6. Delfino
6
DELFINO
T he jet’s cabin air was stale as we crossed into Russian airspace. I’d been staring at the same surveillance photo for the past hour—Jekyll meeting with a known criminal outside a private club in Montenegro. Something about his posture caught my attention. While the other man lounged with casual arrogance, Jekyll sat rigidly upright, his awareness of being watched evident in every line of his body.
How much he’d aged struck me unexpectedly. His hair had grayed at the temples, and deep lines were etched on his face, but the intensity of his gaze hadn’t changed.
“Look at how he’s positioned himself,” said Hornet, leaning over my shoulder. “He knows exactly where the cameras are.”
I zoomed in on the image. Jekyll’s hand was partially concealed by his jacket, but his fingers moved with subtle purpose. “He’s documenting the meeting.”
My encrypted phone lit up with a message from Zephyr. Multiple diplomatic movements through Sofia next week. Jekyll spotted near Russian embassy yesterday.
She attached a photo of him entering a nondescript building. Four hours later, security cameras caught him leaving with a leather portfolio he hadn’t carried in.
“Diplomatic credentials,” I said, showing Hornet the text. “Perfect cover for moving people across borders without scrutiny.”
His thigh pressed against mine as he shifted to see the screen better. Since our first-ever real kiss at the dacha, these casual touches carried a new charge, a reminder of what we’d nearly acknowledged before Reaper’s urgent call interrupted us.
“This fits with everything we’ve suspected,” Hornet said. “He’s gathering intelligence on these trafficking networks from the inside, documenting who’s involved.”
“And all the while…” I didn’t need to finish my sentence; I’d said it too many times already and thought it even more.
Hornet’s hand found mine where it rested on the armrest, his touch grounding me as my mind raced through the possibilities of what Jekyll was involved in.
Hornet’s secure mobile chirped with an incoming call. “Reaper, you’re on speaker,” he answered.
“I’m wheels up, headed your way.” His voice came through clearly despite the encryption. “ETA Gelendzhik in four hours. I spoke with Oleander about an American—code name Amaryllis.”
“I’m familiar with her,” I said, remembering how efficiently she’d extracted me from the Moscow airport. “She was helpful but guarded.”
“You trust her?” Reaper asked directly.
I considered the question. “She got me where I needed to go without compromising my cover. You said you spoke with Oleander about her. In what regard?”
“Joining forces.”
My mouth gaped. “Please elaborate.”
“Apparently, the connection is through another coalition member who was once with the NSA—Wren Whittaker. Wren’s former boss at the agency made contact, saying Amaryllis was looking for a missing colleague and requested assistance.”
Hornet sighed. “Reaper, get to the bloody point.”
“All right, all right. The circumstances of the disappearance were almost identical to Jekyll’s.”
“How, specifically?” I asked, wondering why Oleander hadn’t shared this information when she arranged for this woman to assist me in Sofia.
“Six months ago, the agent, Dr. Suzanne Henning, was in command of a straightforward extraction on the Russia-Ukraine border. The op was compromised, and she was separated from her unit. That was the last anyone saw of her. Similarly to Jekyll, she was presumed dead.”
“Based solely on this, Oleander is actually suggesting we join forces with this woman?” I was incredulous.
“Typhon vetted her. Says her connections are both solid and vast.”
If Typhon intended for this woman to “extract” me and force me to return to London, she could’ve done it in either Sofia or Moscow. In addition, I trusted Oleander. If anyone had the ability to read Typhon’s motives, it was her. I also knew she’d never set me up. My eyes met Hornet’s.
“Give us a minute,” he said to Reaper, muting the call. “Thoughts?” he asked.
“Oleander’s endorsement means more,” I responded honestly.
“I agree.”
“Reaper said we’d be joining forces.”
“Affirmative.”
“I’ll agree to it with stated reservations.”
“Understood. Shall we?” he asked, motioning to the mute button.
I pressed it to reengage Reaper. “What’s the next step with Amaryllis?” I asked.
“She’s waiting for you at the airfield,” Reaper said. “She’ll provide safe transport to a secure location where I’ll join you.”
“Good thing we agreed,” I said under my breath.
“Believe me, if you hadn’t, I would’ve called her off and made alternate arrangements.”
“Anything else?” Hornet asked.
“She’s arranged covers for you for the upcoming shindig. I’ve reviewed them,” Reaper said, back to business but in his usual off-hand way. “They’re solid. Art dealer and security consultant—gives you reason to be there and freedom to move around.”
“And you?” Hornet asked.
“Security consultant for a potential buyer. Gives me access to the perimeter and neighboring properties.”
My phone vibrated with a message from Oleander. FSB flagged someone called Hydra as hostile. Claiming he’s working against Russian interests.
Hydra? I asked.
My gut’s suggesting we pay attention.
Possible connection to Jekyll? I pressed.
Or he’s Hydra.
Chills ran up my spine.
“Reaper? You still there?” asked Hornet.
“Sure am. Guessing you got the same message from Oleander I did.”
“What’s your take on it?” I asked.
“It lines up with what Baikal said. If Jekyll is investigating something similar to the Argead that Irish Warrick took down, and it’s controlled by Russia, then I’d say either his cover has blown or they’re moving to discredit him before he can expose whatever he’s found.”
The plane began its descent, the Black Sea coastline emerging from the darkness below.
“I’ll update you when I land,” Reaper concluded.
After the call ended, Hornet’s hand found mine again, searching my face. “You okay?”
“I’m no longer a child,” I began. “Which means it’s ludicrous to think Jekyll could be anyone’s hero…”
“We’ll find out,” he promised, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. The tenderness in the gesture made my chest tighten.
“What if he tries to make us think he’s one of the good guys and it’s another elaborate lie?” I asked, voicing the fear that had been growing since I left London.
“Then, we adapt,” Hornet said. His free hand brushed my cheek, the warmth of his palm against my skin sending electricity down my spine.
His touch meant more than any words could. Hornet cared for me as much as I did him, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. How could we begin an authentic romantic relationship in the midst of this mission?
When the plane touched down and taxied toward a private hangar, I spotted Amaryllis waiting beside a sleek black SUV, her military posture barely concealed by civilian clothes.
The safe house she transported us to was a modest dacha nestled among similar vacation properties along the coast. Inside, state-of-the-art security systems and communications equipment contrasted with the weathered exterior.
“Perimeter’s secure,” Amaryllis announced, speaking for the first time since activating the motion sensors. “Nothing will get within a hundred meters without us knowing.”
“Tell me about Dr. Henning,” I blurted after introducing her to Hornet.
She removed her sunglasses, revealing sharp hazel eyes. “We should wait for Reaper before getting into all the details. He’ll be here in a few hours.”
“Why?” Hornet challenged, his stance shifting subtly to protective mode beside me.
“Because I won’t allow anyone or anything to put my op at risk.”
“ Your op?” I repeated.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “My understanding was this would be a joint mission.”
I shook my head. I’d started this, and I’d finish it. I’d allow no one—not Typhon, Hornet, and certainly not Amaryllis—to deter me. “You misunderstood. This mission is mine. Should you decide to join forces in order to find your missing colleague, it will be under my command.”
Her expression changed with every word I spoke. “Roger that.”
I raised a brow.
“Roger that, ma’am .”
Rather than press her on Dr. Henning, I let it go for now. Eventually, though, I’d circle back to it.
While waiting for Reaper to arrive, we spent the next few hours immersing ourselves in our cover identities as Amaryllis briefed us on the estate where the party would be taking place as well as the security arrangements.
“The host and honoree, Leonid Kamenev, collects contemporary Eastern European art, particularly works that challenge political narratives,” she explained, displaying images of his collection. “His last acquisition was a series of installations by a Serbian artist known for encoding state secrets into his work.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” Hornet commented.
“Exactly. Kamenev presents himself as a patron of politically provocative art while maintaining close ties to the Kremlin. Perfect cover for his other business.”
“Which is?” I prompted.
“Trafficking,” she replied, expression hardening. “Specifically, intelligence officers. They’re kidnapping agents with valuable knowledge, staging their deaths, and transporting them to buyers worldwide.”
Her response was eerily reminiscent of the Argead organization Hornet and I had discussed on the plane.
My phone lit up with another message from Zephyr. Jekyll on the move. Headed toward Gelendzhik compound. Traveling alone, minimal security.
I showed it to Hornet and Amaryllis. “He’ll be there tomorrow.”
“As will we,” said Hornet.
As Amaryllis stepped outside to check the perimeter again, Hornet moved closer to me. “I must admit that your exchange with the American was, err, hot .”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Is that so?”
“I’ve never seen that side of you.”
“You’ll grow accustomed to it,” I said, winking.
“Looking forward to it.” His eyebrows wriggled, then his expression changed. “Seriously, though. Well done.”
“Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”
Hornet’s hand found mine, his touch a welcome anchor amid swirling uncertainties. “Are you ready to potentially face Jekyll tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve rehearsed the moment countless times since learning he was alive, but now that it might actually happen…”
“Whatever you feel when you see him is valid,” he said, squeezing my hand. “And you won’t be alone.”
Both his praise and his reassurance meant more than he could ever know.
“Thank you,” I whispered, leaning into him. “For being here. For understanding.”
He pressed a kiss to my temple, the gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Always.”
Reaper arrived shortly before midnight, his tall frame filling the doorway as Amaryllis admitted him to the safe house. As they met face-to-face for the first time, the tension between them was immediately palpable—two alphas assessing each other with professional wariness.
“Kingston Black,” he introduced himself, extending a hand while keeping his gaze locked on hers. “Reaper.”
“Charity Beaudoin,” she replied, matching his intensity. “Amaryllis.”
I watched with fascination as they maintained the contact a beat longer than necessary, something passing between them that reminded me of my early interactions with Hornet—that blend of attraction and challenge that created its own gravitational pull.
“Your equipment arrived,” she informed him, nodding toward a locked case. “Unregistered, as requested.”
“Appreciate it,” he replied, his Texas drawl more pronounced than usual. “Though I’m curious how an NSA operative acquires unregistered gear on Russian soil without official channels.”
A hint of a smile touched her lips. “I have resources.”
“Clearly,” he responded, his expression mirroring hers.
Hornet cleared his throat, bringing them back to the matter at hand. “Now that we’re all here, let’s hear about Dr. Henning’s disappearance.”
The personal cost of her search was immediately evident in the tightness around her eyes. I recognized that expression—had seen it in my own mirror countless times since learning my stepfather was alive.
“Obviously, she’s someone close to you. I’m sorry,” I said quietly, meaning it.
“Appreciated,” she said.
She acknowledged my sympathy with a slight nod. “Six months ago, Dr. Henning, who was one of my instructors at USAFA—sorry, the Air Force Academy—became my mentor through my time there, then helped me get an internship with the NSA as well as an eventual job there when I separated from active duty.”
When she took a deep breath, I kept my gaze steady, nodding in acknowledgment and silently letting her know to take her time.
“As I’m sure you’ve already been briefed, she was part of an extraction op that went sideways.” Her voice caught, and she cleared it. “According to intelligence reports, she was killed in the line of duty.”
“Take your time,” I said.
“At the time of Dr. Henning’s disappearance, I heard about a former MI6 agent, who had a similar story, resurfacing. I contacted everyone I knew, all those who owed me favors, searching for someone who was familiar with more of the details, and was eventually given Wren Whittaker’s name. Given Vera Watkins made the introduction, Wren agreed to brief me on Jekyll.”
I recognized the name. Vera was the head of NSA intelligence.
“Oleander was also part of that briefing,” she added.
“Given the similarities, you requested we combine our efforts?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Although that was not my initial intention.”
“How concerned should we be that your end goal differs from our mission?” Hornet asked.
“Not at all,” she admitted without hesitation. “I believe if we find one, we’ll find them both.”
“Personal stakes often make for better operatives, not worse,” Reaper said, surprising me with his supportive tone.
Another moment of connection passed between them before Amaryllis looked over at me.
“I have cultivated a network, some US, some UK, some neither, both through the NSA and since,” she added.
“Anything else?” I prompted.
“Not at this time.”
“Then, let’s readdress the next part of the op.”
“Kamenev is hosting sixty guests at his compound tomorrow evening,” said Amaryllis. “As you’re also aware, intel suggests Jekyll will make an appearance. My prediction is he’ll arrive early.”
“Our window to make contact will be narrow,” Hornet noted, studying the estate’s layout Reaper had projected on a blank wall.
“If his cover is compromised, anyone watching him will be watching us too,” I added.
“Agreed. My role will be inside as service staff. It gives me mobility throughout the estate without attracting attention.” She approached the diagram and pointed. “Reaper will provide overwatch from this ridge with extraction support if needed.”
“Hornet and I will enter as Natalia Sokolova and Mikhail Vasiliev,” I confirmed. “Using the art collection as our access point.”
“Your arrival is scheduled for sixteen hundred hours,” Amaryllis continued. “If everything goes as planned, we’ll arrive before Jekyll does.”
“What if the FSB moves on him before we can?” Hornet asked.
Amaryllis’ expression hardened. “Then we execute extraction protocol and get him out—by any means necessary.”
The determination in her voice reminded me that we weren’t just dealing with an intelligence officer doing her job. This was someone who understood the personal cost of these ops all too well.
“If there’s nothing else for us to review tonight, we should get some rest,” Reaper suggested, checking his watch. “Tomorrow will require all our focus.”
As the group dispersed to prepare for sleep, I found myself by the window, watching the moonlight ripple across the Black Sea.
Hornet’s reflection appeared behind me in the glass, and he wrapped his arms around me. “Whatever happens tomorrow,” he murmured against my hair, “I’m with you, Kima.”
I turned in his arms, finding comfort in his steady presence, but this time, it was different. Now, he was a man, not a bodyguard, and I was a woman who loved him. “Stay with me?” I asked.
“As if I’d sleep anywhere else.” He took my hand and led me into the bedroom.