Subtle Target: Six Assassins Book 2

by Heskett, Jim

  She sipped from her water bottle as she checked the step count on her watch. “Which way do you want to go? There are four or five trails we could dive into from here.”

  He shrugged. “No idea. You’re leading this expedition. I’ve done a decent amount of hiking up in Poudre Canyon, but this is my first time on Boulder trails.”

  “Okay, how about this: how much time do you have?”

  "I'm supposed to be at work at four. So I can't do anything more than a couple of miles right now."

  "Got it," she said. "Let's hit Royal Arch. It's short, but it’s also brutal. A quick hike so we can be back to the cars in plenty of time. You up for that?"

  He had a similar level of sweat around the collar of his shirt, and his chest was also pumping up and down, but he nodded and waved a hand for her to lead the way. He was maybe even cuter in his current, sweaty incarnation.

  She found young Zach Bennett impressive. He was funny, charming, and quick-witted, although he did stumble over his words from time to time. It only made him more endearing. When Ember had deliberately ambushed him in front of the doughnut place last week, she'd had no intention of pursuing a romantic tryst with Zach. She had been looking out for him because of a promise she'd made to his older brother, Harvey. But every conversation, every text, every interaction brought him closer to the center of her mind and sealed his place within it. It caused a war in her brain, but it was also a welcome distraction from the other garbage currently going on in her life.

  “How is work?” she asked as they embarked up the rocky trail. She shucked sweat off her brow and winced when her hand touched the injury there. So far, at least, Zach hadn’t said anything about the cut on her forehead.

  “Work’s fine, I guess. I did find a really weird thing yesterday.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The company I work for is called Firedrake. Have you ever heard of them?”

  She shook her head, and she shoved her water bottle into the waistband of her stretchy pants. "I don't think so."

  “No reason you would have, actually. It’s a biochem thing. I think it’s part of a bigger company named Draconis. Or, Draconis is one of the companies in a portfolio or something. Firedrake, Draconis, Drache Global, and others. I don’t know how they all fit, and I can’t seem to find out, because I did some research on them, and it was all a big loop that led me nowhere. And, what’s weirder, I got kicked out of the library when I tried to dig around.”

  “They kicked you out?”

  “The security guard accused me of looking up porn.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a fact?”

  He paused under the shade of a tree, panting, and put his hands on his hips. “Come on, Ember. I have a laptop. Why would I bother to look up porn at the library?”

  “I don’t know, maybe you get off on the idea of being caught.” When he frowned at her, she gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. “Just messing with you. But why did you go to the library to look up this Draconis company?”

  “Because I think they don’t want people looking into them, so I didn’t want to leave a trail on my phone or my computer at home.”

  Ember could have told Zach that Gabe probably knew a way for him to conduct internet research without leaving any tracks, but she didn’t want to explain why she had another male friend barely into his twenties. Instead, all she said was, “That’s smart.”

  “Turns out I was right. I was only there fifteen minutes before they found out and asked me to leave.”

  “What started all this?”

  “The guy I work for is named Thomas. Thomas Milligan. He has a driver—some Eurotrash guy named Helmut—who is always with him.”

  “Helmut?”

  “Yeah, Helmut. Sounds like he should be a synth player in an ‘80s band, right?”

  She chuckled. “Nice. That’s a good one.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, Thomas calls him a driver, but he acts like a bodyguard. He brings a gun to the lab.”

  Ember nodded with a solemn look. She had to pretend she didn't know any of this since she hadn't told Zach the truth yet about their seemingly chance involvement in each others' lives. She had kept up the ruse so far, but as someone who had spent big chunks of her adult life pretending she was someone completely different, she knew the cards would eventually find their way to the table.

  It always did, no matter what. The trick was in holding them close to your chest while you won the game. She hated lying to him, but it was for his own protection.

  “Okay, yeah, gotta admit that’s strange,” she said. “But maybe Thomas is just the paranoid type.”

  “Maybe.”

  Up ahead after the next dog-leg bend, Ember spotted yellow tape between two trees, blocking off the trail. She came to a stop when she could read a note pinned to the police tape.

  TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE DUE TO BEAR ACTIVITY IN THE AREA

  WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE

  They both stopped and took a break to glug water and catch their breath.

  "That's a bummer," she said. "This is such a great trail. I don't know what all the fuss is about. I've never actually seen a bear in Colorado. I've heard all you have to do is pick up a rock and chuck it, and they usually run away." When she turned around to face him, he'd gone cold. "You okay?"

  "Yeah." He nodded, then took a couple of steps to the right to sit on a tree stump off the side of the trail. "I've never seen a bear here, either. But I have seen them."

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  He stared at the trail, his head down. “I haven’t told you about my dad, have I?”

  “No.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth, either.

  “A bear is the reason why my dad’s dead and my big brother and I don’t talk anymore. I was about nine. We were camping. A mama and a cub attacked us. My brother, Harvey, shot and killed them. But my dad died later in the hospital.”

  Ember knew all this too, of course. She hadn’t realized it would affect him, seeing a bear closure sign. But she knew full well how anything could bring back the raw emotion of a family death.

  Ember knelt next to him and took his hands inside hers. Pressing them, feeling his warmth. “About ten years ago, my little brother died in a stupid and pointless drive-by. We lived close to San Diego. Some idiot gang bangers were rolling by, and they thought he was this other kid who had stolen something from them. They cut him down in the street and then drove off without even bothering to stop and check if they’d killed the right person.”

  This broke Zach’s paralysis. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “That’s... awful. I’m so sorry.”

  She was ready to respond with the usual. Thanks, yeah, it was tough. I appreciate it. Trying to move forward one day at a time, but something came over Ember. The complete sense of sincerity in his eyes, the genuine sympathy he exuded at the moment, all hit her like a baseball bat to the head. She leaned forward and kissed him.

  For a brief second, she thought Zach would pull back, but after that blip of hesitation, he kissed harder. His hand went around the back of her head, and his fingers threaded into her hair. The kiss lasted for ten or fifteen seconds until Ember started to feel herself warming in places that could lead to impulsive decisions. So, she leaned back.

  “I didn’t expect that,” he said.

  “It was nice.”

  “Do you bring all the boys up here to make out with them?”

  She shrugged. “Trail’s closed. What else are we going to do?”

  He laughed and gave her another quick kiss before he stood and wiped bits of trail detritus off his pants.

  She wanted to kiss him again and press her body into his, to feel his muscles, and to put her hands in his back pockets and give his butt a squeeze. But she knew it was a bad idea. Doing that would put her on the irrevocable path to inviting him back to her place, and that wasn't an option.

  “Do you know the phrase, ‘robbing the cradle’?” she asked
.

  “I’m not that much younger than you. You act like an old spinster, but I know better.”

  “That’s just because I left my cane and my oxygen tank in the car before I met up with you.”

  “I can see you carrying around a cane just to hit people with it,” he said. “But we should probably go. This has been fun, but I do need to get back home.”

  So she took his hand and threaded her fingers through his as they turned around and made their way back down the trail. That giddy puppy love feeling coursed through her, which was naughty, in a way. It felt like both a surprise and a secret.

  There were real secrets, too. Not the least of which was how upset Zach would be if he found out the real reason she had stumbled into his life to begin with. That she knew his older brother, knew all about the bear attack, and had agreed to look out for Zach as a favor to Harvey Bennett.

  Some day, she would have to tell Zach everything. But not today.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ISABEL

  Isabel Yang knocked on the door to Marcus' office. His secretary wasn't there in the room outside, so maybe she was out for a late lunch. Either way, Isabel had another meeting in thirty minutes, and it couldn't wait. She'd put off talking to Marcus for too long. Plus, she was tired of chasing her boss around DC to get a word with him.

  “It’s open,” Marcus said from the other side of the door.

  She pushed through to find him walking on a treadmill facing the window, with his dress shirt and tie off. Sweat made his undershirt cling to him. He held his arms out at the sides, with flexed hands. He was still wearing his regular black slacks, with white tennis shoes squeaking along the belt.

  He craned his neck around and waved her over. Short of breath, he said, “You gotta come around this side to talk. I can’t stop for another three minutes.”

  Isabel rounded the treadmill and stopped in front of it. She stood with feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped over her waist. She hadn’t intended to do this, but it had become a habit. “Afternoon.”

  “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  “Sir?”

  “I figured you’d be in Denver by now, chasing after your lost cause. Trying to put the lotion back in the bottle.”

  Isabel took a few deep breaths before speaking. She’d rehearsed this conversation many times today, but now, it all fell apart in her mind. If she could only remember the first word, the rest would fall into place. But, she couldn’t force it to the front of her brain.

  Instead, he spoke first. “Yesterday, coming to meet me at the basketball court? That rattled you, didn’t it?”

  “A little, sir. You know my history.”

  "Agent Yang, if you want to break out or move up, you're going to have to grow. You're going to have to eat shit and poop results, as one of my instructors used to tell me. Because, if you think the FBI works like a fast-food restaurant, you're sorely mistaken."

  She felt herself growing annoyed, wanting to lash out with a sarcastic comment. “And how does a fast food restaurant work?”

  "You do your job cleaning the dishes or mopping the floors; then, when the guy on the fryer gets fired or promoted, you take his better job because you've been around longer than the other pimply-faced kid on dish duty. You put in your dues, and you get rewarded. The FBI does not view seniority the way you think it does. No one around here ever got a cherry assignment by keeping their heads down and doing exactly what the job description entailed."

  Isabel cleared her throat. “And how does taking a meeting at a basketball court help me grow? By making me do my job while I’m uncomfortable?”

  “In a way. No one wants to hear complaints. I once assisted a strike team while I had the flu. Do you think if I’d moaned about my queasy stomach or my headache, I would have been allowed to sit in the car while the action was going down? Hell no. I put on my tac vest and shoved extra mags in my pockets and did my damn job.”

  “That’s incredibly inspiring, sir.”

  Marcus laughed at her sarcasm. “You’ve got a passive-aggressive streak in you, Isabel Yang. It’s nice to see it come out from time to time. It lets me know there’s some fire in that little yellow belly.”

  She didn’t have the mental energy to decode that comment to see if it was racist, or sexist, or merely mean. Instead, she gritted her teeth and took a step closer to him. “I wondered if you would reconsider your ultimatum. I was thinking of visiting our rogue agent’s parents in California. That will take more time.”

  He jabbed a button on the treadmill a few times to lower the speed. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because, sir, there’s almost nothing substantial about Allison Campbell in her files. And even less about her undercover identity Ember Clarke. How am I supposed to build a profile when everything is redacted or simply missing?”

  He gave her the look a patient pet owner gives a dog who has peed on the carpet yet again. Not angry, but disappointed. “You’re making this way too complicated. This is an A leads to B leads to C situation, not a Venn diagram.”

  “Maybe so, but I want to do my job. If there’s a chance we can bring her back into the fold, I feel like I owe it to her and everyone else to make it work.”

  “Not ready to give up on our girl, are you?”

  “No sir, I am not.”

  He jabbed the down button again until the treadmill had slowed to a crawl. He stripped off his shirt, revealing a sculpted body underneath, glistening with sweat. She looked away, even though she knew Marcus had done this deliberately to mess with her.

  He hopped off the treadmill, picked up a folded undershirt from his desk, and slid it on. Next, he swabbed a few rolls from a deodorant stick as he eyed Isabel. “You really do have your panties in a bunch over this. You’re worse than my ex-wife.”

  She bit her lip and resisted the urge to lash out at this comment. It was nowhere near the worst thing he’d said to her, but it still didn’t feel good.

  “Tell you what, Isabel. You want to go visit her parents and find out if she was spanked as a child or whatever? Be my guest. I want a full report when you come back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t think I’m giving you carte blanche here. Your clock is ticking while you run off to play profiler.”

  Isabel had a clear idea of what Marcus thought about profiling. But, she had to shrug that off as well. Opinions were less important than opportunities.

  Marcus checked his watch. “Hang out here for a minute, would you? I’ve got to catch George before he leaves for the day.”

  "I can't, sir. I have a meeting about the—"

  Marcus held up a hand. “Please, wait here. I’ll be back in ten. It’s no big deal.”

  Before she could get in another word, he buttoned up his shirt on his way out the door. It slammed shut behind him, and the treadmill gave an unexplained beep.

  She let out a groan as she ran her hands through her hair. She wanted to hop on the treadmill and hike it up to sprinting speed to burn off some tension, but she couldn’t afford to be sweaty for her next meeting. Marcus Lonsdale could grab someone in the hall for an impromptu chat while he was flushed and smelly. If Isabel tried the same thing, they would roast her behind her back. Maybe even to her face.

  The rules were different for women. She knew this. She had seen it proven again and again.

  So, instead, she paced around his office, and then her eyes landed on his desk. He always kept it locked up tight, but today, for some reason, the bottom drawer was open. A collection of file folders sat in a metal cage, with colored tabs sticking up.

  His private employee files. Isabel had seen Marcus guard the key to this drawer like his own child.

  All good sense and reason told Isabel she needed to stay away from that drawer. That nothing good would come from her snooping on performance reviews and disciplinary records. That being caught hovering near it if someone walked in here could end her career.

  Still, she fo
und herself walking over toward it. Her body sank down into the chair, and she squinted over Marcus's file folders. She scanned through names on the tabs, many of which she didn't recognize.

  Her eyes landed on Campbell, Allison.

  Isabel plucked the folder from the drawer and opened it. She surveyed through quick notes about Allison’s time at the FBI Academy, including instructor reviews and behavioral assessments. There were only a handful of notes, not nearly as many as there should have been. A few documents related to her going undercover in Denver as Ember Clarke, but most of that was heavily redacted, just as the official records were.

  But one piece of paper, in particular, caught Isabel's attention. A disciplinary report with two names listed as participants in a serious infraction: Allison Campbell and Marcus Lonsdale.

  But, the rest of it was so full of concealing black bars, Isabel couldn’t glean anything useful from it. Not what they did to land themselves in trouble, or the outcome, or any details about what else had transpired.

  What had Ember and Marcus done?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  EMBER

  Ember could still smell Zach on her clothes when she got home. From that brief moment they had kissed, his shirt pressed against hers, and she now could smell him near her collar.

  “This is how all bad ideas start,” she said to her living room as she dropped her keys on the stand next to her front door. Her phone buzzed, and she lifted it to see a new text from the one and only Zachary Bennett.

  Zach: so I wasn’t chewing gum before, but now I have some in my mouth. Did you pass this to me?

  Ember: Gross. I haven’t swapped gum with a boy in at least fifteen years.

  Zach: you’ve been chewing the same piece of gum for fifteen years? Now THAT is gross.