Chapter 6
“Ihave a name, Dec. Peyton Radd,” I say over the phone later that night, already curled up in the large, four-poster bed. Which is far too large for one person. “It was on a sticky note I found next to Owen’s keyboard.”
“Have you looked it up?” he asks, though I’m sure he knows I have.
“Google came up with nothing.”
“Send it to Ella. Have her search the CIA database.”
“Already did. She said she’d get back to me in the morning.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. I can’t tell if he’s distracted or debating what to say to me.
“Dec?” I ask.
“Are you doing ok? I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve been going over the mission reports from your last assignment. It was… I just want to know you’re ok. That you’re taking care of yourself.” His concern is genuine. His friendship is sincere, and suddenly I’m on the verge of tears.
I take a moment to compose myself.
“Nova, tell me you’re talking to someone about it. Tell me you aren’t alone in this.”
I sniffle, hoping he doesn’t hear it through the phone. “I haven’t had time to find anyone to talk to.”
“We have counselors on site, Nova.”
I cut him off before he can continue. “I know. I know. I’ll make an appointment. I think I’m still in shock. I’ve been trying to write the report for the trial, but my memory has holes. I’m completely unsure of the order of events. I thought time would help me piece it back together.”
“We’re only missing the information from when everything went to shit until you met Gray at the rendezvous spot.”
That’s the problem, though. My memory of those few minutes are hazy and filled with screams, death, and my own pain and blood.
I realize I haven’t said anything when Declan whispers, “I will do absolutely anything to clear your name, Nova. Anything at all. You need to tell me how I can help.”
The thing is: I believe him. Declan has always been that partner who would do anything for me—even take a bullet. The thought that he might lose his job by helping me keep mine has my throat tightening.
“I’ll send over my report when I’m done with it. Maybe there is something in it you can help with.”
Declan takes a deep breath. “Deal. But in the meantime, promise me you’ll talk to someone.”
“I promise.”
Another long pause has me fiddling with the end of the sheets, weaving them between my fingers.
“Goodnight, Nova. Please don’t take out all that anger on your target. We don’t need more investigations,” Declan says, trying, as always, to lighten the mood.
“I plan to beat the shit out of him tomorrow. Don’t worry,” I jest, except I can’t really say it’s a joke since it was Owen’s idea to become early morning sparring partners.
Declan chuckles. “Night.”
“Night, Dec.”
After switching off the light to try to get some sleep, the phone rings again. I blindly reach for it on the bedside table, expecting to find Declan’s name on the screen. Besides Ella, he’s the only one who calls me after work hours.
I’m surprised when I see my new partner's name pop up on the screen.
“Gray?” I ask, unable to hide the slight clip of concern in my tone.
There’s an almost inaudible sniffle on the other end before he clears his throat. “Nova, this is all so fucked up.”
I don’t have to guess what he means, but I sit up taller in the bed, my body tensing.
“I know. Listen, I’m fully aware I might be the reason you lose your new position. I never intended to pull you into this mess. I’ve talked to my lawyer, and we are doing everything we can to make sure you don’t lose your job or serve any jail time.”
I can almost hear Gray shaking his head on the other end. “It’s not that.” He sniffles again. “I’m worried about you.”
I flinch. I wasn’t expecting concern.
Gray has been working at the CIA for ten years. His previous position was designing new tech for field agents. He’d only recently been promoted right before our mission. He’d always been quiet but confident and committed to his job.
And I’d fucked him on his first field assignment.
“I’ve been reviewing all the recorded comms and reports,” he continues. “Besides when you decided to go off the books and follow your lead, there’s nothing. No wrongdoing whatsoever.”
“When there are that many civilian deaths, there’s always wrongdoing, and it doesn’t matter who’s at fault. Justice needs to be served, and sometimes it’s easier to serve it to the person most directly involved.”
“What about the investigation?” There’s a hint of hope in his voice that I’m very much about to squash.
“If we couldn’t get to the bottom of it after years of tracking these guys, you think investigators, who’ve never been involved, can figure it out?” It's a rhetorical question, and when Gray doesn’t respond, I can tell he knows it.
Another shaky inhale is all I hear on the other end for what seems like minutes.
“What can I do to help you?” he asks in almost a whisper, and my heart breaks a little bit.
This man, who’s worked with me only one time, cares enough to call in the middle of the night and ask how he can help me, instead of worrying about himself.
At that moment, I know what I have to do, even if it means the end of my career and possible jail time. I need to damn myself and clear his name.
“Nothing, Gray. I’ve been through these things before.” A blatant lie. “Take care of your report and tell the whole truth. I’ve got myself covered.”
This time, his breathing sounds steadier, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
“Ok,” he says more confidently. “But let me know if you need any of the comms from the mission for your report. I know you lost a lot of blood and hit your head, so your memory might be a little patchy.”
If only he knew the extent of it.
“Thanks, Gray. And thanks for checking in. I really appreciate the support.”
“Anytime, Nova. You’re the best of the best, and I wouldn’t want to lose you. I’ve been crossing all fingers and toes that I’d be partnered with you. Because, with you, I feel safe.”
My heart squeezes, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.
“Thank you. You won’t lose me.” Another blatant lie. “Night, Gray.”
“Night, Nova.” This time, he sounds almost cheery, even if my heart is bleeding.