by Kaylea Cross
Interesting. After wrapping it around her body, she called the explosives expert Valkyrie back, her pulse quickening. For Chloe to call this early, it must mean something important had happened.
“Hey, you’re up early,” Chloe said, sounding like she’d been awake for hours. Or maybe she’d never gone to bed at all last night. You never knew with Chloe, who was addicted to caffeine and junk food. “Where are you?”
“I was just getting my laps in,” she answered, watching Marcus. It wasn’t a hardship. At forty-four the man was in his prime with a solid, muscular build he worked hard to maintain. “Something up?”
“Yeah. I just got another message from my former contact on the Dubois trafficking thing. Amber’s traced its origin to somewhere in the Ukraine.”
Amber was their resident hacker. She could do things with electronics and code that would scare the shit out of intelligence agencies all over the world had they known, but these days, she was using her skills for good—to help find the missing Valkyries and give them all a secure future. Before they all went their separate ways, however, they were going to go after the people behind the Program to mete out their own particular brand of Valkyrie justice. It was the only way for her and the others to truly move on and be safe.
“You think it might be Eden,” Kiyomi said.
“Maybe. But there’s more.”
Chloe’s uncharacteristically grave tone gave Kiyomi pause. “Tell me.”
“Rycroft called a few minutes ago.” Alex Rycroft, former NSA superstar and now “retired”, was helping their team out with his resources where and when he could. “An American contract officer with the CIA apparently reported a woman matching Eden’s description at a big dinner last night on the Crimean Peninsula. The guest of honor was Serkan Terzi.”
“And he experienced an unfortunate, lethal bout of food poisoning during or soon after dinner,” she guessed.
“Exactly. The contractor had the suspect woman in his car, then she dove out and disappeared.”
Goosebumps rippled over Kiyomi’s skin, and not because she was standing wet in the cool air. God, she loved hearing stories about how incredible her colleagues were. “Sounds like Eden.”
“Good. Problem is, we can’t find her now. She’s gone to ground. There’s a chance she might still be in contact with her former handler in Vermont. Amber found the woman’s contact info in Eden’s file. Nobody can reach her, either, so Rycroft’s going to send Trinity there to check it out in person since she’s already Stateside. He wants to know if you’re ready to be operational if Trin needs backup, since you knew Eden.”
Kiyomi paused. She was ready to be an operator, but not the kind she’d been before. She was never doing that shit again, and Trinity understood that. Of everyone Kiyomi had met here at Laidlaw Hall, she was the closest to Trinity. The elder Valkyrie was several years older than Kiyomi, and they were the same kind. The rarest kind of Valkyrie. Lethal, expert-level seductresses.
Over the past few months Trin had been a huge help in setting Kiyomi on the path to healing rather than self-destruction, and they talked several times a week. “Of course.” She’d lay down her life for Trin—and the others.
“Great, I’ll let him know. And just so you’re aware, as of right now we’re all on standby if we get a lead on Eden.”
“Understood.” In a way it would be a relief to be involved in some kind of action again, as long as it didn’t involve having to seduce anyone.
“Perfect. Okay, that’s it. Say hi to Marcus.”
“Will do.” Kiyomi lowered the phone, met the dark-chocolate gaze of the ruggedly gorgeous man in front of her, and smiled. “Chloe says hi. And I think we may have a promising lead on Eden.”
Chapter Three
The woman was a ghost.
Tired and frustrated, Zack set his laptop aside on the hotel bed and swung his legs over the edge of it to rake his hands through his hair. It had been twelve hours since “Eden” had dived out of his car in Sevastopol, and he was no closer to finding out where or who she was. Every avenue he and his contacts explored led to another dead end.
He’d flown here to Kiev last night, positioning himself near major transportation centers so he could go after her as soon as a solid tip came in. Upon arrival he’d spoken to his handler about the Terzi murder, and the potential killer.
This was the first time Zack had been torn about being involved in a manhunt. His duty was to find “Eden” and bring her in for questioning about Terzi’s murder before someone else found and killed her. Problem was, this was also the first time it had ever been personal.
He wanted to know who the hell she really was. Maybe it was stupid of him to think it, but he just couldn’t accept that everything between them before had been a lie. Even if she’d used him as a means to an end. Even if she’d been that coldly calculated all along. What they’d shared was way too special, too intimate to be completely fake.
You just don’t want to believe it was all a lie.
No, he sure as shit didn’t. He’d known all along that there was more to her than she’d let on. That she’d held a lot back. But he’d never once suspected that she might be a trained killer. A straight-up assassin.
How the hell had he missed it? That drove him crazy. He’d gone over everything that had transpired between them again and again in his mind, looking for clues, for answers. Trying to see clearly with the benefit of hindsight. It hadn’t helped.
His cell phone rang on the nightstand. His CIA handler’s number showed on the screen. “Hey,” he answered, impatient for a solid lead. “Got something?”
“Maybe,” Rod said. “We think she’s been trying to reach someone in the intel community.”
“Who? What agency?”
“The person she’s contacted is retired CIA. Might be a former handler or something, we’re still looking into it. Our tech people traced the origin of a recent email from our female suspect to the former officer from mainland Ukraine about five hours ago.”
His pulse picked up. “Where in the Ukraine?”
“Near Odesa.”
Dammit. He was way too far away to get to her before she left. “Nothing else?”
“Afraid not. Except…”
“Except what?”
“Anything else you want to tell us about your previous interaction with her?”
“No.” He kept his voice even and his tone calm, made sure he didn’t blurt it out or sound defensive. Until a few hours ago, he hadn’t realized what she was. Back when he’d initially reported Eden to the Agency, he’d thought she was simply a flight attendant.
The cover she’d used had checked out, with him as well as the CIA. As a contract officer he hadn’t felt the need to disclose that he’d continued to see her in a romantic capacity after that initial weekend together. He hadn’t been obliged to disclose anything else about their involvement since he’d been merely doing recon for another job at that point, and she hadn’t been part of it.
Unless she had been, and you were too stupid to realize it.
Shit.
Rod grunted. “You’ve heard of the Valkyries?”
Zack went completely still. It even seemed like his heart stopped for a moment as cold rippled beneath the surface of his skin.
Oh my God. All of a sudden it all made a terrible kind of sense. Including the brand on her hip that she’d said was a stupid drunk decision back in college. It was far from that—a symbol of what she was.
“Yeah,” he finally answered. Elite female assassins trained for a CIA black ops program. It had supposedly been shut down a while back…unless it hadn’t. Things weren’t black and white in the intelligence world, and government agencies used the gray in between to their advantage, contract officers like him included.
“All indications point to her possibly being one of them. The Agency’s trying to locate any of them that might still be alive. So if you hear anything or make contact with her again, you need to let us know asap.”
/> Zack’s heart beat faster, a hard, uncomfortable rhythm as the implications hit home. “Understood.” He had no illusions. If the CIA saw the remaining Valkyries as potential threats, they would be treated as such and eliminated to sanitize the situation. And if he tried to interfere on “Eden’s” behalf, he would be fair game as well.
Either way, they’d be watching him more closely now.
“Good,” Rod said. “Where are you headed next?”
With Terzi’s death, his contract for this op was officially over, but he still had to file an official report and they’d no doubt want him to follow up any leads on Eden. “Frankfurt. Flight leaves at 11:00 tomorrow.”
“Have a safe trip. I’ll be in touch.”
Zack leaned back on the pillows he’d stacked against the wide headboard, then pulled up the only picture he’d kept of Eden from a secure file accessed with his laptop. She’d been camera shy, not wanting him to take any photos of her. Now he knew why.
He’d snagged this one candid shot of her when she hadn’t been looking after dinner together one night in St. Petersburg. She was standing on his hotel room balcony railing in profile to him with the city lights below illuminating her. She was laughing at something he’d said, he couldn’t remember what now.
God, just looking at it was a kick to the gut. She looked so happy. So relaxed and carefree—and insanely sexy.
They’d spent a magical three days together that time, mostly staying in that room because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The following morning, he’d woken up confused and alone, with nothing but a pounding headache and a few hastily scrawled lines of apology lying on the table.
He set the laptop aside, trying to reconcile the woman he’d thought he’d known with this new evidence. A Valkyrie?
She’d never once done anything to put him in danger, or threaten him in any way. And based on what he knew now, she could have. Easily. Especially since he wouldn’t have been ready for it.
It bothered him that the CIA was searching for her and any others, and the extra heat on her was partly his fault for reporting her. His internal radar was pinging, certain she was in danger. He’d heard things, rumors and whispers over the past few months since the Valkyrie Program had been exposed in the media spotlight. The CIA was no doubt scrambling to cover its ass, and that meant trying to erase anything and everything that might implicate the agency in matters it would rather keep secret, by whatever means necessary.
He sat back up, frustration and anger eating at his insides. After searching for her so long and finding nothing under the fake cover she’d fed him, he’d actually found her—by accident—and had been as close to getting answers from her as he’d been since the day she’d walked out on him. And that awful goddamn note. He’d burned it, but the words were carved into his memory forever.
I’m sorry, I had no choice. I wish things could be different. I’ll never forget you.
She’d left him a flower, too. A single, bubblegum-pink flower floating in a glass, with a bunch of dead leaves around the base. Whatever that meant.
He’d been gutted, had felt guilty as hell on top of it because he’d wanted more than a few days at a time together, and the whole time he’d lied to her about who he truly was and what he did for a living. Things between them had been so good, she’d mattered to him enough that he’d made up his mind to tell her the truth. He’d meant to tell her that morning, then she was gone.
Except it turned out she’d been lying to him too. Big time. Had he known anything real about her?
Zack didn’t know, but imagining her being targeted by a CIA hitter chilled his blood. They’d both lied to each other, and no matter what the truth about her was, he knew she’d cared about him to some extent. That not everything between them had been a lie, and it wasn’t just his bruised—okay, battered—ego talking.
Whatever she’d done, including kill that piece of shit Terzi, she didn’t deserve to die for it. So what the hell was he supposed to do now?
The answer came swift and sure, straight from his gut.
I have to find her.
Find her and learn the truth. All of it. Then warn her. Help her, if she’d let him.
He’d been halfway in love with her when she’d walked out. If any part of their time together had been real for her too, then he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect her. Including putting his loyalty to her above that to the agency he’d served and bled for.
Resolved, Zack got up and began packing his stuff. He needed to head for Odesa immediately and try to pick up her trail, without alerting anyone watching him what was really going on.
She might not want to ever lay eyes on him again, but too bad. He was going to find her. Like it or not, considering the growing threat closing in on her, it looked as if he might be the only thing standing between her and certain death.
****
Glenn Bennett zipped up his jacket to his chin and hunched against the rain as he ran down the front steps of his contact’s house to his waiting car. But even with the heater going full blast a minute later, the warmth couldn’t chase away the ice that had formed in his bones.
For all the care he’d taken to insulate and protect himself from this threat, it seemed his past sins had finally caught up with him.
Everyone sinned. Everyone had secrets they wanted to take to the grave. But not everyone’s sins or secrets put them in their grave before their time.
Ever since the Program had been exposed in the media, he’d put as much distance between it and himself as possible. He’d kept careful watch as the Valkyrie body count climbed. Professionals were out there hunting the survivors right now. So why hadn’t there been any more intel about the remaining Valkyries’ deaths? Either within the intelligence community, or in the media?
There were only a small number of operatives left unaccounted for. Less than a dozen. Surely with all the intelligence resources being used to track them, they should all have been dealt with by now.
Christ. He’d come to this meeting because of recent chatter he’d heard about another Valkyrie surfacing in the Crimea last night, who was apparently still alive. The contact he’d just met with—an insider from the Valkyrie Program’s second phase—had confirmed that this same female operative had been in Sevastopol last night to kill an HVT during a dinner at a private estate.
Eden Foster. Trained to use whatever toxin was available to incapacitate or kill her target, with anything from insect and reptile venom, to deadly plants and synthetic chemicals. She could kill by tainting food and drink, by vaporizing the lethal substance into the air, or even by having the victim ingest it through their skin.
Unease threaded up his spine like the brush of cold fingers. The Valkyrie operatives were without a doubt the most incredible project he’d been involved in in all his time with the CIA. He’d helped spearhead the initiative, and had a hand in creating them. Now those same women posed the single greatest threat to him and the others.
To make matters worse, as of this moment, Eden Foster was once again in the wind. On the loose, and likely being helped by the other Valkyries who were unaccounted for and, he feared, still alive. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling fear, but this was unlike any threat he’d ever faced before.
His contact had just confirmed what he’d long suspected, that someone had managed to hack into the Agency’s Top Secret files containing all kinds of damning information about the Valkyrie Program. Including how it functioned, the female operatives involved, operations…
And a shitload of incriminating evidence on the people responsible for creating the program in the first place.
No one was sure how much the hacker had gotten, but anything posed a serious problem because it meant he and other high-level officials within the CIA—and the illegal things they’d done—might be exposed.
There were too many unknowns and coincidences happening for him to dismiss. All the evidence pointed to one chilling possibility.
T
he remaining Valkyries were banding together and forming a team.
His heart rate quickened at the thought. It would be a logistical and security disaster for him and the others. The Valkyries knew too much, could expose all his and his former colleagues’ dirty secrets. The whole purpose of making the women solo operators, of keeping them all isolated from one another, was to avoid this very scenario.
He’d warned others involved with the program about the possibility of this exact scenario happening one day, and no one had been willing to listen, all convinced that the women would be dead within five-to-eight years of being put in the field. They simply hadn’t been expected to survive beyond that.
But he’d been right. His concerns had been founded all along, and now he had to take immediate and decisive action to counter this threat before it was too late. Exposing what he’d done would destroy him and his family, maybe even land him in prison. If the Valkyries had uncovered anything to incriminate him, then it meant he now had a target on his back.
He pulled over partway home and took out the private, heavily encrypted cell phone he rarely used, glancing in his mirrors every so often in case he was being followed or watched. Going home wasn’t safe now. Not with everything he’d learned over the past forty-eight hours.
A lead weight sat heavy and cold in his gut. He hadn’t reached out to the Architect in years, had avoided it at all cost, but now it seemed he had no choice. They’d done their best to bury the program after it was shut down due to the media exposure and fallout from the Balducci trial. Just as Glenn had feared, their efforts hadn’t been enough.
If the surviving Valkyries were joining forces, then this was a matter of life and death, and personal history with the Architect that he’d rather not deal with didn’t mean shit.
He brought up the number, hesitated for just one moment, then called.
“Who is this?” came the curt greeting.
“It’s Bennett.”
A startled pause answered him. “I thought I told you never to contact me again.”
Glenn bit down hard on his back teeth at the dismissal in that arrogant tone. “There are extraordinary circumstances involved.” Or I wouldn’t be calling.