Rose-Colored Glasses

by Megan Fatheree

  Quinn gave her a wry smirk. “Don't ask.”

  Rosie nodded again and held tighter to his hand. Her breaths sounded quicker, and her face spoke of the anguish behind her calm demeanor.

  Quinn didn't give himself time to think. He marched, with Rosie, over to the first security checkpoint and slid his card through the slot. It dinged green and he walked through the gate, pulling Rosie behind him.

  A thousand alarms began to ring through the building. Shouts came from somewhere behind them. Quinn gripped Rosie's hand as tightly as he dared and took off at a sprint.

  Through three checkpoints he darted, not stopping to scan his card or try to explain who Rosie was. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Quinn had spotted Johnson and Lockes following closely on their heels. The two men must have told security they would handle it, and Quinn was okay with that.

  Quinn and Rosie burst through the outer door to Mr. Lorrander's office.

  Margot stood from her seat and gave Quinn a quizzical look. “Mr. Wesley?”

  Quinn held up a hand. “Don't worry, Margot, I have this under control. Is Mr. Lorrander here?”

  Margot nodded and watched as Quinn slammed through into the inner office.

  Quinn pulled Rosie to a stop beside himself and glowered at Mr. Lorrander. The man remained seated, unshakable as always.

  “She's being targeted. I want to know why. Now,” Quinn demanded. He never released Rosie's hand, afraid that someone would sweep her out of the room faster than he could blink.

  Johnson and Lockes burst through the door behind them, both panting hard.

  Mr. Lorrander steepled his fingers under his chin. “Mr. Johnson. Mr. Lockes. It would seem you two haven't done your job properly. I will be reviewing your previous case files. Dismissed.” He waved a hand toward them, shooing them back out the door. “Please, have a seat Mr. Wesley, Ms. Callahan.”

  Rosie looked up at Quinn in utter disbelief.

  Quinn nodded at her and the two took seats facing Mr. Lorrander. “So, what's really going on?” Quinn asked again.

  Mr. Lorrander held up a hand to stop his questions and pressed a button on the intercom. “Margot, tell security we have handled the situation. Reset all the alarms and checkpoints.”

  “Yes, sir,” Margot's polite answer came over the speakers.

  Mr. Lorrander sat up taller and straightened his suit jacket. He carefully leaned forward onto his desk. “Mr. Wesley, I hope you know what an uproar you have just caused. We have channels for this kind of thing.”

  Quinn tried to contain a laugh, and wound up snorting. “The channels that you are referring to would take weeks, at the best, and would probably never work due to red tape. I didn't have time for that. If Johnson and Lockes haven't told you, someone took another shot at Ms. Callahan today. They managed to blow up my car in the process. You might need to feed some made-up story to the press about that one.”

  Rosie sat forward in her chair. “Quinn? What's going on here? I thought this was a math firm.”

  Quinn took a deep breath. He owed her an explanation, but he couldn't tell her straight out. He would get in loads of trouble if he did. He settled for the second-best approach. “Rosie, you've seen my business card. You're smart, even though you don't claim to be. Think about it for a minute.”

  Rosie closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. Her lips moved silently as she mumbled to herself. “Cavendish Integral Algorithms. Cavendish Integral Algorithms. Cavendish Integral Algorithms.”

  Mr. Lorrander leaned farther onto his desk, his eyes intently studying Rosie's moving lips.

  Suddenly, Rosie's eyes flew open and she stared, open-mouthed between Quinn and Mr. Lorrander. She choked out her next sentence with what looked like great difficulty. “CIA. You work for the CIA?”

  Quinn gave a wan smile and turned his gaze to his boss. “It's your turn to explain, Lorrander.”

  “Wait. Hold on a minute,” Rosie held up a hand and continued to stare dumbfoundedly at Quinn. “You lied to me this entire time?”

  Quinn took a deep breath. He had seen this coming, but he hadn't expected the harsh words to hurt him so badly. He felt like Rosie had stuck her hand into his chest and squeezed. It was becoming harder to breathe, but he knew he had to move on with the explanation of all the events.

  “Rose,” he began, “I only lied about where I work. I swear nothing else was a lie. Nothing. I was one hundred percent honest in every conversation we ever had.”

  “Really? Will you please excuse me while I decide whether to believe that or not?” She put her hand to her chin for a second, as if thinking it over. “I've made my decision. I don't believe you.”

  Quinn could have kicked himself. He knew how stubborn Rosie could be, and he had chosen to ignore that fact. He had purposefully hidden any involvement he had with the CIA. At the time, he had justified it because it was against protocol to tell anyone that he worked for the Company. Now, however, he really regretted his decision. He didn't want her to resent him for this.

  Mr. Lorrander cleared his throat and looked seriously at Rosie. “Ms. Callahan, I can assure you that Mr. Wesley is telling the truth. He has no cover story other than the one he supplied himself. Anything he tells you is the truth. His past, his present, his future. I suggest you listen to him, he may be the only reason you're still alive this afternoon.”

  “I think I could have handled it myself,” Rosie countered. “Besides, no one was shooting until Mr. C-I-A over here decided to come after me. What were you hoping to get out of me at dinner? Huh? Were you hoping for information? Or were there other plans going in your head?”

  Quinn winced. That stung. She was really hitting below the belt. “You know where I stand with my everyday principles. The only thing I expected to get out of dinner was a good conversation and a little insight into who you really are. You intrigue me, Rosie Callahan.”

  “If I intrigue you so much, what were you doing with that other woman?” Rosie folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

  Mr. Lorrander's attention turned fully to Quinn. “What woman, Mr. Wesley?”

  Quinn hadn't seen this coming. Mr. Lorrander had totally switched sides. He was working with Rosie now. Between the two, Quinn knew he wouldn't last long. Their stubbornness superseded that of a mule's. Not to mention, he refused to lie to either of them.

  “She's a contact. One of my first jobs, and the only woman whom I ever agreed to gather intel on. That's another of my rules. I don't pull heartstrings to get information.” Quinn shot a pointed look to Mr. Lorrander, telling him to drop the subject.

  Mr. Lorrander gave a long, single nod. “What was Shada Al-Basri doing here in Illinois?”

  Quinn heaved a sigh and sank back in his chair. “Something about oil and her uncle. I didn't exactly ask. She sat down about two minutes after I got there. I didn't have time to interrogate her.”

  “Who the heck is Shada Al-Basri?” Rosie was nearly yelling.

  Quinn calmly turned to Rosie and set his hand gently on top of hers. She instantly pulled away.

  “I will not be coddled!” Rosie roared. “This is my life the two of you are discussing! Tell me what is going on.”

  “Quite frankly, Ms. Callahan, we have no idea what is going on. We are just as much in the dark as you are.” Mr. Lorrander finally leaned back in his chair. “That is why I assigned Johnson and Lockes to your detail.”

  Quinn leaned toward Mr. Lorrander. He could feel the anger welling up inside himself, and it was all he could do to hold it back. “Did you not hear me when I said someone took a shot at her and threw a brick through her window?”

  “I heard you quite well, Mr. Wesley. I simply don't know what you propose that I do about it.”

  Rosie turned to face Quinn as well. “Yeah, Quinn, what do you propose to do about it?”

  Quinn really hated that they were ganging up on him, but he thought the answer was quite simple. “Get her off the grid. At least for a while. Give the agency time to figure out who
's after her.”

  “Off the grid?” Rosie squeaked. “I just got back from Canada, for Pete's sake! Where do you want to ship me off to now? Paraguay?”

  Quinn shook his head. “We don't have much jurisdiction outside of the U.S. other than ordering an extraction. I don't think Paraguay would be a wise choice, given how little we know about the guys after you.”

  Mr. Lorrander sniffed. “I can't order something like that until I know how serious the threat is. I have it on good authority that you have spent most of your adult life searching for your father. Please enlighten me.”

  Quinn turned his head to study Rosie. How had he missed that? “The story at the hospital was yours, wasn't it?”

  Rosie felt all the saliva drain from her mouth the moment that Mr. Lorrander mentioned her father. She hadn't ever told anyone the truth behind that story. It was all too painful. Quinn's question had hit the nail on the head.

  “It's a really long explanation,” she managed to croak out.

  Mr. Lorrander rocked back and forth in his desk chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied Rosie's face. “I think we have time.”

  Rosie weighed her options. Quinn had trusted her enough to bring her here, to the place where he worked. He had trusted her with his secret. She didn't know if she was courageous enough to trust Quinn with hers. It was probably the wiser option.

  “My dad disappeared when I was ten. There was no trace of him, dead or alive. Someone found his truck parked by the side of the road, near a lake. Everyone assumed he had drowned himself, but they never found the body. It never sat right with me.” Rosie sighed. “My mom dated some losers after that. I made it my life's mission to find my dad, wherever he went. That's about all there is to it.”

  She didn't mention that she could have gone into so much more detail. She could have told them all the leads she had followed. All the times she had thought she found a trace of her father, only to find out that it was another decoy. All the times her heart had broken.

  Mr. Lorrander flipped open a file on his desk. “Your deceased significant other, Martin Sinclair. He was censoring some documents for us when he was killed. He burned them. Do you have any idea why?”

  Rosie looked between Quinn and Mr. Lorrander. Quinn's presence in Canada made sense now. “I was in love with Martin, not with his job.”

  Quinn's voice was barely audible when he did speak. “You loved him?”

  Rosie sighed and lowered her head, not able to look at Quinn while she spoke. “Being in love with Martin Sinclair is like jumping off a sinking ship with an invisible life raft.”

  “What?” Quinn and Mr. Lorrander asked in the same breath.

  Rosie rolled her eyes. She had thought the analogy was pretty obvious. “You need it to survive, but it isn't there. So you learn to swim.”

  She looked at Quinn and shrugged. It was the best she could do to explain what she was feeling at that moment. Even the man she had thought she loved had abandoned her. If she thought God was real, she might have run to Him, but it was too late. She had done too much, He wouldn't care if He could hear her. Quinn seemed to be her last chance. Her last chance for normality. Her last chance for forgiveness. Her last chance for love.

  Mr. Lorrander cleared his throat, and Rosie snapped out of her reverie to turn back to the man.

  “We have a safe house I can send her to for a bit, just while we discover who is following her.”

  Quinn sighed heavily. She couldn't tell if it was relief or frustration. “We'll take what we can get.”

  “Do I even get a say in this?” Rosie was nearly in hysterics. Everything that had gone wrong up to this point played loudly in her head.

  Martin scanned sheets of classified information in front of her face.

  A gunshot resounded through the streets.

  A man's piercing eyes followed her every movement as she boarded a train.

  A successful businessman fell dead in front of her.

  A window shattered. A brick on the floor.

  Rosie felt a hand on her arm and snapped back to reality.

  Quinn knelt in front of her, his eyes studying the depths of her eyes. Concern was written on his face as clearly as if he had written the words on his forehead. “Rosie? Are you okay?”

  For the first time, Rosie felt the dampness on her cheeks. She swiped it away, furious that her tears had betrayed her. She nodded at Quinn.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You were about to hyperventilate.”

  Rosie chided herself once again. This was not the right time to lose herself in her thoughts. She couldn't afford for them to know.

  She shook her head slightly. “I was just...thinking about some stuff. It's no biggie.”

  Quinn didn't look so sure, but he didn't push it any farther. She was grateful for that. She didn't want to disclose that information to anyone. It was her secret, and it was going to stay that way.

  “Okay,” Quinn agreed with a nod of his head. He placed his hand on top of hers. “Lorrander says if we're going to do this, it has to be quick. We need to move you today.”

  Rosie gulped. She hadn't expected things to move so quickly. “What about Emily? Do I even get to say goodbye?”

  “You won't be leaving forever,” Mr. Lorrander chided.

  She watched as Quinn shot the man a scathing look. Quinn turned back toward her. “I'll give her a heads-up.”

  “What will you tell her? You can't just tell her the CIA moved me to a safe house.”

  Quinn smiled and rubbed his thumb against the back of her cold hand. “I'll think of something.”

  Rosie nodded. Her brain was still working overtime. She wanted to be away from whoever was chasing her. Away from the horror. But, she didn't want to leave Quinn behind. He was all she had left. Without religion or a family, he was the last thing keeping her afloat. How could she leave that behind? What would she do?

  Quinn stood and gave her a reassuring smile. “Rose, it's going to be okay. We'll find this guy. I promise we'll bring you back home the second he's behind bars.”

  Rosie wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust him. She took a deep breath. Maybe she needed to take a leap of faith, just this once. It wasn't usually her style, but it felt right in this situation. She nodded.

  Quinn pulled her to her feet and faced his boss. “Let's do this.”

  Mr. Lorrander stood as well and eyed Rosie curiously.

  Rosie stood her ground. She wasn't about to let some mysterious, creepy, super-spy coordinator intimidate her. She would roll with the punches thrown at her, but she wouldn't give in. Not ever. She hoped he realized that and took it at face value.

  Without flinching, Lorrander pressed the talk button on his intercom. The receptionist's voice immediately came back over the speakers.

  “Yes, sir?” she asked.

  Lorrander didn't lower his gaze from Rosie's face as he spoke his next sentence. “Margot, get Johnson and Lockes on a private plane ASAP. I'll send instructions.” He lifted his finger from the button and stood to his full height.

  “I want to escort her to the plane, sir,” Quinn said it more as a command than as a request.

  Mr. Lorrander nodded. “Fine. Tell Johnson and Lockes to take her to the Kaneohe safe house. She should be out of the way there, until we find the man who wants her dead.”

  Rosie blinked twice. Kaneohe? That sounded an awful lot like Hawaii to her. Maybe this whole safe house thing wasn't going to be such a nuisance after all. She had always wanted to go to Hawaii.

  Rosie looked down at her hand, still intertwined with Quinn's. It felt safe there, like it belonged. Her gaze traveled up to his face. No one had ever looked more concerned. She was glad he was looking out for her safety, but she couldn't stand the thought of him worrying about her constantly. And, from what she had seen and heard so far, that was what he did.

  “Everything's going to be okay,” Quinn assured her.

  Rosie nodded, wanting to believe his every word. The only thing was, she wasn't
so sure he was right.

  TWELVE

  “We're here,” Agent Johnson said, turning in his seat to watch the reaction on Rosie's face.

  Rosie peered out the front window of the black, armored SUV and gave a wan smile. It wasn't the worst house she'd ever seen, but she certainly wouldn't have taken it for a CIA safe house.

  The customary Hawaiian home, painted a lovely shade of blue, looked to be about a story and a half tall. The ground floor appeared to be spacious, probably bearing the bulk of what the two agents had said was about 2,300 square feet. The yard was large, as well, and completely fenced in. Trees surrounded the property, hiding it from prying eyes on the street outside.

  It was hard to believe it had only been twelve hours since Quinn walked her to the plane and promised her that he would make everything all right. Twelve hours since she had left her life behind.

  Rosie took a deep breath, stilling her nerves. She almost wished she had a God to pray to at that moment. Almost.

  “Ready to go in?” Agent Lockes asked as he removed the keys from the ignition.

  “Sure,” Rosie agreed.

  Johnson opened her door, like a gentleman, and allowed her to precede him into the bungalow.

  Rosie took in her surroundings. Walls, painted a lighter shade of the blue from outdoors. Furniture, sparse but comfortable. Windows, covered with bamboo mini-blinds and probably made from reinforced, bullet-proof glass. Inconspicuous on the outside, a virtual fortress on the inside. Just like the CIA.

  She sighed.

  “The house has three bedrooms,” Johnson began to explain. “One on the ground floor and two upstairs. We would recommend you take one of the upstairs bedrooms and allow us to have the position between the door and any threat that might arise, but we understand if you want the first-floor room.”

  Reality began to sink in. She was in serious danger. These men were willing to die for her. “The two of you are the entire security detail?” she asked, dubious.

  Lockes nodded. “Yes, but the two of us are all the protection you'll need. Trust me. We're highly trained operatives.”