by Kaylea Cross
“Such as?” Now the tone was bored.
In as few words as possible he explained what he’d uncovered. The potential disaster and lethal threat facing them all. “I think they’re working together.” He stiffened, his gaze locking on a car that slowed as it approached, then kept driving. God, now he was jumping at shadows.
The Architect laughed. “You’re being paranoid, Glenn, as usual.”
No, he fucking wasn’t. “And if I’m not?”
“You are. Everything’s being taken care of. There’s no way anyone can expose us now, so don’t worry.”
How could he not worry? A single Valkyrie was lethal to her enemies and targets. A group of them working together could do unbelievable damage, and would prove a hundred times harder to locate, let alone kill. “So you’re going to just pretend nothing’s happening?”
“I’m not pretending anything. It’s being taken care of.”
“Care to explain?”
“No.”
He set his jaw, reining in his temper with effort. He was considered an outsider since his retirement, and the Architect couldn’t resist letting him know it. “This is happening, whether you want to believe it or not. It’s already in motion, so whatever measures you’ve taken to try and counter the threat, I promise you it’s not enough.”
A hard, brittle silence filled the line. Then, “I think I know better than anyone what they’re capable of. Now, don’t call me again, or—”
Fuming, Glenn hit the button to end the call and immediately set about dismantling the burner phone so he could dispose of it. He wasn’t being paranoid. And he didn’t give a fuck about whatever the Architect or anybody else had going on behind the scenes to deal with this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough.
He wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty upper lip, his mind racing furiously as he took his pistol from the center console and ensured he had a round in the chamber. They were all under threat now, whether they wanted to face it or not. If none of the others would help him, then his only option was to take matters into his own hands. Because he was not going down with this ship he’d helped create, and he didn’t trust the Architect not to come after him now.
Pulling back onto the road he did a U-turn, heading away from his house and coming up with a cover story to tell his wife. He had hunting to do. But first he needed to flush out his prey.
He’d start with Eden’s handler, use her to find Eden. Use Eden to find the others. Then they’d all die.
Fishing out another burner phone, he made another call. “It’s me,” he said when the man answered. “I’ve got a priority target I need taken care of immediately. Take care of it in the next twenty-four hours and I’ll pay double your usual fee.”
Chapter Four
Outside Eden’s studio apartment window, the New Jersey skyline was just beginning to glow with a faint line of peach along the eastern horizon. She’d been up for hours already, prepping for this last-minute trip.
At the kitchen counter she poured herself another cup of coffee before stopping in front of her laptop. Dawn was coming fast, and she needed to get moving if she was going to make it to the meeting in time.
After weeks of Eden trying to establish contact, Chris had finally responded to her five hours ago and set a meeting up, apologizing for the lapse as she’d been visiting family on the West Coast. Whatever she wanted to say, it must be important, because Chris wanted a face-to-face meeting. But in spite of the tight timeline with the long drive ahead, Eden couldn’t make herself leave without doing just a little more checking on Zack first.
He was dangerous to her in so many ways. She’d tried to move on and put him behind her, but failed, and seeing him the other night made that painfully clear. Looking back, Eden wasn’t even sure exactly when she’d started getting too attached to him. She’d started out using him as a vehicle to gain entry into the social circle her target was part of.
But after finishing that mission, everything that had come afterward between them had been real. Too real, and since Sevastopol she’d constantly struggled to put him out of her mind long enough to focus on one task to the next.
None of her rigorous training had prepared her for this, because she’d been trained never to let it happen in the first place. She’d broken all her rules for him, had risked too much and was still paying the price. Look at her, sitting here searching for articles about him on her laptop instead of getting in her car for the long drive to Vermont.
Just five more minutes, then I’ll go.
She opened an article from an online military newspaper talking about a mission he’d undertaken as a security contractor in Afghanistan four years earlier. It showed a candid picture of him wearing a snug black T-shirt and khaki cargo pants, dark shades covering his eyes. Amidst his short, dark beard, his teeth flashed white as he grinned at a teammate standing off to the side.
Something flipped low in her belly as she remembered that same smile aimed at her, and how it had made her pulse race. That same short beard as it had rubbed against her naked skin, those sexy lips skimming their way down to the throbbing flesh between her thighs.
Shit. I have to stop this. He’d turned her into a junkie, and he was her drug of choice. She craved him, even now. Even in the face of the threat he posed.
Chilled by that sobering thought, she shut the laptop, put it in its hiding spot, then grabbed her small bag and took the stairs down to her car parked in the underground lot beneath the building. She left the city long before rush hour, heading north.
It took just shy of five hours to reach Brattleboro, Vermont, a small town ten miles north of the Massachusetts border. She arrived at the specified diner almost twenty minutes early, but as soon as she was seated in a booth near the back of the restaurant, bells chimed as the door swung open and Chris walked in.
The fifty-three-year-old retired CIA officer strode in like she owned the place, wearing skin-tight jeans, a black leather jacket, riding boots, carrying a helmet in one hand. Her iron-gray curls were like a helmet of their own, cropped close to her head, and her medium-brown skin was still without a single wrinkle. The no-frills hairstyle suited Chris’s anti-bullshit personality perfectly.
“You made good time,” she said curtly as she slid into the opposite side of the booth from Eden and removed her sunglasses to expose laser-like amber eyes fringed by dark lashes.
Eden grinned. “You rode your bike here?”
Chris shrugged and turned to flag down the waitress. “It’s perfect weather for a ride, I couldn’t resist.” She pushed both coffee mugs to the end of the table for the waitress to fill, then dismissed her with, “We’ll let you know when we’re ready to order.”
The woman left. Eden shook her head as Chris poured the first of two plastic cup creamers into her coffee. “I ever tell you how much I admire your people skills?”
“You might have mentioned it one time or another.” Chris took a big sip of coffee, lowered her mug and reached inside her leather jacket, withdrawing her wallet. “My treat this time,” she said, taking out a fifty.
“No argument from me. We eating first?”
Chris raised her eyebrows and gave her a look. “Uh, yeah. At least I’ll know you’ve put something in your stomach today.”
“I love how you mother me.”
Chris snorted and picked up the menu. “Shut up. Now figure out what you want to eat. I want to take the scenic route back and I need to be home by dark before all the assholes get on the road with me.”
“Okay, then.” Damn, she’d missed Chris and her bluntness.
“So,” Chris said after they’d ordered, eyeing her critically. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You look good.”
“Thanks.” A beat passed, and Chris was still watching her intently. “What?”
“You tell me.”
Nope. Not here, with possible eavesdroppers around. “Nothing to tell.” She sipped at her coffee and redirected the conversatio
n. “How was your visit with your dad and sister?” Chris had been in Washington State while Eden had been reaching out to her.
Chris grimaced. “Old man needs to just die already.”
Eden almost choked on her coffee, her eyes widening. “Wow, that’s harsh, even for you.”
Chris shrugged. “He’s goddamn miserable being confined to a wheelchair with his mind deteriorating. It makes my sister miserable in the process, which by extension also makes me miserable. The ornery bastard just wants to die, and we hope he’s quick about it. If we’re lucky he’ll go in his sleep one night soon.”
End of conversation. As soon as the waitress brought their food, Chris waved a fork at Eden and dug into her waffle with berries and whipped cream. “All right, eat up so we can get outta here. We’ve got business to attend to.”
What was so important that Chris had summoned her here at the last moment? Eden had to wolf down her meal to be done by the time Chris flagged their waitress back down and paid the bill.
Sliding her sunglasses back on, Chris raised her eyebrows over the top of the frames. “You done yet?”
“Yep. Right behind you,” Eden said around a last giant mouthful of corned beef hash, leaving at least four more on her plate. The pitfall of eating with Chris was that she always left hungry. “Where we off to now?”
“Someplace no one will bother us,” Chris said, marching for the door.
Eden followed Chris’s bike to a Victorian-era brick house near the historic center of the town. It had a quaint, village-type feel to it, with similar-style Victorian houses and tidy yards. Every street was lined with trees and pretty gardens bursting with fresh green foliage.
They both parked around back in an alley running between the houses. Chris grabbed something from her saddlebags and started up the back steps without looking back. Eden hurried after her, one hand at the small of her back out of habit, ready to grab her weapon from her waistband.
“You can relax,” Chris said on her way through the kitchen. “We’re safe here.”
Eden still locked the door behind her before holstering her weapon and going to what looked like a home office near the front of the house. “Is this a rental?”
“Nope. Belonged to an aunt before she lost her damn mind. Went batshit crazy, wound up in the mental institution across town and died there years ago. This place has been sitting vacant ever since. I come down every now and again for a day or two, make sure it’s maintained.” Chris planted herself behind the small antique-looking desk and leaned back in the chair to whip off her sunglasses and study Eden, signaling an end to that topic of conversation. “So. You had a close call in Sevastopol.”
“Not that close.” Pretty damn close.
One perfectly arched eyebrow went up. “No? Your old flame thought it was pretty close.”
Eden stilled. “How’d you know about that?” She’d told Chris about Zack when she’d first decided to use him as a means to getting close to her target, but not about their subsequent relationship.
“Because an old source from the Agency told me. Zack Maguire and other Agency assets are looking for you.”
That wasn’t a surprise after the other night. “Does he know what I am?”
“Not officially, no, at least from what I can tell. But I’m sure he knows by now. He’s no dummy.”
No, he was the opposite. And that amplified the threat he posed.
Chris pinned her with that coffee-brown stare that dared her to try and bullshit. “Have you made contact with him since?”
“No,” she said, insulted that Chris would ask. She was weak when it came to him, but not stupid.
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
“But you want to.”
Eden paused. She could lie but Chris would know, and what was the point? Her former handler was the closest thing to a friend she had in this world. A kind of older, protective sister. Her shoulders sagged a little. “Yeah.”
“Figured as much.” Chris shook her head, a frown drawing her eyebrows together. “He’s dangerous. One, because he’s in your head, and two, because of who he works for.”
“You worked for them too until a few months ago,” Eden pointed out.
“That’s different. I’d take on a grizzly with my bare hands to protect you.”
That made Eden smile. “I know. But you wouldn’t get the chance, because that bear would take one look at you, say to itself nope, and run the other way.”
A faint glow of amusement in those intense eyes was her only reaction. “Zack Maguire won’t run,” she said softly.
“No.” And dammit, that was so freaking hot. “But he’s only a contract officer. His loyalty is to the mission, not the Agency.”
“You willing to bet your life on that?”
Good point. “No.” If he knew what she was, then he would know she’d lied to and used him before. A man in his position wouldn’t let that go. And he was relentless enough not to stop until he saw her punished for it.
Chris watched her in silence for a long moment. “I know you. I know what you’re like when you make up your mind about something. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do about Maguire, but promise you’ll be careful. Otherwise you’ll wind up on my shit list. And no one likes to be on my shit list.”
No kidding. “Got it.”
“Say you promise.”
She didn’t dare roll her eyes. “I promise.”
Chris’s expression softened with real affection, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “I never wanted to be a handler, you know.”
Eden cocked her head, surprised. “You never told me that.”
A tight shrug. Chris hated talking about herself. “I wanted to be out there in the field, in the middle of the action, not working a desk job. And I most definitely didn’t want to be a handler to a female operative half my age who looks like I could pick her up and snap her in half.”
“Like to see you try,” Eden scoffed.
Chris grinned. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Did you handle other Valkyries?”
“Nope. Just you. And you kept me plenty busy.” She ran a hand over her short, springy hair, the smile fading and the frown returning. “Look, my hands are tied here because I’m out of the loop now, but I did find out some things you need to be aware of.”
“Like what?”
Pulling open a small drawer in the desk, Chris took out a small rectangular gift wrapped in Christmas paper. “Happy birthday.”
“My birthday’s in August.” Or she thought it was. The Agency had lied about a lot of shit, so she wouldn’t put it past them to lie about her birthdate too, to throw her off the trail if she ever tried to dig into her past.
Chris waved the present at her. “I know when it is. Close enough.”
Eden took it, and immediately knew it was a book. “Is it a romance, I hope? A steamy one.” Just because she was perpetually single and killed for a living didn’t mean she didn’t have a romantic side.
“No, but hopefully it will result in a happy ending all the same. Don’t open it until you get home, and keep it safe. I’ll contact you in a few days to talk once I’m sure we’re still in the clear.”
Unease curled inside her. This was the most secretive Chris had ever been in the thirteen years they’d worked together. Something was wrong. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just be smart about this and keep that secure.” She nodded at the book. “It wasn’t easy to get my hands on that copy, and let’s just say it’s one of a kind.”
“Kind of like you,” Eden said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood because she didn’t like the feel of this at all. What had Chris uncovered that had her so concerned? Something to do with Zack? Why not just say it if they were safe here?
“Like both of us. Now, meeting’s over. I wanna hit the road.” She stood, came around the side of the desk and paused.
Eden rose slowly, her heart beating faster because of the way Chris was look
ing at her. Fondly. But there was also a hint of worry lurking in her eyes that Eden had never seen from her before. “Hey, are you sure you’re all r—”
“Come here, brat.”
Caught off guard, Eden stiffened when Chris pulled her into a quick hug. It was over almost as soon as it started, but it was sincere and tight.
Alarm shot through her. In all their time together Chris had never initiated any kind of affection between them, it was always Eden and Chris merely tolerated it. “Chris, no shit, you’re scaring me.”
“Good. I want you on your toes. Have a safe drive back to Jersey. I’ll be in touch.” And with that she put on her sunglasses and sauntered out of the room, helmet tucked under one arm.
Alone in the office, Eden glanced down at the book in her hand. Chris had to have hidden something inside it. A clue, or a message of some sort. But why not just tell her up front and explain everything? Was she worried someone had followed them? She’d said it was safe when they’d arrived here.
Eden stepped into the hallway and shrugged into the straps of her backpack just as Chris’s bike started up outside. The pitch changed as it began driving away.
Pop, pop.
Eden tensed and reached back to draw her weapon, then two more shots sounded, followed by a loud impact.
No.
She raced for the back door, intent on protecting Chris. She burst out onto the back steps, holding her pistol in a double-handed grip as she scanned for the shooter. Chris’s bike was lying on its side just up the alley.
Eden ran down the steps, paused at the end of the short driveway behind a brick light post and whipped her upper body around the corner, weapon up. There was no sign of a shooter.
Chris lay pinned beneath her bike in a crumpled heap two-hundred-feet away where she’d crashed into a garage three houses down. She wasn’t moving. Eden ran for her, heart in her throat as she kept watch for the shooter.
Motion to her left made her pivot and take aim. Bits of brick exploded from the low wall next to her, the bullets missing her by inches. Eden leapt behind it for cover, waited a beat, then popped up to return fire. Another shot slammed into the brick just as a man jumped over a trashcan and ran for a low garden wall beyond it.