The Single Lady Spy Series Boxset

by Tara Brown

  His lips quivered, about to scream at me but he didn't. He reached forward, dragging me to him and planting a hard kiss on my lips. We remained there, frozen and not enjoying the kiss, for a moment before he shoved me back and walked from the room. “Stay here. When I have Rachel I’ll call.”

  He strode away, obviously angry, and all I could think was that I’d have to avoid dying by Servario, so Coop wouldn't find out I had disobeyed his orders.

  12

  Midwestern, oh my!

  “Evie!” Jack whispered harshly into my ear, waking me from a dead sleep. I hadn’t meant to nap, but I was fully into it. “You awake?”

  I moaned and rubbed my eyes. “No. Leave me alone.”

  “Saudi Arabia just got bombed, apparently by Yemen, but they say they never did it. And Yemen is known for being fairly upfront about their bombings. They like it when people know it was them. The weird part is the bombs took out major hospitals.”

  I opened my eyes and darted them to his face. “Shit.”

  “Right. This might become a thing. They attacked in Riyadh and only hit hospitals. And the Yemeni are flipping out, making public statements claiming it was not them.”

  “The Organization is going to strike. They are preparing. Holy shit, you were right. I mean Saudi Arabia is a hot target but you nailed that. We have to go. I have flights booked for me and Luce for tonight.”

  Jack’s lips curled. “You’re going to disobey Coop?”

  “Yeah. He’s being insane. He believes I want to see Servario, which I don't. And he seems to be forgetting Servario is on the bad guys’ team and he’s going to try to kill us.” I rubbed my eyes again.

  “Did you try telling him this information?”

  “Yup and he’s still not listening. I think the whole sister thing is stressing him out. Rachel is super weird.” My gaze narrowed. “She’s a spook, for sure.”

  He pulled back. “I said the same thing. I met her a couple of years ago and totally thought she was one of us.”

  Somehow our discussion about this was familiar to me, but I couldn't place it.

  "That is weird. Anyway, I have to catch my flight. Get Luce and tell her to be at the door in fifteen minutes."

  "I booked myself on the flight too," Jack said as he hurried downstairs.

  "Okay." I yawned and strolled to my bedroom.

  We packed our bags and left, not focusing on anything but getting out of Canada and to England.

  We landed in Halifax, the eastern coast of Canada, and caught our direct flight to London, taking the red eye.

  “I can’t believe Coop is being such a douche,” Luce whispered as we buckled in and prepared for takeoff.

  Jack leaned across her. “He’s stressed out over his weird sister being missing.”

  “She’s shifty.”

  “She is,” I said to Luce, surprised everyone else saw what Coop had missed: his sister was shifty. “So what’s the plan?”

  Jack winced. “We didn't really have time to come up with one. We have a safe house no one uses that is essentially forgotten about in London, over in the Portobello Market area. I can guarantee it’s still being watched, at least by video. I brought some of those devices S gave us that are the limited-range EMP that only target transmitting devices and recordings. I will work on the house so we can at least get supplies while you girls ride the train to Oxford and find the girl.”

  Luce shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

  “Hard. If the Organization is seeking her, they may already have her under surveillance. She is running some testing tomorrow on inmates, and they plan on taking her and her research then.”

  Jack’s face turned grave. “And S isn’t on our side this time. He won’t blow his cover to protect any of us.”

  “Nope.” My insides tightened as I gave that a bit of thought and added, “We won’t have Coop either.”

  Our three faces all looked the same.

  Heathrow Airport as a spy was one thing, as a peasant from Canada who had to clear customs was a whole other story. We waited like cattle in the lineup as it progressed slowly, moving us along. We entered customs separately and pretended not to know one another.

  Luce cleared first, taking her bags and leaving the airport. She would wait around the train station for me to catch up, while Jack would head for the safe house so he could make it secure.

  The humidity of the airport was intense, but I imagined outside would be worse.

  A man in front of me turned, giving me a grin. “First time?” He was American.

  “Yes,” I answered before I thought. It wasn't my first time, but I was surprised at how much the airport had changed since I had been here many years before. “You?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I live here now. It’s home.”

  “Lucky you.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but it was nearing midnight, and I had been flying commercially for nearly twenty hours.

  “It’s pretty fantastic. I have a company house in Grosvenor Square and it overlooks the Marble Arch. Lovely neighborhood. Even Hyde Park isn’t seedy for a city park.”

  It was too much information and naming of places. Was he a spook? Was he trying to tell me something? I smiled wide. “I have always wanted to see Grosvenor Square.”

  He reached in and slipped a business card from his trousers. “My name is Orson, if you feel like stopping in for a drink.”

  I took the card and shook his hand, confident he was someone trying to follow me or tell me something. “Janice.” I used the asset’s real name to see if he even flinched at it, but he was as cool as a cucumber. His honey-brown eyes didn't even twitch when he said her name. “Janice? Such an unusual name. You never hear it.”

  “No. Never. It’s plain and has never really been popular.”

  “I had an aunt Janice when I was a boy. I love the name.” He was my age-ish and handsome with dark hair, eyes, and skin, and a thick Midwestern sort of accent. He even had a dimple in his right cheek to go with the rest of his cute appearance.

  “You must get asked a lot about your name.”

  “I do.” He laughed. “I get Orson Welles or Indiana. But it was actually my grandfather’s name. My mother loved her father.”

  We dragged our carry-on bags up as the line got closer to the front.

  “My name is after a famous scientist my mom adored. Some Janice lady who invented things.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “A female scientist and inventor? How forward for the time.”

  I nearly shoved him but realized he was teasing when his eyes sparkled. There was a wholesome charm going on with him. He winked. “Got you.”

  “You did.” I bit my lip, realizing what I was doing and stopped myself before I let it get too far. I was flirting—with the enemy. He was obviously a spy. So obvious it hurt. Regular men didn't flirt with me. They didn't even see me.

  When it was my turn I held up his card and smiled. “See ya around then.”

  “I really hope so, Janice.” He smiled wide and took the wicket to the right as I took the one to the left. I cleared far faster than he did, dragging my bags to the exit so I could get ripped off by a taxi driver.

  The humidity outside was much worse but the driver, a fellow named Amar, was chatty and incredibly well versed in Briticisms considering he hadn't lived in the UK long. He raced through the parking garage of the airport and zipped along the highway, avoiding all the traffic as he made his way downtown to Paddington Station.

  “You here for work then?” he asked and I immediately noted the little bit of accent he was picking up from living in England. He would be full British in no time.

  “Yes. Do you live in London?” I didn't want to discuss my work or my name.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Bath.”

  “I really want to see Bath.”

  “You should go. It’s beautiful. I live in an area just outside the city, a town called Corston. It’s small but quite lovely all the same.”

  I wanted to
smile at the way Englishmen said “lovely,” but I nodded instead. “I will have to take a day and see it.”

  When he dropped me at the station he offered his card. “When you are ready to go back, call me and I will personally come and get you.”

  “Thank you, Amar.”

  He waved and climbed back in the cab. It wasn't a black cab, but he was a great driver.

  When I got to the train station my eyes were burning and my feet ached, but I bought a ticket and sauntered down to my platform, desperate to shut my eyes. In the corner I caught a glimpse of Luce. She was smoking and leaned against a pillar, looking like a badass.

  I boarded the train and headed for first class, excited about the large leather seats and being alone.

  The last train, just after midnight, arrived in Oxford at one thirty in the morning. In British Columbia it was five thirty at night, which meant I had been awake for thirty-two hours. My fluttering eyes and nodding head made it seem like much more than thirty-two hours.

  The worst part was that sleep was so far away. When Janice woke, it would be to my face and not her alarm clock at all. And then we would be on the run. Maybe I could sleep tomorrow.

  I sent a message to my mom using the Kik app. Canada got their Oxford knot. I turned the phone off and got up as the train slowed. The lone man in the first class compartment with me looked bleary eyed as well as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and walked to the door.

  Luce gazed with hostility through the glass door separating the classes.

  When the train stopped, I hopped off and dragged my bag to the taxi stand. Oxford had changed a lot—well, the train station had, since the last time I had been there. Everything in England was getting bigger than before and far more multicultural than I recalled it being. A welcomed change.

  The taxi driver took me to the hotel I had reserved online. In Oxford most of the hotels were older and resembled what Canadians called a bed and breakfast or an inn. They weren’t particularly fancy but they were pricey.

  At least Oxford wasn't huge so the cab ride was quick. When he parked I dragged my small carry-on out of the car and up the steps to the tiny hostel-style inn. An elderly lady met me at the door, clearly already in her pajamas.

  “Good evening, ma’am. Ya must be Miss McAdams?” Her accent was adorable.

  “I am, thank you.”

  “Did ya have a lovely trip in?”

  “Yes.” I handed her my credit card and signed on the page, keeping my head low. “I did. It was a nice flight. Humid here though, eh?” I added the “eh” for flair.

  “Oh, you Canadians and your ‘eh.’” She chuckled and handed me a wide room key. “Just down the hall, third door on the right. Hope ya have a pleasant sleep.” She waved me off.

  “Thank you, you as well. Night.” I smiled and headed for the room, desperate to actually sleep but that wasn't in the cards. No. The cards were all bad.

  I closed the door to the room and walked in the dark to the small table I could hardly make out in the moonlight. I placed my bag down on the table and opened it, lifting out the black pants and shirt and my runners. I changed silently.

  When I was done I pulled out the shaving cream and opened the bottom, sliding out the earpiece and eye cam. I clicked the earpiece on as I pushed it into my ear. “Testing,” I whispered once.

  “Got you,” Jack muttered back.

  Neither of us spoke as I slid the eye cam in, blinking until he whispered again, “And got your camera. You and L are both ready on my end. Start when you can. She’s still awake, a night owl apparently. I have full sat uplink here.”

  “Great.” I tied my hair back, dragged the packets out from inside the shaving cream container, and placed them in my pockets. We didn't have weapons; we had to be them. That wasn't great for me. In fact, none of our plan was great for me.

  It wasn't even a plan—it was a whim.

  Giving myself a once-over in the mirror by the dim moonlight, I nodded so Jack could see me. I grabbed the balaclava and wore it like a Canadian toque.

  “For the record, if we all die, this was a shit plan but I love you both. J, you know to call my kids and my mom if this goes tits up, which it will.”

  “Roger that.”

  I cleared my throat and tried on my new accent, “See you both on the flip side.” My Aussie accent needed work, but it would have to do.

  Without focusing any longer, I turned and opened the window, climbing out onto the railing and sliding down to the back deck. It wasn't much more graceful than jumping into the tree from my burning house, but I was ever so slightly more in control.

  My muscles were back. It had been a hard few months but strong Evie was back, and she was ready to kick some ass and take some numbers. And maybe take a nap and some glucosamine.

  13

  Say it with an Australian accent

  I rushed through the dark, dank alleyway of the old cobblestone street. My mind could have focused on the fact that I was treading where too many great people to count had once been, as Oxford was a historic city, but for a refreshing change I was focused on the mission.

  “Next right, jump onto the roof and pause,” Jack spoke into my ear, giving nothing more than the skimpiest of details.

  Turning, I hurried along the alley and jumped a fence and ran for the small roof of the shed. I leapt onto it and paused on top.

  “There’s a man there. Can you see him? The camera across the road caught him a moment ago.”

  I narrowed my gaze, scanning the area while trying not to be noticed. Smoke from a cigar rose into the air from a corner near a gate. “Yup.” I didn't wait for him to tell me what the plan was; I knew it. I crept on my hands and feet like an animal to the far side of the shed and along the stone wall, something I was finding to be commonplace in Oxford. They were like brick hedges, only older than Methuselah’s goat.

  Where he stood the air reeked of sweet smoke, like a beacon. I dropped down onto the street next to him, startling him. He turned, but I rammed my hand into his throat, crushing his windpipe. He gasped but I pulled his face down into mine, twisting his neck until the crunch stopped us both. I hugged him hard, letting him fall down into the corner. Sliding my hands up and down his body, I stopped when I found the piece. I dragged it from his back and slid it into mine before turning back, jumping and pulling myself back up to the place I was before.

  “Go to the left along the brick wall and wait. Her building is the next one, but I’m getting a few heat signatures with movement. Either lots of night owls or people we don't want there.”

  Pausing, I waited for him to tell me what was next.

  The alley where I hid was dark and the streets around me were only slightly lit from the old light posts up the lonely cobblestone roads.

  The quiet moments spent hiding in the dark were the ones where I doubted myself in all of this. At some point the struggle with being a mom and an agent would have to end, but my guilt made it seem like it might last forever.

  I imagined it would never end because deep down, in the places I didn't want to look at, I loved my job. I loved the exhilaration and the fear. I loved the steep learning curve and the danger. And none of that was acceptable as a mom.

  “Go now,” Jack whispered to me.

  I didn't even need to snap out of my internal debate and shame fest. I just crept forward instinctively, dropping down behind her residence and using the shadows to descend the stairs to the door at the back where the steam came from. It was the laundry for the building, in the gross basement.

  Inside the small humid quarters, the light flickered and the air blanketed me. I tiptoed forward, listening for even a heartbeat. My heart began to race but not in the way it should’ve. Instead, I reveled in the fact I was about to do something insane.

  Old Evie was back and I realized how badly I had missed her as I took the stairs softly. Nothing moved but even if it did, I was ready-ish.

  “Heat signature one floor up.”

  With a sile
nt nod, I pulled the gun, not that I intended to shoot anyone. There was no room for noise or mistakes on this one.

  I made it past the door he was behind, hearing him shift so softly I barely caught it. Halfway up the next set of stairs I paused, smelling something familiar in the air.

  My insides tightened. We were really late and there was more than a chance Servario was already here.

  I ignored the scent and climbed the old stairs to the third floor. The flickering lights and dank smell that had been the strongest in the laundry room lingered in the air. How did people live in places such as these? I would have to bleach every corridor and corner, just to sleep overnight with my kids.

  “Third door on the right. Don't knock, someone is down the hall.” His whispers made the hallway seem smaller and my heart beat faster.

  I swallowed as quietly as I could and continued down to the third door, pausing to give Jack another second to check heat traces in the apartment.

  “Go!”

  I lifted my middle finger and flashed it in front of the camera. I wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been ambushed several times like I had. I was sketchy for a reason. A very good one. I stuffed my gun back in my pants and prepared myself for every outcome.

  Lifting my hand to the knob, I took a deep breath and cracked it, surprised a skittish scientist would leave her front door unlocked.

  The moment I was inside I knew why.

  I stepped in and closed the door before she even lifted her gaze from the basket of laundry she was about to take out the unlocked door. I pulled the paper from my pocket, the one we had agreed on. I hadn’t really agreed, but I’d been outvoted. Her eyes drew up at the same moment her mouth opened to scream. I unfolded the paper, revealing the stupid sentence Jack had written.