Page 97 of Agency

“Not yet, no. Not really. We’ve got some dead-drop, online message boards we use in times like this, and I checked them when I woke up this morning.” Shaking his head and sighing, he wiped the back of a hand across his sweaty brow. “There’s malware on the system, and Leona is thinking it’s going to take a while to clear it all before regular communication can resume. A week, at least, maybe more. She’s got to take the whole system down and rebuild from scratch. That hack was good, and my bosses are pretty sure it’s how your people found Stella, and us. Not a mole. So, we’re clear on that, far as your aunt is concerned. No aid necessary in that regard.”

“And for two?”

“Both of Landshire Burgess’s legitimate children are in the wind.”

“Both?”

“Son and daughter both.” Squinting against the sun, he again wiped the back of one hand across his sweat-dappled brow. As he did, his flannel shirt lifted to reveal purple bruises lashing down his sides. “So, either they were both in on hiring you, or only one was and now the other is running scared after finding out about it.”

“What about the court case?” I asked, wincing at the sight of his injuries.

“Burgess the Elder is still awake, and coherent, and the courts already have his DNA. He’s not fighting it, and tomorrow should go smoothly. Thomas gets Stella in for the court appearance with the lawyer, then it gets settled.”

“Any idea where the legitimate kids disappeared to?”

“None. We’ll find them, though.”

“Don’t doubt it for a second. People like that aren’t willing to do what’s necessary to disappear.”

“No,” he said with a snort, and then athunk-chunkdouble-strike of his ax as he returned to his work. “They’re billionaires-in-waiting. They’re not like us.”

I didn’t say anything, just looked back to the farmhouse.

“People like us, we’ve got nothing,” he said. “Because we don’t really need anything.”

“People like us have plenty,” I said, glancing back. “And need plenty, too, Jericho. We just keep it hidden, or at arm’s length.”

“True. Enemy can’t take what you won’t admit you own. Even your life isn’t yours when you join the military.”

“But, we’re not in the military anymore.”

“No. But we’re still protecting people. And that means my life isn’t my own. We’re not contract killers, after all.”

His words hit me like a slap in the face, and I had to blink away the sting as I looked back to the kitchen. Wincing again, I shook my head, before turning back to him.

“Hey!”

“What?” he snapped back.

“I’m not like that anymore. You know that, right?”

“So?” he nearly spat. “You were.”

“So what? Some people needed killing, Jericho!” I couldn’t help the sudden rise in my voice. Heart racing, the anger rose in me and I was along for the ride. “They weren’t good people, you asshole. They were gangsters, criminals, terrorists, and even worse. You telling me SOCOM didn’t set you onto the same types of pieces of shit?”

“Sure they did,” Jericho nearly shouted back. “But I was fighting for my fucking country, and not because someone was paying me to do it.”

“And they weren’t fucking payingyouwhile you were in the sandbox? No hazard pay, no fat bonus for re-upping your contract?”

He went to say something, as if he were about to cut me down with his words, but then quickly shut his mouth with a clack of teeth that was almost as resounding as his earlier ax strikes had been.

There! Again! His damn personality kept getting in the way of being perfectly fuckable. I was willing to bet everything that he probably thought the same goddamn thing about me, but holy shit.

“Yeah,” I growled. “Fuck you, too.”

I continued to the clapboard house’s rear door.Thunk-chunks, now somehow more angrily, reverberated against my back with a wooden bass. I took a handful of steps back towards the kitchen before stopping.

“Hey, Jericho!” I called as I turned back to him.