Cold Red

by Fiona Quinn

“Yes,” Prescott said.

  “This is like pulling teeth,” Anna complained. “And Bivens and Mulvaney knew each other?” She looked over at Finley for an answer.

  Finley nodded slowly.

  “Ah,” Anna said. “He’s Mulvaney’s lover. The guy in the compromising photos. And you recognized him immediately when I showed them to you after the accident.”

  “Yup.”

  “And you chose not to tell me it was him.” She blinked at him as she thought through this side of the story, this shift in the players. “Is his wife really pregnant?” she asked under her breath.

  Finley held up his hand with IV tubing taped into place to show two fingers. “She’s due in two weeks.”

  “But not in labor.” Anna shook her head.

  “I believed she was,” Finley said.

  “Bivens wasn’t on our team,” Prescott said. “He called in saying his wife was in labor, and he wasn’t going to come in for a few days. Finley heard about it through the grapevine, knew Bivens was planning to do the transport and volunteered to take his place. I signed off because there was no reason for me not to. Finley thought he was making life easier for a colleague.”

  “Bivens didn’t warn you off?”

  “I thought he was in the hospital with his wife. I never spoke to him about it,” Finley said.

  “She wasn’t though. She wasn’t in labor. He was saving his ass. Did he have a burner phone like Mulvaney’s?”

  “Yes,” Prescott said. “Bivens came in to the bureau to tell me about the directives he’d received and the accompanying pictures and his subsequent choices.”

  Anna spun on him. “Bivens spoke to you and not his superior?”

  “I’m in charge of domestic terror. Bivens knew that you and Johnathan Borkin were connected to SIC. He thought that I’d be his best route for telling him how to proceed.”

  “How far into the fiasco was this?”

  “Near as we can tell, Mulvaney was eating her french fries while Bivens was spilling the beans,” Finley said.

  “Too late then. Way too late to help us and keep us safe. Keep Mulvaney alive. She didn’t deserve that death. Why did Bivens wait with that information?”

  No one attempted to answer her.

  After a long pause, Prescott said, “Bivens was told that he and Mulvaney were to deliver the prisoners to SIC and once SIC had you two in hand, then they would be given a cover story. We hoped that perhaps with Bivens out of the picture, they’d abort any plans they had in place. We, of course, tried to make contact, but you were already in the dead zone.”

  “That’s not funny.” Anna glared.

  Prescott said, “My apologies. That was a poor choice of words.”

  Anna crossed her arms over her chest and sent a pursed-lipped, you’re-full-of-shit glare toward Prescott. “But Finley didn’t know I was an operative, you let him think I was a criminal.”

  “I wasn’t authorized to pass along information about your role. That was considered classified,” Prescott replied.

  She turned to Finley. “You thought I was a terrorist when I was ‘arrested.’” She made air quotes around that word.

  “When I picked you up, yes.” He sent her a warm smile. “Less so when you were saving my life. Again. And again. And then the pond.” He let that go without further explanation. He didn’t tell Prescott that in a moment of weakness she just laid it all out – her real name, her affiliation.

  She wasn’t as bad-ass as she’d convinced herself she was.

  Hey, look at that, she was human.

  “Go back to Bivens what were his orders?” she asked.

  “That they were tasked to deliver you and Johnathan to an alternative site, and at that point they would be given a cover story,” Prescott repeated patiently.

  “Bivens decided that sounded like there might not be an exit strategy for him,” Anna said, “and he had a will to live – what with the birth of his child coming up.

  “I’d assume,” Finley said.

  “Huh.” Anna focused on Finley. “And yet he let Mulvaney go. What an ass. I bet she was surprised as hell when she realized that lover boy left her to hang out to dry. What did Mulvaney say about you having the car keys?”

  “She covered over any emotions. But remember, I was told that Bivens wife was in labor and that’s what I told her. I was just doing a solid for my buddy.”

  “But she was willing to let you drive into an ambush,” Anna said. “She must have texted them the change in plans because the time stamp of her routing wasn’t given to her until you were almost to Johnathan’s house. She didn’t have the particulars in advance. I wonder how the topo map got into the glove compartment.”

  “Good question,” Finley said.

  Anna turned back to Prescott. “What’s going on now? Who is culpable besides Bivens? Who wanted us dead?”

  “I can’t go into our intelligence.” Prescott stood and put a hand on her shoulder with a very gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you made it back to DC and are safe. Thank you for your bravery and skill. Finley has painted quite the heroic picture of you. For the moment, I’ve said all I can about the situation.” And with that, he left.

  But Anna was determined to know more.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Finley

  Anna stared as the door swung shut behind Prescott. Suddenly the stress that had held her shoulders up near her ears released, and her body melted further into her chair.

  “You need to get some sleep.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “You’re dressed. Are the doctors sending you home? Are you alright?”

  “Beat to hell. Pain meds. Sleep pills. Physical therapy. At least no one’s going to be boring into my skull.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Her frown pulled her lips down her chin. She looked miserable.

  “Hey, come here.” Finley held out his arms, thinking she’d let him give her a hug. He was happily surprised when she climbed onto the bed next to him and snuggled in to spoon. Just like they had out in the wilderness for survival sake, though it had never felt to him like it was just for survival sake but more like that’s where she belonged.

  She felt bone weary to him. He was worried she’d keep pushing herself. He rubbed his nose into her hair. “Please go home and sleep.”

  “I will. In a second. Is this okay?” She tipped her head back trying to see his eyes. “Am I hurting you.”

  “I’d say you’re helping me.”

  “The surgery, what are they saying about it?”

  “They’ll have to shave my head. I may not be my pretty self for a while.”

  She swatted his leg. “Seriously.”

  “Okay, here’s the medical jargon stuff. It’s called a subdural hematoma. They get rid of it by doing a craniotomy. I might feel tired and have headaches for a few days afterwards. I need to stay here in the hospital for a few nights, so they can monitor me. But Prescott made sure I have the best surgeon for the procedure, this guy’s internationally known.”

  “What about your eyesight and balance. Will that be restored?”

  “Should be. I may need some rehabilitation. We can drive over together to see the physical therapist.”

  “And the risks?”

  “Same with any surgery, infection, what have you.”

  “K,” she said.

  He slid his hand down her hair in long soothing strokes.

  “What did they do to Bivens?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine anything good. If things had turned out, he might have gotten a slap on the wrist. Two people are dead.”

  “And his wife. Can you imagine? She probably thinks her life is going happily – new baby… Boom, she finds out her husband is having an affair with his best friend’s wife. Marriage in crisis. New baby hormones. Friends are going to jump ship. Income… poof. Possibly even issues with medical insurance if she’s not working.”

  “She’s not.”

 
“This is going to be a nightmare for her. Fucking selfish asswipe.”

  “You should have joined the navy. You cuss like a sailor.”

  “I’ve read that cussing is a proven sign of high intelligence.”

  “No doubt.” Finley chuckled, then stilled, letting the picture Anna had painted about the Bivens family form in his mind. “You’re right, though. He messed up so many lives. I’m not in a position to throw stones. But I can mourn the outcome. Kim Bevins, his wife, is a really sweet woman. She deserved better.”

  “Don’t we all. What do you think happens next with our case? You mentioned Johnathan’s and my photos when we were on our little hike. Do you know if the FBI released them to the press? That would destroy my work. You know that better than most.”

  “Yeah, I do. That’s why it was the first thing I asked when Prescott showed up.” Finley rested his hand on her head. “Prescott said the press kit wasn’t released. I asked Honey about it anyways. He passed the question on to Nutsbe. If it’s out there, Nutsbe has ways to try to find it and scrub it.”

  Anna let out a sigh and burrowed her hips tighter against him. She needed to stop wiggling around. Even with the pain meds and the back beat of headache, nature was nature. And Finley didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable lying here with him.

  She tipped her head around and looked him in the eye as if he’d said that out loud. She flipped over, so they were face to face and kissed him. He closed his eyes and just let the gentle warmth of the contact slide through his system. She snuggled up, aligning their bodies, and kissed him again. Soft and slow. Finley wouldn’t mind staying right there kissing her just like that for the rest of his life.

  “That’s how I thought it would feel,” she whispered, her lips not moving from his.

  “Me too,” he whispered back.

  Anna pulled back. Worry darkened her eyes. He swept her hair away from her face, so he could read the nuances.

  “It feels the same here as it did out in the mountains. Like we’re two people struggling together in a massive dangerous storm.”

  He nodded. She was right. Out of the literal woods didn’t mean they were out of the proverbial woods.

  “This case is big and complex and will take some time to unravel.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll be able to unravel it. For you, it’s family connections. For me, well, I’m their enemy.”

  She scowled. “So am I.”

  “They don’t know that. And it could work out that they never know that. I hope to hell they never know that.” He laced his fingers with hers. “What happens now?”

  “I don’t know. I have to reach out to my Zoric handler and get a feel for my position. My hope is they’ll send me back to Slovakia, and I can fulfill my original mission.”

  “No,” he said and kissed her. “I mean what happens now?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” She pressed her forehead to his. “You have your job, which is a lifestyle.”

  “It was,” Finley said, “when I was undercover. Now, I’m a paper pusher. You have a job that’s a lifestyle.”

  “This is true.”

  “The Zorics could be a big problem going forward.”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled.

  “But it will be for me, anyway. And you too.” Finley cupped her chin and tipped her face up. He wanted to see her eyes, so he knew how she felt.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, if we were together, it would be a big problem for us.”

  “Us?”

  Finley took in a deep breath. “Would you consider an us?”

  She breathed out forcibly through her lips. “An us…”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anna

  The streets were filling as lunch-time traffic motored past. The Lyft driver was already speeding down the road when the front door popped open to the Washington DC home.

  The young woman with apple cheeks and raven-black hair stepped back to let Anna make her way inside, then closed the door.

  “Anna, sweet, let me look at you.” Natasha placed her hands on Anna’s cheeks and tipped her head. “You look terrible.” She grimaced. “Sorry, but is true.” Her eyes slid down Anna’s clothes. “You come right from the hospital in your West Virginia clothes. In a perfect world, you would go home and sleep and not come here. I’m sorry. But Melina has no options. I know you understand.”

  Anna stood under the bright light in Natasha’s living room, surrounded by tastefully arranged furnishings, rich colors and textures, and warmth. It was jarring to be in a mundane-seeming world after the filth and fight of the last few days.

  This was normal, and Anna was having trouble integrating.

  Warmth from Natasha, warmth from the room, the warmth of embarrassment at being the recipient of such a gentle touch and the pity in Natasha’s eyes. The juxtaposition was too stark.

  This all seemed surreal.

  It made Anna twitchy. She wanted to be able to discard these feelings that bound her like a too-tight wool sweater in an overheated room.

  Natasha reached down and took Anna’s hands, turning them this way and that as she inspected Anna’s bruises and torn fingernails, reading the last few days in their cracked red surface. “Yes,” she sighed out. “Melina said you had a difficult time.” She rubbed her hands up and down Anna’s arms as if she could erase the last few days.

  Anna winced.

  “Yes? That bad?” She reached out to take off Anna’s coat. She gently lifted Anna’s shirt to look at the bruising on her back and sides. “Yes,” Natasha said. “That bad. Well,” she turned Anna toward the hallway, “Melina asked me to get you ready for the ball. She didn’t tell me how hard my task was going to be. Let’s get you washed and get your hair up in rollers, then we’ll figure out what you can wear without you making wince-faces all night.”

  Anna followed along behind Natasha. “Where is Melina?” she asked, moving into the white marble master bath to sit on the toilet seat. She lifted her knee and reached for her bootlaces.

  “She should be here soon.” Natasha adjusted the temperature of the water in the tub, then pulled the knob to start the shower, sliding the glass door back into place to contain the spray. “She’ll want to know the details of the past few days. It seems you were working with the enemy.” Worry laced her brows.

  “Yes, I think it will profit us well,” Anna replied. She pulled off her socks and kicked her pant legs free from her feet. She stood and dropped her panties and bra into a heap on the floor before climbing into the shower stall.

  Natasha reached down to pick up Anna’s clothes with a look of revulsion. “I can just burn these, yes?”

  “Check the pockets for my prescription, but yes, burn away. I can’t imagine I’d ever want to wear them again.”

  “Three days on a survival hike is enough. You got your wear out of them. There’s shampoo and conditioner on the shelf. Don’t bother trying to shave.” Natasha peered through the shower doors at Anna. “Just look at the size of the blisters on your feet. If it were me, I wouldn’t go.”

  “If it were me, I wouldn’t go either,” Anna said. “It’s Melina who thinks this particular event is important. And apparently, I’m the only one who can do this task. Duty first.”

  “I’m sure she knows best.”

  Anna swiveled toward the movement behind Natasha to find her Zoric handler standing in the doorframe.

  “Hello,” Melina said.

  Natasha hugged the clothes to her chest and scooted around Melina. The door closed with a snick.

  Anna let the hot water run over her shoulders and loosen her tight muscles.

  Melina walked over and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked through the clear glass at Anna. Melina’s gaze travelled up and down Anna’s battered body as Anna poured shampoo onto her palm.

  The room was filling with steam.

  “I’m sorry things worked out the way they did,” she said. After a long moment of scrutiny, she headed back to the door, holding
it wide and letting in the cold air from the hallway. “I’ll make some tea, and we can talk while Natasha works her magic on you.”

  Melina shut the bathroom door behind her, and Anna blew out a long breath. Natasha had kindly warned her that they knew about Finley by mentioning she’d been working with the enemy. Anna would need to be very careful about what and how she revealed her story.

  Anna pushed those thoughts aside. Here, for the first time in days, she was blissfully alone. And here, under the sluicing water, she could let herself cry without anyone knowing. Every muscle in her body, every joint, every bone, every thought in her brain hurt right now.

  * * *

  Natashia clearly tried her best not to add to Anna’s discomfort as she dried Anna’s hair and wrapped the strands into hot rollers. She made tsking and mewling noises as she worked, like a mother who was soothing a fretting infant.

  Anna didn’t mind. A little coddling wasn’t all that bad. A little sympathy.

  Wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, Anna moved into the sitting room and curled onto the couch next to a cup of tea. Melina sat at the other end, mirroring Anna’s body language. A trick used to make people believe they were on the same page. Anna was very curious as to what page Melina was reading from. How much danger she was in. Anna reminded herself of the bigger picture. She needed there to be trust between them, so that Anna could go back to Slovakia and learn about the communications hacking.

  A radio clicked on in the other room. Natasha was making sure they had privacy to talk without being overheard as she considered which ball gown to dress Anna in.

  “English is a funny language. The word ‘you’ is either singular or plural, and one must decide through context. My English is imperfect. I can be clumsy with my American words,” Melina said in Slavic. “Had I been clearer with my instructions, you would not have gone to Johnathan’s house to tell him about the trip to Washington. I have owned up to my mistake with Medved’, and we have reconsidered what to do about you.”

  Anna stilled, frozen like a rabbit under the gaze of the fox.