The Agent
I’d almost forgotten how quiet safe-houses are.
Isolated from the rest of society, the small two-story cabin lay unbothered in the middle of the woods.
Only one car sat out front, but no bodies were inside.
A shadow - maybe two - moved behind the light beaming through curtains on the lower level.
Only the song of the crickets filled the cool, nighttime air.
My brows pinched together as I glanced around the darkness looming behind the trees on the other side of the property.
When Maria finally tracked down Logan’s location, I expected for the campground to be swarming with federal agents.
We devised a whole plan around quietly taking out any of the guards we came across.
The idea of killing federal agents used to make me sick.
Now, I didn’t even blink an eye while I did it.
If this vendetta has taught me anything, it’s that no one in this system was innocent.
Especially anyone Logan surrounded himself with.
“Feels like deja vu,” Mateo mused from beside me.
I tore my eyes away from the house to look at him. The moonlight traced over the outline of the mask he was wearing. Still, I easily imagined how the silver looked dripping over his scars. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“You don’t remember?” He turned towards me, his brow probably rising underneath the fabric. “We met for the first time on a mission like this.”
I almost smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s crazy how much things have changed. Back then, I never would’ve imagined being on the other side of the law.”
“Yet, here you are. By my side.”
I shook my head. “Stop flirting, and help me focus.”
“Alright, buzz kill,” he teased. “How many bodies can you spot?”
“Two, I think. Near the front right side window, likely the living room.”
“Good. Now, what’s your best plan of attack?”
“Sneak around back, disarm the window lock, climb inside and move through the rear towards the front. Shoot first and fast for anyone with a gun. Silencer is armed on all my guns to maintain the element of surprise.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “You already know how you’re taking the bastard out?”
“The same way he did my father: execution style.”
He was still for a moment, staring at me.
“What?” I asked, glancing at him. His silence worried me - especially since I couldn’t see his face.
“Nothing,” he replied. He jutted his chin towards the trail beside us. “Go ahead. I’ll be two steps behind you.”
Nodding, I rose off my haunches. Dirt and twigs crunched underneath our feet as we looped around the edge of the forest to the rear of the house. Unlike the front, no light beamed from the windows on this side. The lack of light made it harder to check for shadows or movement.
I clutched my gun tight as I jogged to one of the windows. Freeing one hand, I tested the lock by pressing upward on the windowsill. As expected, it didn’t budge.
I dug out the small crow-bar like tool from my weapons belt and wedged it between the bottom sill and window frame. I gently wiggled the bar, loosening the lock mechanism. Slowly, the window began to rise.
Once I gained about an inch of space, I replaced the bar with my fingers and pushed the window up. I peered into the darkness on the other side, checking again for any sign of life in the dining room. When I saw none, I climbed up into the window and entered the house.
The scent of citrus and cedar wood wafted through my nose.
Notes from Logan’s favorite candle. The smell brought me back to the afternoons he picked me up from school, sitting at his kitchen table and working on my homework.
The image of the two of us huddled over math problems and vocabulary sheets settled like a blanket over the dark room in front of me.
I swiped away the ache forming in my chest at the sight. The uncle I knew wasn’t real. He was just a mask for the truth about my father’s death.
I hated him more for hiding his bloody hands behind his back and smiling in my face.
I crept around the long wooden table and cushioned chairs towards the corner adjacent to the doorway. I peeked around the corner and peered into the dark hallway. Flashes of silver light accompanied the golden glow thrown across the floor from the open doorway leading into the living room.
I rounded the corner and glued myself to the wall. I tip-toed down the hall towards the doorway, stopping where the darkness did. I unhooked one of the knives from my belt and used the reflection on the blade to give me a view into the room.
As suspected, two bodies occupied the space. One sat on the couch in front of the television while another paced back and forth near the window on the other side of the room. To get a better look, I pressed my chest against the wall and tilted my head enough for one eye to see around the corner.
I didn’t recognize the dark head of hair sitting up against the cushions of the sofa. Possibly a new recruit or someone from another unit.
My stomach clenched as I looked at the other person in the room.
His tight curls and tattoos were all too familiar.
I had half a mind to question why Logan would bring him into this.
But knowing my old partner, he likely volunteered to help.
After what he thought happened to me, and the other fallen agents, it wasn’t unusual for him to put himself on the front line to prevent losing yet another colleague - especially someone he looked up to.
I wished he knew he wasn’t protecting the hero in this story.
I looked over my shoulder at Mateo and shook my head. Logan wasn’t in here, so there was no point in giving our cover away so quickly. And I wanted to keep Gabriel out of the potential line of fire for as long as possible.
Mateo raised a brow, but he didn’t question my directive. He stepped back and let me take the lead in front of him towards the stairwell to the upper level.
We kept our steps light to avoid the creaking of our boots against the wooden steps.
The upper hall was draped in darkness. The windows in the hall were closed off with thick curtains, preventing any silver light from slipping in. Not even a glimmer of artificial light gleamed from underneath the closed bedroom doors.
I paused for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the novel lighting - or lack thereof.
Leaning against the wall, I lay one hand flat against the surface, feeling around for ridges and round knobs. Since I couldn’t see, I’d have to rely on my touch and hearing instead.
Slowly, I felt my way down the hall. With every knob I came across, I turned it and peeked inside.
Most of the rooms were vacant with neatly made beds.
I didn’t bother doing a thorough check of each room like I would’ve done in my old profession.
Unlike before, I didn’t have time searching for things that weren’t there.
My only goal was to find Logan, put a bullet through his head, and get the hell out.
When we reached the last door, I wasn’t surprised to see the hump of a body sitting underneath covers on the bed. The top of it subtly moved up and down to the sound of his breathing.
My stomach twisted as I stepped into the room. After all the work I’ve done, all the people I’ve killed to get here, and it was going to end like this? Logan didn’t deserve a quiet, painless death. I deserved some closure, some answers. It wasn’t fair that he got to take them to the grave.
But, as I was quickly learning, nothing about this life was fair.
I lifted my gun and pressed it against the back of his head. I let it linger there for a moment, waiting for him to stir or turn from the novel touch. A part of me wanted him to see my face before he died. To know his sins had come back to spite him.
Like the coward he was, he didn’t move.
Gritting my teeth, I shook off the disappointment and pulled the trigger.
His head jerked forward as a bullet pierced through his skull. It whipped through his head and sped out the other side into the wall. Not an ounce of liquid or warmth splashed onto my hands or clothes.
Pinching my brows, I grabbed the body’s shoulder and flipped it onto his back. Limbs clacked as they hit the mattress. Blank molded features of a crash dummy stared past me. The lights embedded in its eye sockets blinked, spreading bright red flashes across the ceiling.