Fifteen minutes later, she walked into the briefing room. Her crew was curious, but no one asked where she’d been, what had happened. They knew better. She dropped into a chair next to them instead of handing out portfolios. That freaked everyone out. Lucy shrugged, feeling weary and achy. Let Troy explain, she thought.
Only Troy wasn’t big on explaining. Dressed in the standard black leather uniform they all wore, he silently handed the sealed portfolios to her crew. That was explanation enough. Troy was in charge. It scared them, and for good reason. What had previously been a supervisory role was now a takeover.
The crew’s status in the Agency was under question, their probation escalated. What was next? Cancellation? It was on all their minds. Hell, it was on Lucy’s. This put her crew off their game, and they were just as likely to get themselves killed as to have a shooter, or the Agency, do it for them.
Troy nodded toward the truck. “Study your portfolios during transport. Your gear is already on the helicopter.”
Lucy watched her crew. Phil was about to complain, but a tiny shake of Lucy’s head had her quiet, filing to the transport truck with the rest of them.
She grabbed her assigned portfolio off the table and followed her crew. Troy had waited for her, looking as if he expected her to argue with him. She avoided his gaze and hustled to the truck. He thought she was colluding with some entity, taking a payout and dropping it in some plush bank in the Caribbean.
What a joke.
She should feel pleased he thought her capable of the scheme, but she wasn’t. Lucy was a pawn. Always had been. Her impotence burned her ass. He’d think what he wanted, as would Barrett, and Lucy would take the fall.
Once again, a familiar feeling.
* * *
Troy gave the crew a few minutes of privacy to allow Lucy to smooth out any rough edges that might crop up about chain of command. He was no longer supervising. He was king shit and he needed Lucy to make that clear.
When he stepped into the truck he saw them huddled together, whispering among themselves. Lucy shut up the moment she saw him, as did the crew. They were acting as though he were the Antichrist when he was really just trying to save their skin. Lucy was in no shape to lead this op.
The flight took two hours and the touchdown was rough. Everyone was unnerved by the time they got into the transport truck.
“Report.” He didn’t look at anyone in particular.
Lucy spoke first. “I think there’s a mistake.”
Troy lifted a brow and waited.
“My portfolio says I’m to wait at the truck, securing it for a fast exit. That’s the driver’s job. Is there a reason to believe the driver won’t be able to accomplish his job without help from me?” She appeared disdainful. He wanted to slap her for making him point out the obvious.
“You’re not at 100 percent, Lucy.”
“I’m eye candy, huh?” She pointed at Cat. “She’s got her period and has been up all night cramping.”
“Hey, thanks,” Cat said. “Way to throw me under the bus.”
Lucy pointed to Phil. “She’s hungover. Her boyfriend is sleeping with someone in catering.”
“Screw you, Lucy.” Phil pulled her hat over her eyes.
Patrice held up her hand. “Leave me out of this.”
“No one is ever 100 percent, but me at 20 percent is better than most people any day.” Lucy threw her portfolio to the truck’s floor. “Stop wasting my time. Give me an assignment.”
Phil held out her folder to Lucy. “You take the shot. I don’t feel well.”
Troy found it hard to control his anger. “Do they know what happened to you last night?”
She looked panicky. “It’s none of their business.”
“Barrett had Lucy interrogated,” he said.
“Lucy!” Cat touched her arm.
He could see that simple act of tenderness unsettle her. “It’s not just you I’m protecting. It’s your crew.”
Lucy took the folder from Phil. “My crew doesn’t need you to protect them from me.” She opened the portfolio and stared at the assignment it contained. “I’m the best shot in this truck and you know it.” She nodded at Phil. “Switch bags with me.”
Phil threw her bag at Lucy’s feet. “Thank heaven. If no one minds, I’m going to take a nap.”
Cat frowned. “It’s that rotgut you drink. What have you got against a nice appletini, for shit’s sake?”
“Cat,” Phil said, “piss off.” She leaned back and pulled the brim of her hat back over her eyes.
When the truck stopped, everyone but Phil hustled out. They found themselves in the middle of a deserted alleyway behind the target building. They needed to be on the opposite building’s roof in ten minutes. Troy stood to the left of the back entrance and waited while Cat set a small charge on the doorjamb. Everyone stepped back and covered their ears. It detonated, blew the door from its hinges. Troy threw it out of the way, waiting as Lucy rushed inside. Cat caught his eye and nodded.
She’d been tasked to wait and keep the door clear for his, Patrice and Lucy’s quick exit.
Lucy was a flight up by the time he caught up with her. As usual, they couldn’t be detected. It was night, the moon a bare sliver in the sky, but there were streetlights and headlights everywhere. It took them six minutes to reach the roof. Patrice hovered as Lucy assembled her rifle.
“Go,” Troy said, waving Patrice off. She ran to the other side of the building, keeping watch through her thermal scope, and monitoring their alternate satellite feed.
The op had been reconned as recently as this morning, so Troy knew the target would exit the building across the street within the next half hour. They were in place. Now it was a waiting game. He crouched next to Lucy, weapon drawn. His task was to protect her back while she focused on the target. Fifteen long minutes later, he saw Lucy’s body tense.
“Target acquired,” she said.
“Take the shot and let’s get out of here.” He wanted off this roof. They were too exposed. He heard her indrawn breath and saw her flinch. “Report.”
“My mum.”
Troy grabbed the rifle and looked through the scope. He saw the target clearly. The smiling woman standing next to the target was Marcy Harrington. He had seconds to take the shot. He aimed, his finger slowly squeezing. Lucy grabbed the barrel of the rifle. He pulled his finger off the trigger.
“Please, no.” She looked devastated.
Troy tugged the rifle out of her grasp. “Shit, Lucy.”
She scrambled onto her knees, searching his face, holding onto him. “Who is he? Who is the target?”
Troy scowled at her. It shouldn’t matter. “He’s a money launderer for FARC. He’s not a nice man.”
“FARC.” She shook her head, looking disoriented.
“Colombian terrorists, funded by kidnap to ransom, illegal mining, extortion and the production and distribution of illegal drugs.” Their window of opportunity to take the shot from the roof was gone. He broke the rifle down and stuffed it in her bag because Lucy wasn’t capable to do it. She was shaking, trying to keep it together. “This man launders their money. We have to finish this.”
Lucy secured the gear bag on her back, shaking her head. “My mum—”
A large explosion in the alleyway had them ducking for cover. When the flash of light died down and car alarms blared in the distance, Troy and Lucy ran for the stairwell.
Patrice stopped them, eyes wild. “It’s the transport! Phil was inside!”
Troy rushed down the stairs, taking them three at a time. When he reached the ground floor, he saw Cat, unconscious. He knelt beside her, slapped her face twice. She held up a hand, feebly trying to fend him off.
“Stop,” she said.
Smoke was thick in the air. It burned his eyes, his sinuses. The truck was still in flames. Anyone inside couldn’t possibly have survived the initial blast, never mind the inferno that made the truck’s metal creak and groan as he watched.
&
nbsp; Troy heard Lucy jump down the last step to stand by his side. He stepped aside to let her tend Cat and then moved into the alleyway. The transport truck was on its side, a huge hole blown out of the passenger door. The driver’s body, charred and smoking, lay ten feet away, blown clear of the truck. Troy covered his face with his arm, grimacing against the heat as he approached the driver. He checked for a pulse. His fingers broke through the charred flesh to muscle.
The man was dead.
He hurried back to what was left of his crew. “We have to finish this.”
“Cat will slow you down and I’m not going anywhere without her.” Patrice had Cat propped up with an arm around her waist. “We’ll meet you two back at base.”
Lucy ran down the alleyway. Troy followed, knowing she was going for the wrong reasons. They had an op to finish, but Lucy was looking for her mother.
* * *
Lucy didn’t see the frenzied looks of the scared passersby. She only saw the limousine her mum and the target entered. Running, keeping up with the car, she prayed the slowed traffic continued long enough to allow her to catch up. Emergency vehicles rushed by, speeding toward the fire, sirens blaring.
She didn’t blend and didn’t care. Her mum was in that car. She’d never expected to see her mum again in this lifetime and the lure of doing so now was too much to resist.
When the limousine stopped at a municipal building, Lucy threw herself against the side of a parked car, keeping her distance, watching from across the street. What would she say to her? How could she explain her absence for the last five years? Lucy looked at her trembling hands, saw the soot and remembered how impeccable her mum always dressed. She’d always been perfectly put together, rich ensembles and coifs.
Lucy peeked out from behind the cover of the car and watched her mum exit the limousine, admiring her white satin cocktail dress and brocade bolero jacket. She looked like an angel. White satin heels, sparkly jewels and a tiny veil pinned to the back of her pixie haircut—no, her mum looked like a bride.
Lucy stood, surprise making her forget everything. This was a wedding.
She saw Troy walk toward the limousine, and the oddity of him allowing himself to be seen made her recognize she also was in the open. She ducked, holding her hand out to him, to bring him back. Then she understood. He lifted his gun and took aim. Without thinking, Lucy lifted her own and aimed it at Troy’s back. She couldn’t allow this. Troy could not be allowed to hurt her mum. Her finger trembled on the trigger.
Troy fired. The FARC money launderer fell to the ground, his brains spraying her mum’s white ensemble. Lucy’s mum screamed. Lucy dropped her arm, her gun unfired.
She couldn’t kill Troy.
From across the street she saw her mum drop to her knees over the target, her hands fluttering over his injury, a bullet between the eyes.
Executed. Like the agents had been.
She didn’t see that Troy had turned back to her until his arm was across her waist, forcing her to walk beside him, away from the commotion, the screaming. He holstered his gun and unzipped his uniform, pulling it down to his waist, tying the arms around his hips. He would have blended if it weren’t for the soot smearing his hands, neck and face.
Without thinking, Lucy did the same. Her mum’s screams chased them down a side street until sirens drowned out everything. The world had gone insane.
When they got to a part of the city that was oblivious to the chaos downtown, Troy dragged her into a motel office, signed them in and paid cash for a key. He opened the room’s door and shoved her inside.
“What the hell was that about, Lucy?” he said. “Were you trying to get us killed?”
She watched him turn on the television and set the channel to local news. It didn’t take long to see the image of her mum, a still shot. She looked dazed, pale, much like Lucy felt. No one knew why the groom had been targeted, nor were there any eyewitnesses to the shooting.
He was staring at her, looking for an explanation for her behavior. “My mum.” It was all she could think to say. All that was important now.
He sat next to her on the bed. “I saw her.” He looked as surprised as she felt, but she never knew with Troy. He was hard to read.
“I don’t understand what just happened.” She really didn’t. Phil was dead. Her mum was getting married to her target, a FARC money launderer. Five years ago, her mum was already married. What the hell happened to him, and what was going on now?
“You were supposed to be with the truck.”
He was telling her something beyond the obvious, but her mind was so filled with odd pieces of information, she couldn’t think.
“This was my op, and I assigned you to stay in the truck,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “It should have been me in the truck, not Phil.” She buried her face in her hands. Guilt wheedled its way into every cell of her body. She’d lost another crew member and it was all her fault. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Troy pulled her to his chest. She leaned on him, seeking solace in the only place she’d ever found it.
“You’re not listening, Lucy. Think.” He kissed her temple, holding her tightly.
She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, clutching at him. “What? What don’t I understand?”
“You were supposed to be with the truck.” She searched his expression and saw he was pissed, and maybe afraid. She’d never seen Troy afraid before. “Only two people had access to that portfolio. Me and Barrett.”
Then she understood. “The bomb was for me.”
Chapter Twelve
Lucy peeled her gear bag off her back and threw it to the ground. She heard the rifle pieces rattle, knocking against other gear, and knew it was a horrible way to treat a weapon, but she didn’t care. She was covered with soot, and the smell of burning flesh was in her sinuses. She could still see the horror on her mum’s face. Lucy had wanted to run to her, console her, but she knew her mum would only see the weapon she’d become.
Her mum thought Lucy was dead. It was probably best if she stayed that way, she thought.
She bolted off the bed and paced. “I can’t stay here. I need to run.”
Troy shook his head. “You don’t know who’s targeting you.”
“You said it yourself! It’s Barrett!”
“Barrett could kill you on a whim. If she didn’t kill you yesterday, she’s not killing you today. It’s someone close to her. Someone who has access to her office.”
“Janice? I don’t think so.”
“She’s not our only option. The point is, we don’t know who planned this. You could have been the random agent designated to die, but instead Phil got tagged. Stop reacting. We need facts, not fears.”
Lucy waved off his theories. “Someone has access to our op plans and they’re systematically killing us. If it’s not the Agency, it might as well be. No one else knows I exist.”
“After five years of ops, someone knows.” He fell back on the bed and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands. “There will be fallout from this once we get back.”
“Good luck with that.” Lucy shook her head. “I’m not going back.” The interrogation was still too fresh in her mind, and Phil wouldn’t be there. Phil. Tears welled in her eyes. This was why you didn’t get attached to anyone at the Agency. They died.
If Lucy went back, she’d be next.
Troy tucked his hands behind his head, propping it up to get a good look at her. “You’re going back.”
“Why? Because you’re going to protect me? Or because you want me dead?” She laughed without a modicum of humor. “For all I know, you’re the architect of this mind fuck.” She watched him. If Troy didn’t want her to know something, she wouldn’t know it. She hated that about him.
“I didn’t do this,” he said. “You broke protocol when you saw your mother, but I’m the one that cleaned it up. And I still have more to do once we get back.”
“It can’t be a coincidence.” She grimace
d. “Why doesn’t Barrett just kill me?” She stepped in front of him. The soot on his face highlighted his blue eyes. “She’s got plenty of trumped-up evidence. Why isn’t she pulling the trigger?”
“I don’t know.”
“If I hadn’t switched with Phil I would be dead, wouldn’t have seen my mum. How is she connected with this? They couldn’t have known I’d see her.” It was her Mum’s wedding day, Lucy thought, an unnecessary twist of cruelty which reeked of Barrett’s influence.
“Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on either and I should.” He stared at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. “I really should. I’m sorry.”
If he was playing her, he was doing a swell job, she thought. She wanted to believe him, but lessons learned were hard to ignore. He had a habit of burning her. “Let’s assume for a moment that you’re not trying to kill me—”
Troy snorted. “You’d be dead already.”
“—and let’s assume Barrett wants me dead.”
“She doesn’t. She knows better. You’re valuable to the Agency in ways you don’t understand.”
It was Lucy’s turn to snort. “Since when have I not been expendable?”
“Let’s leave it at that.”
“No, let’s not.”
“Tough.”
“Someone is trying to kill me. Tried to kill you.”
“It’s not the Agency.”
Lucy started pacing again. “You can’t know that.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not the Agency. You’re just going to have to believe me.”
“The hell I do.” She pulled the drapes aside and peered into the dark alleyway. “I’m being framed.”
Troy nodded. “If you’re innocent.”
Lucy looked at him and scowled. “I’m innocent. Think about it.”
“That’s all I do.”
“My whereabouts are logged every moment of every day and have been since I was recruited. There is no way for me to see or talk with anyone without being monitored.” She curled her lip with disdain. “Except with you and your scrambler. So how the hell would I have found the time and opportunity to suss out buyers of information I don’t have, for money in a Cayman account that I can’t spend, to kill agents that I have no access to or influence to affect their whereabouts? The answer is I’m innocent.”
The Seduction of Lucy Page 13