“Didwe lose them?”Liviasks between panting breaths.
Weboth look around, butIsee no sign of the two suit-clad men with the short-cropped hair.
Igrin, exhilaration filling my whole body. “Ithink we did.”
CHAPTER8
CLAIMING THE ASSET
JACE
AsIdrive away from the chaos at the shopping center in the direction of theClandestineServicesAgency, things feel strange.WheneverI’mon a mission, especially one that goes sideways and has to be saved,Ialways leave with adrenaline coursing through me.AndIdefinitely have that.ButIam leaving with something else, too, thatIdon’t quite expect.
Happiness?No, it can’t be that.I’malways happy when a mission is successful.
Exceptthis one wasn’t entirely successful.Wegot the key, which is arguably the most important part, but we didn’t capture the intended target, which means we don’t know who we are up against.ButIstill feel the happiness mixed with adrenaline thatIget when a mission goes really well.
Thenit hits me.WhatI’mfeeling came from the lunch withMackenzieand her friend, not from the initial mission.Itell myself it’s because getting her out of the area and off to safety became the mission and not becauseI’mfeeling anything toward the woman herself.Andit certainly doesn’t have to do with how fun the conversation with her was.Orthe way her face squinches when she laughs or how her shoulders seem to have a golden glow in the sunlight.
Nope.I’mfeeling whatI’mfeeling becauseMackenzieandLiviwere safely extricated from the scene and handed off to theFBIfor protection.
Whichis great, aside from the fact thatIdon’t actually believe this should be the end.Andnot just becauseImight’ve found the woman attractive.Duringthe fifteen-minute drive back to the agency,Ican’t stop analyzing every detail and thinking through every scenario.
Iturn off the access road onto the tree-lined street that leads to what appears to be a wealthy introvert’s mansion.Wework hard to keep up that facade, too.Tothe eye of any onlooker, the grounds are beautiful and meticulously cared for.Hiddenfrom view are the scanners that tag any electronic, tracking, or explosive devices, along with all the offensive and defensive measures that keep this place more secure than thePentagon.Theonly clue that it is anything other than a giant home is the small, tasteful sign at the gate that readsLancasterBusinessSolutions— our cover business’s name.
“Hello,Moss,”Isay asIstop at the gate.
“Goodafternoon,Mr.Lancaster.”
Mossholds out the scanner andItap my badge on it, and then place my hand, palm down, on the reader so it can check my fingerprints. “Didyour son win his game?”
Mossnods and grins as the screen turns green, allowing me access. “Heeven shot the game-winning field goal.”
“Nice!Givehim a high-five for me, will you?”
“Willdo,”Mosssays as the gate starts to open.
Mosshas worked at the gate for three years, andIstill don’t know if his actual name isMossor if it’s a cover.Rumorhas it that he used to beSecretServiceand that once, at a formal dinner, he had to take out a terrorist using a salad fork to save the president’s daughter from a hostage situation.Butif that happened, it never made the news, and not evenMosshimself has ever confirmed nor denied the rumor.
Ishould look him up someday and see if his records are within my clearance level.Although,Isuspect they probably aren’t.
Ifollow the curving cobblestone drive toward the building, but instead of following it to the front of the building,Igo to the side and then turn toward it, where the road dips down into the cavernous parking garage below the building.Thereis more than just parking down here— the agency is so much larger than it appears from the surface.Butdown here isn’t whereIwork.
Igo to the elevator banks, scan my badge, open my eyes wide for the retinal scanner, and then exhale a full breath into theDNAscanner.Amoment later, the light above the elevator turns green and the doors open.Asit is taking me up to the main level, my watch buzzes andIglance at it to see a text from theFBIagent who is shadowingMackenzieandLivi.
AgentWright:We’vebeen made by the subjects.Theyare currently trying to lose us.
Jace:Thankyou for the update.Staywith them.
Theelevator doors open andIstep into an area filled with desks, analysts, operatives, and big screens at the front, with an area to stand for meetings just in front of it, the entire place a hive of activity.Thedirector of theClandestineServicesAgencyis standing atEmerson’sdesk, leaning in to look at something on his screen.Thebig screens at the front currently show a collage of still images ofHendrickson, the key we recovered fromMackenzie’spurse, the intended buyer,Mackenzie, and the two guys who were searching the boutiques forMackenzie, each image with what information we have about them listed beneath.
DirectorLancasterstraightens when she notices me walk in, and then starts moving toward the front of the room as she says to me, “Oh, good.You’reback.Charliehas already briefed us on everything— we’ve just been waiting for you.”Then, in a louder voice, so everyone in the room can hear, she says, “Okay, team, here’s where we stand.”
Shemoves to her customary spot in front of the bank of screens.She’swearing dark gray slacks, a light blue blouse, and a dark gray suit coat.It’san outfit so similar to whatI’veseen her wear my entire life.Becauseexcept for last-minute trips where even which continent she was on was top-secret to me and my siblings,Ireally have seen her my entire life, because the director is also my mom.
NotthatIwould ever call her that within these walls.JustlikeIwouldn’t callEmerson,Miles, orLedgermy brothers or callCharliemy sister whileI’mhere.Notthat everyone at the agency doesn’t know that we’re family.Theyalso know that each of us has more than earned our right to be here, and we daily earn our right to stay.
Becausethere is nothing like being trained from birth by parents who are also two of the best intelligence operatives this nation has seen to prepare you to become the next generation of the best intelligence operatives there are.
