Madison grinned at her. “This is why I’m glad you’re on our side.”
Annabelle got to her feet and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m ransackin’ your kitchen, Jamie. Any of y’all want somethin’?”
The chorus of requests was answered with a thumbs up by Annabelle. Kyle watched as she pawed through the cupboards and refrigerator with a familiarity that spoke of a lot of time spent at the condo. No one had been by outside of Alexei since Kyle had effectively moved in, but he wondered if this was the team’s main hangout when not on the clock.
“What happened next?” Trevor asked, giving Kyle an encouraging look.
Kyle had a visceral moment of displacement that he swore only lasted a second. But in that second, he was back in that biolab, fire eating away at the walls as every single cell in his body twisted into something new. The pain was like nothing he’d ever felt before or since—not at the hands of his father, his training for Strike Force, or the myriad of injuries he’d experienced in the field. That it was a precursor to a stunningly quick healing factor didn’t change the fact that it hurt, and not in a good way.
“Kilyusha.”
Kyle blinked, reeling, the room snapping back into focus with a suddenness that made his head throb for a moment. He realized he was holding his breath, trying desperately to block out smoke that didn’t exist, and Alexei was gripping his arm with tight fingers. Kyle unlocked his lungs with a harsh cough, shaking his head, meeting no one’s gaze except Alexei’s.
“Sorry. I’m all right,” Kyle said, rubbing a hand over his face as cold sweat formed over his body. “Just…flashback.”
“Yeah, those suck,” Madison told him, giving him a sympathetic look from her perch on the comfortable leather armchair she’d made a beeline for when she arrived.
Alexei’s mouth tightened, gray eyes narrowing a little. He pulled his hand back, only to take a step forward and grab the metaphorical spotlight while Kyle mentally tried to recover. “My power came quick. I got Kilyusha out. We go to ground, still mission dark. Call in twenty-four hours later and get extraction. Not tell we metahumans but tell Everly is double agent.”
“We told them we were holding the perimeter during the infiltration and extraction attempt,” Kyle continued tiredly. “It was the only way to explain how we were alive. We said we heard what happened over the comms, but that we used the kill switch on ours in the aftermath so we couldn’t be tracked by Everly. That report held for three years until we amended it.”
“So what y’all are sayin’ is the CIA had a double-agent metahuman in their ranks and didn’t bother to warn anyone else once they knew the truth,” Annabelle said. She had two six-packs of beer in hand and a super-sized bag of chips under one arm. She deposited all three items onto the coffee table before taking a beer for herself. “Always knew they were rat bastards.”
“Did Everly try to go back?” Donovan asked. He started passing beers around to those closest to him. Drinking on the clock wasn’t as much of a problem for metahumans, who had fast metabolisms that could swiftly break down the alcohol, but they weren’t going to overdo it. Trevor grabbed the bag of chips and opened it, taking a handful before Madison stole it from him.
“Yeah, right up until we reported in. Then she dropped off the grid completely, something she can do real easily. I’m not even sure the person she was while with the CIA was her real face,” Kyle said.
“And now you think she’s infiltrated the MDF,” Jamie said, catching the beer bottle Donovan tossed him. “Give me your reasons why.”
He wasn’t discounting their story, nor was he outright calling them liars, and it made Kyle relax a little. Jamie would be well within his right to question the mental jumps Kyle was taking, especially without proof, but he wasn’t. Not yet, at least.
“We know a shapeshifter took Baudin’s place coming into the States a few weeks back. She wasn’t on the field when we were in Kansas, so where did she go? Everly has a history of destroying scientific advancement where Splice research is concerned. Three labs were targets of terrorists this time around, but only one lab’s research was far enough along to be an immediate threat to her and whoever she works with.”
“So why didn’t she just infiltrate the CDC? Be easier than trying to go through us,” Trevor said.
“Maybe she tried and didn’t get very far,” Annabelle mused.
“Shapeshifter,” Madison pointed out.
“Whose powers pretty much requires them to absorb someone else’s DNA in order to shift into their form. That requires physical contact. You heard Dr. Patel. She practically lived at the CDC. If they rarely or never left the building, it would be difficult to target them,” Jamie said.
“So what? She waits until the MDF hears chatter about the target and we bring it right to her?”
“We didn’t know about it until we got teleported to the Ukraine,” Katie said. “The MDF probably still wouldn’t know about it, because we’d be dead.”
“If she didn’t go directly to the MDF and went to Atlanta instead, she could have been the one to call in the attack,” Trevor said.
“And once we extracted Dr. Patel and her work, Everly would have had no choice but to follow us north. She had time to get here,” Jamie said with a frown.
Madison turned her attention back to Kyle. “How did you know it was her, even in another body?”
“Everly had this way of tapping her fingers when she was nervous or thinking.” Kyle mimicked the motion with his right hand. “A shapeshifter can change form all they want, but some personal quirks and tics are hard for them to forget, especially the physical ones. She might be a spy, but if Everly only had a few days to decide on who to impersonate, she wouldn’t have had much time to figure out their defining characteristics. She interrupted my meeting this morning with the director, came in as his aide, gave him some grape energy drink—”
“Whoa, whoa, hold up,” Donovan interrupted. “Garza didn’t bring him cherry?”
Kyle shrugged. “No?”
“The Old Man doesn’t drink anything but cherry-flavored Zing! when he goes for an energy drink,” Katie muttered. “Garza knows that. We all know that. Jamie, I’m in.”
“Dig up what you can on Everly,” Jamie told her.
“Excuse you, what I can? How about everything?”
Katie pulled the screen off her laptop and snapped it forward, throwing a holographic display into the air. She placed the screen on the coffee table, sorting through the data windows hovering in the air that contained Special Agent Cora Everly’s personnel file with a single finger. Everly appeared in her official CIA photograph dressed in a severe black suit that made her pale skin stand out starkly against the fabric. Her hair was a dull blonde and pulled back in a bun, brown eyes staring past the camera. Her records seemed to show her as a career agent fluent in three different languages, with most of her mission work done in Europe and Russia.
Kyle stared at the picture of the woman who had irrevocably changed his life and didn’t bother tamping down the desire for murder. If he found her again, whatever form she wore, he would put a bullet through her head.
“Everly said something about her mother being in the hospital for why she was so distracted. The director seemed to believe her. It could be a viable short-term excuse for why Garza isn’t acting like herself,” he said.
“All of you have spare tech here. Pull it out and link into Katie’s research and feeds. I want Garza’s whereabouts for the past week reviewed ASAP. We need to know when Everly took her place,” Jamie said.
“I’ll need your codes to authorize Ceres to give us the surveillance feed from within the MDF,” Katie said.
“You know them. Use them however you like to get us the information we need. I don’t want to bring this to the director’s attention until we have something more concrete than a guess, which means we need solid evidence.”
“And if you not find any?” Alexei asked.
“Then we go without and hope
the director will authorize Katie to telepathically scan Garza.”
“Better make it the entirety of headquarters. No telling who else Everly can impersonate if she’s been there long enough,” Madison suggested.
Katie sighed. “I look forward to the migraine.”
The team split up, most of them heading for the spare bedrooms or Jamie’s office. Jamie caught Kyle’s eye and crooked a finger at him, the silent order unmistakable. Kyle followed after him as Jamie led the way to his master bedroom. Jamie closed the door once inside, hiding them away from everyone else in the condo. The curtains were open, the polarized plas-glass darkened a bit against the summer day. The environmental controls meant the air-conditioning kept the apartment at a comfortable temperature.
“Are you all right?” Jamie asked once they were alone, a worry, a kindness in his eyes that didn’t stem from pity.
Kyle’s usual answer to that question was always fine, whether said to the therapist he intermittently used to see back in Strike Force or to Alexei’s family when they couldn’t help themselves. But the director’s words from earlier ran through his mind, and the way Jamie was looking at him meant a different answer tumbled out of Kyle’s mouth for once.
“Alexei and I spent years not really talking about what happened. We blamed any breakdown on everything else we’d seen and survived,” Kyle admitted.
“Trauma’s a bitch,” Jamie agreed without any judgment.
Kyle sighed, locking his fingers together behind his neck as he leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. “We didn’t say anything about what happened to our superiors at the time because Alexei doesn’t want our family to know we’re metahumans. They came over from a city in the Ukraine on a generational refugee asylum request. They had the wrong kind of experience with metahumans while over there. He’s worried we’ll lose them because of that, because of what we became.”
“I’m sure they’d understand what happened. You’re both alive. That has to count for something.”
Kyle chuckled mirthlessly, letting his arms drop back down to his sides as he met Jamie’s gaze. “They’re good people, but their fear isn’t meaningless. I should know. My dad was part of the Irish Mob. Used to beat the shit out of me growing up back in Boston. I sneaked out one night with Alexei and came back to my house burned down and my family dead in a retaliatory gang attack. Fire seems to be a prevailing theme in my life.”
“Is that what your flashback was about?”
Kyle couldn’t help but reflexively bristle at the question. “I don’t have them often and I’ve never had one in the field.”
The battlefield was reality. He didn’t need his brain to dream up a nightmare if he was already in the middle of living it.
Jamie shook his head, stepping closer. He settled his hands on Kyle’s waist, mindful of the weapons Kyle had strapped to his body. “I would never question your ability in the field, Kyle. You’re not the only one on this team who suffers from flashbacks and nightmares. We all have some form of PTSD, but we’ve also had years of mandatory Psych meetings to help us deal with becoming metahumans. You and Alexei never got that help.”
“We did all right.”
“I know, but you have a support network now. That means you don’t have to carry what brought you here alone. I understand what you lost, Kyle. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about the mission in Tripoli and what I wouldn’t give up to have my Marines back alive. We don’t often get closure in this line of work. If there’s a chance I can give that to you with Everly, then I’ll do my damnedest to make it happen.”
Kyle nodded slowly, looking up into Jamie’s face and expressive eyes, the weariness in his gaze one only a fellow soldier could understand. “You know, for an officer, you’re all right.”
Jamie arched an eyebrow, a smile twitching at his lips. “Just all right?”
Kyle rose up on the balls of his feet, slotting his mouth over Jamie’s for a kiss that was slow and surprisingly sweet. It didn’t go deeper, but the desire was there, and probably always would be, Kyle figured as they finally broke apart. Jamie hit all his buttons and then some, a fact they were both aware of.
“Shut up. You don’t need to ask for compliments,” Kyle said.
Jamie stole another quick kiss before putting some distance between them because they both knew they had a job to do that didn’t include each other and a bed. “I like them coming from you.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, but obediently followed Jamie out of the bedroom. They found the rest of the team spread out in the front area, the plas-glass windows polarized against the midday light, making it easier to see the holographic displays hovering in the air over various tablets and laptops. Katie sat in front of the largest display, having linked her laptop to the flatscreen and projected the security feed onto it.
“Where are we at?” Jamie asked the room at large.
“Running a facial recognition program around the residential skyscraper where Garza’s apartment is located. It’s going to take at least an hour to narrow down any possible suspects,” Katie said.
“What about at the MDF?”
“Working on it,” Donovan replied. “Ceres gave us access to her databanks for the search. She’s running a self-diagnostic test right now to make sure none of her systems have been compromised.”
“Katie? Where do you need me?”
She pointed at a spare laptop without looking up from her work. “The CIA wrote up a large internal report after Everly’s defection. You’ll want to read through it.”
The team buckled down into research mode, performing a task usually assigned to analysts, but this particular information-gathering needed to be contained. It took them hours to distill the vast amount of data into something cohesive, even with Ceres’s help. But all of the hard work culminated in finding Everly’s mistake.
“Watch,” Katie said as she magnified the security feed of the skyscraper’s main entrance. “This delivery man shows up at 2100 with a package and requests Garza’s apartment. He gets buzzed in but never leaves.”
She skipped over hours of security feed, finally stopping when the clock at the bottom ticked closer to 0800. “Then we have Garza leaving the building, but I don’t think it’s her. Look at her walk.”
Katie extracted the feed into a new window, putting it side by side against video taken from the MDF two months ago, when they could be relatively certain Everly wasn’t present. The angle was mostly the same, but the way Garza moved in each one was just different enough to be noticeable.
“She didn’t have time to surveil her target and work out Garza’s mannerisms,” Jamie noted.
“Odds of Garza still being alive?” Madison asked grimly.
“Zero,” Trevor muttered.
“Donovan, Madison, I want you to check out Garza’s apartment. See what you can find,” Jamie said.
Madison grabbed a cookie from the communal pile of snacks and stuffed it into her mouth before giving him a thumbs up. She tossed her code-keys to Donovan and the pair left without a backward glance.
While Jamie spoke with Katie in hushed tones, Kyle planted himself in front of a spare laptop with Everly’s file on it. He didn’t think Jamie would mind if he copied the file onto the nearest unused tablet so he could read it. Once the file transfer was complete, Kyle grabbed a spot on the smaller couch across the room, unsurprised when Alexei sat down beside him not even a minute later.
Kyle let himself slump against his brother with a quiet sigh. Alexei slung an arm over his shoulder and hauled him closer, both of them stretching out their legs. They used to sit like this as kids growing up, streaming shows on the secondhand living room couch that served as Kyle’s bed for the first couple weeks after he moved in until Alexei’s parents bought a bunkbed from a thrift store and squeezed it into Alexei’s room.
He hadn’t really known kindness within the family circle until he met the Dvorkins. Alexei’s parents and younger sisters had treated him as another son and older br
other, drawing him into the fold and offering him love despite the language barrier at the time. Kyle had learned Russian as a kid in order to communicate with his new family and perfected it while in the military. It was still Alexei’s preferred language, even these many years later.
“<>” Alexei said.
“<
Alexei grunted agreement, even if he gave voice to practicality. “<
Kyle gave him a sidelong look. “<
“<
Kyle nodded slowly, letting Alexei scroll to the next page of the report. They read silently, absorbing what the CIA director, other CIA officers, and psychoanalysts had concluded about Everly’s years long betrayal to the agency. Kyle’s and Alexei’s own reports were embedded in the file. They hadn’t been privy to anything beyond what they themselves had signed off on for the higher-ups, no matter how much they’d wanted to know the results of the internal witch hunt and review. The CIA was not their agency, for all they’d been seconded to it dozens of times over. Neither of them were surprised to see that the CIA had laid all the blame on Everly and not on the internal checks and oversight that were supposed to keep out enemy double agents.
“<
Federal agencies were allowed to ask for a telepathic scan if they had evidence of a possible mole. The Mental Privacy Act didn’t apply when treason was in the mix, but the CIA was the last holdout of all the alphabet soup agencies and the military. It still refused to use the domestic safety clause written into the Mental Privacy Act that bypassed a citizen’s rights to their own thoughts. The safety of the country as a whole came before a government worker’s mind when all else was said and done. The political capital spent by the MDF, backed by the military, during that congressional fight decades ago had been enormous, but the results had been desperately needed.
In the Wreckage: (M/M Sci-Fi Military Romance) (Metahuman Files Book 1) Page 25