An Artifact of Death

by J. J. Cagney

  Sam helped the soldiers secure the injured Russians on board while the last Army Ranger ran toward the helicopter. A bullet sliced through his thigh. Cici lunged off her bench, forgetting her bad ankle until her vision clouded and her stomach revolted. Jeannette gripped Cici’s biceps and eased her back to the bench.

  “Don’t try to play hero,” Jeannette snapped. “Sit tight. It’s going to get rough.”

  Sam unslung a rifle she’d never seen him shoot before and took aim across the clearing where a large shadow hunched. Anton bore down on the spot in the Jeep, his newly acquired sunglasses flashing as he drove in front of the helicopter, taking some of the enemy’s fire.

  With practiced ease, he swung his arm out and fired four times.

  The other person didn’t fire back. Anton turned toward Cici and Jeannette, dipped his head. The rotor blades ruffled his hair. Dust kicked up around him as Sam and the soldiers hoisted their injured comrade and the other Russian onto the floor of the chopper. Anton’s sunglasses—the ones Anton had pulled from Otis’s pack earlier that morning—reflected the helicopter.

  Anton raised his hand to Cici, then he blew a kiss.

  Sam stiffened beside her, but Cici didn’t care. Her ankle throbbed and her hip burned, and she was crying big silent tears because she already missed the complex, caring, murderous spy.

  The aircraft lifted into the sky.

  Anton grew fainter and smaller below them before the pilot banked to the left and she lost sight of him.

  “Cee?” Sam asked.

  Cici shook her head. Not now. She couldn’t deal with any more emotion or turmoil now.

  “Let me check your ankle,” Sam yelled.

  Cici waved him away. More than likely it was broken. “Those men need help more,” she shouted back.

  Talking on a moving helicopter proved even more difficult than Cici had expected.

  Sam threw her a disgruntled look but did as she bid. Good. She needed some time to collect herself.

  Seeing Sam there, firing at Russian spies, caused a deep, scary ache to form in her chest. If Cici let it, that black place might swallow her. Such a response was unacceptable. One, Cici didn’t like to cry and she’d already done so over a Jason Bourne-esque hero. Two…well, she wasn’t sure what would happen if she gave in to those emotions roiling through her at the moment. On the plus side, exhaustion crept in to blanket her muscles and her mind.

  Jeannette passed Cici a bottle of water, and Cici sipped at it. She pressed the remaining coolness through the plastic to her sunburned cheek. She almost couldn’t believe she was alive.

  She was also heartsick. Cici hated to think of Anton’s thievery…even if it was from the bad guys. Anton rescued her, saved her life multiple times over the past two days.

  But he also stole from the very people she respected—who’d helped them to the best of their spectral ability. Once again, Cici found the web around her too complex and too difficult to tease apart.

  Sam helped the soldiers tend to their fallen comrade, who gritted his teeth against the pain in his shattered thigh. Cici tried to lean down and grasp his hand, but again, Jeannette stopped her. With nothing else to do, Cici leaned her head back against the side of the helicopter and closed her eyes.

  Her body, deciding it was safe after days of strenuous activity and stress, shut down.

  She woke to blessed silence as the helicopter’s rotors slid to a stop. Well, until the team of medical professionals burst through the hospital’s emergency doors, calling orders and pulling gurneys.

  Sam helped get the injured soldier situated while the other Army special operatives worked with the doctors, orderlies, and nurses to transfer the Russians.

  That left Cici and Jeannette in the helicopter.

  “Seriously?” Jeannette scoffed. She eyed the doors with a diffidence Cici had never seen before. “They didn’t even look at you,” Jeannette said.

  Cici shrugged, her mind muzzy with sleep.

  “Well, that’s lovely behavior. You could have internal injuries or something.”

  Cici made to rise, but Jeannette held up her hand. “I’ll help you out.”

  “Where are we?” Cici asked. Her throat ached, probably from the amount of dust she swallowed as Sam ran with her to the helicopter. She scrubbed a shaking hand over her face.

  “San Juan Regional Medical Center in Farmington. Closest trauma center.”

  “Who has trauma?” Cici asked, standing and hobbling toward the exit. Her ankle was so swollen now, it throbbed against the padded support at the top of her hiking boot.

  “The two Russians and maybe our soldier. The bullets blasted around were large caliber. Hopefully, no one else dies.” Jeannette threw Cici’s arm over her shoulder.

  “How many were dead at the scene? Where you found us,” Cici clarified.

  Jeannette pursed her lips as she leaped out, pulling Cici with her. The impact jarred her bad ankle and her knee, causing Cici’s vision to dim and her chest to seize.

  “Stay with me, Cici,” Jeannette yelled.

  “Yep,” Cici gasped. But it took her a long moment to see more than a pinprick of light from her tunneled vision.

  “One on the ground. We brought in the other two. Your spy-guy took out four, including the guy going after the helo. You got two. And the Army ops guys took out five.”

  Cici nodded, trying to add that to the mental tally she carried. “So many,” she said on a sigh.

  They worked their way toward the doors. No one came out to help. “Bad guys?” Jeannette asked. She shoved her fist against the large silver “Open” button. It swung open in slow increments.

  “Yes. Before that, we’d taken out eleven, I think. Well, not only us. The flash flood got two.”

  Jeannette whistled. “Helluva workforce out there.” She hesitated but looked at Cici. Her light brown eyes were serious. “I forced Sam onto my new task force,” Jeannette said. “That’s what I was trying to talk him into the night you came by his place.”

  Cici nodded, still unhappy to remember Jeannette at Sam’s place the other night. “All right.” Cici gasped out, trying to breathe through the pain.

  “To get technical, I practically begged him to join, he said no, but then you got caught up in this whole thing and he couldn’t join the team fast enough.”

  Jeannette licked her lips, seeming discombobulated. This, from a woman who always had everything together. Take now, for instance. She was dressed in a form-fitting tan camo tee and BDUs that made her look bad-ass chic.

  Cici was filthy, tired and had left most of the top layer of her skin on that Chaco Canyon mesa.

  “He only did it so he was privy to the classified information about you.”

  “Okay,” Cici said, gritting her teeth. Each step caused pain to radiate up her leg. Now, it lanced up through her jaw into her teeth.

  Her ankle was definitely broken this time. Holy crap, it hurt.

  “You need to know I don’t want to get back together with him,” Jeannette said. “I called Evan after I left Sam’s place the other night. He was supposed to tell you since you didn’t look ready to listen to Sam’s explanations.”

  “He did.” Cici panted. “But your and Sam’s love lives…they’re none of my business,” Cici managed to gasp out.

  Jeannette stopped. She turned and gazed at Cici. “Look….whatever’s between the two of you is between you,” Jeannette said. “I never meant to hurt him.” Jeannette met Cici’s gaze, hers filled with regret. “He was a good man to me. He is a good man. I never… I knew he wasn’t serious about me. I never thought his emotions would engage.”

  Cici frowned as she sank into the only waiting wheelchair. She heaved a sigh that Jeannette echoed. Jeannette grabbed the handle grips and pushed Cici forward.

  “But you dated. Were exclusive.”

  “We dated, sure,” Jeannette said. “I think we were exclusive because Sam was lonely and I was more than willing to seduce him. He was a great source.”


  The slight squeak of the tires echoed off the now-silent hallways. Once they arrived at the elevator, Cici leaned forward and pressed the button to the ER. She assumed that was the best place to take care of her injuries.

  Jeannette wheeled them both in, her face haggard, her eyes dulled. Cici wondered what was bothering the other woman.

  “You never realized you could hurt him?” Cici asked, turning back to look at Jeannette.

  Jeannette shook her head. “I never meant to. See, I thought he was safe—could be helpful to me and I wouldn’t cause him any emotional distress because I knew he was already in love with another woman.”

  Cici digested that information but remained unsure with how to feel about it. “What about you?” Cici asked.

  Jeannette turned to her, a small smile twisting across her mouth. “The work I do, the secrecy of it all, means involvement never lasts.”

  Cici wanted to mention Jeannette should talk to Anton—they seemed to share the same beliefs on emotional closeness. From what Cici had seen and heard, this type of secret government work took a large toll on the people involved.

  “For what it’s worth, I deeply regret causing either of you any pain,” Jeannette said, her voice ragged.

  The door dinged open and Jeannette called out over the orderly chaos, “You left an injured woman on the helicopter pad.”

  Multiple people in scrubs swarmed toward Cici. She didn’t see Jeannette again.

  By the time Cici managed to get an X-ray and have an air cast set around her ankle, she was more than ready to leave the hospital. When the nurse wheeled Cici into the curtained-off space—which consisted of a bed and some machines—in the ER, Sam leaped up from the chair by the hospital bed.

  “Jeannette said you couldn’t walk.”

  Cici slid her hands under her calf and raised her wrapped foot. “Busted my ankle.”

  “Bad?” Sam asked, his voice catching.

  “Four to six weeks on crutches,” Cici said with a sigh. “Bone’s broken, but at least I don’t need surgery or pins. A clean fracture, the doctor said. Can we go? I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

  “Cee—”

  “I’m tired, Sam. Like, really. I want to pet my dogs and let Evan and my father know I’m okay.”

  “I called them both,” Sam said. “I got off the phone with your dad about ten minutes ago.”

  Sam didn’t seem motivated to leave the room, let alone wheel her from the building, so Cici hopped up from the wheelchair, wincing at the discomfort shooting up her leg as she shuffled two steps before settling on the bed. “Good. How are they?”

  Sam glowered. “Worried about you. I mean, you go off without a word—”

  “Evan knew—”

  “Get shot at and hunted by some of the worst criminals in the world—”

  “Through no fault of my own!”

  “And end up in the hospital again, just mere weeks after the last time—”

  “Which also wasn’t my fault,” Cici grumbled.

  Sam ran his hands through his short hair, causing it to stand on end. “Point is, Cee…” He trailed off, maybe noticing for the first time the nurse who continued to bustle around Cici, checking her vitals and getting her tucked in.

  Sam edged closer, remnants of fatigue and fear clinging to his eyes and the edges of his mouth. “You scared us.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose!” Cici snapped.

  The nurse turned back, a twinkle in her eye. “Might want to get to the make-up part of this scene. You’re in a curtained area, which means everyone out there can hear you two. And this is juicy.”

  Cici’s cheeks flooded with color, and she dropped her gaze to the white bedsheet, plucking at the edge. “I’d decided not to take the job in Portland,” Cici said. “Once I made up my mind—which was on the way to Chaco, by the way—I planned to tell you.”

  With a soft sigh, Sam settled on the edge of her bed. “It would be a good move for you.”

  “Maybe. But I’m establishing the church in Santa Fe. I like what I’m doing. I like my congregants. And…and….I…” She forced herself to keep her gaze level with Sam’s even though her heart fluttered in her chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “No shame in knowing what makes you happy,” Sam said.

  “I want…”

  Sam cupped her cheek with a gentle hand, tilting her face back up to his.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his voice quiet but his eyes stormy.

  She wanted the ache in her chest each time she thought of her sister to hurt less. She wanted to fix her broken relationship with her father. She wanted Sam to hold her like he had out there on the mesa. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with the entirety of the last few days.

  “Cee? What do you want?”

  “I want Anton to be okay,” Cici muttered, blurting out the first thing that popped into her mind.

  Sam stood from the edge of the bed and muttered something about checking on the rest of the team.

  Slumber blanketed Cici’s exhausted mind, pulling her under and making her unaware of the tears slipping down her cheeks for the second time that day.

  Sam didn’t return to visit her until she held her discharge papers in hand.

  The ride back to Santa Fe dribbled past in a blur. Cici’s body still ached with fatigue and her mind refused to process the fact she’d shot not one, but two men. That wasn’t the worst of her memories. Each time she closed her eyes, Cici saw the man’s gray eyes widening as he looked through that Jeeps’ shattered windshield as he plunged over the rock face.

  Sam informed Cici that the task force team (and probably many others in the alphabet soup of espionage) would discover more information about other countries’ operations.

  Sam glanced over at her so often, Cici had no idea how he kept track of the other vehicles on the road.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, finally breaking the silence and causing Cici to jump. She bit her lip against the moan forming. Her ankle hurt.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Cici shot him a look then shook her head once, hard.

  “You have a lot to process, Cee. The time on the mesa or, you know, when we found you, in the helicopter…”

  Sam sounded uncertain. Cici didn’t want Sam to be uncomfortable. She needed him to be Sam—ready with an answer, prepared to save her life. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the glass.

  “I don’t know how to manage that.”

  “What?”

  She sighed and dropped her gaze to her linked fingers. “Any of it.”

  “Okay,” Sam drew out the word. “Let’s start with the attacks.”

  Cici shuddered. “Rather not.”

  “How about firing the pistol?”

  “Sam?”

  He glanced over, kept his gaze on hers for a long beat, then turned back to face the road.

  “I’m not ready to do this. I think…I think I need therapy. And time. To process.”

  “I’m sure that’s smart,” Sam said. He looked disappointed. “I won’t press the issue. I won’t press you.”

  Cici twisted her fingers in her lap, unable to grasp on the strange threat running through Sam’s words. “Do you think…if she’d been able to fight back…” Cici sighed, unsure how to ask the question weighing on her mind.

  Sam laid his hand over hers, warming her fingers. “Anna Carmen would have fought until her last breath. She would have shot those men to save you.”

  “Was me trying to save Anton...is that self-defense? Why does it still feel bad?”

  Sam clasped her hand more tightly. “Because you’re good.”

  She shook her head in fierce denial. “You seem to have this image of me. A false image. I’m not this paragon of virtue, Sam. Hell, I cuss. I shot people. I…” Her lip trembled, but she forced the words past her lips. “I was so scared.”

  “What about Anton?” Sam asked, his voice biting.


  Cici turned, her brows pulled low. “What about him?”

  “From what Jeannette told me, he latched on to you. Which means he should have kept you safe.”

  “He did,” Cici said, her voice quiet. “He killed a lot of men out there.”

  Sam pulled his hand away from hers and gripped the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to flash white. “Where does he fit in? What department is he from?”

  Cici shrugged. “He never said.”

  “And you never asked?” Sam scoffed. Incredulity dripped from his tone.

  “Of course I asked.” Cici huffed. “He’s part of the CIA. Or NSA. Maybe both or neither.” Cici waved her hand, dismissing the ugly shudder up her spine those acronyms caused. “He was definitely a spy. With the United States government. You heard him tell me that. And, honestly, with your new job, you’ll probably know more about him in a couple of weeks than I ever will.”

  Sam had a new job. Oh, good gracious. He’d have to move. None of the agencies she’d mentioned had presences here. Her heart stuttered as her stomach tightened with the realization that the closest big city for him to work out of was Denver.

  “He got you into trouble,” Sam growled, sounding way too much like Rodolfo when he thought Cici was threatened. And stopping Cici’s tumbling thoughts and rising panic. “And I’m not sure I believe a word from his mouth.”

  “He also saved my life, Sam. One of the men said he’d….They would have raped me.”

  “He had to save your life after he nearly cost you your life.”

  “He’s…he’s a friend, Sam.”

  They’d pulled into Cici’s driveway. Sam hopped out of his SUV and stormed up the steps. Cici opened her mouth to call Sam back, but decided against it.

  Whatever was going on between Sam and her now—nothing positive—needed a chance to cool off.

  She sighed, climbing out of the passenger door gingerly. She winced as her foot brushed the ground. Sam stormed back out of her house—he’d used his key to let himself in and let the dogs out. She grappled with her crutches, finally getting them out of the back seat. She started toward the house, hating how her cut and chafed hands looked on the padded handles.