Chapter 9
I had to think. But with Brooks staring at me I couldn’t gather my thoughts. I knew I owed him an explanation. I just couldn’t think of one that wasn’t the truth fast enough. I had to get away from him and come up with a plan, one that didn’t involve Brooks muddling with my good sense.
“I need a minute,” I told him.
I stood still and fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. His piercing gaze was too intense. Not to mention, annoying. I didn’t want him studying me. I was too afraid of what he’d figure out.
“If you’re thinking about running off, don’t.”
I bit back a childish retort about him not being the boss of me and instead asked, “Why do you care what I do?”
“Can’t answer that, Doll. I just do.”
“Can’t or won’t.”
“Can’t. You’re prickly as fuck. Your attitude in general sucks.
You’ve done nothing but lie to us. Yet, I still care.
I think you’re hiding something more than who you work for.
I think you’ve been jacked around and fucked over.
So as a way to protect yourself, you come off as a bitch.
I believe you like to work alone. Probably because you have trust issues that have made you a control freak.
But I do think somewhere in that smart brain of yours you know you need us.
But you’re too hard-headed to get out of your own way and let us help you.
Pride will be your destruction. Mark this, Doll, if you run, I’ll find you. ”
Direct hit. I was right, he saw too much.
It was disconcerting. Not even my ex-husband could read me as easily as Brooks had.
In the beginning, James had worked for it, he’d put forth the effort to get to know me.
But it had taken him years before he fully understood why I did or said certain things and by then he only wanted to know so he could use them as weapons.
But not Brooks. He had me pinned in a matter of hours.
He was wrong about one thing, this wasn’t about pride so much as it was about revenge. It was personal, and there was no way for me to separate the job from my need for retribution. He may’ve been right, I was compromised. However, that wasn’t going to stop me from finishing what I’d started.
“I’m not going to leave. I just need to think.” I picked up my laptop but left the file. It had the information I’d gathered on Falcon and Militrix. “That’s for you.” I pointed at the documents I’d left and walked out of the dining room.
Before I knew where my feet were taking me, I was in Brooks’ room, or mine, as he’d offered it to me if I was going to stay.
I sat on the hard mattress and started coming up with a new plan.
If the team took out the prince would that really be so bad?
Over the last two years I’d been back to work, I’d gathered enough intel to know how his network operated.
And wasn’t that what my end game was, anyway?
When Al Issa was removed as the head figure another person would be put in his place.
It wouldn’t stop me from tracking the money Lucre dispersed.
Why did I care who took out Al Issa? Because I wanted to do it.
I wanted the pleasure of being the last person on this earth he saw as he drew his last breath.
I deserved it. I was owed at least that much.
Even with the air conditioning blasting in the house I was still sweating.
A nice cold shower was exactly what I needed to clear my thoughts of vengeance and figure out my next step.
I made my way to the small bathroom attached to the bedroom and stripped down and turned on the tap to cold.
Relief washed over me as the lukewarm water cascaded over me.
Damn, I missed cold water. Something I’d yet to find in Bahrain.
It took a long time but I had a new plan.
I was going to have to give Brooks and his team something.
I was actually surprised Tex hadn’t figured it out yet, or if he had, why he hadn’t passed along the information to the team.
The people I worked for were careful, but I supposed the real reason they were able to keep everything secret was because they took credit for nothing.
Complete and total deniability. There was no payroll, there was a simple chain of command, and I had no idea who else worked for The Company.
We all worked alone, no partners, no teams, we worked our own intel.
It was simple really. I was given a mission, told where to apply for a job, magically I was offered whatever job I’d applied for, and I was off.
I did work for the UN this time. Before this job I’d worked with different relief organizations, UNICEF, and even the Peace Corps.
Temporary jobs that would keep me in whichever region I needed to be in.
I’d never met my handler in person, I only knew him as Leon Brown.
Which was a bullshit name, I’d researched him.
I was offered a position at The Company after I divorced James and decided to go back to work.
My old job at the CIA was a possibility, however when I was presented this opportunity, I took it.
I thought working alone was what I needed after everything that had happened with James.
A little peace and quiet, no one breathing down my neck telling me I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t fit enough, my deficiencies were never ending.
Fuck James Monroe. I’d more than been a good wife to him.
I turned off the water and quickly dried off, feeling no less hot than I did before my shower.
I grabbed clean clothes out of my bag, put on my shorts and bra, and filled the sink up with water.
I’d learned a long time ago to handwash my clothes after wearing them.
Perspiration-soaked cotton was not your friend.
I was hanging my now rinsed out tee from earlier over the towel rack to dry when I heard it.
The swift intake of air and I knew without turning around who was behind me.
Fuck.
“Don’t you knock?” I snapped.
“I did. When you didn’t answer I thought you bailed again.”
“Do you mind? I’d appreciate some privacy.”
It was too late. He’d seen them. My heart was thundering in my chest and the room was suffocating.
“Tatiana, darlin’.”
“Don’t,” I bit off. “I don’t want your pity.”
“The last thing I’m feeling is pity,” Brooks told me.
I heard his footsteps come closer. It didn’t matter anyway. Close up, far away, you couldn’t miss the mess of scars.
“Who did this to you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“The fuck it doesn’t. Who?” he growled. “Did Monroe do this?”
“Hell, no.” I turned to face him. He’d seen the back, might as well give him the full experience. “Do you think that cocksucker would be breathin’ if he did this to me?”
My front was nearly as bad as my back. Brooks’ eyes traveled up from my stomach up to my face.
I knew what he saw, puckered exit wounds scattered over my torso.
When his gaze locked onto mine, I flinched at his angered expression.
I’d seen a lot of pissed-off males in my line of work, but never one as furious as him.
He looked like a feral beast, and I was a little afraid of him.
“Who. The. Fuck. Did this to you?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“I didn’t ask you how long ago, Tatiana.”
In that moment, him using my name, I missed him calling me Doll. My real name sounded like an expletive the way he snarled it out.
“Al Issa. Not him personally. He’s too sophisticated for something as unpleasant as torture, he sent his men to do his dirty work for him.”
“Motherfucker!” he roared and stomped out of the bathroom.
So much for my new plan. Time for damage control.