4. Boola Boola #2
“And you think I’m your guy?” I scoffed, wondering if this was actually a joke. Tatum was going to get a kick out of this.
“I know you are. You’re an excellent pilot, so you should have no problem getting through the airspace unnoticed, and the rest can be trained easily enough.”
I mean, I was good, but I hadn’t been doing this all that long—why they wanted me was honestly a bit bizarre.
I had career plans, and creeping through the night to assassinate God knows who was not part of those very important plans.
To say the least. In the air, I did what I had to—there was an agreement though, when you went up into the sky, you knew what you were getting into—any pilot did.
On the ground, sneaking up and offing people in their sleep, well, it wasn’t exactly my flavor of justice to say the least, not that this had ever been about that for me anyway.
Like I said, all I wanted was to fly fast. That was it.
“Don’t you want someone with more experience?” I shifted uneasily, hating how out of control I felt here on the ground.
“No. I want the best, and lucky for us, that now includes you.” She hummed, all too authoritatively, reminding me I didn’t really have a say when it came down to it. “This team includes some of the cockiest, riskiest pilots we have. Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”
“I’m not tactically trained.” I reminded her.
“Oh, but you have excellent instincts, don’t you?” She placed a knife on the table and snapped her wrist, sending the blade slicing towards me as she murmured, “Let’s see how fast you are on your feet, Lieutenant.” Her eyes shifted behind me, and I lunged.
Knife in hand, I went flying backwards, realizing with horror that I couldn’t breathe as something tight cinched around my throat. My chair hit the ground hard, and then I was up and moving, shoving the shock and panic down.
The next several seconds were pure instinct and survival, and there wasn’t a second to hesitate as I slid the knife around the back of my neck and cut the thin wire around my throat.
I was gasping for air, but avoiding suffocation cost me. My eyes blew wide as a tree trunk of a man rammed into me, tackling me to the ground, and I grunted as we hit the concrete floor, me underneath taking all the impact, because he was a damn tank.
We were a pile of limbs and blades, rolling around, each of us desperately fighting for the upper hand, as I tried to get my head on straight and calculate his next move.
I was already bleeding from somewhere when the woman said, “He’s been instructed to kill you, so I suggest you do it first.”
“What the fuck is this?” I demanded, just as his knife slashed over my face. I cursed, realizing I’d been struck. Again.
“Your interview.”
I could hardly see out of one eye as blood trickled down my face and I was sloppy and confused as I struggled to get the upper hand, using the only thing I could, speed , by some miracle, I managed to gain the advantage, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I would have it for long .
“Yield.” I demanded, knife to his throat as I spat a mouthful of blood on the ground.
My assailant bellowed and lunged, slashing at me again as I went tumbling back, and as his blade found its mark, I realized that unlike the way Liam or Cade and I would fight, this guy wasn’t about to tap out.
It was me or him. Scrambling up, I growled a curse, finally understanding he was going to kill me if I didn’t kill him first. Only, I wasn’t really in the mood to kill someone with my bare hands before I’d even eaten lunch.
When he came charging at me, I defaulted to a move I’d used on Theo before and used his body weight against him, flipping him over the top of me with his own momentum.
I locked him into a chokehold for what seemed like hours but was probably only a minute or two—relief coursing through me when he finally went limp.
“Don’t worry, we’ll train that mercy right out of you.” The woman amended, now standing above me.
Gasping for breath, I shoved him off me and collapsed onto the floor, feeling warmth trickle down my face, down my arm. Adrenaline was in charge, and nothing hurt yet, but it would. Later, it most definitely would.
The suit narrowed her eyes. “The next time I hand you a knife, I suggest you use it.” She dropped the file onto my chest as I panted, tasting metal in my mouth. “Welcome to the team. You start on Monday.”
“I didn’t ask for this.” I groaned, hating how powerless I felt.
“I think the expression you’re looking for, Lieutenant, is Yes, Ma’am .”
Shit-motherfucker.
I closed my eyes and submitted to the cold concrete floor, heart sinking as I slowly accepted that the dream career I’d been working towards had just gotten flushed down the toilet.
That was what I got for signing my life away, so much for all that freedom I’d been feeling a mere twenty minutes ago. Fucking suits .
A gunshot suddenly echoed across the hangar, and I jolted up, watching in disbelief as they dragged away the man I’d just been fighting without a word of explanation or apology.
Ohhh fuck.
I stared down at my arm, at the flap of skin there, and wondered if I was going to be sick. Flopping back down onto the floor, I couldn’t help but feel nauseas as I stared up at the rafters feeling sorry for myself. Just when I felt like I had a grip on my life, everything was shifting again .
I’d been so damn close to everything I wanted—well, except for one thing. That one tiny little empty place inside me that was always nagging at me—no matter how hard I tried to seal it off, because there was only one person the right size to fill it.
But she had probably moved on, and I would probably be dead in a few years anyway, because now, I was officially disposable.