Chapter 6 #3
She paused, remembering the weight of the bag, the way it had felt wrong from the first moment. “Hold a second.”
She went to the bag and opened it up, rooted through it, past the cotton grandma underwear.
And then, “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I found carbon-fiber tubes.” She pulled them out. “They’re modular, designed to slot together.” She set them down. “And there’s a trigger assembly disguised as part of a hair dryer.” She opened the makeup case. “And there’s a scope in here.”
“What are you saying?”
She ran her hands along the frame of the bag, then turned it over and pulled out the telescoping handle. A yank, and one side of the handle popped off. “There’s a stock integrated into the bag’s frame—invisible unless you know what to look for.”
“A disassembled sniper rifle,” London said.
“Yeah, whoever designed this knew exactly how to beat airport security. It’s professional grade. The kind that breaks down to pass through airport security. Ceramic and polymer components—wouldn’t trigger standard metal detectors. I’ve only seen this level of design from Bratva armorers.”
The word hung in the air. Bratva.
“But if this was Dakota’s bag, why did he give it to me?”
Silence.
“And it seems like a woman’s bag.”
“Yeah, I hear that. I suppose it could be a trick. To make it look like a woman’s bag if anyone searched. And with you carrying it, he wouldn’t get in trouble if anything was found.”
But . . . she’d been about to leave him. Wait . . . and then he’d suddenly wanted to tag along.
A stone dropped through her heart. “You’re right. He might be using me to keep the weapon close.”
“I’ll have Nimue do a scan of the manifest of the original flight, see if we can get you a description. The other bigger question is . . . who has your bag?”
The cold knot in Jayden’s chest tightened. Her bag. The one with her neurotoxin analysis, her mission intel. The one she’d been carrying since Hawaii.
“I don’t know. It got swept up in the switch. Maybe . . . this В. С. has it.”
“You need to find it.” London’s tone shifted—harder now, the voice of a handler giving orders. “Stay with that tour group. Someone on that bus brought in a sniper rifle and is meeting Alan Martin. And it could be your friend.”
“What about Dakota?”
“Stay with him. See if you can work out what he knows.”
“What do I tell him?”
“Aren’t you two already friends?”
Jayden closed her eyes. Saw Dakota’s face—the way he’d looked at her in the hallway, like she mattered.
Like Jayden Pierce was real.
But he wasn’t Ian. And she wasn’t the same person she was three years ago, naive and weak.
“According to Nimue, the tour continues tomorrow,” London said. “Great Barrier Reef diving excursion. Full day on a boat. Close quarters with the entire group.”
“You want me on that boat.”
“I want you embedded. Watch everyone. We need to identify the threat before the president’s speech.”
“So what’s the timeline?”
“A little under a week. The tour arrives in Sydney in four days. That gives you five days before the president speaks to find out what’s going on—assuming nothing goes wrong.”
Something always went wrong. Jayden had been in this business long enough to know that.
“Understood.”
“And Lynx?” London’s voice softened slightly. “Whatever you’re feeling about this man—use it or lose it. Either way, don’t let it compromise the mission.”
The line went dead.
Jayden sat motionless on the bed.
Use it or lose it.
Easy for London to say. She hadn’t been the one standing in a hallway, heart hammering, watching a man lean in like he wanted to kiss her.
Jayden shook her head. Stood up. Crossed to the desk, where the tour itinerary lay spread out, edges curling in the humidity.
Day 2: Great Barrier Reef Adventure. Departure from Port Douglas, 7:00 a.m. Scenic cruise to Outer Reef. Snorkeling and diving. Lunch on board. Return by 5:00 p.m.
A full day on a boat. Trapped with the tour group. With an assassin. With Dakota.
She scanned the passenger list. Names she’d memorized days ago now took on new weight. New danger.
Gerald Hoffman—the elderly bird-watcher. Sixty-eight, retired accountant from Houston, carried binoculars everywhere. Harmless. Probably. But she’d seen operatives use odder covers.
Mags Winston—the sharp-eyed retired teacher whose husband had been Army intelligence. Thirty years married to a man who analyzed threats for a living. She noticed things. Asked questions. Could be innocent curiosity. Could be something more.
Mags had come with a daughter, Lily, whom Jayden had met earlier, before Dakota came in. She’d seemed tense and, according to Mags, was leaving an abusive relationship. Running from something. But running toward what?
Howard Brennan—divorced insurance adjuster. Too observant about security details for a civilian. The way he checked exits, noted camera positions, seemed to catalogue potential vulnerabilities. Either paranoid or trained.
The Novaks—Czech newlyweds, forties, madly in love by all appearances. So probably not a threat, but that’s why they stayed on the list. Could be good operators.
Sandra Mills—British travel writer, watchful. Asked a few questions about Jayden’s hotel-inspection work. Professional interest or professional suspicion?
And Vic Simons, nervous IT guy.
And those were just the tourists she’d met. Any of them could be the assassin. Any of them could be meeting Alan Martin. Any of them could be playing a role as carefully constructed as her own.
Including Dakota.
She thought about his nightmares. The way he’d thrashed and shouted in his sleep. The raw shame in his eyes when he’d woken up. The scars on his back—shrapnel, bullet wounds, a map of violence she’d only glimpsed.
That wasn’t fake. That couldn’t be fake.
Her phone sat silent on the desk. No more instructions. No more intel. Just her and the impossible task of untangling truth from performance.
A knock on the adjoining door made her freeze.
“Jayden?” Dakota’s voice, muffled through the wood. “Got a second?”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Use it or lose it.
She crossed to the door. Took a breath. Opened it.
Dakota stood there, still in the same clothes from dinner. His eyes searched her face.
She wondered what he saw. The careful mask she’d reconstructed, or the cracks underneath?
“I called the front desk. Still no report on the bag.” He cupped his hand behind his head. “I think maybe we should stay with the tour another day.”
She raised an eyebrow. “But don’t you need to get to Sydney?”
“I have a few days.” He offered a thin smile. But something hung in his eyes, something she couldn’t seem to name.
She studied his face. Looking for tells. Looking for the cracks in whatever mask he might be wearing. Either he was exactly who he claimed to be, or he was the best operative she’d ever encountered.
And she’d met some very good operatives.
“I’ve always wanted to dive the Great Barrier Reef.”
His face brightened. That smile—the one that did dangerous things to her chest. “Is that a yes?”
Stay close. Watch him. Watch everyone.
“That’s a yes.” She leaned against the doorframe, letting herself relax. Letting herself perform. “What time?”
He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking over her, and it seemed he might be trying to figure out his words.
Then, “Early morning. We should get some sleep. And somehow between now and then, I need to find some swim trunks.” He stepped back, giving her space.
Or maybe giving himself space. “We meet in the lobby at seven.”
“Seven a.m.?” She wrinkled her nose. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
He laughed—that warm, surprised sound she was starting to live for. “Consider it character building.”
“Good night, Dakota.”
“Good night, Jayden.”
She closed the door. Pressed her forehead against the cool wood.
He moved on the other side, and then she heard the television click on.
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her heart raced.
Talk about living the nightmares out loud. What could a girl do when he came with those devastating blue eyes and a smile she wanted to lose herself in?
She turned back to the itinerary on the desk. Looked at the words that would define her tomorrow.
Great Barrier Reef Adventure.
Apparently she was going diving tomorrow. She just hoped she remembered how to swim.
Because the water she was treading now? It was getting deeper by the hour. And she wasn’t sure she could keep her head above the surface much longer.