Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sydney
The suite feels different in daylight—less intimate, more exposed.
Morning light slants through the partially drawn curtains, illuminating the luxury that suddenly feels excessive.
The Washington monument gleams in the distance, a reminder that in Washington, power and secrets are the true currency.
Even the air feels different—the faint scent of the hotel body wash lingers on the sheets, mingling with the subtle note of room service coffee that someone has arranged on the credenza by the window.
And beside the room temperature coffee, there’s a handwritten note.
Went for a long run. Back after lunch.
A long run. I trained for a marathon in the past and recognize the terminology. Maybe he’s currently training, or maybe he has a favorite twenty-mile course in D.C. Or the more likely scenario, he needs air and distance.
A lot happened between us yesterday, between me coming clean, our agreement to take it casually, and whatever that was last night.
The sex was intense—almost desperate—like we were both trying to exorcise something.
In my experience, that kind of intensity signifies the spectacular end of something that never had a chance.
My training emphasized compartmentalization—keep the mission separate from personal feelings.
But the line between Sydney-the-operative and Sydney-the-woman has never felt so blurred.
My hand unconsciously touches the spot on my neck where Rhodes’ lips had been hours earlier, and I force it back down to my side.
Focus. The operation parameters changed. That’s all.
After a shower and slipping on leggings, a sports bra, tee, and running shoes, I head down to the lobby for fresh coffee. On the way down, I shoot a text to Quinn.
Me
Team still here?
I need to update everyone. The surveillance gig is up, or at least, my part is. I wonder how we’ll adjust.
Quinn
Y
Just Jake. Noah on a new project.
On a whim, I grab an extra paper cup, fill it with coffee, and head up to the team’s room on the seventh floor.
I rap on Jake’s door and a gruff, muffled voice asks, “Who is it?”
“Sydney. Brought you coffee.”
The door swings open, revealing Jake in his disheveled glory, bare-chested with low-slung pajama bottoms, his sandy blonde hair in massive disarray, twisting in all different directions, and his facial growth now a full, unruly beard.
“Did you go on a rager last night?” I step past him, passing him the black coffee. “Put on a shirt, dude.”
He sniffs the coffee, then drinks. “Thanks.”
There are two queen-size beds in his room. It’s a standard hotel room and noticeably different from the suite.
After tugging on a T-shirt he lifted from the floor, he pulls on the drapes, allowing the sunlight to flow freely into the room. I take a seat on the end of the unwrinkled bed.
“When did Noah leave?”
“Late last night.”
“And you went out?” Quinn filled me in on the video game playing Jake Ryder. He’s got a military background and looking at him now, I have to wonder if he parties like the stereotypical guy on leave.
“No.” He rubs a hand vigorously over his face. “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t knock out until about four.” He lifts the coffee in a gesture of gratitude. “Thanks for this.” He sips it and eyes me. “How’s it going?”
“I came clean.” I barely know Jake, but there’s something about his bedraggled state that makes him approachable. “He’s going to work with us.”
He stares me down for a moment, his sleepy eyes assessing, then, assessment apparently over, he says, “Good deal.”
“That’s it?”
“Syd, I’m a Navy guy.” He says it without bravado, the way someone might mention they used to work in accounting.
“My role in this dance is protection. You need me to take someone out, that I can do too.” His gaze flicks briefly to the window, assessing risks.
A habit I recognize from operators who’ve spent too much time in war zones.
“You’re one of the goons trained to get inside people’s heads,” he continues, a hint of respect in his otherwise neutral tone. “You folks see things differently. If you say he’s trustworthy, after what I hear you’ve been through, then I’ll trust you.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
He lifts a shoulder like it’s nothing. “Hey, it’s not like I’m leading a squadron into enemy territory based on your gut. There’s little to lose here. And we’re still fleshing out this team.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s a new outfit. Owners are pretty hands off from what I can tell, but yet they pop in and ask questions.”
“Is it bothering Hudson?” He’s former military, too. I could see how not conforming to rank procedure would bug the guys. Transitioning out of a highly structured organization is notoriously challenging.
“Not sure.”
“Do you know the owners? Who they are?” I’m aware Caroline Moore and her husband are the investors, but his terminology has me wondering what he’s been told.
“Undisclosed. Explained to me as private investors.”
I swirl the coffee in my cup. If I were him, I’d want to know who’s paying my salary, but he doesn’t seem overly bothered. I suppose lots of companies have investors, or owners as he chose to describe it, who work behind the scenes.
“Hudson’s good people,” Jake says, and it’s clear, to him, that’s what’s most important.
“I agree.” At least, that’s my preliminary read on my new boss.
If KOAN doesn’t work out, I really will be unemployed, but that’s not something I worried much about when I agreed to come on. If the team doesn’t pan out, I’ll find something else. After I uncover the leak.
“Should I call Hudson?” He squints one eye, and I think that’s his way of asking for more information. “To give him the update.”
I could tell Quinn, but she’s our tech guru. Her response will likely be about as useful as Jake’s.
“Go ahead.” He scratches his head and stands with a grunt. “I’ll hop in the shower. Give you privacy.”
I could also go up to the suite, but this is better. Down here, there’s no chance Rhodes will walk in and things will get awkward. If I were to shut up, he’d assume I’m keeping secrets.
The bathroom door clicks closed. Hudson doesn’t answer, so I look up Caroline’s name, then press to call her. She answers on the third ring.
“This is Caroline.”
“Hey, it’s Sydney.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sound down.”
A deep melody mixes with the running shower. I’m pretty sure Jake’s butchering a Jimmy Buffett song.
“I wouldn’t say down, I’d say–”
“This has to do with the guy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“Can I ask you… Dorian…does he ever…” I can’t ask if her husband sees himself as better than everyone else without sounding bitchy. “Does he view those… Does he see the world as a stratified class system?”
Dorian not only has more money than Rhodes, but he was born into his wealth. His uncle was president. He’s basically American royalty.
“He wouldn’t say that…”
“But he does.”
“He’s not the best at getting to know the people who work for him.” The way she says the words slowly, like she’s stringing the sentence together cautiously, is almost humorous. “What’s going on? Is MacMillan rude to wait staff?”
A long time ago, Caroline and I, along with a couple of other friends, wrote up a red flag list for dating. Rude to the server was at the top of the list. Logical for our group. We’d all been waitresses at some point during school.
“No.” He just categorizes an entire section of the population as NPC’s. “But you love Dorian, right? I mean, obviously you do. Not only did you marry him, but after you separated, you got back together with him. So even though he?—”
“Dorian’s not perfect. I love him despite his imperfections, although, I’ll admit, sometimes it can be challenging. But, I mean, you know, you don’t get to be in Dorian…or MacMillan’s place…without some ego attached. That’s what you’re talking about, right? He’s got a massive ego?”
“No, not really.” I wouldn’t say his ego is huge, but then again, I’m still getting to know him. There’s the rub. “I guess I want to know that I can trust him.”
“Ah. You’ve seen a red flag, which is unnerving. My advice is to take things slow. Get to know him and get to know how you are with him. Those are two different things and I would argue they are equally important.”
“I didn’t actually call you for advice.”
“Of course you did. We’ve been friends for years. You reach out when you need a sounding board.”
Huh. I don’t particularly care for what that says about me. “How are you doing?”
I look down at the phone in my hand and the minute counter.
“I’m good. Look, my advice comes from a place of experience. As you know during all those months and years I turned to you when I was down, it’s not easy to be in a relationship with a powerful man. We almost got divorced. You’ve spent less than a week with this guy–”
“Caroline,” I snap. “I need to know if I can trust him for a project. That’s it. Back in the mountains, he was one person. Now, I’m beginning to see other sides, that’s all.”
“Of course you are. He was on vacation. He’s exiting vacation mode. It’ll take time to see all of his various sides.”
“True.”
“What does your gut say?”
“That he’s a good guy.”
“But?”
“No but. He’s a good guy but he might be open to…”
“Making mistakes? You mean like, he might be human?”
I roll my eyes, not that she can see.
“No one’s all bad, and no one is all good. Be careful. Eyes wide open.”
“I came clean. He knows I’m working with KOAN. He wants to work with us.”
I hesitate. Waiting. Will she be angry?
“He wants to work with us?”
“Yes.”
“We’re investigating ARGUS.”
“If they’re the source of the leaks, it’s not him.”
“All right. Play it out. Have you updated Hudson?”
“Have a call into him.”
“We’ll regroup at the beginning of the week.”
“Are you angry?”
“Angry? No. I trust you. Don’t share we have an in on the West Coast.”
“I won’t.”
“And I know you trust him, but remember, eyes wide open, you understand?”
“Always.”