Barrett chuckled. “Now you know what she really thinks, Troy.” Her laughter sounded like tinkling bells. “Stay on topic, Lucy. Who killed Raven?”
“The shooter.” She shook her head. “I killed him. Should have waited.”
“Waited for what?”
Her rage swamped her senses as instant recall flooded her mind. It had her fighting her restraints, despite the burn, despite the pain. “I killed the bastard.”
Barrett shook her head. “Are you sure, Lucy? There’s no evidence that anyone outside your crew was at that op site. The satellite feed showed no shooter.” Barrett glanced at Troy and then back at Lucy. “What are you covering up?”
Tears dampened her cheeks as memories of Raven dying beneath her filled her mind. She’d trained Raven, brought her from recruit to agent, kept her alive for three years. Lucy’s responsibility. Lucy’s failure. “My fault.”
Barrett leaned forward. Her face close up made Lucy flinch.
Troy stood, catching Lucy’s attention. He would stop this. Troy wouldn’t let Barrett hurt her anymore. Lucy’s relief was overwhelming.
Oh, she thought, I forgot. His tenderness was a means to an end. He’d betrayed her again.
“It’s your fault,” she said to Troy. Then she glared at Barrett, straining toward her. “And you!” She bared her teeth, making the chair rock as she struggled to reach Barrett. “This place!” The Agency made her do things, bad things. She struggled against her bindings, crying in frustration as they restrained her. Why wasn’t Troy saving her?
Barrett slipped a tiny penlight from her pocket and aimed it at Lucy’s eyes.
She gasped, cringing, pushing her chair back with her feet. The restraints foiled her efforts, burning her where they chafed. Barrett continued with the light until Lucy’s writhing had the chair skipping off the floor. When she clicked it off, Lucy flinched, shaking.
“Focus, Lucy.” Barrett’s voice was calming, almost soothing. Like a grandmother’s. “What fault? You said it was your fault.”
Raven. Lucy’s chin quivered. “I was supposed to keep her alive.”
Barrett swore impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Who was the shooter?”
Lucy blinked. “Don’t you know?” If anyone should know, it was Barrett.
“You were there, Lucy. What did you see?”
Lucy relived the moment, the smell of Raven’s blood, the shooter running from the scene. She chased him, choosing her knife because it was quiet and her silencer was back in her gear bag. “He was big.” She noticed the moment the shooter knew she was on his trail. He turned. She saw a flicker of fear in his eyes as she burst through the brush, running him down. “Fast.” Agency fast.
“Who was he, Lucy? Did you get any impression of who he worked for?”
The man was a half-foot taller than her and at least sixty pounds heavier. He’d thrown his rifle at her, wildly, because she’d caught him unprepared. “Three-oh-eight Winchester rifle. Thermal scope.”
Then she saw Troy again, silent, staring as if expecting something from her. Lucy blinked. He looked worried and it distracted her.
Barrett was out of patience. “Lucy!”
“Why is Troy looking at me?”
“It’s his job, dear. Back on task.” Barrett clicked her penlight, and the sound made Lucy flinch. “Who does the shooter work for?”
The Agency, but how could he work for the Agency if Barrett didn’t know? He couldn’t. “I don’t know.”
Barrett took a long breath, held it and then released it in a huff. “She’s hiding something.”
Lucy kept her eyes on Troy. He held her gaze and it propped her up emotionally, enough to keep her from screaming, because she wanted to. Scream. She burned. He was her refuge. She’d made him her refuge, and she needed him. Barrett broke her fugue by flashing the penlight in her eyes.
“Are you connected in any way to the deaths of our agents, Lucy?”
Pain seared her eyes and she shivered despite the heat, despite the burn. “Raven.”
Barrett swore and stood so abruptly her chair skated across the tile floor. “Troy, you try to get something out of her.”
* * *
Troy was having a hard time keeping it together. He’d had to bite the inside of his cheek twice already to stop himself from saying something that would end them both permanently. He knew what Lucy was suffering, floating in a sea of pain and fear. He’d survived this sort of interrogation before, when he stepped up to the number-two position at the Agency. It had been a mandatory test, wasn’t pleasant. In fact it was unbearable. Yet Lucy was enduring, as he had, as he needed her to continue. There was still hope for them. She’d found a way to avoid spilling their secrets. If she could just endure a little longer, there might still be a way for them to survive.
Barrett had plenty of opportunities to ask Lucy about the Cayman Islands, but didn’t. Something was keeping her in check. No questions about the bug, either. Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she did but was playing games with them.
“What do you think Lucy knows?” He was careful to keep his tone noncommittal.
“The truth! My agents are dying, dammit, and I need to know what this woman knows!” She threw the penlight at him. He caught it in midair. “Get her to tell me something I don’t already know.”
“And that would be?”
Barrett sat in the chair he’d just vacated. “I want to know who is behind these shooters.”
If asked, Lucy would say the Agency, and Barrett would cancel her for it. Troy placed the penlight on the chair and watched it roll down its length and fall to the floor with a clatter. He saw Lucy flinch. Sweat dripped down his back and chest despite the coolness of the room. He needed to be careful about what he asked, balancing Barrett’s expectations with Lucy’s compulsion to answer honestly. He sat in the chair and watched Lucy’s unfocused gaze wander the room.
He started with a question he already knew the answer to. Lucy might be involved in the attacks against the Agency, but she had nothing to do with killing fellow agents. “Did you kill or conspire to kill Agency personnel?” As soon as he asked the question, Troy seized with panic, realizing conspire could be interpreted as Lucy having the Cayman account, or arranging for the satellite feed to disappear, and whatever else she’d been up to.
Lucy shook her head. “No.”
Barrett glared at the medic. “You either gave her too much or not enough.”
Troy was flummoxed. No? He needed to think. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but not with Barrett in the room. He took Lucy’s answer and ran with it, because it was as valuable as currency. She’d just admitted, under Pentothal, that she was not involved in the implementation or conspiracy of killing Agency personnel. He could have kissed her.
Careful to keep triumph off his face, Troy addressed Barrett. “You can’t juice her into telling you what you want. The possibility that she is lying under Pentothal’s influence is slight. You need to consider you’re looking in the wrong place, because while we’re wasting time in here, the real threat is killing our people. You should be grateful she’s innocent. She’s too valuable to waste.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?” Barrett glared. “She has to have some idea who those shooters are. She’s a trained operative, not some bystander on the street.”
Point to Barrett. He turned back to Lucy. “Did you recognize the shooter?”
She shook her head.
“Did he say anything?”
She shook her head.
“Lucy, are you loyal to the Agency?”
She nodded. “I have to be.”
Troy glanced at Barrett, saw her lean forward, intent. “Why, Lucy?”
“I want to live.”
Troy stood, indicating the interview should be over. “We’re wasting time here.”
Barrett didn’t look convinced. “You’re letting less important considerations color your opinion.”
Which was less important, he wondere
d, her value to the Agency, or the fact that he loved her? Without concrete evidence, Barrett couldn’t cancel Lucy. The Powers That Be would crush her. So he waited, knowing she had no other choice but to take his guidance.
Barrett slapped her thighs before standing and then waved a dismissive hand at the medics. “Wake her up, then.” She glared at Troy. “I have an op I want her ready for in five hours. Get the portfolios from Janice.”
Troy saw Lucy’s head loll forward. Without the straps holding her on the chair, she’d have slipped to the floor. He didn’t think it was possible to get her op ready in five hours.
Barrett was smiling now, as if she had a secret. “You must be incredible in bed. She knows what you are, yet still lets you touch her.”
Troy didn’t react.
“Or maybe she doesn’t know you’re the one that positioned her to be in that hotel five years ago.” She turned a pitying glance on Lucy and leaned close to her. “Woman to woman? I wouldn’t forgive him. It’s one thing to let him screw you over, and it’s a whole ’nother thing to screw him while he’s doing it.” Barrett looked down her nose at her. “Have a little self-respect.” Then she left, leaving a huge hole where fear and cloying calculation had been.
Lucy’s eyes weren’t focusing, and she was still shaking, but Troy could see she understood Barrett’s words.
A medic gave Lucy a shot—part epinephrine, part cocaine and a huge dose of the drug she needed to survive—to transition her out of her Pentothal haze. It had her sitting ramrod straight in her chair, staring at Troy as if his gaze were the only thing keeping her sane. It killed him to see her that way, and all he wanted to do was carry her somewhere safe, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. Lucy was still under the influence, and who knew what could pop out of her mouth.
“You heard Barrett.” Troy motioned the medics over, his impatience a painful thing. “Unstrap her.” Lucy was visibly shaking, staring at him, desperation widening her brown eyes, highlighting their gold flecks in the harsh lighting. She looked as if she’d crumble if he broke their gaze, so holding it became the most important thing in his world.
“Keep it together, Lucy. Let’s get you to your quarters and then you can crash.” When she stood and swayed, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms as she melted against him.
“I got you.” He pressed her head to his chest. “Open the door.” The medics jumped to obey. Troy rushed her to the elevator. She was suffering. It lashed at him, filling him with a guilt no amount of justification could suppress.
Self-recrimination had him slamming the up button. He’d gotten good at pretending he had every right to use Lucy for the good of the Agency. He couldn’t pretend anymore. She’d been stripped of dignity and free will, threatened and abused.
They were alive because Barrett hadn’t asked the right questions, and Barrett always knew the right questions to ask. She was outplaying him. He was off his game and Lucy had paid the price. The irony, of course, was Lucy was why he was off his game.
Chapter Eleven
Lucy clutched at Troy, her muscles cramping, her breath coming in fits and starts. By the time he carried her into her quarters, she was no longer able to hide her condition from the watchful eyes of every agent they passed. Troy kicked the door shut behind them and carried her to the bathroom, stepping into the stall. Dropping her legs, keeping her body tightly against his chest, he turned on the shower full blast, hot and hard. Lucy gasped as it soaked through her clothes, shocking her.
Troy nudged her chin with his fingers, trying to make her look at him, but she didn’t have the strength to defend against an emotion he might throw at her, so she kept her eyes closed.
“Look at me, dammit.”
Compelled, she opened her eyes and saw his anger. It undid her. She slumped in his arms, heard him swear, and then he tore at her clothes. His hands were impatient as they unzipped the back of her skirt and peeled it off her. The shower spray was distracting and soothed her. Her fingers felt twice their size. They couldn’t navigate her silk shirt’s buttons, so Troy pushed her hands aside and pulled. Tiny pearl buttons popped off her shirt and bounced on the shower’s floor. She was naked in moments, propped against the shower’s wall, Troy’s hand keeping her in place.
“Don’t collapse. You can do this.”
She focused on keeping her legs under her, willing them to support her as she watched him strip and throw his wet clothes out of the stall. But she slid down the wall anyway, shaking, thinking Troy was at least consistent. It was his MO, after all, throwing her in the pond and demanding she swim. Only this time, she’d nearly drowned. The tally of Troy’s betrayals was too long to list.
The list was almost as long as his moments of kindness. They mattered, too. Sometimes she thought they were all that mattered. She needed him now, and he was here, offering her a peace only he could give her, but she deserved answers.
She was afraid she already knew, but she needed to hear him say it before she allowed this to kill what was left of her soul. “Did you know you were bringing me to an interrogation?”
He pulled her to her feet and held her close, kept her under the warm spray. “No, dammit, but at least it wasn’t the cancellation I thought we walked into.”
She clung to him, sobbing. She, too, thought it was her cancellation, and had thought he’d brought her there with no compunction. It had hurt more than the thought of losing her life.
“This will help. It always helps,” Troy whispered against her cheek.
Her shaking had slowed to tremors and her heart no longer raced. It was still hard to think, but Troy’s arms felt good, and she began to think she might live. Her tears were hidden against his shoulder and by the shower’s spray, but she couldn’t hide her sobs. He was trying to comfort her. She knew and was grateful.
“Did I say anything?” She knew the answer as the question left her lips. If she’d revealed their secrets they’d be dead now. Her body was trembling so hard, seizing as the drugs left her system. She lifted her face to the shower’s spray, desperate to wash away her emotions, to feel nothing.
“I’ll figure this out.” Troy kissed her temple. “I’ll protect you.”
She’d been waiting to hear those words, but they were five years too late.
* * *
Lucy woke naked, under her sheets, smelling chocolate croissants and coffee. The prospect of chocolate was enough to entice her eyes open. A tray rested next to her on the bed, and Troy sat next to that.
Numb, she grabbed a croissant without sitting up. She took a bite, noticed her hair was dry, and figured she’d been sleeping for quite a while. After the third bite, she said, “Go away.”
Troy lifted a large mug of coffee off the tray and held it out to her. Lucy reluctantly propped herself against her headboard. Troy handed her the mug. Draining half of it, she smacked her lips. “Go away,” she repeated.
He stood, watching her, waiting. For what, she could care less. Troy was a mistake she continued to make, and it was time she stopped making it. He didn’t move or give her any indication of his thoughts. Naked, a sheet tangled around her hips, breasts bare, lounging on her bed, she knew she looked as though she’d survived a train wreck, but didn’t care.
She nudged a lock of hair behind her ear. “What?” Did he expect a fight about how he’d betrayed her again? Trusting Troy was up there with believing in Santa Claus. She wanted to believe but had outgrown it. She had to admit his tender care was confusing her. She still couldn’t see the angle. She watched him pull out his scrambler.
Excellent, she thought. Maybe she’d finally get some answers.
“Tell me about your account in the Cayman Islands. I can make it disappear without a trace, and then Barrett won’t have that over your head.”
Lucy was so surprised she didn’t think to hide it.
“You can’t access it without the Agency knowing. I’d be surprised if it isn’t confiscated already, or at least tagged so they can catch you red-handed.”
He was serious. Lucy had no doubt of that. And he was also convinced. “You’re being played,” she said. “I have no account in the Caymans.”
“Stop lying to me, Lucy.”
“You believe what someone wants you to believe, and let me guess, Barrett convinced you.”
He shook his head. “She would have had to know we were bugging her office for that to be true. Did she?”
“How the hell should I know? I put it under my chair, the same chair I always sit in when I’m in that hell spawn’s office. Under great peril, I’m forced to point out.” She sipped her coffee, licking her lips. “So you got the intel off the bug that I planted. Not very bright of me.”
Troy looked torn, as if he wanted to believe her.
“She was talking to her bosses.”
“Maybe it was her bosses she was trying to convince. What does she get if she convinces them I’m behind all these agent deaths?”
Troy’s face closed, hiding secrets, no doubt. She looked away from him, disgusted. “Yeah, yeah, we’re a team until it means being straight with me.” She put her coffee down. “Like I said. Go away.”
He watched her, looking as if he had more to say, but instead he picked up the scrambler and turned it off. “You have fifteen minutes before the op briefing.”
“Excuse me?” She choked on the croissant she’d just swallowed.
“Barrett assigned an op. I’m going to lead the crew.”
She took a hasty sip of coffee to get her throat working again. “Why?”
Troy shrugged. “The Agency needs us on this op. That’s all that matters.”
“Agency first, right?” She threw her legs over the bedside, bumping the tray to the floor. She pressed her hand to her chest, alarmed that she was so weak.
“And that’s why I’m crew leader for this op,” he said. “Barrett might be willing to risk you and your crew, but I’m not. Be ready.” He turned and left her quarters.
“Shit.” She dragged herself into the shower and tried to wash her vulnerability down the drain. She wasn’t even close to 100 percent and everyone would know. She was still suffering from tremors. Leaning against the glass, she tried to console herself. Barrett had let her off easy. They hadn’t beaten her, unlike the last time they’d interrogated her.
The Seduction of Lucy Page 12