At Any Cost

by Allie K. Adams

JT flipped her hair back and knotted it again. It was still damp from her shower. She noticed how many times he stole a sideways glance at her as she played with her hair. After several seconds of him staring at her hair, she snapped, "What? What do you have against my hair? Too long? Too dark?"

  Her words were cut off as a large black SUV with tinted windows pulled up and stopped right in front of them.

  * * * *

  Dan hated those rigs. Inconspicuous, my ass. A black Suburban with dark windows and federal plates stuck out like a sore thumb. They might as well paint Federal Agency on the side.

  "Who is that?" JT asked, her fingers still stuck in that tight bun on the back of her head.

  "Our ride."

  He opened the door and offered it to JT. Dan got a face full of ass as she stuck it up when she stepped on the sidebar to climb in. Her footing slipped and if Dan hadn't grabbed her to push her the rest of the way in, she would have fallen back out and landed right on top of him. The idea had him half tempted to let her go. But they did have more pressing matters to focus on.

  Like finding the son-of-a-bitch who set them up. Peck must really be desperate to pull in a rookie with a record number of demerits her first year in.

  "Ouch." JT rubbed at her shin.

  "Can't you do anything without hurting yourself?" Dan climbed in and shut the door. "Evening, Donovan."

  "Evening? Do you have any idea what time it is, Weber?"

  He glanced at his watch. Was it still working? He shook it and brought it up to his ear to listen. Yep. Christ. It was after two in the morning. He and JT had gone from enemies to near lovers in less than twenty-four hours. "I guess it's good morning, then."

  JT brought her foot up on the seat cushion and blew on her shin. Dan could already see a lump forming. Amazing a klutz like JT could hold a gun steady enough to shoot it, let alone hit her target.

  He shifted in the seat to get comfortable. It proved some difficulty since his clothes were still damp and fusing themselves to the wrong parts of his body. And he still smelled like Elliott Bay. Damn, he should have taken a shower when he had the chance. He flipped open his phone and started wiping it down with his shirt. It surprised the hell out him it still worked even after being submerged in the salty water with the rest of him.

  "So, this is JT Turner?" Donovan clicked the electric locks. Dan glanced down at the locks before swinging his gaze up to the rearview mirror. Donovan met his eyes with his own and shrugged, offered a sheepish smile.

  Dan nodded in understanding. He'd forgotten about Donovan's paranoia of driving after dark with the doors unlocked. Ever since those nanobots got into his system, he seemed different. Paranoid. Conspiracy theories. Always nervous. Before he injected them into his leg, he was a good agent. Not great.

  Now? He'd been stuck behind a desk for too long, lost touch with what really went on in the field. He smoked like a factory smokestack. He drank even more than he smoked. It disturbed Dan to see his friend transformed into what he'd become.

  "Ron Donovan, meet JT Turner." He turned to JT. "Donovan is HQ. He heads up NASSD's western region."

  JT pulled her eyes off the door locks to look at Donovan. She casually moved closer to the door. "I remember you from Gahanna. Are you real HQ? Because I've already been in contact with the fake HQ." Her eyes shifted to Dan, assessed him skeptically before scooting closer to the door.

  "Easy, Turner. He's not to blame for what happened." Dan reached over and patted her knee. The look she threw him made him retract his hand before she broke his fingers. Oddly, he felt a reaction to her reaction.

  "It's okay, Weber. She's pissed. Not as pissed as I was when I had to get out of bed to come bail your ass out of this jam. I still haven't received a thank you from the last time."

  "That was one time. I lost my bike."

  "You were too drunk to remember what you did with it," Donovan clarified. "I had to do some creative paperwork to cover for that one, buddy."

  He brought up his forefinger. "Hey. Gessler drove it into the ocean, not me."

  "Ocean?" JT lifted a brow.

  He smiled at the memory. They'd completed their latest mission and decided to celebrate with a bottle of Grey Goose. It was the first day of the longtime-coming break HQ had promised and they'd decided to let loose. Broadway had bet Dan he could ride the motorcycle knee deep into the water and back.

  "I'll show you, Hollywood," he'd boasted to Dan. "You may be the better driver, but I'm definitely the bigger risk taker."

  Dan lost his smile. It was the last time they ever shared a drink together. The very next weekend, he'd buried his best friend.

  No one called him Hollywood anymore. Not after Dan broke Cummings' nose for making the mistake of mentioning a Hollywood without a Broadway. Somehow, with the death of Broadway, their codenames for each other had lost their meaning. Codenames they'd originally given each other as part of their pact to protect LEON at any cost.

  Pete Saunders had a thing for water, so naturally they named him Fish. Aaron Cummings was really into Zen and had an elaborate sand garden taking up most of his studio apartment. They'd dubbed him Sandman. Fred Johnson loved to cook, so he became Doughboy. Bruce Aims could kick anyone's ass in a video game, which gave him the appropriate name of Gameboy. Charlie Cole held the group together as the senior officer, so they gave him the codename of Papabear.

  Dan and Steve were stunt car drivers on movie sets. They'd already been dubbed Hollywood and Broadway, respectively, by the movie scene. The names stuck with them when they were recruited into NASSD.

  That left Jason Peck. He was always the dark one, the angry one. He had a weird fascination with Anakin Skywalker, the star of those Star Wars films. They gave him the codename Darth Vader, and shortened it to simply Vader. He went to the dark side, just like the film character he'd idolized.

  They were all newly assigned to the LEON project and sharing a drink over at Charlie Cole's place when they came up with their code names. Those were the only names they called each other after that. They grew close, like a brotherhood. Op after op, year after year.

  Then Peck disappeared without a trace. He reappeared a year later, the same night Gessler died. The brotherhood died with him. Dan shut down and left the agency. Cole lost his grip on reality.

  He really needed to move on. Hell, it had been two years since Broadway's death. Should he really still be this affected by it?

  When it was his fault, hell yes.

  "What have you got for us, Donovan?" Dan did as he'd always done, buried his feelings and concentrated on something else until the pain settled to a dull throb.

  "First, I want her story." Donovan looked back at them through the rearview mirror. "We have a woman out there killing our agents. Until I'm convinced Turner isn't that woman, we go ahead with the plan."

  "Killing agents? Who?" JT stiffened, her facial features stilling as she riveted her eyes on Dan. "What plan?"

  Dan hadn't a clue what the hell Donovan spouted on about. They never talked about a plan, except to get LEON and Turner's ass back to HQ pronto. That's exactly what he'd done.

  "What plan?" She repeated. Her face paled. He watched as she pushed herself against the door. Oh no. He recognized that deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes. He saw it first in the motor home. She was going to try and make a break for it. If she pushed herself out of a vehicle at fifty miles an hour, she'd do more than rip her wound back open.

  "No, you don't." Dan reached over and pulled her away from the door. She caught him off guard when she connected her sharp elbow on his nose, causing his eyes to tear. "Jesus Fucking Christ!"

  She shot back to the other side of the seat, jiggled the door handle to no avail. "Let me out." She then leaned back and started to kick at the door. "Stop the truck. Let me out!"

  "What the—" Donovan swerved when she kicked the back of the driver's seat.

  "Unlock the doors! Let me out of here!"

  "Turner. Goddamn it!" Dan blinked to clear his eyes and un
buckled in order to grab her. He knew she had the 9mm on her and reached down her pants to retrieve it before she took it out and hijacked another rig.

  She dug her elbow into his groin, grabbed for her pistol. "Screw you. I won't let you take me without a fight, you son-of-a-bitch." They struggled, her size definitely against her. Although she did get in a few more good shots with those pointy bones, Dan got her into a headlock and wrapped his legs around her body so she wouldn't kick Donovan again and end up killing them all.

  She dug her nails into his arm. "Let me go!"

  Dan felt the nails dig in, saw it draw blood. "Not until you calm down. What is your problem?"

  "At the moment? You." JT threw her head back and butted his chin. Dan cussed as his teeth came down on his tongue. But he wouldn't let go. "Let me go," she repeated, with less fight. It came more as a whimper, and Dan relaxed his hold.

  Spinning around, she twisted out of his hold and had her gun out all in one deft move. Dan looked at the gun now pointing at his head, then at her.

  Not bad. For a rookie. How in the hell could he have fallen for that? It was a stupid mistake to ease his hold, a mistake he won't make a second time.

  "Holy shit!" Donovan exclaimed.

  "Stop the truck. Let me out or he dies." JT narrowed her eyes, thinned her lips. Dan wanted to reach out and lower the weapon, but had the feeling if he so much as whistled right now she'd blow a hole in his head. Her hands were steady, her nerves calm. The nerves of an NASSD agent. Of an assassin.

  It was her eyes that gave her away. She was scared shitless. If he didn't already have every look she'd ever given him memorized, he wouldn't have seen it. She wore the same look when she ran for her life back at the hotel. Her eyes were wide and unable to hide the fear shining through them.

  Scared shitless and pointing a loaded pistol at him. Not a good combination. One false move and she'd go off, killing him and probably Donovan.

  "You wouldn't," Donovan goaded her. Goddamn idiot. Of course she would. This was what NASSD had trained her to do. JT cocked the gun in response, which Dan knew she'd to do. It's what he would have done had the roles been reversed.

  Dan kept his eyes on JT. "Donovan, shut up."

  "Do it now!" JT hollered. Her hand shook slightly.

  Dan knew what he had to do. Didn't like it. But had to do it. He shook his head, setting the bait. He even tsked his tongue. "You're letting your emotions show, Rookie. If you want the person to crack, you can't let them see you get upset."

  She furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"

  "You never, ever, raise your voice. Keeping a calm, even tone will yield you better results."

  JT stared at him with a befuddled look on her face.

  Dan continued in a calm, even voice. "Keeping a monotone will give them a false sense of security. They'll lower their guard, giving you the opportunity to strike with minimal resistance. They'll never see it coming."

  "W-Why are you telling me all this? I have a g-gun pointed at you." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Dan cursed himself for what he was about to do. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do, but with her going off half-cocked all the time, he had no choice. He had to get that weapon away from her, had to control her before she killed herself. Or anyone else.

  "Let me show you what I mean." In a flash, he grabbed the gun, had it out of her hand, and had her back in a headlock all before she could take her next breath. He uncocked the gun and tucked it behind him. "You'll notice how I never raised my voice."

  JT grunted. "I noticed that." She struggled, but Dan held tight. He kept her fragile neck between his forearm and bicep, careful to not exude too much pressure. One snap and she'd be dead. Dan kept just enough pressure to cut off her air. The thought of hurting her churned in his gut.

  "Weber," she coughed. "I—I can't—breathe." She pounded him with her fists, elbowed him in the ribs. "Dan," she whimpered. "Please. Don't—do—this."

  He almost let her go. She let out a sound like a sob and Dan felt it shoot straight through to his heart. He could see her eyes fill with tears, felt the wet warmth as one broke free and landed on his forearm. He had to turn away.

  JT collapsed in his arms, passed out from the lack of oxygen to her brain. Dan released his hold, but kept her close to him. He felt the steady beat of her heart, the deep, slow breaths as they filled her lungs. For several seconds he held her, breathed with her. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear.

  "Shit, Weber. Did you kill her?" Donovan asked. Dan shook his head and carefully laid her next to him, positioning her so that her head rested on his thigh.

  "Passed out. Until I know why she keeps going off like that—"

  "Because she's dirty, Weber. Why else would she freak like that? She knew once we got her back to HQ and interrogated her, her story wouldn't wash. As soon as I mentioned wanting her side, she went ballistic."

  Dan looked up at Donovan's eyes through the rearview mirror. But they weren't looking at him. They were focused on Dan's hand. Dan looked down. He hadn't realized he'd been brushing JT's hair away from her face. The other was positioned possessively on her shoulder.

  Donovan lifted his gaze to Dan's. "What are you doing?"

  "Get the lead out, Donovan. Let's get back to HQ before she wakes up. And stop looking at me like that. I'm keeping her close in case she wakes up."

  All in all, it wasn't a lie.

  Chapter 8

  JT blinked awake. Where was she? And why was she on the floor? The beige room was sparsely furnished, its single occupant, aside from JT, a single chair fastened to the floor smack-dab in the middle of the room. A large two-way mirror made up the wall opposite the chair.

  She was back at HQ. JT recognized the interrogation room from her last visit. That visit resulted in her transfer back to Gahanna. HQ had apparently liked the way she took out the tango on her very first assignment, even though it was just another screw up in her ever-growing list of screw-ups.

  She'd wanted to impress NASSD so bad. She couldn't afford a single mistake. So when, in the excitement of it all, she forgot to load her weapon, she'd panicked. The guy was so surprised to see JT running at him, screaming at the top of her lungs and flailing her arms like a madwoman, it gave her the element of surprise she'd needed to wrap the strap of her M16 around his neck and give it a good tug. She's lucky it didn't get her killed.

  See, Weber? I didn't keep my voice calm and even, and I still got the jump on him.

  Of course, that time she didn't wake up on the floor with an awesome headache. Her brain was still in a fog as to how she got here. She tried to retrace her steps. She and Dan were standing in front of Mr. Wong's Restaurant. A vehicle appeared.

  Donovan. HQ. Doors locked. Trap. JT's vision blurred when she jumped to her feet. She staggered back as the room started to spin, the pounding in her head almost bringing her to her knees. She swallowed down the nausea threatening to spill out. "Okay," she told herself, her hand holding her head so her brain didn't explode out the front. Her butt found purchase against the mirrored wall. A dull, drank-too-much-last-night headache throbbed from the base of her neck.

  "Good morning, Agent Turner," a digitized voice sounded throughout the room. It scared the hell out of JT and caused her to jerk her head around. The dull throb jumped up about a thousand points, making her nauseous yet again. "Have a seat."

  JT pushed away from the mirrored wall. They were behind there, watching her. Despite the want to run at the mirror full charge and beat on it until it shattered, just to see the look on that traitor's face, she did as requested. Dan Weber was nothing more to her than one more person to add to her list of agents in NASSD who had screwed her over.

  Damn. How did she let herself get into this? She thought taking the assignment to recover LEON would ensure her future with the agency. Instead, it could very well have ended it. She huffed, stared straight ahead. Straight into what she'd hoped were Weber's deep blue, heartless eyes.

 
; She thought they were past this. Thought she could trust him. But then he'd put his hands around her throat.

  And tried to kill her.

  She hated him. Staring into the mirror, she snarled, "Let's get this over with, you prick."

  "I'll be giving the orders." It didn't sound like Dan, but then again, her brains were pretty scrambled right now. It could have been the Queen of England and JT wouldn't have been able to tell. Not that she really knew what the Queen sounded like.

  Yep. Her brains were definitely mush.

  "When did you acquire the disc?"

  JT paused. Why did he want to go over this again? And why was he hiding behind a mirror? Too chicken to face her? If that was the way he wanted it, then he didn't deserve any explanation. Not until he grew a spine and faced her.

  "I'm waiting, Agent Turner. Details, please."

  He wanted details? Fine. She'd give him every damn detail she could remember. Hell, she might even make up a few. They'd be here until Christmas, but that was his problem. She had nowhere to go and nothing but time. "Two weeks ago I was back at Gahanna. I'd just come back from a jog after cracking a code HQ gave me that morning. Seriously, you should really work on the complexity of your—"

  "Agent Turner," the voice less-than-gently reminded her. "You mean to tell me you cracked it in one day?"

  "Four hours, actually. Do you want to know how long it took me to break into your surveillance system? Or how long it took me to redirect the feed from the women's showers to the picture of Mother Teresa? Shame on you."

  "That was you?"

  "Duh. Dickhead."

  "That tongue isn't helping you. You seem to have a habit of showing severe lack of judgment."

  JT felt the heat hit her cheeks. He didn't seem to have any issues with her tongue when she had it down his throat. Still, he had a point. Damn it. If she wanted to salvage any sort of future with NASSD, she'd better stick to the facts and keep her attitude in check.

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Details, Agent Turner. Tell us about your initial contact to retrieve LEON ."