“Iwant to tell him.Okay, you know howIhave always wanted to be a field operative?”
“Yeah?”Isay.
Sheseems so excited that she’s ready to burst. “Ifinally talked toDirectorLancasterabout it.”Hervoice is rising in octave and speed as she talks. “Shegave me her blessing to fill out all the application paperwork so they can start the vetting process andIcan start on the testing.”
“Righton,”Isay, givingKellaa fist bump. “Congratulations!It’sthe best job.You’regoing to love it.”
“Thanks,” she says, grinning widely.
“Sowhat does this mean?”Iask.
“Rightnow,” the director says, “it shouldn’t make much of a difference for you.Therecould be a time here and there whenCharliewill need to take over as your handler if she has to be away for a test when something goes down.Charliemight just have to pull double-duty for a bit now and then.”
Igrin at my sister. “Justlike good old times.”Charliehas been my handler quite a few times over the four yearsI’vebeen here.Butwe both knowI’mreferring to our childhood, when she was on the other side of our walkie-talkies, directing me andMilesas we spied on our neighbors from the treehouse. “Sowhen are you going to apply to be a field operative?”
Charlie’seyes go wide and fill with a terror that’s so over-the-top, it’s comical and makes me laugh.Charliehas always preferred running things behind the scenes and never stepping a single toe into the spotlight.
“Justkidding, sis.You’retoo good at what you do.We’dall be lost without you on the other side of our comms.”
“Ifyou’ll excuse me,” the director says, “Ineed to get to a meeting.Don’thold him up too long— he has a mission to prepare for.”Shegives me a look like she did whenIwas a kid, supposedly doing homework, when she walked in to find me laughing with friends in a group video call.
Asthe director is leaving the room,Abrahamwalks in.Hewas an intelligence operative a million years ago, like at the same time my dad was.He’stoo old tobe a spy now, butIdon’t think he ever wants to leave the spy life behind.Idon’t blame him. “Ijust came by to see what kinds of disguises you might need for your mission.Oh, and to wish you good luck, have fun, and don’t die.”
“Thanks,Abraham,”Isay.
I’mabout to talk with him about disguise needs, but thenKellaasks, “So, you’re preparing for a mission withZoe, huh?”EventhoughIknow she knows the answer to that.
ThenCharliesays, “Oh!Maybethis mission will be the second act of your enemies-to-lovers arc.”
“My…What?”Myeyebrows pull together in confusion, butI’malso pretty sureIdon’t want either of them to un-confuse me.
“Youknow, a romance trope,”Abrahamsays, surprising me. “Youtwo start off as enemies and then you turn into love interests.”
“No,”Isay as firmly asIcan to all three of them. “Absolutelynot.Ifanything, it’s the opposite of that.”
NowbothCharlieandKellalook confused.Abrahamjust pulls up a chair, looking rather entertained.
ThenCharliemakes things so much worse by talking through her confusion. “Opposites?Theopposite of enemies to lovers would be lov…”Thenshe full-on gasps.Handover her lips and everything, like she just heard the most scandalous thing ever. “Youtwo—”
“No!”Ipractically shout. “Notexactly.Notthat at all.Butno, we arenotdoing an enemies-to-lovers thing.Thismission will be more of an enemies-to-worse-enemiesthing.Itwon’t surprise me if only one of us comes home on that plane.”
Allthree of them are quiet for a moment, then, like a true sister,Charliesays, “Ifit’sZoe, canIhave your prized spyglass thatPortugal’sDirectorofMaritimeTradegifted you?”
AndnowI’mback to grinding my teeth.
CHAPTER 7
SKY-HIGH RIVALRY
LEDGER
Thisis my first time flying on a private luxury jet, and boy, couldIget used to this.Ituses a separate terminal with private lounges— not thatIhave time to sit down in one, but they are nice to walk past.Securityscreening is easier than finding aStarbucksinSeattle, and a private shuttle just dropped me off on the tarmac in front of the waiting plane.
I’mnot even all the way up the stairs with my bag beforeIhear talking and laughing.Assoon asIstep through the door to the plane,Isee thatZoehas beat me here, which makes my eyelid twitch a little.
She’schatting up a gentleman inI’mguessing his late fifties, who is wearing a navy suit and looking rather entertained.He’sstanding like he’s used to commanding attention, yet there are plenty of laugh lines around his eyes that seem at odds with his posture.Basedon the green tie and pocket square with aCelticknot design onthe fabric, the pin of anIrishharp on his lapel, and his chestnut hair streaked with silver,I’mguessing he is theIrishAmbassadorto theU.S. who offered to let us ride with him.
Aman in his thirties is standing next to him, looking equallyIrishbut nowhere near as commanding of a presence.Buthe does look every bit as entertained as theAmbassador.Whichdoesn’t surprise me, sinceZoeis chatting with them.Asusual, she’s morphed into the perfect conversationalist for this situation.It’sa skill that is rather impressive and useful for a spy to have.Irespect it— as long as she doesn’t use it on me again.ThatIcan’t stand.
