CHAPTER 11
ROXY
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
A first notification sounded, and it was enough for Roxy to immediately grab her phone. A big smile appeared on her face, and she tapped vigorously. The second notification arrived two minutes later, and Roxy's response was just as vigorous.
"Sorry, but am I disturbing you, Roxy?" Bonnie asked, slightly annoyed.
"Shit. No, I am all yours. So, as I told you, you must be extremely careful in this area," Roxy replied, pointing to a section of the map where a large red square marked the spot. "They're so many blind spots, and the locals know how to use them."
"I'd really like to avoid dying on this mission, so thanks for your attention," Bonnie said sarcastically.
Roxy was helping her colleague Bonnie Abbott, who's usually based in Los Angeles, passing through Sydney to prepare for a sensitive 'intervention' in Dubai.
Roxy and Bonnie knew all the details of every operation they were respectively assigned to.
They were, in their professional jargon, each other's guardian angels.
The briefing materials that were on the desk included surveillance photos, building schematics, and extraction routes marked in red ink.
"Okay, what were all these smiles?"
Roxy noticed Bonnie staring at her with the same intense focus she used to read people. This skill had been crucial to their survival in their line of work. Bonnie's expression held both curiosity and the professional caution born from years of experience.
"Just a friend texting me," Roxy replied, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew that Bonnie wasn't buying it. In their world, 'just a friend'' could mean anything from a useful contact to a potential liability. Bonnie knew better than to take such explanations at face value.
"Mmm-hmm, if you say so," she said, turning back to the Dubai files spread across the table. Her fingers drummed once against the desk. It was clear to Roxy that Bonnie wasn't letting this go. "And how's your current assignment going?" she asked, smoothly.
"Nothing to report. Everything is proceeding normally. 'Prodigy' has no suspicions whatsoever. And the bond of trust is there." None of this was untrue, but perhaps Roxy had stretched the truth a little.
"And everything remains professional between the both of you?"
"For whose sake do you take me? You really think I'd do that? Why all these questions?"
Roxy felt a bit put out that Bonnie had asked her, though Roxy admitted it was far from professional with Ellen at this point.
What had started as a standard assignment had become something else entirely.
It was now something that made her phone buzz with breakfast invitations and put smiles on her face that sharp-eyed colleagues noticed.
"You’re not your usual self, Roxy. You’re letting yourself get distracted by the outside world.
It’s our lives that are at risk here, and your mobile’s making you smile.
Come on. I’m quite sure it’s not Charles who’s making you smile like that.
" She paused, her expression growing even more concerned.
"So, I’ll ask again. Is everything strictly professional between you and Caldwell?
" Bonnie sounded genuinely worried, not just curious.
Personal involvement with targets wasn't just unprofessional: it was fucking dangerous for the agent and the target.
Roxy met her eyes, knowing she was already in too deep to pretend otherwise. "Have you ever crossed the line, Bonnie? On an assignment?"
It hung between them, that question, so charged it felt like a confession, and indeed, it was.
Bonnie's expression stilled, and the busy office noises seemed to briefly fade away.
Her silence stretched so long that Roxy thought she wouldn't answer.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter and more careful than usual.
"Once," she said, not meeting her eyes, "last summer in Los Angeles.
I came very close to doing something stupid during a 'Kayla.
' It could have ended badly for both of us.
" Roxy noticed the tone Bonnie used, as if she felt that the 'us' did not refer to the target of the 'Kayla' set-up, but rather to Bonnie and Roxy.
"Bonnie, what are you not telling me?" Roxy questioned in a more than serious tone.
Bonnie was looking at her with a seriousness that meant bad news was coming.
"You're right, there's something else. Someone from your past life has been digging around, asking questions about you.
" Her blood ran cold. As each other's guardian angels, they also protected each other's interests when their pasts came back to haunt them.
Roxy had already had to intervene once with Bonnie's father, who was desperately searching for any clue that would prove that his daughter had not died in a train accident, as the official story claimed.
It was undoubtedly one of the hardest things Roxy had ever had to do for the Service.
Especially since she couldn't give Bonnie any details.
"Who? Was it Meredith?"
It'd be logical for Meredith to look for her.
Roxy left their flat like a thief in the middle of the night, with no explanation other than that the army was redeploying her to a classified location.
Roxy had no choice but to let go of her past to make room for her future in the Service, and mostly to protect Meredith.
Meredith was her only real friend, and Roxy was missing her terribly. But she didn't know how she'd react if she came face to face with her again.
Or worse, how Meredith would react?
But Bonnie's face gave nothing away. "You know I can't tell you that, love. But don't worry yourself. We have sorted everything."
"How sorted?" Roxy asked because there were degrees of resolution, and some were messier than others.
"Friendly sorted."
The relief was immediate but cautious. 'Friendly sorted' meant no bodies, no disappearances, just careful but efficient warning and perhaps some well-placed misinformation to throw people completely off the scent. Still, that someone was asking questions at all sent a chill down her spine.
"Thanks, Bonnie."
She nodded, then glanced at Roxy's phone, which had been face down on the desk since the conversation started. "Just keep your head clear for now, yeah? No matter what you are going through, remember that our job always wins in the end. Always."
The rule was clear: you don't get attached. They drilled it into Roxy until she forgot what the feeling of attachment ever felt like. But Roxy realized she didn't forget, at least not with Ellen.
Her head wasn't in the game anymore, which was bloody dangerous. The way Ellen looked at her or spoke her name made her feel real, causing her to let her guard down. Roxy hated how much she wanted Ellen to keep seeing her that way.
A knock sounded, and Kate entered. "Agent Powell, I received a call from Ms. Caldwell's assistant. Confirming the breakfast meeting tomorrow. Also—your partner left a message. He'd like you to call him back."
"Thanks, Kate," Roxy said.
Kate left and Roxy didn't wait. She excused herself from Bonnie for a minute before heading to the soundproof room, as they were required to do so when they needed to have a personal call.
"Hey, Charles. You called?"
"Hi! Yeah, I need to be in Perth tomorrow morning. Would you be able to drop me off at the airport by 8 PM tonight?"
"Sure, I won't be out late."
"Perfect. You're the best. Love you. Talk soon."
"Love you too."
Roxy hung up and stared into the void. It was convenient, too convenient. No excuses were needed when she would meet Ellen again. And it was the real danger: Ellen Caldwell was never supposed to matter this much. But now, it feels personal and real. And real meant consequences.
Roxy could say that Ellen was hurt by someone. There was a subtle mistrust in Ellen's demeanour, as if she had learned the hard way what it costs to trust the wrong person. The last thing Roxy wanted was becoming that person.
The louder part of Roxy, the one the Service trained to obey protocol, whispered the questions she'd been avoiding.
What if this isn't about the mission anymore?
Why does that feel like the first honest thought I've had in years?
Roxy had built her life around certain certainties: she excelled at her job, she was straight, and her future was with Charles, who was good, kind, and loyal.
But all it took was for Ellen to be close to her and simply say her name or touch her with her fingertips for everything to become uncertain.
Perhaps there was still much for her to understand about herself.
After all, it wasn't the first time she had noticed a woman's beauty.