Left For Dead (The Guarded Secrets Series Book 3)

by Sara Schoen

  We rose from our seats at the same time and turned to leave. An ominous tension hung in the air around us, one that always came with a mission. It weighed heavily on us as we wondered if we would lose someone and the endless possibilities for what could go wrong. Something always went wrong. No mission was ever perfect, and this one would be no exception; only good stories to tell and experience gained even if everything went wrong.

  Chapter 13

  I took a seat across from Rum and Spit Fire at our usual table in the cafeteria, dead center in the crowd so we could people watch. Both of them were halfway through their meals by the time I joined them. Their plates had been scraped clean, the glasses were half empty, and the trash was piled onto the trays for easy clean up. Normally we finished about the same time, but I joined a little later than normal. I had taken the long way around to avoid Renegade, and it had worked, so far, though I knew my luck would run out eventually. It always did.

  I tried to spot him as I looked around the room. It looked oddly similar to the cafeteria I sat in every day at my old high school before I was recruited. There were four lines, the food was served buffet style in long hallways off the main room, with over one hundred agents in line at any given time depending on their schedule. The tables were long and narrow to allow for as many as possible to fit into the space, though a few agents took their food to go to avoid the overly crowded room or to finish up mission reports. Thankfully it was so crowded that Renegade would have a difficult time finding me.

  “Look who finally joined us,” Spit Fire quipped. She flashed a knowing smile before turning back to the last few bites of her food. “What took so long?”

  I contemplated lying, but I knew it was useless with Rum here. She would call me out for the lie, and bother me until I told the truth. “I took the long way around because I went to check on Camo’s mission in the waiting room.”

  Spit Fire leveled her gaze at me, as if sizing up my explanation. She was looking for my facial ticks, the small, uncontrollable twitches to determine if I attempted to trick her. It wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t a lie. I had gone to the waiting room—a large room with rows of chairs where agents would sit before heading out for a mission. It reminded me of an airport seating area with its long rows of connected seats and televisions mounted onto the surrounding walls, except instead of showing the news or a movie, the televisions gave updates on missions going on around the world. I saw Whip Lash’s progress with Raider in Cuba, Camo walk the runway in New York, and Fire Fox giving a brief call to update his progress in Iraq. All seemed to be doing well, no alerts coming through on their updates, which relaxed me slightly.

  I feared for any alerts to come up on those screens. Depending on which one came up, it became a life or death situation and agents were called in to assist before it was too late. The worst case scenario was code named Raging Fire, named after a blast that killed several CIRA agents and trapped others in Germany about four years ago. Those who were trapped were eventually killed due to the intense flames. The last communication CIRA had with them ended with ‘raging fire.’ They were all lost when back-up didn’t arrive in time and the agent’s last words haunted the agency.

  A chill raced up my spine and took hold of me, goose bumps rose on my skin, and the futile attempt to keep warm involved wrapping my arms around myself for comfort. There were four other levels of urgency when it came to alerts, but Raging Fire was the worst. It called for as many people as possible to go in for a recovery mission while praying it became a rescue mission. We went in waves, the first one to contain the mess and provide relief to the agents in need, and the remaining to save the agents before it was too late. The first trip into Sandtown had been called a Raging Fire because there was a chance of losing the entire team. Demon and Whip Lash had escaped and met with a few of the supporting agents, while others attempted to save any team member they could. By that time, they were all clinging to life or dead. They managed to save one who was barely breathing, but died upon transport to a hospital. It had been a hard day for the agency.

  Spit Fire must have accepted my explanation because she went back to her food without another word on the matter. I took a seat and started eating, making sure to scan the room occasionally for Renegade. I knew he wouldn’t let the topic drop after our short exchange in the hallway, but I could put it off for a little longer. I just needed to focus on this mission so I could save Natasha and still somehow make it out alive.

  “You’re overthinking again,” Rum chimed in as she finished the last bite of what looked like Chicken Alfredo. Meanwhile, Spit Fire was chowing down on her third slice of pizza, uninterested in our conversation. “Just go, and take the mission for what it’s worth in the moment. You can’t control everything, and making a plan with our job would only end poorly. As you saw in Mexico,” she added, intently staring at me to make sure I understood.

  “You’re right. I’ll get in and out before Volodya even knows I’m there.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Spit Fire stated as she pushed her empty plate to the side. “After this mission I’m being sent to the director of the FBI for something. I’m needed there as soon as possible, but Sharp Shooter gave this one priority. I want to know that you’ll be fine once I leave. I don’t know what the director needs, but if it gets me away from mafias on the other side of the world, I don’t really care.”

  “What about this side of the world?” I asked curiously, catching on to the hitch in her voice. Spit Fire rarely talked about what brought her to the agency, or why she voluntarily joined missions dealing with mafias and the like, but I had a feeling it had something to do with who she was before. Every time our past lives were brought up she’d walk out of the room, claiming she was only interested in the present. I knew there was something in her past she was hiding, we all had secrets, but she liked to keep hers as close to her chest as possible.

  “I’ll deal with them swiftly,” she stated. “Camden won’t know what hit him when I get back to him.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll follow the trail of information and get rid of anyone in the path.” Her voice was dark, the depth of her emotions coming through in her posture. Her shoulders were tense, her hand gripping the fork with such strength I feared it would cut off circulation if she wasn’t mindful. There was clearly something about cartels that rubbed Spit Fire the wrong way. Maybe one day she’d open up enough to tell me about it. “No one messes with agents’ lives and lives to tell the tale.”

  Rum glanced toward Spit Fire uneasily before taking a deep breath and returning to her center, as she called it. “I’m going with her, but I’ll be leaving before you come back from Russia most likely. When I come back, I expect to hear about your mission and what you need to improve on.”

  My head dipped back slightly as I let out a heavy breath. It was always what needed to be improved on when it came to Rum. There was very little praise, and when there was I relished in it for as long as possible before she criticized my choices. I knew she did it so I could improve, and have a better chance of surviving the next mission, but sometimes I just wanted to hear a ‘good job’ or ‘take the day off to rest.’ They never came.

  “Then I expect to hear if you’ve fixed your problems with Renegade,” she added, ignoring the grimace that absentmindedly swept across my face.

  “There isn’t a problem,” I assured them.

  “That’s not what it looks like,” Spit Fire stated with a smirk. She pointed to my right eye, it must have twitched and given me away. “I’d say there are a lot of problems.”

  “All stemming from a trust issue,” Rum said.

  “This isn’t a therapy session. I don’t need you two to poke and prod at my emotions and ask me how it makes me feel.” I mocked the typical question a therapist asked, making Spit Fire chuckle, but Rum was unaffected as usual. “Renegade isn’t coming with me to Russia, and while we may have a trust issue, it’s well deserved. For now, Demon
is going with me and I know I can trust him. So I’ll deal with Renegade when I get back.”

  Spit Fire turned her head to hide the indifferent eye roll she typically flashed, though when she turned back to face me the mischievous smile on her lips told me I was in trouble. Anything that made Spit Fire’s mischievous side come out wasn’t good for anyone. “Or you can do it right now.” She pointed behind me, and when I turned to figure out what had gotten her attention I saw Renegade looking for me, his head on a swivel as he looked through the throng of agents.

  “I don’t think you can avoid it any longer. I’d just get it over with—it will help you re-center for the mission ahead of you,” Rum said, letting the meditation training seep into her words. She thought it was the answer for everything sometimes, and all it was good for to me was calming down during a high tension situation, which with Renegade would be this conversation if I couldn’t avoid it.

  “I’d rather not.” I turned around to see if there was a chance for me to escape before Renegade saw me, but his eyes locked onto me the moment I turned around. He immediately took a long stride to close the distance between us before I could escape. Looks like Rum was right once again. I turned back to ask them for help, find a way to get away until later, but both Rum and Spit Fire were already gone, their plates picked up and their seats empty. “Some friends, guys.”

  Renegade took the empty seat next to me as the words left my mouth. I wondered if he had seen Rum and Spit Fire leave me here, but there is no way he hadn’t seen it. Then I couldn’t stop thinking that they had worked together, and somehow told Renegade where to find me and they would leave when he got here. It seemed plausible, knowing them. They loved to watch me squirm. I collected my plates and moved to get up from the table, but Renegade grabbed my arm and held me in place.

  “I promise to make this quick,” he said in a low voice. He almost sounded vulnerable in that moment, but I knew better. He never showed a vulnerable side. “I didn’t realize you were so upset over what happened in Mexico and I wanted to apologize. You did nothing wrong on that mission, and your skills are superb from what I’ve seen so far. I shouldn’t have gotten in the way—”

  “Then why did you?” I questioned. “If you know I can do my job, and do it well, then why did you try to take over both jobs? You can’t plan meticulously as a thief. You have to go with what’s handed to you because your plan will fail. I could have made it work when they were alerted to our presence. Why couldn’t you let me do what I was trained to do?”

  “You are also trained to get away when captured,” he stated pointedly. “I thought you could get away easily and we still completed the mission as we were supposed to, but you’re mad at me for trusting your skills and finishing the mission when I did nothing wrong!” His sudden assertion caused the crowd around us to fall silent. They wanted to see a fight, they wanted to know what was going on, and I’m sure a few just wished I would tell Renegade the truth. I had forced them to keep a secret, and eventually it would blow up in my face, but until then I’d know Renegade would have left me behind. I told him when he joined that he had to earn my trust, and so far he had fucked that up.

  I stood up, letting the anger race through me as I fought the urge to slap him. “You left me behind when you were the reason I was caught! I didn’t fall behind, you left me. That’s not how the mission code works. You don’t get to decide when you leave. You leave when I can’t keep up. You could have turned around and saved me, you could have sent out an alert if you needed help, but instead you did nothing. You left me behind, after spending the entire mission taking over my job because you thought I couldn’t handle myself! I don’t care what you say about how you perceive my skills because your actions say otherwise. I got caught because you wanted to do both of our jobs, and then when the shit hit the fan, you left me! That’s what you did wrong!” Without thinking, I plucked the plate I had dumped my leftovers on and dumped it onto his head. The plate fell from my grasp, momentarily covering the look of shock on his face. “I dare you to tell me again you did nothing wrong.” I stood in silence for a moment, waiting for him to say it again so I could slap some sense into him. He never said anything, just glared me down waiting for me to finish. “When you’re ready to apologize for real, I’ll be waiting.”

  I turned to leave, keeping my head up high and a determined stride in my step. I knew the other agents were watching me, so I tried to fight back the tears. I hadn’t meant to rehash what we had already discussed, but I couldn’t handle him saying he did nothing wrong. I’d listen when he was ready to admit he had made a mistake, but not a minute before. I swore to myself that I was not getting left behind ever again as I pushed the double doors open and rushed toward my room as the tears began to fall. Why did this have to be so hard? I missed when all I cared about was the missions, not about another agent outside of the usual protective manner. I hoped once I finished in Russia we could talk for real, otherwise I’d be demanding a change in assignment from Sharp Shooter. I needed someone I could trust.

  Chapter 14

  I leaned back against the seat I had chosen for the plane ride back to Russia. There weren’t many to choose from on the small aircraft, and after a few hours of sitting none of them were comfortable. No matter what I did, I couldn’t relax, but maybe that was because Maverick decided to jerk the plane every once in a while and forced me out of my seat slightly in the process. He claimed it was due to turbulence, but I think he missed racing jets or something faster with his friends in the Air Force. I had gotten to know Maverick pretty well in the fourteen hours we had been in the air. Normally he would ignore my presence because he’d be talking with one of the male agents that typically came with me. He seemed to be more relaxed around them, most likely because they understood his interest in plane mechanics and need for speed better than I did. It didn’t mean I couldn’t be friendly, but Demon typically spent time with Maverick. He was preoccupied, however. His attention remained on Katya, and rarely wavered from her.

  I had been avoiding them as long as I could, even took a page out of Spit Fire’s book and took a nap. With a glance behind me, I could see she was still knocked out despite Maverick’s turbulence and Demon and Katya’s conversation nearby. Demon sat next to her, attempting to speak Russian, but when I heard her respond in English I knew she had grown tired of him ruining her language. I had been avoiding speaking to them. I still hated bringing Katya back to Russia with us. It showed poor judgment on Sharp Shooter’s part because it was an unneeded risk. At least Sharp Shooter refused to let Renegade come with us. It was something.

  It didn’t mean I had to like taking Katya back though. While I knew I would need Katya’s help if her sister, Natasha, was truly brainwashed, I could have had Katya write a note, convince her sister, because there’s no chance I’d let her come with me. I would find some way to leave her safely behind with Demon. There’s no way I would bring her with me only to get captured and killed. I didn’t know the area, which meant I didn’t know where the hiding spots or cameras were, and most importantly I couldn’t trust that Katya wouldn’t be captured upon arrival. Sharp Shooter trusted me enough to let me take lead. I wouldn’t ruin it by letting Katya and her sister end up dead. Though after seeing Katya’s determination to come with us in the first place, knowing the risk she would put herself in, I knew she’d want to join me. I’d find some way to convince her to stay put, I just needed to think a little longer.

  My gaze drifted to Demon, whose focus had changed to watching Katya as she stared out the window. I guess they had given up talking. She looked nervous. Her shoulders were shaking lightly as if she were crying, her face appeared ashen and drained of color. She had her hands over her stomach like she was about to be sick. Coming back home must have been harder for her than I anticipated. She had made her choice, now she’d have to live with it. Maybe she’d go back to CIRA with Maverick if she couldn’t handle facing her father again, but I doubted it. She seemed determined as hell to get he
r sister back.

  “Natasha’s going to be fine,” Demon comforted. I saw her pull away from him slightly, clear disbelief in her eyes. Her father had killed her mother, and tried to kill her. Why would Volodya spare Natasha? He needed her as a bargaining chip for now. He most likely knew Katya would risk her life, and others’ lives, to save Natasha. It was better for now to keep her alive, but if we failed, they’d both be dead. “We’ll save her, and you’ll both get out of here safely.”

  “You can try,” Katya replied, gazing out the window, lost in her thoughts.

  “You would be surprised at what we’ve gotten ourselves into—before and after the agency. We’ve managed to get out of most of them relatively uninjured.” The light playful tone in Demon’s words brought a smile to my face. I could think of a few instances he could be referring to, most of which involved me for one reason or another for my recklessness, but they were fond memories. Even when my brother, Alex, and I borrowed Whip Lash’s car. We didn’t go very far, on account of the panic attacks I experienced in cars after my family’s accident, but we had a great time up until Alex let me drive. I hadn’t driven since the accident and managed to run into a streetlight pole. Suddenly the fun of sneaking out of school and seeing movies didn’t make up for the damage I had done to Whip Lash’s car.