He refused to believe that his boss from his faux day job had figured out Noah was working for the feds. Those guys were resourceful, but they weren’t that good. Which meant Hector had been watching him all along. Because he suspected Noah was in league with the rogue agents? Or because Hector trusted Noah as much as Noah trusted Hector?
The only way to find out was to give Hector a call, and Noah didn’t see the point.
He was burned, and it was time to go.
They changed buses and were again forced to stand, packed shoulder to shoulder, which prevented him from making further plans with Lillian. Not that he had a lot to work with.
Miles later, they finally reached their destination.
“This is us.” He urged Lillian off at a stop on an empty street.
Only one other person disembarked with them.
“What now?” She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him.
“We get inside. This way. Walk quick.”
He pushed her as fast as she could go, practically jogging.
After abandoning his bunker box following the disaster that had led up to the destruction of Lillian’s former office, he’d had to make do with a less customized setup. As safe houses went, it was one of the best.
The basement rental had two points of entry, no windows, and impressive locks. After he’d pried the old coal chute open and installed a secret stair it was about perfect. The layers of brick and concrete shielded them as much as anything could, and he’d done a little work reinforcing the walls. It wasn’t pretty and it looked like something out of a crazy post-apocalyptic movie, but it kept him safe and his secrets secure.
Once inside he armed the security system and barred the door behind them. Anyone trying to come through that entrance would end up singed with a chunk blown out of their head courtesy of one of his favorite booby-trapping tricks.
He could still smell breakfast on the air.
Lillian peered around. “Is this…where you live?”
“Yeah, it’s not very glamorous.” Noah paused, studying her. He needed to get moving, to arrange details. Before he did that he needed her to be okay. To trust that she wasn’t going to fall apart on him.
She spun slowly, taking in the sofa, the narrow bed, and worktable, his kitchenette and the hall that led to what he liked to call his armory.
“Hey.” Noah took a step toward her, but didn’t touch her.
“Sorry, what?” She shook her head. “My head, I’m going a mile a minute. All the things I need to do.”
“What do you need? What can I do?” He could budget five or ten minutes for her.
“No. I’m good. When I don’t come back Jesse will notify the others. We have security measures in place for this, I just thought—never mind.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “What do you need me to do? What are we doing?”
“Getting you out of town.” Noah gave her a once-over. In those designer shoes and tailored clothes, she stuck out. “We need to disguise you. What size do you wear?”
“Do you keep an assortment of women’s clothes lying around?” Her laugh was brittle.
“No, there’s a laundry room upstairs. I’ll borrow something.”
“Oh. I see.”
“I didn’t know when Donovan wanted to meet that he’d be throwing us out in the cold like this. I wasn’t as prepared as I wanted to be. This has been hard on you. I’m sorry.” Noah crossed to the U-shaped desk and opened a drawer full of disposable cell phones. He’d put labels on some to remember why he’d kept them. Digging in the back he found the one labeled Andy and powered it on.
“I’m going to need a full rundown of everything your team is doing. We’re going to live or die together.”
“I can’t—”
The Andy phone rang the moment it finished booting up, the number showing up as Caller ID Unavailable.
Only one person had the number.
Noah pressed the green button and held the phone up to his ear without saying anything.
“I know you’re there, Noah.” Andy’s voice was deep with no inflection.
Noah blew out a breath. Something was going right. “The watchdog smoke signal you?”
“Jesse called, yes. Are you safe? What about Lillian?”
“Lillian’s with me. We’re safe as we can be. Hector burned me. Set my own marks after my ass.” Noah would love nothing more than to take a piece out of those guys, but he had priorities.
“I’m going to put together some documents, passports for Lillian, and a spending account,” Andy said. “It’ll take time. Can you get to New York?”
“I was thinking of heading south.”
“Go to New York. We’ve got contacts there who can help you get out of the country.”
“Sounds good.”
“Did I understand Donovan right? You’re going with her?”
Noah looked across the room at where Lillian was watching him. Their gazes met.
“Yes,” he said.
He couldn’t say no to this if he wanted to.
…
Monday. Langley, Virginia.
Hector tabbed through the CCTV feeds while sitting in the parking lot of a coffee shop. He didn’t like being on the mirror network while in his office, and there was no explanation for the cameras he had access to.
The SICA tech team had hacked access to many of the cameras around the city. Traffic cams. Banks. Gas stations. The usual suspects. The last image of Noah and the girl he’d been able to catch was when they dumped the bike. From there they’d taken a left and then—nothing. They were out of sight.
Hector saw two options for their escape, either a cab or public transportation.
A cab was unlikely. He couldn’t see any moving through the frames that had exchanged passengers, which meant they’d taken the bus. Public transportation cameras seemed to be the one area where they lacked access.
What buses stopped there, though?
He tabbed to an internet browser and pulled up the schedule. It took him a moment to figure out the stops in the area and narrow it down to two possible lines.
Hector stopped and stared at the screen. He could spend hours following nothing, tracking the bus, staying precious minutes behind them, or he could accept that his attempt to catch Noah unawares had failed. He was in the wind, and it was up to Hector to find Noah and put him down. Hector wouldn’t enjoy this. Noah was a good asset. Losing him would be a blow to everyone, but he’d made his choice. Just like Hector had.
He’d seen the way things were changing, how power wasn’t in the hands of those who ran countries anymore. It was in the hands of those like SICA. Those who had the intel ruled the world. Hector had simply picked the winning side.
Chapter Four
Sunday. Munich, Germany.
Mitch stared at the bathroom door and Irene’s shadow through the crack along the floor.
Every time, he promised himself they wouldn’t do this again. That Irene would slide her arm around his waist and he wouldn’t react. He’d tell her to roll over and go to sleep, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.
He loved her.
He wasn’t sure when or how it had happened. They’d fallen into bed that first time, and he’d realized she was a great thing. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way about him.
It seemed like that was the story of his life. His mother had fallen for then Senator Fowler and he was the product of their affair. Over the years he’d been embraced and shoved aside by his father depending on which way the political wind went. For a very brief time Mitch had thought to follow in his father’s footsteps, but in the end he just couldn’t stomach that world. He’d found a place with the CIA as a handler, working with agents in the field.
He believed in what he was doing, even if the road to get there was rocky. The one unexpected thing was Irene. He’d never expected to fall for her. When he’d been at his lowest she was the steadying presence in his life. He’d grown to respect and care for her aside
from the moments of passion, but those feelings weren’t reciprocated. At least as far as he could tell.
It was clear to him that Irene had been hurt deeply by someone and she wasn’t keen on letting Mitch in. She’d made mention of an ex-husband and child. One was gone, the other had died, leaving her utterly alone and struggling to care for a sick sister. She was the strongest person Mitch knew, and damn it, he wanted her to lean on him. But she wouldn’t.
He rubbed his hand over his chest and willed the ache to stop. He knew how tonight would go.
Any moment now the door would open and she would breeze out, saying something about the recordings they’d listened to earlier. She’d pretend like nothing had happened, that they hadn’t had sex. Again.
Or he could go for a walk. Clear his head.
He wasn’t willing to leave Irene alone for any amount of time, though.
The bathroom door opened and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see how she refused to look at him. Her smell hit him first, a faint lavender fragrance. She wasn’t a woman who liked fancy things, except when it came to hand cream. He’d caught her squeezing the last bits out once, taking her frustration out on the tube from an op gone sideways.
That night he’d gotten online and found a little French shop that sold it. They’d been in Croatia and the detour had been risky, but it was worth it to catch the faint scent on her skin in these moments.
“Your turn,” she mumbled.
Mitch waited for Irene to step into the closet where she’d change clothes in private. Only then did he snatch some clean boxers, sweatpants, and a T-shirt from his bag and stalked into the bathroom.
A couple minutes spent under the icy spray of the shower nozzle had his teeth chattering and his mind so focused on finishing he didn’t care about Irene shutting him out. He didn’t bother drying off—just got dressed, and returned to the room.
Sure enough, Irene sat at the desk, a huge fluffy robe wrapped around her. She’d come back to the apartment two weeks ago with hair shorn shorter than his had ever been. He’d never thought he’d be a fan of short hair, but on her it worked. Tonight her mahogany skin glistened from her quick shower. He liked her best like this, no makeup, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a T-shirt. The rest of the world got the regal warrior woman. Every now and then he was lucky enough to hold her. But even these moments were short-lived.
Irene tapped her pen against the steno pad. She probably hadn’t given him a second thought. Work was her primary focus. Not him. Not what they’d just done.
“What if we leak specific operations? We could avoid painting the picture of a greater threat and aim the journalist approach at a few key things. What do you think?” she asked without glancing up.
Mitch bit his lip and crossed to the bed.
He was the one who was reading too much into things. She’d been clear that what was between them was just about pleasure, nothing serious. He just couldn’t get it through his head.
Focusing on work was what he should do.
Mitch dragged his mind to the topic at hand.
They’d examined this situation with the German journalist around so many times. He was sick of it. They couldn’t expose SICA without unleashing a devastating blow on America. The few allies he and Irene had would be hard pressed to understand how the shadow organization had infiltrated and manipulated things for decades. Exposing arms of the monster would bring up more questions. Maybe their team could shine the light on a few things, but by and large they had to collapse the network and pretend nothing had ever been wrong to begin with.
“Mitch? Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, I hear you.” He tossed his dirty underwear into the pile of laundry.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“I’m fine.” He stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.
“Then why aren’t you speaking to me?”
He chuckled. It was unwise, but he couldn’t help it.
“What’s so funny?” Irene snapped, her voice growing razor sharp.
“You. This.” He sucked down a breath and crammed the pillow under his neck. “Don’t give me the line about the state of our country bullshit. You know what I mean, and I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
He studied her. The lamplight from the desk cast shadows on her dark skin, making her complexion warmer than the icy glare she aimed his way. She’d crossed her arms over her chest and had her ankles crossed in that prim way only women could pull off.
“You’re deflecting. You do it after every time we have sex, like you don’t want to think about it. If I’m that disgusting you could just keep your hands to yourself.”
She slapped the notepad on the desk. “This childish acting out isn’t helping us.”
“Acting out? That’s a new one.”
He was tired of being cooped up, of running, of being alone despite having the one person who’d been there for him during this whole nightmare an arm’s length away and still giving him the cold shoulder. He loved her and she could hardly stand him. “Good night, Irene.”
Mitch rolled to his side and stared at the wall. Eventually she’d have to come back to bed, but this time he wouldn’t reach for her. He wouldn’t comfort her when she woke and tried to check on her sister out of habit, only to remember where they were and what they were doing.
Whoever said spy work was sexy never mentioned this side of things.
…
Monday. Denville, New Jersey.
Lillian sat on the edge of the hotel bed and gripped the comforter.
Outside the sunlight was fading, plunging the rest of her world into darkness and confusion. The afternoon had passed in a blur. One moment she was standing in Noah’s apartment, the next she was here. She’d made lists, sketched plans, focused on the team. Whatever it took to keep herself calm in front of Noah.
Now that she was alone the gravity of her situation was hitting her, and she wasn’t ready for it.
Her aunt had always said that when disaster strikes a lady had sixty seconds to freak out before she had to pull herself together. Lillian was due her minute of panic.
Lillian lifted her hands to her face, blowing out a shuddering breath. She shut her eyes and let the full weight of the day settle on her. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Her eyes stung and she wanted to bury her face in a pillow and cry.
Today impacted not just her, but her family, her company, her friends. Everyone connected to her would feel the ripple effects.
Had she ever truly considered the ramifications?
In her mind this whole job was safe. She was the girl behind the curtain, seated at a desk, removed from the danger. That had been naive. Her idealistic side had created that false sense of security and she’d bought into it all the while knowing the kind of danger her operatives lived in.
She pushed to her feet, her knees wobbling a bit.
Where were the tissues?
Her minute was just about up.
Lillian drew in deep, calming breaths.
The hotel door creaked open. She yelped and whirled toward it, blinking at the sudden light.
“It’s just me,” Noah said.
“Jesus.” She pressed her hand to her chest and closed her eyes.
“Lily? What’s wrong?” Noah flipped on the room lights she’d left off then set the bags on the table.
She grabbed a tissue off the dresser. “Nothing.”
“Hey.” He crossed to her and grasped her by the elbow, but didn’t turn her around.
She took yet another breath then faced him, smile firmly in place. “Totally fine. See?”
“Okay.” He kept studying her.
He wasn’t buying it.
She didn’t want him to see her as weak. Her inexperience in the field was already on full display. But she also needed to work on this whole trusting each other bit.
“Sixty second freak-out.” She folded the barely used tissue in quarters.
; “What’s that?”
“It’s my aunt’s rule. When things get crazy you get sixty seconds to panic, freak out—whatever. And then you’re done. That’s it. Time to move on. Fix it if you can.” She shrugged. God, he must think she was ridiculous.
“That’s a good rule.” Noah smiled. It was that kind smile again, the one that seemed so foreign on his face. The one that made her want to lean against him. “It’s okay to freak out for more than a minute though. I won’t tell anyone. Scout’s honor.”
She sputtered a laugh. That was not what she’d expected him to say. “No, I think I’m good. Worried about Camie and everyone else, but I’m fine.”
“Come here.” He grasped her wrist and tugged her closer to him until he could wrap an arm around her waist and hold her tucked in close to his side. His fingers brushed her cheek. It was a tender gesture and she found herself leaning against him, grateful for his strength and experience.
There was more to Noah than she’d given him credit for. She’d always hoped there was good in him. She was seeing a hint of it now. Some of the real man under it all. And he wasn’t half bad.
He’d dropped everything to save her.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said quietly.
He just smiled and tucked some hair behind her ear. “Want a tissue?”
“Yes, thank you.” She let go of him, feeling steadier than she had in hours.
“Feel better?” Noah’s hand rubbed a soothing circle on her back.
“I do. I’m sure I’ll have a moment or two when I’m not, but I’ll deal.” She sat on the edge of the bed, curling a leg under her.
“I hate to tell you this, but it’s probably not going to get easier. But that’s okay. You’ve got me.” He smiled again and damn if she didn’t find that a little comforting.
“For how long? Do we have a plan yet?” She had to get herself out of this mental rut. Usually she’d go for a jog, but that wasn’t an option.
“I’m here until this thing is done. Hungry?”
“This thing?” She hadn’t missed him avoiding her question about a plan, but she let it go for now.
Traitor Games Page 6
