23. Nate
23
Nate
I swung my leg over my motorcycle, the sun setting in the west as I fired it up, leaving Ava naked in her bed, sound asleep.
Despite the adrenaline rush of her assault today, I'd managed to work her body into a state of relaxation, eventually her eyes closing until a slight snore emanated from her.
I revved my engine as I backed up, the quiet engine humming beneath me, then took off like a bat out of hell, my teeth set tight against one another.
The fucking nerve.
My mind reeled as I dropped my motorcycle off at the Hertz parking lot, snagged my keys after signing my life away, and drove five hours north.
I parked in the gated underground parking lot and stepped out. "Trey...Chip." I nodded to both of them. "They still have you on this post?"
"Doesn't look like it's ever going to change," Trey said.
"Don't mess up, man. They like to tear you a new asshole and show you how replaceable they really think you are." Chip gave a lopsided shrug with his hands tucked behind him.
I frowned, my fist tight as I showed Trey my ID. "Busy day?"
"No more than usual." The door buzzed and unlocked as I pushed against it, the code phrase triggered. "Have a nice night, guys."
I scanned my retina in the second holding room, walked through the mechanically opened door, and then punched the second-floor button on the elevator.
My pulse thumped at a steady rhythm despite the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
"Nate, what are you doing here? Has something happened?" Callie stood at her desk, her purse slung over her shoulder as if she were on the way out. "Did you fuck this up? You did, didn't you?"
"Shut up, Callie."
I bypassed her and stormed through Judy, Keith's secretary. "He's on a call—Wait, you can't go in there." Pushing the door open, I slammed it shut behind me.
Keith sat behind his desk, his shoes propped up on the corner of his desk, his chair reclined. He'd pinned the phone handle between his shoulder and ear as he typed on his cell phone, multitasking.
"You." I pointed a finger at him.
His brows hiked. "I'm going to have to call you back." Putting the phone on the receiver, I rounded the desk and grabbed him by the lapels.
"Really? You sent someone else into my OP and threatened her—laid hands on her." I dragged him to his feet.
Keith’s calm demeanor didn’t falter as my fists twisted into his collar. He gave me a measured glance, his sharp blue eyes cutting through my fury like a scalpel.
"You best take your hands off me, boy," he said, his tone low and unhurried, as if we were discussing the weather and not the fact that I was seconds away from losing my shit. "Unless you're prepared to follow through on whatever it is you think you're doing."
I hesitated, my grip tightening, before I shoved him back into his chair. He adjusted his tie with maddening composure as if I hadn’t just stormed into his office and manhandled him.
"Sir," Judy said from the cracked door. "I tried to stop him."
He raised a hand. "Shut the door."
Judy clicked the door closed as I snarled. "You sent someone into my OP." My feet paced in front of his desk. "Do you realize what you’ve done? She’s spooked, Keith. You basically confirmed for her there's a cover-up going on."
Keith reclined in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. He regarded me with the patience of a father humoring an irate child. "Are you done?"
I glared, my words stuck in my throat.
"Because if this tantrum is all you came here to deliver, Nate, you’ve wasted your time—and mine."
My chest heaved, the adrenaline in my veins making it impossible to stay still. "You compromised everything."
"Sit." He pointed to the chair between us, his words heavy with authority that stopped me mid-stride.
I placed my hands on my hips. "The whole point was to get her to trust me. You sent another operative to rough her up, and now she’s putting walls up so high I might never get through them."
"Sit," he repeated, his voice a fraction firmer.
Grinding my teeth, I dropped into the chair across from him, every muscle in my body taut.
Keith steepled his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. "Nate, you’ve mistaken proximity for control, and that’s your first error. Ava Thatcher would never trust you fully—not without a little push in the right direction." He glanced at the wall with the image of the current sitting president. "Remember, I don’t gamble on unknowns. I act on certainties."
"Certainties?" I leaned forward, fists clenching on my knees. "The only certainty we have here is she's more determined than ever despite being spooked. Congratulations."
"Watch your tone." He turned his gaze back to me. "You may have boots on the ground, but this is my operation. I play with a full deck. I know where all the pieces are, where they're going, and how they are going to get there. You play it with blinders on." He drew in a controlled breath. "This isn't a game of egos, Barlowe—it's strategy. And you don't have to like the way it's played, but you will respect it." Keith’s eyes locked onto mine, the pause stretching long enough to make my pulse roar in my ears.
My jaw tightened. "If this falls apart—"
"If this falls apart, it’s because you couldn’t adapt." Keith leaned forward. "You don’t get to dictate strategy here, Barlowe. Your job is to carry it out." He placed his elbows on the desk. "I don’t make decisions lightly. I act on information you don’t have." His smirk wrinkled his perfectly trimmed beard. "You think you're the only one playing this game? Let me disabuse you of that notion right now."
I swallowed hard, but my glare remained fixed on him.
"You barged in here because you think I jeopardized your OP. But the truth is, I saved it." His eyes narrowed, his words striking with surgical precision.
"Saved it?"
"She ran to you." He cocked his head to the side, then crossed his ankle over his knee. "Didn't she? Ava now trusts you enough to call when she needs someone. Not Liam, not Aria, or anyone else in her short supply of friends. She called you."
Just wait until he hears the next part.
"How do you know that?"
He sighed. "I operate with a scope far larger than your field of vision. Think about that the next time you take a five-hour drive to throw a tantrum." His gaze pinned me in place, the fluorescent lights humming overhead.
"So you're watching me now?"
Keith tipped his head back against his chair. "Listen, I get it. You’re mad because I made a call that didn’t align with your methods. Get over it." He shrugged. "I've given you one job, and now it's two: extract the intel and stop wasting my time with theatrics." He glanced at a closed folder on his desk. "Now, unless there’s something else, I’d like to get back to running this agency."
"Did you have something to do with Kane Rogers' death?"
"And if I did?"
I shook my head, my teeth grinding as I rose to my feet. "Why?"
"Get back to work, Nate, and be grateful for the new opportunity." He reached for the phone he'd put down.
I turned on my heel and shut the door behind me with a thud—the weight of his words lingering long after I left.
Asshole.
My phone pinged, and I glanced at the screen.
Impound lot #47: Vehicle X4J-92P Released to Detective Liam Buchanan. Paid In Full. Cash. No Trace.
Dammit.