by Robyn Nyx
Donovan didn’t respond immediately. She saw Makenzie look at Donovan again, and it was clear she didn’t know the answer to Brooke’s question. Maybe Donovan didn’t either. She watched Donovan’s grip on the steering wheel tighten and relax. “Love,” she said, as simply as if that could explain anything. “It makes you do the craziest things. Haven’t you ever been in love, Jackson?”
This time it was Makenzie turning to look at her, and her scrutiny made Brooke adjust her position just to break eye contact. It was like Makenzie’s gaze sought to penetrate her deepest thoughts, and Brooke was trying hard to keep it professional right now. She couldn’t have Donovan thinking Brooke was all hormones and couldn’t control herself. “Not really. My career hasn’t afforded me the time I’d need to properly invest in a relationship.” But I’d find the time to invest in you…Jeez, control yourself.
“I call bullshit. That sounded like a sentence straight out of a manual.”
Donovan’s tone was teasing, but she’d got it right. Brooke wasn’t avoiding love; it was avoiding her.
“Maybe she just hasn’t met the right person.”
Makenzie’s response was directed at Donovan, but Brooke couldn’t have felt more aware of her gaze if it were laser etching her face. She wasn’t certain if Makenzie was poking fun or flirting, but at least she’d joined in the conversation. At least there was some interest on her part. “Who was she in love with?”
Makenzie settled back into her seat, but not before Brooke noticed another loaded glance at Donovan. Delaney being in love with Donovan would make some sense, but it didn’t explain everything. Brooke was sure she’d mentioned someone else.
“Ilsa Blumstein. Someone she met on our last mission. They lived together for two years while she was deep cover.”
Donovan paused and looked back at Brooke with what looked like regret.
“She went too deep.”
“That’s an understatement,” Makenzie added.
Donovan focused on the road ahead again and didn’t respond. She was obviously still harboring deep feelings for Delaney. Brooke hoped that when it came down to it, Delaney would admit defeat and go home willingly.
“What will happen to them when you take them back? Will Simson stand trial for murder? Is Pulsus actually the government, so Delaney’s committing treason right now?” Brooke felt like the new kid at school. She knew nothing and wanted to know everything in no time at all.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have any kind of jurisdiction to make her answer for what she’s done. We’ll do a mind wipe and relocate her in a city far away from Pulsus. That’s the best we can do.”
At that moment, Brooke realized Donovan had come back for her. There was no reason for them to have picked her up on the roadside unless they wanted her involved…or unless she did something that messed everything up with Delaney, and Donovan needed to prevent that from happening. Brooke brought her hands to her face and rubbed her forehead hard. Her dad’s voice came into her head. “If you want the answers, ask the questions.” There were so many questions, and Brooke had no idea how much time she had to ask them.
Brooke tapped Donovan on the shoulder, and she glanced at Brooke through the mirror. “Did I do something wrong…or something right? You’ve brought someone back with you to complete your mission, but you also came back to where you knew I’d be. Why?”
“You said you wanted a new challenge and to make a bigger difference. I’m offering you the chance for the big adventure you’re craving.”
“You’re giving me the chance to help you save Muniz from whatever Delaney has planned for him.” But is that all? “Is it a test?”
The car’s navigation system indicated they were one turn shy of their destination.
“Do you want to take us to your lockup from here?” Donovan asked.
“Sure.” Brooke chose to allow the nonresponse to her question for now. It wasn’t as if Brooke would withhold her assistance if that was all Donovan needed. She wanted into the cool gang, so maybe she’d have to be patient. Or maybe she’d just pass this test by becoming absolutely indispensable.
Chapter Nineteen
“What was the real reason behind Delaney betraying Pulsus?” Jackson’s question had been framed in such a way that it made Landry realize that none of Delaney’s actions were against her. It was the organization Delaney had chosen as her enemy, not Landry. And she’d done it all for the love of Ilsa. So she’d gotten a little carried away with her plans for Pulsus, and she’d let Simson rough Landry up a little, but Jackson confirmed her suspicion that Delaney wouldn’t really have let Simson off the leash completely. Delaney was still in there, and Landry felt certain she could get through to her. She just needed to muzzle Simson first.
“This is me.”
Jackson stopped outside a locker that was indistinguishable from the others. Landry was impressed she had something like this set up while under deep cover. Most FBI agents simply relied on their handlers to provide anything they needed on the job. Her respect ramped up a notch when Jackson pulled open the door to reveal a particularly well organized armory fixed to one of its walls.
“Were you a Girl Scout or are you a control freak?”
“No judgment either way,” Makenzie added, the corner of her mouth turned up in a mischievous grin.
Landry noted the way Jackson bit her lip in what looked like an effort to stop a flirtatious response from coming out. She thought Jackson and Makenzie might work well together, but it seemed that Jackson had a thing for her. Landry couldn’t blame her but hoped it wouldn’t impair her ability to concentrate on the job. There was no way Landry could risk taking Jackson to Pulsus if she was easily distracted by a pretty woman. She’d already pushed her line of credit with the board’s patience as it was. Taking a liability back with her at this point would probably result in the end of her career.
Jackson shrugged and pulled a SIG from its Sharpie-outlined place on the wall board. “You got me. I was a Girl Scout, and I prefer the term ‘well prepared’ rather than ‘control freak.’”
Landry laughed. She really liked the kid, and her instincts had never steered her wrong so far. “The P662. Interesting choice. Hasn’t the FBI been in its Smith & Wesson phase for the past decade or so?”
Jackson shrugged her shoulder holster on and slipped her gun into it. “It’s the gun my dad taught me to shoot with.”
Landry had discovered Jackson’s father had also died in the line of duty, just as Jackson had in the past she’d left her in. The past she’d come back to change. She wondered if Jackson hero-worshipped her father just as Landry had with Frank. She hoped he deserved it, unlike her own father. Landry allowed herself some temporary melancholy about him while she and Makenzie watched silently as Jackson pulled a backpack from the wall, paused to select some ammunition, and piled around ten boxes of it into the bag. She filled and clipped a double magazine pouch onto her belt, took the only knife that was on the wall and pushed it into her pocket. Jackson didn’t strike Landry as the knife type—way too intimate—but then they did serve other less sadistic purposes, like cutting down captives from their bondage. Which was more or less how they’d ended up here. Landry needed to speak with Jackson away from Makenzie. She didn’t want her to take any of the inevitable heat that would arise from bringing Jackson back with them. As per the well-worn cliché, the less Makenzie knew about her plans, the better.
“You followed in your dad’s footsteps,” Landry said when she was tired of the quiet way Jackson was preparing for battle.
Jackson was kneeling on the floor in the far corner of the locker, but she spun around to face Landry. “I die fighting the bad guys?”
Shit. Landry didn’t miss a beat. “I meant you followed him into law enforcement. What made you choose that over teaching?”
“Oh.”
Jackson stood and opened the wallet she’d retrieved from the safe. She pulled out a small photo, but she was too far away for Landry to see who was in it. She�
��d put it back and slipped the wallet into her back pocket before Landry could get a closer look.
“My older sister, Emily, followed my mom into that field. They were always closer. I was always the tomboy, out in the garden and garage with my dad while she was in the kitchen cooking and baking with my mom. Terrible stereotypes, I know, but you are what you are, huh?”
Landry could feel the familial love shimmering from Jackson. It was obvious she still missed them all. She thought of her own path into the military after her father, thankful she hadn’t turned into the same ambitious prick as he had. Does that make me more like Mom? “Sure.” She held off on any further questioning. She didn’t want to raise Makenzie’s suspicions.
“Help yourself.” Jackson gestured to the wall and stepped back.
“Thanks.” Makenzie took her time edging along the narrow space between Jackson and the work bench in front of the armory wall.
Landry rubbed at her upper lip to cover up her smile at Makenzie’s blatant flirtation.
“So did I?”
“Did you what?” She hasn’t let it go.
“Did I die in the line of duty like my father?”
Landry sighed and pulled a sturdy Glock from the wall. How much should I tell you now? “You know what all the time travel movies say; it’s not a good idea to know too much about your own future.”
Jackson tutted. “Seriously? That’s what you’re telling me?”
Makenzie turned and fixed Jackson with a serious expression. “Why would you want to know? If you know when and how you die, it might keep you from living the way you were supposed to.” She leaned against the bench and jutted her hips toward Jackson. “What if the knowledge of how you die stopped you from being an FBI agent and you didn’t save all the lives you were supposed to save?”
Landry put her hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Help us complete our mission, and if you’re a hundred percent certain you still want to know before I leave, I’ll tell you.”
Makenzie raised her eyebrows but said nothing, and Jackson looked like she was processing the offer.
“Okay, let’s go rescue your scientist,” she said as she grabbed a tan, rough-looking leather jacket from the wall and exited the locker.
“It’s nearly eighty degrees.” Landry stepped outside and Jackson locked up.
“It’s my lucky jacket. I don’t want to leave it behind.”
Landry turned to head back to the car and smiled. Good thing you picked it up now then, cause after this, we’re headed straight to 2076, kid.
* * *
Landry parked a few blocks from the factory and they jogged the remaining distance. As they drew closer, they could see Frankie’s cast-off van already parked outside.
“Fuck.”
“Don’t worry. We can find out what’s happening. Follow me.” Jackson doubled back and disappeared around the corner of the building.
Makenzie shot Landry an amused look. “Are you cutting her some slack because she has no idea who she’s ordering around?”
Landry smiled. “Something like that. She’s trying to impress us. Be nice.”
“Her ass has already impressed me.”
Landry laughed and shook her head. “She’s none too subtle, for sure.” Landry grabbed Makenzie’s upper arm and propelled her forward after Jackson. “Come on, we’ll talk about her ass when we’re celebrating the end of this mission at Rik’s Place.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
A sudden foreboding gripped Landry’s throat, and she swallowed hard to push it away. She caught hold of Makenzie again. “Make sure you’re around to do exactly that. Simson’s dangerous, you already know that, but she’s operating without rules now. There’s nothing she won’t do. Remember that when we face off.”
Landry could see Makenzie registered the warning and made no attempt to soldier it up and be blasé about the situation they were headed into.
“I hear you, Chief. I’ll be careful.”
Landry pushed Makenzie forward again and followed her into the darkness. They caught up with Jackson and stopped on the first floor. There were some serious bolts and locks on a sturdy metal door. Jackson made quick work of them all and slid the door across the barn door style bracket. Landry again found herself impressed with Jackson’s work and her surveillance setup.
“Is this all FBI authorized or is this your own idea?”
Jackson smiled and looked like a naughty kid caught stealing hot cookies from the kitchen.
“Here’s the thing. If I tell you it’s my stuff, will you think I can’t follow orders? Or if I tell you my handler set it up to watch what we’ve been up to, will you be disappointed in the lack of ingenuity you’d just credited me with?”
Makenzie laughed and shook her head. “Do you always overthink everything?”
“I do. But usually I keep it to myself so people don’t think I’m crazy.”
Landry inspected the equipment and flicked on the audio. It was rudimentary compared to a mere two decades later, but this kind of technology always seemed to become outdated and move faster than most. “I’m a fan of self-direction, so which is it?”
From her grin, it was obvious that she was pleased with herself and her ability to impress Landry.
“It’s my gear. Looking at every angle was something my dad taught me.”
A fleeting sadness crossed Jackson’s eyes, and again, Landry could see how much he’d meant to her and how much she missed him. She dismissed her own momentary melancholy about Frank, no longer worthy of being called Dad, and nodded. “Impressive.” She picked up a pair of binoculars to look across at Delaney’s building and saw movement on the lower level. She focused to see Walker and Miller sauntering down the street.
Jackson peered over Landry’s shoulder. “You’re letting them walk away?”
She was close enough that Landry could smell peppermint Tic Tacs, though she hadn’t seen Jackson popping them. She smiled even though Jackson’s proximity was too close to be comfortable. “What would you do?” Landry’s gut was telling her Jackson was extractor material, but a few questions here and there about her temperament would prove helpful.
“Let them go?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” No clues. Work it out.
“Let them go.”
Jackson said it with enough conviction that Landry accepted it would have been her choice rather than saying what she thought Landry might want to hear. “Why? They beat you. They sliced up your body and enjoyed every minute of it.” Landry turned and Jackson took a step back, looking a little disturbed. “They’re going back out on the streets of your city, and they’re going to get paid to do more of that by your friend, Frankie Calvin. You’re going to let them get away with that and walk away?” Landry crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Jackson to respond.
Jackson cleared her throat and Landry saw her eyes harden.
“They’re not the mission.” Jackson straightened her shoulders and stood a little taller. “They’re irrelevant and not worth the risk. I’m not in this for revenge, Donovan.”
Landry smiled and turned back to Delaney’s factory. “Good answer.” During the exchange, Landry registered the conversation between Delaney and Muniz, and heard her tell him that Jenkin had been successful in inventing time travel. He came to the window, but even through the grime, his glee was apparent. That must feel like Christmas for the little geek. She strained to hear Delaney explaining the fundamentals of the time continuum and Simson struggling to grasp the potential futility of their plan.
“If we haven’t got to where we need to, then nothing we do will matter. We could die in a decade in a ball of fire car crash, but Donovan might show up with four more operatives in five seconds and change our future.”
“Delaney?” Makenzie whispered and Landry answered with a nod.
“What year? What year are you from?”
“Muniz,” Landry said before Makenzie asked.
Delaney shut the conversati
on down quickly and more or less sent Muniz to bed like a child. The three of them listened intently as Delaney described her plan to grab Jenkin and her mom.
“Who’s Elena?” Jackson asked.
Landry moved away from the machine, nodded to Makenzie to continue listening, and guided Jackson to two plastic seats at the far end of the room. She’d heard enough to confirm her belief that she and Simson had gone to DC and that Jackson must have listened to the conversation in real time and decided to follow them. She looked around the room for any time shimmers, or signs of déjà vu that happened when the same person was in exactly the same place but in a different time field. Despite her many missions, Landry had seen less than a handful, but they’d been beautiful, rainbow-colored flickers that danced in front of her eyes. Must’ve missed it.
Landry sat and motioned for Jackson to do the same. “Elena is my mom. She invented regenerative technology, which combats the aging process from missions. Pulsus is run by her and Jenkin.”
Jackson looked like her head might explode.
“Wow. That’s…”
Landry saw Makenzie struggling to hear the muted discussion. She turned the volume up and the conversation filtered back over to Landry and Jackson.
“What about Sledge?” Simson asked.
“I’m unreasonably pissed off about that.”
Jackson’s attention turned to the machine at the mention of her cover name.
Simson spoke again. “Donovan is a smooth son of a bitch. You think she talked her way out of those ropes? There’s no way she released herself.”
“I’ve got an unpleasant hunch Sledge was DEA or FBI. I think we got played.”
You got out just in time. Landry snapped her fingers at Jackson’s ears. “Focus, Jackson.”
She blew out a long breath and looked back to Landry. “Damn. Maybe I got out just in time.”
“Lucky for me and you.” Landry didn’t mind acknowledging Jackson’s intervention, particularly since she’d been suspicious of her motives at the time and consequently had been less than gracious about the rescue. “You saved my life. I didn’t really thank you properly.” Jackson raised her eyebrows and looked incredulous. “Okay, I didn’t thank you at all.”