Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Blackpine? They were sending her back to Washington State?
Olivia Blake rubbed the bridge of her nose, not that it would stop the headache brewing behind her eyes from intensifying. Lately, nothing seemed to help—other than several shots of malt whisky. A crutch she’d relied on a bit too heavily since returning to London. Her old life.
But it appeared that was all about to change.
She cleared her throat as she rolled her shoulders, ignoring how the left one didn’t have quite the same mobility. A carryover from her last assignment. The one that had gone horribly wrong. Left her scared. Beaten.
Pinning for the one thing she couldn’t have.
Which only made her want another shot. An attempt to drown the pain.
The loss. The look on Ethan’s face when she’d gotten out of that car.
He’d known, then, that she’d lied. That the woman he’d fallen for was nothing but an empty shell.
An alias, and that she’d left him to mourn a person who hadn’t deserved his devotion.
The image still haunted her. Something she feared time wouldn’t cure. A permanent stamp on her soul she’d never be free of. Her penance for being an operative. Living a perpetual lie.
She looked over at her director—Arthur Fitzgerald—though, he was already immersed in something on his computer screen. “I thought I was being assigned to the joint operation unit with Interpol? Investigating that new terrorist cell slowly infiltrating Europe?”
Though, if she were being honest, nothing sounded right.
As if she’d suddenly realized home wasn’t home, anymore.
That it felt alien. Hollow. That somewhere during her previous mission, she’d grown accustomed to being with Ethan.
Had actually craved the feeling of waking up in his arms. Knowing he’d be there when she got back from a flight.
That she’d be there for him when he needed her.
And, for a short time, she’d felt normal.
Human.
What she could only describe as happy.
Her boss shrugged, not even bothering to look up.
“You were until Agent Miller called in. Apparently, he has a new lead on this mysterious Agent Smyth.” The man shook his head.
“Just like Miller to leave important details out of his previous reports. But...he’s secured a cover for you—one that needs your particular brand of expertise.
” He finally gave her a passing glance. “Just think carefully before crashing a helicopter as part of the mission, this time. We’re still paying for the last one.
Not to mention, you’re lucky to be alive. ”
“I didn’t choose to crash it. It was tampered with, and I don’t think sending me back to the States is the best—”
“We don’t have many agents that are helicopter certified.
At least, not that are available or as skilled as you are.
And, seeing as you and Miller have worked together before—are one of the few agents he hasn’t personally pissed off or threatened to kill on sight—and you were the one to uncover Smyth’s existence, in the first place, it makes sense to send you. ”
Fitzgerald looked at her over the top of the monitor.
“This isn’t a request, Blake. If Smyth has the kind of connections you claim he has, and he’s got agents loyal to him who could, at this very moment, be working with some of our operatives on joint missions, we need to know who those people are.
Your fellow agents are counting on you. Unless you’re fine with being the reason countless MI6 operatives end up dead? ”
“Of course not, sir, it’s just—”
“We can discuss where you’d like to be reassigned once you’ve cleaned up this mess, yeah?
Make that year you spent entrenched with Ian Slader worth the sacrifices.
” He adjusted his seat, glancing at his screen then back at her.
“I know it wasn’t easy, and that the prospect of returning is probably hitting a few…
nerves. But we all have to play our part, even if it means we draw the short straw, at times. ”
He shrugged, then returned to typing, all but dismissing her concerns. “So, for now, your orders are to go to Blackpine and catch that son of a bitch, Smyth, before he puts a target on our operatives’ backs.”
He paused long enough to slide a thumb drive across his desk.
“Here’s the pertinent information Miller sent along.
No alias, this time. According to Miller, your actual career path before you joined MI6 is your best cover.
As far as anyone is concerned, you’ve just retired from the SRR and you’re looking for a new purpose.
” He arched his brow. “I’d say that’s probably more accurate than either of us would like to attest to, right now.
Of course, we’ll doctor your SRR record, in case anyone checks.
I’ve got you on a cargo flight out of Northolt in two hours.
Agent Miller has left instructions on the drive where he wants you to go from there.
I expect more check-ins than during your last mission. A better result, as well.”
“Of course, sir.” She shifted on her feet.
“That’s all, Blake. Unless you have anything to add? Any details you’d left out of your reports that I should know about?”
“None, sir. I’ll make arrangements and rendezvous with Miller immediately.” She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
“Excellent. Oh, and Blake…”
She stopped in the doorway, glancing back at the man. “Yes?”
“While I realize it was necessary to sell your ruse, try not to get end up in an NSA stronghold, again.”
“Understood, sir.”
She left the office, walking quickly along the corridor until she reached the lift. A few flights down, over two hallways and she was at her office. It only took her a couple of minutes to organize her workspace and collect her belongings before she was heading for her car.
She glanced at her bag, wondering what Gibson had planned.
How he’d gotten a lead when she’d been searching since she’d been cleared for active duty and hadn’t uncovered a hint of intel regarding Smyth.
It hadn’t helped that whatever that guy Crow had given Ian Slader as a trade for her life had gone missing. Or it had been destroyed.
While she was pretty damn certain Ethan’s buddy had most likely made a duplicate drive, she hadn’t been able to get her hands on it.
Hadn’t really tried, if she was honest. Not because she couldn’t find a way to contact them.
After all, Miller obviously knew Ethan’s former-team leader and would have shared the man’s number.
But she couldn’t face Ethan, even if only by extension.
Not after the way they’d left things. The months she’d allowed him to believe she was dead.
Not by choice—she’d gone to extreme lengths to hide the fact she’d dragged him from the wreckage. That he’d survived.
Which hadn’t been easy when Slader had arrived shortly after the crash with one of his SOG teams. Had claimed that she’d been right and there was a new threat determined to eliminate them.
She’d had no other choice but to leave with the other man.
Maintain her ruse. Allow the world to think she’d been killed like the rest of the crew.
But it had cost her. Chipped away at the armor she’d built around her heart until it had been laid bare.
That’s why she’d suggested the sting operation to Slader.
The one involving that Crow guy and his former-NSA partner.
Why she’d allowed herself to get caught.
Though, Slader had agreed it would help sell the ruse, Olivia had used the opportunity to finally break ties with the man.
She’d hoped the authorities would wrap it all up. Save her the effort. Of course, she’d been wrong, and things had gotten…complicated.
Somehow, Slader had figured out she wasn’t who she’d claimed.
While he hadn’t unearthed enough details to ever come after her in London, he knew she was a loose end he couldn’t afford to have flapping in the breeze.
And he would have killed her if Ethan’s team weren’t all die hard former-Delta Force.
If they hadn’t found a way to outsmart Slader.
Having Gibson Miller along had helped. Her friend was as hardcore as it got. Could catch bullets with his teeth and bend steel with his bare hands. At least, that’s how she saw him. And he’d come to her aid no questions asked.
Which still didn’t explain why he was dragging her back in.
She’d stalled just long enough after the massive shootout with Slader to ensure Ethan had survived the attack before following orders and returning to London.
Getting as far away from the pain and the loss as possible. At least, physically.
Mentally, she’d been stuck in limbo for the past few months. Wanting to call him, to hear his voice. Anything but the endless silence that had taken root. Even a couple of short assignments hadn’t been enough to lift her mood. Get him out of her head.
Her heart.
She was nearly to the point where she’d have to acknowledge that she’d fallen hopelessly in love with Ethan Vale.
And that any claim to the contrary was just a feeble attempt to overshadow the pain of losing him.
Of having to consciously walk away—twice, damn it—even if they had both been in an attempt to save his life.
Keep him as far away from this Smyth bastard, as possible.
And now, she was heading back into the lion’s den.
Sure, Blackpine wasn’t Seattle. But it was close.
Much closer than a country and an ocean separating them.
And, if Gibson was involved, there was always the possibility of others from Ethan’s crew showing up.
That, if things went pear shaped, Gibson might call on them for backup. Men he obviously trusted.
Well, she’d just have to see things didn’t go sideways. That she tied it all up quickly. Without needing any help. That she kept Miller in check.
She snorted. Gibson Miller was not the kind of man you controlled. He was headstrong. Determined. And had the skill to back up the crazy plays he made. In fact, she’d started wondering if he was immortal. Like that Highlander guy who just wouldn’t die. Because…he had more lives than a damn cat.
None of which was going to make this assignment easier. If Gibson got it inside his head that he needed more men, he wouldn’t even ask her permission. Would just call in favors, or something equally annoying, and she’d be face to face with Ethan’s buddies.
Surely, Miller wouldn’t call Ethan, himself. No, even Gibson wasn’t that cruel. But she’d still feel guilty having to look his teammates in the eyes and lie. Again.
A blast of music had her reaching for her mobile. Swiping it open. “Blake.”
“So, Livy, how badly are you cursing me, right now?”
Miller. “Probably worse than the last bloke you charmed into sleeping with you, thinking it meant more than just a one-off.”
Miller laughed. “I love that you think I spend any quality time actually trying to charm a man into my bed. I can’t help it if they’re too awe-struck to ask the important questions.”
“You are such a wanker.”
“Aww, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me. Did Fitzgerald give you the thumb drive?”
“Practically tossed it at my head with the warning to ‘do better,’ this time. I haven’t had a chance to look at it. I can only assume it’ll be lacking in all the important details.”
“It’s like you know me.”
“So, do you really have a lead on Smyth, or do you just miss my company?”
“I always miss you, but yeah, I’ve got a lead. I’ll tell you more when you get here. Did Fitzgerald secure you a lift?”
“Cargo flight. Not sure which airport I’ll be landing in, yet. I’m assuming JFK.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just catch the next connecting flight to Pangborn, and I’ll pick you up. Pack light. No checked luggage. We’ll get whatever you need here. And, Livy…”
“Yeah, Gib?”
“Don’t trust anyone and watch your six.”
Silence.
Well, shit. That didn’t sound ominous, at all.
Which meant something serious had gone down. And, knowing Miller, it hadn’t been pretty. Had probably involved knives and blood. Enemies dropping in large numbers. She’d never worked with another agent who was so proficient at his job. Who made a firefight look as if he was grocery shopping.
It also meant altering her plans. Grabbing her safe bag she’d stored in a lockbox instead of going home—getting supplies. That’s what Gibson had meant when he’d told her to pack light. Not to trust anyone. He was warning her not to go back to her flat. To stay in the shadows until they could meet.
She paused at the exit, tucking anything important into her jacket pockets, then arranging her bag handle across her shoulder.
Working at the office, she hadn’t brought any weapons, which was for the best. If Gibson didn’t want her checking luggage, she wouldn’t be able to bring any.
Though, she suspected that’s what he’d meant when he’d said he’d get her whatever she needed once she was there.
Not that it mattered. She done over half her missions unarmed. Or, at least, not armed with a pistol. They tended to get noticed and were often the quickest way to blow a cover.
Either way, having Gibson backing her up settled most of the jumpy feelings in her gut.
Quieted the voices that had set up shop inside her head since she’d returned.
The ones that were questioning her skill.
If she still had what it took to be an operative.
That maybe, she’d lost the drive. The desire.
That all she really wanted was Ethan.
She pushed away the thoughts as she exited the building. She’d burned that bridge. Had alienated him in such a way there was little hope he’d ever look at her without some form of bloodlust in his eyes. Thinking that she could ever go back… Get him back…
Olivia had never been a dreamer. She’d been raised in foster care.
Nothing horrible, but definitely not a home.
So, she’d jumped at the chance to join the Royal Air Force.
To finally feel as if she belonged to something.
Had people who cared. Making it into the Special Reconnaissance Regiment had been a game changer.
Had allowed her to take her training to an entirely new level.
Opened the door to being an operative. It had been hard to leave her unit for MI6, but it had garnered its own rewards. And she’d excelled at her job.
She sighed, slipping into her car. She could figure her future out later.
After she’d finally put Smyth and that year of deep cover to rest. Hopefully found some semblance of redemption in the process.
A small amount of closure. Then, she could decide on her next move.
All she had to do was get through this one mission alive.
See that she didn’t add to the scars hiding beneath her skin.
And, if she was lucky, maybe she’d find a way to forget Ethan.