by Skye Warren
If I were smart, I’d take their advice. I’d back off Carlos and find some smaller fish to fry. But this was my assignment, my career. This was my purpose, and I couldn’t leave it alone any sooner than Carlos could stop being a criminal. We were at cross purposes, he and I. One of us had to lose, and even knowing it would be me, I couldn’t stop trying.
Lance was quiet for the rest of the drive, a thoughtful look on his face. He was young. Around the same age as me, but he felt young. He looked it, too, with angular features almost too big for his face and hair that tended to flop in his eyes by the end of the day. His body was gangly, though strong.
I could see the building blocks of a handsome, well-built man, but he wasn’t fully formed yet. He needed more bulk and he needed more experience—at least, for my tastes. I’d always been attracted to older men. Even knowing it was due to daddy issues didn’t diminish it. The body wants what it wants. And the heart yearns for acceptance, something Lance’s innocence could never really provide.
His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. “Just keep your eyes open.”
My eyebrows rose. “Okay…that sounds like a threat.”
He grimaced slightly. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence you’re on this case.”
First Hennessey, now Lance. I was surrounded by conspiracy theorists. But that didn’t mean they were wrong.
I bit my lip, thinking. “Did Martinez say something about it?”
A pause. “He said you could be sisters. You and Mia, when you were coming back around the house. That you looked alike.”
Jesus. There were a hundred reasons I was on this case. No, there was only one reason.
If only I had someone to confide in. I wanted to spill my darkest secrets without facing condemnation. I needed to lay out all the pieces and have someone talk me through it. I had to believe the jagged pieces fit together, if I knew the proper order.
My thoughts went to Hennessey. Could I trust him? At the very least, I should tell him about this visit to Mia. Then if he didn’t flip out…if we continued talking…no, I couldn’t trust him. That course had been set a long time ago. It hadn’t even been my decision.
When Lance pulled his car to a stop, I got out and murmured a quick goodbye. He waited until I got in my car before leaving the parking garage himself. We were both supposed to head home, along with the rest of the team. Relax, recharge. Be in top shape for the bust tomorrow.
So why was Hennessey’s dark sedan in the space next to mine?
Without thinking too much about my decision, I got out of my car and used my badge to enter the building after hours. The atrium was a large space with sleek glass walls. Etched into the marble floor were the scales of justice, ominous and weighty. Exhausted-looking agents headed for the exit, blindly crossing the scales of justice, trampling them. The building was never really empty, and there was always something going down on one case or another.
I had to pass my cubicle, and Lance’s, on the way. They both sat empty, of course. Unimpressive spaces for the rookies. Really, no part of the building looked glamorous or shiny the way they did in the movies. We were more about budget restrictions and safety protocols.
At least, we had been, until Hennessey had arrived with his high profile case and planned tactical maneuvers. He was the closest I’d ever seen to the romantic ideal of a law enforcement officer, all honor and intelligence. But even though I believed in him, I wondered if there was a dark side. How far would he go to see Carlos behind bars? Would he shoot first and ask questions later? Would I?
The sparse temporary office Hennessey had been using was empty, but the light was on, indicating he hadn’t left for the day. The sound of voices lured me farther down the hall, toward Brody’s office. As I got closer, I could hear the menace underlying both masculine voices. A thread of worry wound its way through my body, touching off a rapid heartbeat. This building saw its share of bravado and male posturing, but this was sharper.
I stood in front of the door. Someone spoke angrily, in a burst I couldn’t comprehend. The other person responded something about a fire, and going down in flames—though whether that was a hypothetical inferno, I didn’t know.
I knocked. The voices quieted.
Brody’s voice. “Come in.”
Pressing inside, I saw Hennessey standing by the window, looking out. Even in the small office, he’d found the place with a view. The tense lines of his body spoke of his frustration. Brody also had a pissed off expression, but then that was pretty much normal. He wore his cynicism like a second skin. I had only ever seen him earnest once before.
“Sorry,” I said, apologizing for the intrusion. Even though I’d done it on purpose. If it was about the case, I had a right to know. And if it was about me…well, I should know that too. “Is there something I can help with?”
“Yes.” Brody nodded. “We’ve received intel that the drop is going to be made tonight. We’re going to have to move quickly to catch them.”
From the side of the office, Hennessey made a hiss of frustration. “And work blind, since we don’t have time to get the snipers in place.”
“We have good men. Sorry,” Brody added to me. “And women.”
Hennessey shook his head, his displeasure evident in the hard set of his face, the metallic fire in his eyes. “If we can even get all of them in. If they answer their cell phones and get their asses into the office in the next hour. If they haven’t been drinking or a hundred other things that could keep them from being alert.”
Brody’s eyes darkened. “I’m sure you’ll adjust the plan accordingly. You are the lead of this operation.”
Hennessey snorted in derision. “Right, which means you override the most important decision. And if I step down, you’ll do it anyway, and the whole thing will be a clusterfuck.”
“It’s your decision,” Brody said placidly.
Hennessey pointed at him. “If we lose an agent, this is on your head.”
“Don’t lose sight of the objective, Hennessey.” Brody’s eyes glittered. “We’re here to nail Carlos to the wall, and how are you going to do that if he comes and goes before you’re even in position? He’s moving now, so you move now.”
Hennessey stared at him coldly, and I held my breath. I half expected him to tell Brody to go fuck himself. At least then he wouldn’t have the professional responsibility of said clusterfuck. But finally he gave a short nod and headed into the hallway.
I stood to follow him, but Brody cleared his throat. My eyebrow rose. An unspoken challenge filled the room as I waited for my boss to speak. As I waited for him to give himself away.
He paused, as if deciding how much to say. “It’s important we move on this guy now. Now, before he goes underground.”
Curiosity pierced my frustration. “Sir?”
Leaning forward, he spoke lower. “What I said before, about the unrest within his organization, it’s getting worse. And fast. They’re either dying or disappearing, like rats running for cover.”
“And you think Laguardia might go underground?”
It was an interesting idea, that he might go someplace we’d never find him. Undercover. He’d never pay for his crimes, but technically, if he stopped committing them, that would at least be an improvement. Still, it wouldn’t reflect well on the Bureau for him to slip away—again. Besides, criminals usually needed to keep committing crimes due to whatever compulsion had led them to start.
Brody’s voice dropped to a murmur. “This isn’t public knowledge yet, but Daniel Fuentes, the guy you interviewed?”
My eyes widened. In my mind, a snapshot flashed of a genial Santa Claus in an orange jumpsuit. The image skipped ahead to the soulless blank stare.
“He’s dead,” I said, already sure. “How?”
“Apparent suicide.”
Apparent. “You doubt the conclusion?”
“He was in his cell, alone. Surveillance shows no one went in or out except for the guard who dis
covered him. And there were no special calls or letters leading up to the event.”
“So it’s a suicide.”
Brody’s expression showed doubt. “The timing is suspicious…your recent visit with Hennessey…the upcoming raid. It’s a hell of a coincidence.”
And Hennessey didn’t believe in coincidence.
Was it possible Laguardia had somehow gotten inside? I didn’t see how. Maybe Fuentes had been so scared that Laguardia would find out that he’d done the deed preemptively. Or maybe he was just fucked up in the head.
What do you remember?
Three little girls in Tijuana.
Brody’s expression hardened. “You understand your role here.”
The question hit its target, right where it hurt the most. I was the rookie. I was the little girl who turned in her father. I was the guy wearing the red shirt in the sci fi show, only serving one purpose and destined to die.
“Understood,” I said tightly.
He nodded. “Dismissed.”
I followed after Hennessey, confused and frustrated. I didn’t even know what to think about Fuentes. I wasn’t sorry he was dead, but if Carlos could reach inside maximum security, we were pretty well fucked.
And the other part, my role. Yeah, that was coming through loud and clear. The rookie. The throwaway. Because I’d never escape my past. Hennessey was still in the hallway when I caught up to him, which meant he must have been waiting for me. He gave me a sideways glance as we continued together.
He muttered under his breath, mimicking Brody’s words. “He’s moving now, so you move now. Is that supposed to be some fucking law enforcement wisdom? As if I don’t have an arrest list a mile longer than he could ever hope for.”
Despite the tension of the moment, I had to crack a smile at the blatant competitiveness. In a way, Hennessey was so high above me, so competent that I idolized him. It helped to see him, at least in this moment, a little petty and a lot human.
He glanced at me, his lips twitching. “What are you laughing at?”
I shook my head, my smile fading. “Is it going to be bad? The bust?”
His sigh gave me the answer. “There’s always a chance that shit goes wrong. Sometimes we lose an agent. It happens.”
Only then did I remember his other rookie partner…who had died.
In the conference room, he began rifling through the papers. We’d need to reevaluate our blind spots without the snipers in place—and we’d have to do it fast.
He spoke without looking up. “Call everyone on the team. And screen them. If someone has taken so much as a Benadryl, they’re out. Everyone comes in clearheaded or not at all. If I have to walk in there by myself, that’s what I’ll do.”
“With me.”
“What?” he asked absently.
“I’ll be there with you.”
When he looked up, his eyes were smoky. Something was there, just behind the mist, but I couldn’t read him. “Right,” he said finally.
I tried to ignore the unease that pooled in my stomach as I left to make the calls. Thankfully, with the time still early evening, most of the team was available to come in immediately. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reach Lance at all. His number went straight to voicemail, as if his phone were off. Frankly, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t play a pivotal role in the original plan, and considering his rookie status, that likely wouldn’t have changed in the rushed new plan.
So what the hell are you doing here? But I didn’t have an answer for that.
It took me most of the hour we had left to organize everyone’s new assignments. The cubicles and conference room, which had been empty, now bustled with agents. Some prepared to work from the office or in the van to help coordinate. The ones going in suited up in bulletproof gear.
I hadn’t donned my gear yet, not wanting the encumbrance before I had to. There was no time to change clothes, so I was stuck in a blue dress shirt beneath my standard suit jacket and skirt. A black T-shirt and black cargo pants were laid out on my bed at home, useless now. I wasn’t sure what to do about that, but I was too busy to worry about it. At one point, literally running to get schematics from one end of the office to the other. It hurt on my two-inch heels, even with the fancy insoles I used. Everyone was running around. All our carefully laid plans were out the window, left only with this. Hennessey had been spot on when he’d predicted this would be a clusterfuck. We hadn’t even left the building and it already was.
I had glimpsed Hennessey throughout the frenetic planning, but he was always talking to someone. Occasionally he barked out orders to me, and I’d scurry off. More his personal assistant than a partner, but I didn’t mind. I believed in what we were doing. I believed in him. If anyone could pull this off, he could.
But when he found me, with only thirty minutes before we had to move out, he looked more pissed off than ever. “I need to speak with you.”
I glanced down at the armful of portable radios I held, ready to be passed out. “Sure. Can I find you in a few minutes?”
“No. Right now.”
Something like dread settled in my stomach. I dumped the equipment on the nearest desk and followed him back to Brody’s office. My dread increased.
Sitting inside was Lance. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Is it true?” Brody asked. “Never mind. I already know it’s true.” He let out a string of profanities a sailor would be proud of.
I stared at Lance in shock. He’d told? I knew I’d have to tell Hennessey eventually, but I’d have broken the news carefully—certainly not right before a huge bust. And going to Brody directly was a dick move. At least Hennessey had asked for a replacement to my face. Lance wouldn’t even meet my eyes. The moment stretched out.
Betrayed.
I’d been betrayed by my friend. While I had betrayed my partner. I’d hurt and been hurt. I couldn’t think of anything to say to fix this. I’m sorry. But I wasn’t. It had been the right thing to do. Even if it hadn’t resulted in any direct information, it was good to cover our bases. And Mia had given me insight into our enemy. So what was the goddamn harm? Except I couldn’t ask that question either.
Hennessey broke the ice, but his words chilled me even further. “She stays in the van.”
Brody nodded, as if it was decided.
I whirled on my so-called partner. “What the hell? She? Why are you talking about me like I’m not here?”
“Fine,” he bit out. “You. You stay in the van. For deliberately going against my orders. For sneaking around—”
I made a dismissive sound, cutting him off. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off further, but he’d already taken away what I most wanted: a real spot on his team. A true position as his partner. But that was never going to happen, and it had nothing to do with Mia Martinez. It was about Hennessey not trusting me. If we’d truly been partners, he wouldn’t have forbidden me to see her in the first place. What would it take to earn his trust? It didn’t matter. I didn’t have it now, when it counted most.
“It was the right thing to talk to her, and you know it. I did it on my own time, so as not to interfere with anything you wanted to do. And regardless, talking to her has nothing to do with my ability to execute this bust with you. I know the plan better than any other agent out there.”
Hennessey’s gray eyes were cool. “Then you’ll be an asset directing from the van.”
Fuck. Fuck. There was no way to win this argument. My first game, and I’d been benched before it started. Worst of all, I’d let Hennessey down. Lance wouldn’t look at me, which was probably a good thing since my glare could cut glass. Only Brody looked pleased. He hadn’t wanted me out there, I realized.
Strange, considering.
Chapter Eight
I had to run to catch up with Hennessey. His long legs carried him faster than I could really walk in my low-heeled pumps, but I didn’t care how I looked to nosy eyes.
“Hennessey. Wait.”
His broad back retr
eated farther down the hall, farther away from me.
“Please, Ian.”
He slowed. He had once called after me the same way. Using my first name like a hook, reeling me in. He stopped and turned to face me, giving me that much at least.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and as I said the words, they became true. They had always been; I’d just refused to acknowledge how shitty I felt—even to myself. Sure, I’d justified my actions under the umbrella of professional duty, but I owed an even deeper allegiance to the man who had given me his trust. Not even Brody, who most likely had his own agenda. Hennessey was the one who had treated me as though I had value, asking for my opinions and really listening. Ian Hennessey, the man behind the commendations.
I lowered my eyes. Not avoidance. Shame. I lowered my voice too. “I’m really sorry I disobeyed you.”
“Disobeyed me?” he snapped. “I’m not the fucking master of you.”
He blew out a breath, his frustration obvious. With a tilt of his head, he led me into the supply closet. The same place we’d spoken before. The place we had kissed. Though it was clear kissing wouldn’t be on the agenda today based on the rigid way he held himself.
“Look,” he continued more evenly, “what happened in there, benching you, it’s not about punishment. I just… I can’t deal with the implications right now, right before an op. Whether I can trust you or if something bigger is going on. I can’t be wondering about that while I’m there or someone will get hurt. We’ll work it out after this. I promise.”
Jesus. Him being reasonable was like salt on the wound. My voice came out small. “We’ll still be partners.”
“Yes. Probably.”
I sucked in a breath. Well, points for honesty, I guess. But damn, my shame increased by the second. “I’m sorry,” I repeated lamely.
He shook his head, his expression softening. “What did she tell you?”
Mia, he meant.
“She said…” I struggled for something useful to share. Even though I appreciated the insight she’d given me, I had to admit it wasn’t directly applicable to an impeding attack. “She said they understood each other,” I continued cautiously. “That he had a darkness inside him, like hers.”
