
Cat nodded. “Understood.”
Her braid had worked its way free from her uniform and fell across her chest. She indicated the driver and lifted a brow. Lucy knew what she was asking and shook her head. Drivers didn’t last long when they ratted out their crew. This guy could be trusted, and a dead driver was a dead giveaway they had something to hide. They had enough to worry about without adding that to their plate.
“Joe’s chill,” Lucy said. “Right, Joe?”
“So chill I’m freezing.”
Minutes later, the driver pulled over and opened the doors. They hustled into action. The river was twenty yards away, and the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate their efforts. They made quick work of stripping the bodies while the driver kept lookout. Bodies dumped, effects buried, Patrice connected the crew back to the Agency’s satellite network. Deniability, Lucy thought. It was a fine art.
Everyone was silent on the flight back, and even on the drive back to the facility. When Troy stepped out of the truck, he didn’t waste time taking authority back. “Lucy. Debrief in my quarters.” Her crew watched her go, and they looked nervous.
His quarters. She hadn’t been there in five years. She was nervous, too.
* * *
Troy was so angry he could barely see straight. No one attempted to interrupt him as his strides ate up the distance between him and the garage’s elevator. He heard Lucy trying to keep up, clomping behind him in her field boots. He took note of the passing agents and that they avoided his gaze but sought Lucy’s. She was popular. He wasn’t. None of them would care if he’d come off the truck in a body bag. Part of the job description, he supposed. But they’d miss Lucy. They respected her more than feared her. He’d always found that ironic considering her bio sheet. The stories he could tell would curl their hair.
He slammed the elevator up button, causing a maintenance worker to startle and drop her mop. He barely noted when she scurried away. Lucy stood at his side, not looking intimidated at all. She wore an anemic smile, the smile she used when hiding her thoughts. When they stepped into the elevator, neither spoke. The conversation they needed to have was too dangerous to risk being overheard. She had to start leveling with him. He didn’t want to believe she was involved with this attack against the Agency, but the growing evidence against her, combined with this blatant subverting of the Agency’s surveillance protocols, forced him to confront her about it.
The elevator doors opened. He marched to his quarters, nodding to a passing guard. “Order us dinner. Cheeseburgers,” he said. “Do you want burgers, Lucy? And fries.” Lucy ignored his questions but stepped inside, allowing him to slam the door behind them. Four long strides had him opening a wall safe and retrieving his scrambling device. He placed it, active, on his glass-and-chrome side table.
“We’re on security’s radar, so I’d be surprised if we had five minutes before techs notice we’re blocked. Don’t waste time with bullshit. How are you involved with the agents’ deaths?”
“Screw you.”
“I should be dead, Lucy. If I hadn’t hesitated, I would be. You’re the only person other than me that had access to the op portfolios before we left, and that includes the driver and pilot.”
“Don’t forget Barrett.”
“She’s not a suspect. You’re just going to have to trust me on that.”
“Well, I don’t trust you. It’s Barrett or a rogue group of agents. That shooter we just buried, he was Agency,” she said. “I’ll bet my life on it.”
“You are.”
“Listen to me. He had dilated pupils.”
“It’s shady in the woods.”
“He was on our comms channel, knew we were there, knew who I was. The guy was jacked, like me, and knew capture meant death, so he fell back on protocol and offed himself.”
“Why would Barrett want me dead?”
Lucy threw her hands in the air and then let them drop. “How the hell should I know?”
“Barrett thinks you’re behind this, or at least involved. You heard her at your debrief. Raven’s last op feed didn’t show a shooter, only you running in the woods.”
“Did you see it?”
“It went missing.”
“Convenient.” She looked nervous. “Barrett is pointing the finger at me to throw you off the scent.”
Troy didn’t say anything, but he agreed Barrett was definitely pointing to Lucy as the traitor. He just refused to believe it. The part of him that second-guessed his actions, always on the lookout for emotion-based decisions, took a huge sigh and faded away. He couldn’t believe Lucy had conspired to kill him, or any other of the agents. She was one of the good guys, like him. “Talk to me.”
“The shooter’s comm was programmed to our frequency,” she said. “Only Charlie and Barrett had access to that information. Whoever ordered today’s hit was listening to us the whole time.” She kicked off her boots and draped herself on his bla
ck leather couch. She reclined and wiggled about, as if she couldn’t get comfortable. “This thing is as hard as a rock.” She rubbed her back. “How like you to have a couch not meant to be sat on.”
He sat next to her, burying his face in his hands. “I have to think.” Barrett was pointing fingers at Lucy, Lucy at Barrett, but Barrett didn’t look good for the crime because she had no motive. Lucy had tons. The Agency had taken everything from her—her mother, her freedom, a normal life. If another agency was looking to recruit, Lucy would be a prime candidate.
She rubbed her feet, looking as though they pained her. “You must be on Barrett’s shit list.”
Barrett knew he had feelings for Lucy. Of course he was on her shit list. He sat back, staring at the blank screen of his television. “None of the dead agents are connected in any way. I looked. All different crews. No common habits. And then me?” He shook his head.
“If it’s not Barrett, then someone has access to her intel and is manipulating agents and techs to obey. I want to meet this paragon that’s able to effect this kind of coup against the Agency. I’m tempted to join up.”
“They’re killing agents. That’s not the same thing as hurting the Agency.” Troy lifted a brow.
“Point taken.” Lucy sighed.
“And Barrett would lose more than she has to gain if she kills me. I have dirt on her that will come to light if I die.”
“So nothing will convince you it’s Barrett.” Lucy rubbed her eyes. She looked tired. “Rogue group of disgruntled agents, then?”
“Someone stole the feed from Charlie’s office. Sneaked in through the air duct. I thought it was one of your crew. Care to share your thoughts?” He watched for a reaction but didn’t expect anything dramatic. He’d already decided her crew wasn’t involved. Lucy would know, and she wouldn’t be able to hide that from him. He was not even sure she’d want to.
“They’re not involved, and if you decide to make them involved, I’m out of here.” Lucy stood, bent and picked up her boots and headed for his door. “You asked me what I thought, I told you what I know. You’re the deputy administrator here. You fix this.”
Troy didn’t want her to go. “Stay. It’s your ass on the line.”
“So Barrett doesn’t suspect I’m involved, she’s convinced.” Lucy kept her back to him.
“But I’m not. You didn’t have to help me.” He’d almost died. It upset her. She wasn’t that good of an actress. “I appreciate your help.”
She still didn’t turn to look at him. “Better the devil you know.”
“You should have let me run after the shooter. I’m the one he shot at.”
“My op. My ass on the line.”
“Barrett would have said you decided to kill him once he’d blown his shot at me.”
“He killed himself.” She finally turned. “You heard what he said over the comm. Do you think we rehearsed our fight, the exchange, and then he committed suicide to shore up my lies?” Troy was careful not to show any reaction. “You don’t believe that, but Barrett will want to.”
He smiled, because he saw her vulnerability and that gave him courage. “I’m on your side.”
She did not smile back. “What the hell was that back at the building? You shot the guard.”
“You had your hands full.”
“What if I’d stepped between you and the guard? I would be dead now.”
“If I shoot you, it won’t be a mistake.”
Lucy scowled. “As long as we’re clear.”
He lifted a brow.
Lucy jutted her hip out and grimaced. “I don’t trust that you’re on my side. You’ve never been on my side. You’re an Agency man, through and through,” she said. “I know you don’t agree, but I believe Barrett is behind this. You snooping around is making her nervous, so she’s cutting her losses with you. If you want to know who’s behind these killings, do what my mum always said. Follow the money.”
“You ordered Patrice to disrupt the satellite link between us and the Agency. What’s to make me think you don’t make a habit of this? You have secrets, Lucy. That doesn’t encourage trust, either.”
“I have no room for trust in my life, and you’re the man that taught me that lesson.”
“Do you trust your crew? Patrice dropped the ball out there and nearly got me killed. Have you looked at Patrice as a possible suspect?”
“The shooter knew about the satellite, he cloaked himself. That screams Agency.”
Troy approached her, pulled her hand so she had to stand in front of me. “You didn’t answer me.” He knew she wanted to protect her crew, but they needed to be honest with each other if they were going to survive. And he wanted them to survive. She was looking so vulnerable right now that he had to force himself not to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right, because he wasn’t sure that was the case.
She pulled her hand from his, showing her annoyance by narrowing her eyes. “Patrice looks as good for this as any, except you.” He could tell she didn’t like even admitting that much. “You’re the deputy administrator. Maybe that’s why there was a target on your back today. Maybe Barrett thinks you and I are colluding to disrupt the Agency’s effectiveness, maybe to destroy it so it can’t ruin any more lives.”
“Maybe she does, but she’d be wrong.” He consulted his watch, feeling irritated and impatient. “We probably have less than two minutes before my door bursts open.” This explained his impatience, he told himself. He wanted to hold her, but his window of opportunity was fading. Lucy didn’t look receptive, and he wasn’t sure two minutes was enough time to soften her up.
“Agents are dying.” She glared at him. “I don’t care why, or who is responsible, I just want it to stop. I lost one, I won’t lose another, and I’m not willing to take the fall for it, either. We need to find out who is ordering these hits and take them out. What have you done about this?”
“Nothing.” He smiled. “Everything.”
“Why are you smiling?” she said.
He took her boots from her hands and dropped them to the floor, and then pulled her into his arms, lowering his lips a hair’s breadth from hers. “I’ve wanted to hold you for hours, but we still have to retrieve the bug from Barrett’s office. How are we going to arrange that, do you suppose?” He didn’t give her time to answer; instead, he took what he could get. He kissed her and almost sighed with relief when her lips softened under his, opening immediately to welcome him inside.
The door burst open and five armed guards rushed inside. The designated mouthpiece stepped forward, unable to hide his anxiety. “Barrett wants a debrief now, sir. We’ve been sent to escort you both to her office.”
Troy smiled at her. “I’m just that good,” he said.
“Show-off.” Lucy pushed out of his embrace and saw the scrambler still on the table. She carefully avoided looking at it in hopes the guards wouldn’t notice, but Troy picked it up and blithely secured it in his safe. The agents didn’t blink an eye. Sometimes she forgot Troy lived by a different set of rules.
She slipped her boots on without tying them. Running miles without the protective barrier of socks had rubbed her ankles raw. It was getting harder to hide the pain. Then she saw the ordered dinner had arrived, and it got easier. Her nerves had eaten every spare calorie in her body and she was shaking, her usual state after an op. Today it made her feel more vulnerable than usual. She stopped the delivery guy, lifted the plate’s cover and saw two burgers with fries. She grabbed a plate and started eating, silently bemoaning the lack of ketchup. She headed toward the elevator, and the security guards followed, hovering.
“We’re not all going to fit in the elevator,” she said around a mouthful of burger. She leaned next to the doors, eating a fry. She lifted a brow when Troy grabbed her burger, took a bite and then stole four fries.
“Needs ketchup,” he said.
“You think?” She scowled, banking her resentment.
The elevator door opened and
Troy stepped in, tugging her inside. The armed guards hesitated, seeing the elevator was, indeed, too small for them all. The door closed before the agents thought to step in, with neither Lucy nor Troy making any effort to mitigate the situation.
She chuckled. He eyeballed her burger.
“Back off,” she said around a mouthful. “You should have grabbed your plate.”
“Duly noted.” Troy punched the top floor button and then grabbed two more fries.
Chapter Eight
When the elevator doors opened, they stepped onto Barrett’s floor. Troy saw Janice, the secretary, look up from whatever missive she was typing and hit her intercom button.
“They’re here, ma’am.” He smiled; she noticed and smiled back. “She’s expecting you,” she said. The stairwell door burst open and the five tardy agents spilled onto the floor, out of breath and looking sheepish.
“Well, hello, boys¸” Lucy said, licking her fingers clean of burger juices. She placed the plate on Janice’s desk. “We wondered where you’d gone to.” The guards flushed with embarrassment.
Troy ignored them and pushed through Barrett’s door. She was sipping coffee out of a delicate china cup and crumbs littered its matching plate. If all he got from this meeting was Lucy retrieving the bug without detection he’d count it a win, but he had questions, none of which he could ask openly. Lucy trailed him inside, her clomping unlaced boots silenced by Barrett’s expensive rugs. He didn’t wait to be asked to sit. Lucy remained standing, waiting for direction.
Barrett ignored Troy and pointed to the chair next to him. “Sit, Lucy.”
His boss finally deigned to look at him. She was furious. He wondered if it was because Lucy had cut the satellite feed or because he was alive. Despite Lucy’s adamancy, he still found it hard to believe Barrett was behind the rash of agent deaths and the attempt on his life. His death would lead to her death. Yes, Barrett had ordered him on today’s op, and the shooter had clearly been aiming at him and from every indication was Agency trained, but that didn’t mean Barrett had put the hit out on him. It just meant their ranks had been infiltrated. The shooter piggybacking on their comm frequency was proof enough of that. It all came down to motive, and Barrett had none.
The Seduction of Lucy Page 9
