Beneath the Surface

by Amy McKinley

  “We’ve got a lead on him.”

  “Who?”

  “The pilot.” He grabbed his shoes, slipped them on, then tied them. A wolfish grin stretched across his mouth as he watched her.

  She was dressed in one of his T-shirts, which fell to mid-thigh—a guilty pleasure she indulged in. She hadn’t yet taken the time to get ready because she needed coffee first. With an eye roll, she dropped the blanket she’d taken to sit under while outside then went into the bathroom to change. Her blood pumped in anticipation. Soon, she would come face-to-face again with the pilot.

  It had to be happening in DC. Back in Colombia, Ilya had said he had one more part to play before his cover was blown and that he would return to Russia afterwards. If Ilya was local, they’d ensured he wasn’t able to complete his mission, as he was in custody.

  The moment must be at hand.

  Spurred on by her thoughts, Hannah rushed through her morning routine and emerged from the bathroom to an impatient Jack.

  “Here’s how this is going to play out.” He leveled her with a stone-cold look. “You’re wearing the pin with the camera and mic. I’m going to be close by the entire time.” He pointed at her, his muscles bunching beneath his tight T-shirt. “Do not try anything.”

  With clenched teeth, she counted to five before responding. “Get over yourself.” Should’ve counted longer. “I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t need you to babysit me.”

  His nostrils flared, and his hazel eyes narrowed. “Come again?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Just stop. We’ve been over this. You know I’m invested in this just as much as you are.” For the list. It’ll buy my freedom in more ways than one.

  She closed the distance between them and placed a hand on his arm. The muscles beneath her palm were hard as they always were, but at the moment, they were stone. “What is this really about?”

  “Nothing.” All business, he turned to the computer, where he typed in a few commands before a street map popped up. “The pilot was last seen here.” He pointed to an intersection a few miles away from where they were. “It’s a coffee shop. So far, he hasn’t moved. Let’s get going. You’re going to intercept him.”

  It didn’t take long for them to head out the door.

  With her chin tucked down against the bitter October wind gusting through the alley, Hannah peered beneath her eyelashes. The streets of DC were bustling with busy professionals and tourists. She nibbled her lip in worry over giving in to Jack’s demand that she wear the wire and camera. They were discreet and wouldn’t be detected, but the indignity of it irked her. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Jack’s insistence that she wear them really said he didn’t trust her.

  Maybe he shouldn’t.

  Shoving all the randomness of her thoughts aside, she zeroed in on the intercepted meeting that would soon take place with the pilot, a fellow student of the Russian Academy. Not for the first time, her mind stalled on what his features had looked like as he gave her orders on the plane. There had been something else that was vaguely familiar and sent a flurry of alarms clanging through her head.

  Passing by the coffee shop, she looked in the large storefront window. When she spotted the pilot, she paused to ensure he noticed her. He rose and started for the door. He was only a few feet behind her, and she was sure he would see where she went and would follow.

  As she turned down the alley, she discreetly scanned the area before her and above. It was empty. Dumpsters lined the areas outside of the back doors of the restaurants. Several had trash spilling over, and she stepped carefully around a few scattered cartons and dirty paper products. Even so, she had no doubt Jack was close by.

  A soft shuffle sounded, and she whirled around. The pilot. Blond hair and narrowed blue eyes met her from behind the barrel of a gun that pointed directly at her heart. Forcing herself to relax, she curved her lips into a semblance of a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Where is Ilya? He was to meet me.”

  So he was to meet Ilya, her first contact after the crash in the small town in Colombia. Yeah, that isn’t going to happen. “There were complications with the weapons engineer, and Ilya had to clean up the mess.”

  He nodded, his eyes still narrowed and wary. “And?”

  “After Ilya checked in and reported the disturbance from our hostage’s dead body in the street, he determined it was best he handled any loose ends, as he was unrecognizable, and I was needed as a contact in the Pentagon.”

  A few seconds passed before the pilot’s gun lowered and his features relaxed. “That would make sense. I should have been informed. Did he report the incident to our superiors?”

  “He said he would, but I left immediately. I’m due at the Pentagon this afternoon for debriefing. I understand the access code I gave Ilya to open the briefcase reached who it needed to?” She fished for information, even though they both knew it’d worked. She needed to learn who had the weapon.

  The pilot pursed his lips and gave a small nod. “This changes things only slightly.” Another beat, and he grinned. “It’s good to see you again, sister.”

  The children in the Russian school often referred to one another as brothers and sisters, as they were of the same cause. It made her sick, as did his smirk. Her back stiffened. She couldn’t kill him yet. “What’s the plan? How am I needed?”

  “Ilya was to accompany me to a meeting and replace a personal assistant, but you’ll do in his place, assisting the Secretary of Defense. For the time being, you are needed at the Pentagon. We don’t want any suspicion cast your way. Go in. I’ll contact you when it’s time.”

  With Henry? She clenched her teeth in worry over Henry being in harm’s way. “Who are we targeting to kill?”

  “That isn’t your concern. Another will carry out the task.” The pilot clasped her shoulder, excitement shining in his eyes. “Soon, we will prevail in our task.” He pulled her close, his button-down shirt gapping enough that she caught a glimpse of a silvery, crescent-shaped scar on his chest.

  Numbly, she mimicked his kiss on each cheek then flashed a wide smile to detract from any alarm that may have reflected in her features. Released from his hold, she turned and hurried from the alley, the increased thumping of her heart echoing in her ears like a drum.

  Nausea erupted in her stomach, and tears misted in her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall. She had to hold it together, meet with Jack, then figure out what her next move would be.

  The pilot was someone she knew, and he had something she needed very badly. The crescent-shaped scar confirmed it. He was Sergei, her sister’s boyfriend, and he knew where the list was that held the name of her family’s killer.

  Chapter 24

  Hannah

  Bile climbed Hannah’s throat as she slammed the door to her apartment. She turned and rested her forehead against the cool wood. Jack will be here soon. He wouldn’t be far behind.

  Should’ve asked—no, demanded—that he give me the list. But she hadn’t been in complete control. The risks outweighed the chance of getting the information she needed from the Russian agent.

  She needed time. Going into the Pentagon wasn’t ideal. The debriefing was nothing she couldn’t handle with her training. Lie detectors were a piece of cake, as were brain scans to detect if she was being less than truthful. Hours had been spent grooming her, and the others, teaching them how to pass. What killed her was the constant urge to react. She wanted only to go after Sergei, her sister’s boyfriend and the pilot, and find out where the list was.

  Soon.

  The grinding of a key being inserted and turning the lock vibrated through the wood and gave her warning to step back before the door swung open and bashed her in the head.

  She sucked in air as Jack stepped over the threshold. His broad shoulders filled the doorway. The sight of his chiseled features and ever-present, sexy-as-hell five o’clock shadow sparked a burning need inside her exhausted mind and body.

  G
un raised, Jack’s eyes flared, and he quickly lowered it as she caught and held his gaze. A tremor ran through her body as possibilities and emotions overrode what she knew she should do: stay in character and maintain distance.

  But she couldn’t. Just once, she needed someone else to be there for her, to give her strength to let her guard down. She needed him.

  Jack holstered his gun and swept her into his embrace in two quick strides. “What happened?” His deep voice reverberated through her, and she burrowed into his arms. Concern crackled though his words, and she allowed a few tears to escape in a brief moment of weakness. Responsibility always fell to her—with looking out for her sister, with the promise she made to her, and with giving up her life to serve a cause she never wanted or cared about.

  Jack’s hand cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. His other clamped onto her wrist and pulled her against him.

  She sniffed and rubbed her cheek against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. A chill invaded her body, and she warmed herself from his heat. Pushing out a stuttering breath, she let her lids shield her from the bright light of the apartment and transport her to the memory of Elsa enthusiastically telling her all those years ago about her boyfriend—a boyfriend who knew how to find the answers she sought.

  She was fine working alone. She was used to it. There was nothing she needed help with, although a part of her replayed the times Jack had shown her he cared when they’d dated. Those times looped through her thought process.

  She owed him. She owed herself. “I met my sister’s boyfriend today.”

  His hand froze in its slow, circular caress on her back. “The pilot was her boyfriend?”

  “Yes. His real name is Sergei, not John Mitchell, the American one he assumed while posing as the pilot.”

  Silence stretched between them as he waited for her to talk. With a gentle push against his chest, she created some space and met his gaze so he could see into her soul. “You know I was trained from a young age in a special facility. What you don’t know is my sister and I were taken there after our parents were in a fatal car accident. Elsa and I were with them but miraculously lived. With no other relatives, we became wards of the state. And hours later, property of a Russian training facility for sleeper agents called the Academy.”

  Jack cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing a tear away.

  “We spent years there. It wasn’t all bad, especially since we had each other. As we grew, my sister’s attention from our training strayed.” A smile flittered over her lips. “She always had issues focusing. Boys were her fixation. She barely passed the tests we were given because her attention was always on the latest crush she had her eye on. She was incredibly social, and because of that I think they overlooked some of her less-than-stellar results. The last week she was alive, she told me about a boy, Sergei, who had a crescent scar over his heart and who’d kissed her breathless before telling her about a list he was compiling… One that held countless identities for sleeper agents and the information we most desired, the one who killed our parents.”

  “How would you know someone killed them?”

  “A combat instructor who was assigned specifically to Elsa and me let it slip that our parents’ deaths were no accident. I think he told us to motivate us.” She grunted. I despised him. “He did. I broke his arm.”

  “This list,” Jack persisted. “You know what this means if we find it?”

  “I do.” It was her bargaining chip, her way to work a deal with the gatekeepers of the country.

  Lost in the hazel depths of Jack’s eyes, she realized she wanted to find the list, and it wasn’t only because of her promise to Elsa. On the list, she would find the name of the one who’d destroyed her family. When she found him, even if she had to go through each name one by one, she’d break him.

  “When we get our hands on it—and we will—you realize it may take some time to determine who was responsible for your parents’ deaths.”

  Not just my parents’ deaths. Elsa’s as well. “I understand.” That doesn’t mean I agree. “It’s at least a start, and that’s a helluva lot more than I’ve had to go on.” There’s no way I’m waiting. I’ll find the bastard and make him pay, with or without Jack and his country’s help.

  “What else do you know?”

  “If you’re asking about my family’s killer… nothing. I only know why. A person from the facility wanted to recruit Elsa and me at some point when our parents were still alive. They’d refused. It was a boarding school. We didn’t know it was a school to train sleeper agents. I’m not sure my parents did, either. Either way, the decision was taken from them when we were on our way to a gymnastics competition.” She sucked in another shaky breath. “Sergei knows where the list is.”

  “Then we find Sergei and bring him in for interrogation.” Jack’s eyes hardened, and an angry tic pulsed furiously in his jaw.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Maybe. We need to find out what they have planned and where the weapon is. I think he’s involved in the next phase. Pulling him out could compromise us intercepting it.” She cleared her throat. “He knows something. When I realized exactly who he was, I wanted to ask him about the list, but it wasn’t the time. He is fully immersed in his duties, and it would have shed light onto my betrayal to Russia.”

  Jack slid his hand from the back of her head to brush it along her cheek, pausing at her temple before pushing her hair back. Every time he did that, she melted. “We’ll find where both the weapon and list are. We’ll track the bastard’s every move.”

  He released her then sat at the desk to the left of her bed in the small studio apartment. Jack powered up the laptop then logged into the database as he pressed a button on his phone. He typed in a few codes then stood and maneuvered her to take his seat, the phone still pressed to his ear. “I pulled up the manifest for the flight. Find the name of the pilot and photo. See if his other identity is in there too. We’ll use face recognition and track him through cameras all over the city.”

  A muffled hello could be heard through Jack’s cell.

  “Rich. It’s Jack.” He moved a few steps away from where she sat at the computer. “Hannah remembered something when she met with the pilot today. She knew him. We can’t bring him in yet. We think he is involved in the weapon’s disappearance.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I’m going to put Connor on tracking him. Just keeping you posted.” After another pause, he said goodbye and moved back to her side.

  She tapped the screen. “That’s him.”

  Chapter 25

  Russia

  Hannah—16 years old

  I couldn’t sleep. The pounding of my heart was too loud. We’d been there for five years. Through everything we’d adjusted to, the week that had just ended was worse than any my sister and I had endured. Since Elsa was older, they took her first.

  Most things came easy for me, for us. Most.

  What was next wouldn’t.

  Our superiors said we needed to learn the art of torture. Not how to give it yet, but how to endure it. There were so many times I hated this place. That was one of them.

  What are they doing to my sister? Darkness permeated our room, and the small desk lamp by my bed was the only source of light I’d allowed. Even so, the dark pushed its boundaries, testing the edges of the soft glow. That’s how I felt. Always skating the limitations, trying to obliterate the barriers.

  The door opened. There was no knock.

  I jerked to a sitting position. My gaze ran up and down my sister, looking for injuries, ensuring she was really alive. Her body was limp but conscious as one of our combat instructors helped her inside.

  My mouth fell open. I found myself standing as he got her into bed and turned to leave. He didn’t meet my gaze once. As soon as the door shut, I dropped to my knees in front of her.

  Elsa looked a former shell of herself, haunted like she’d looked when they took her ability to have a child. They took too much from us.

  I
had to take a minute to just look at her before I could speak without crying. The meager light highlighted her drawn, tired features. Her blue eyes were ringed with red. It looked as though she hadn’t slept in the three days she’d been gone. Beneath her eyes looked bruised—not the kind from a strike, but from sheer exhaustion.

  Every now and then, she would flinch or shake. Her lips were cracked and dry.

  “El.” I pulled the covers over her, tucking them under her chin. “What do you need?” I needed to know what they had done, but her care had to come first.

  “Water,” she croaked.

  I rushed to get her some then helped her drink it. As the light winked in and out from my path across it, she shrank.

  “Shut it off. Please.”

  Shit. I rushed to my desk and clicked the button, effectively shrouding us in inky darkness. “Are you okay?”

  My eyes adjusted while she turned onto her back. I pressed the cup to her bottom lip and helped her take another sip. When she pushed the cup away, she sank into her pillow, and her eyes fell to half-mast. “I will be. I need to sleep.”

  I brushed her hair from her forehead and climbed in bed with her, wrapping my arms around her. It didn’t take long until she fell into a deep sleep. I fought it, but it didn’t matter. I was angry. Very angry. I knew what had happened by her reactions. Those bastards had tortured her with light and sleep deprivation. A chill chased along my arms. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that my experience would be very different.

  My stay of execution lasted a day. I used Sunday to my advantage, as it was the one day they let us do our own thing, at least for the most part.

  I took care of my sister. She’d slept from Saturday night straight through until I woke her on Sunday to eat dinner. She had to eat. There was no telling what Monday would bring. I hoped nothing but regular classes for her. I couldn’t hope the same for me.