Page 1 of Avenging Jessie (Black Swan Division Thrillers #3)

One

Jessie

Code scrolled across the monitor, fast and furious.

The glow lit Jessica Mendoza’s face, casting sharp shadows across the angular planes reshaped by surgeons and survival.

She kept her head turned slightly so the light only touched one side.

The other half stayed in the dark, like the part of her soul still clawing its way back from what Harris Brewer had done.

Two in the morning inside the counterterrorism division was a symphony of silence—just the hum of servers and the occasional echo of footsteps from a security patrol. She liked it this way. No eyes on her. No pity. No suspicious whispers when they thought she couldn’t hear.

Pulse keeping pace with the scrolling code, her fingers flew across the keyboard, chasing anomalies.

Something had been off all night, hence why she’d stayed past her shift.

There had been too many queries pinging from too many places that didn’t belong.

An intrusion into a restricted DOD subnet. Cloaked. Sophisticated.

And familiar.

Brewer. She leaned closer to the string of data that her program was working on. “Son of a bitch,” she whispered, making certain connections that the computer software couldn’t.

Her heartbeat quickened as the signature buried in the breach decrypted itself on her screen—a digital fingerprint she hadn’t seen since right before Brewer had escaped custody. During her time as his minion, she’d memorized the code he used, and there it was, bold as hell.

Like he wanted her to see it.

Probably did. Bastard.

Accepting the challenge and his taunt, she shoved back from her desk and grabbed her tablet. The artificial lighting overhead flickered on as she passed beneath the sensors, her boots echoing across the polished floor toward Director Flynn’s office.

She didn’t care that it was still technically night. Flynn showed up early. Always did when something important broke. And the DOD breach was pretty damn important.

She stood outside his door, arms folded over her sweatshirt.

As expected, the legend himself walked in moments later, travel mug in one hand, file folder in the other.

Dark hair, matching eyes that assessed her as paused when he saw her, and an air that smacked of pure ego. “You look like hell, Mendoza.”

He’d earned the right to be full of himself.

As the CIA’s former number one spy, he’d done things that made even her, with all of her underhanded past, cringe.

“Always so full of compliments, Director. You always know how to make a girl feel good.” She hugged her tablet, her hands tight on the device. “I need a favor.”

He set the coffee down. “This about the breach?”

She passed him the tablet. “It’s Brewer. He’s back.”

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “That’s why I’m here before the butt crack of dawn. Washington is on high alert. Everybody. The Pentagon, White House, the Bureau, even the Justice Department.”

“This signature?” She tapped the screen. “It matches the algorithm from the Berlin servers.”

“Funny thing about signatures…anyone can fake one. Or plant one.” He plopped into his black leather ergonomic chair and met her eyes. “Makes me wonder why Brewer’s prints keep showing up on your watch.”

The accusation clawed under her skin, same as always. Bastard number two. Her jaw tightened, her words filled with classic annoyance. “I didn’t fake this, Flynn. It’s Brewer. And if you let me back in the field, I can prove it.”

He didn’t answer. Not directly, at least. He woke his computer and entered his encrypted passcode. “He’s flexing his muscle to send us running around like chickens. It’s working—he’s got every ABC institution freaking the hell out right now.”

“This isn’t about scaring us. He’s looking for something.”

“Aren’t we all?” He scanned his screen, his face hard as granite. “He wants to rule the world, and he’s letting us know he’s back on the chess board.”

Adrenaline coursed through her system, making her antsy.

Under his designer suit, Flynn was still an elite spy.

One who understood her drive and ambition, but who’d been holding her back for the past six months since Brewer had escaped from the hospital.

“He’s looking for something specific. In the Pentagon. ”

He glanced at the signature code she still pointed to, faint purple shadows under his eyes. Like her, he wasn’t sleeping, either. “Like what?”

“Could be a dozen different things. In Berlin, it was high-level security documents. But this feels different.”

“We don’t run on feelings, Jes.”

Gold medal bastard. She regrouped, finding the words he would listen to. “I believe he’s looking for the AIs.” At her boss’s raised brow, she continued. “Specific AIs the Pentagon uses for drones.”

“So he can take control of them?”

Now, he was catching on. “Can you imagine the fallout?”

“What makes you believe he can get his hands on them?”

Feelings and hunches only, dammit. But she knew—knew—how Harris Brewer worked. The way his mind sorted and sifted through options and scenarios to find the one that would serve his needs. “This was a test to see if he could get in and get out without us catching him. A challenge.”

Flynn hmmed. “A test that he failed. We know it was him, and he didn’t take control of them.”

She shook her head. “He couldn’t get past the internal firewall.”

Flynn sat back, always the devil’s advocate.

It sucked, but in his eyes, she saw the same old suspicion.

Of her competence. Her loyalty. She couldn’t blame him after the way she’d betrayed the CIA, the swans, but damn if it didn’t rip up her insides every time he looked at her like that. “You’re sure?”

“As sure as I am that he’s a narcissistic bastard who leaves just enough of a trail so we know he’s still on the chess board, as you called it.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ll put the team on it.”

She straightened. Swallowed. This was it—her break. “Not the team. Just me.”

Flynn’s gaze shifted from the tablet to her face again. “You haven’t been cleared for field work.”

“So clear me. This is my op, and we both know it.”

He didn’t even blink. “You’re not ready.”

“Who says?” she shot back, then forced herself to soften it. “I am ready. Sir.”

His smile was thin, merciless. “Nice try. But calling me sir won’t buy you absolution. You can call me ‘sir’ until the sun sets in the east, but I’m not clearing you. The Counterterrorism Center needs you.”

The door opened, and Spencer Stirling walked in. Jessie straightened even more. His hair was tousled, glasses in place, and light scruff marked his jawline. His favorite laptop was tucked under one arm. It was covered in stickers, from games he played to his favorite brand of shoes.

When he looked at her, her pulse kicked. Hard.

Dammit. She turned slightly, dipping her head so her hair fell over the scars on her left side.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, J.” His dark amber eyes swung from her to Flynn.

She couldn’t help it—her head snapped up. Why the hell not? “This is my job, too, you know.”

His dark gaze roamed over her from head to toe. “Your shift ended two hours ago, didn’t it?”

Flynn sat forward again, scanning his emails as he cut off her retort. “Jessie found a trace signature during the Pentagon breach overnight. Looks like Brewer.”

“Already on it.” Spence slid the laptop onto the desk and pulled up a window. “I intercepted a VOIP packet rerouted through an Estonian proxy just after the Pentagon reached out to Homeland. Encrypted, but the metadata led to a burner bouncing off a Munich cell tower.”

Munich? “I can be ready to go in thirty minutes.”

Flynn ignored her. “Can you pin down his location from it?”

Spence shook his head. “I can tell you what he’s doing—what sites he’s accessing, what logins he’s using—but not where he is.”

Jessie crossed her arms. “Great. We’re drowning in data, but none of it puts eyes on him. This isn’t a keyboard problem, sir,” she pointedly said to Flynn. “It’s a boots-on-the-ground problem. That’s why you need me over there pronto.”

Spence casually eyed her from over his laptop screen. “It is a keyboard problem until we track him to a physical location. That’s what gets the boots on the ground. That’s how we win. You remember winning, right, luv?”

God, she hated it when he called her that, his British accent getting under her skin. His cocky confidence doing the same. “Brewer knows how to vanish. You think your keystrokes are gonna catch him? We need someone who knows his tells. His psychology.” Another fortifying breath. “That’s me.”

“Newsflash, you’re not the only one who’s ever gotten close enough to read him, but with you…”

His voice trailed off. His gaze snapped back to his screen.

“With me, what?” she demanded.

He sighed, raised his eyes to her. “We all paid the price.”

Fury rose hot and fast inside her. She jammed a thumb at her chest. “I was the one he tried to break. The one he used her own brother against.” The memory of Brewer threatening Tommy still made her guts churn.

“He set me against all of you. He failed, but that makes everything he does personal to me.”

Spence’s jaw flexed. He didn’t like being reminded of what it had cost her.

Each time his gaze landed on one of her scars, it bounced away.

“So, you’re the avenging angel now? Brewer doesn’t give a damn if it’s personal to you or any of us.

He only cares if he wins—and if he takes you down with him. ”

Bastard number three. She was racking them up this morning. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then stop acting like this is some solo redemption mission. We’re a team. I know it’s been a while, but you need to remember how this works. It’s the Black Swan Division, not the Jessie Mendoza Vendetta Team.”

She opened her mouth to fire back, but Flynn slammed his travel mug on the desk. “Enough. Both of you.”

They fell silent.

Flynn finished reading another email, then rubbed his temple.

“Just what I need.” He pecked at his keyboard.

“The interagency review committee meeting has been moved up, thanks to the breach. Kill me now.” He finished his response and hit send.

“Meg and Declan are heading to D.C. to check on federal infrastructure security. You two are going to Munich. Together.”

What? Elation at getting her way to return to the field was quickly replaced with fury. Then the enormity of what he said hit. Together.

The word clanged around in her head. Her eyes flicked to Spence, who had the gall to smile. Smile! Asshole. “I can’t work with…” She stopped herself. Felt more than saw the way Spence narrowed his eyes at her. “I can’t work with the team. They don’t trust me.”

Spence snorted. He tapped the edge of a silver coin on the desk and twirled it around. A habit of his that she desperately wanted to ask him about, but never did. That would imply she cared. “That’s the least of your issues. Working with me—that’s your real problem.”

“No arguments.” Flynn sucked on his coffee, typed another fast reply, and hit send. “I need the best on this, and like it or not, you each excel at different variables when it comes to Brewer. I want you working together every step of the way. Spence is lead.”

Her stomach fell to her knees. “But… That’s not fair.”

Flynn glared at her, and she wanted to take it back. She didn’t sound like the highly trained operative he needed—that she’d been trying to convince him she was. She sounded like a three-year-old having a tantrum.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call. “It is if you want to be on the op. Take it or leave it, Mendoza. If you want back in the field, you do it my way.”

Spence didn’t say a word. Just closed his laptop. Pocketed that damn coin.

Jessie scowled at Flynn, then at him. The war inside her churned. Good thing she hadn’t eaten anything since midnight. The abject terror she felt at working with another BSD member might have brought it up. Not just any division member—Spencer.

Not to mention the fact that she was about to come face-to-face with the man who’d nearly ruined her—heart, body, and soul.

Harris Brewer.

She didn’t have names or curses strong enough for him.

But getting back in the field was her dream. Her purpose. The only thing that kept her from skydiving into madness while sitting in her boring-ass cubicle in counterterrorism.

This mission mattered more than her feelings. Brewer was moving again. Targeting again. She had to stop him once and for all.

For the world. For her teammates. For her friend and mentor, Tessa Vulpe, Brewer’s stepdaughter, who’d lived through so much abuse from the man.

Maybe even more than Jessie herself.

If Brewer thought he could outsmart her this time...

She was about to become his worst nightmare.

And this nightmare is going to hunt you down.

“Yes, sir,” she said, trying to keep the edge out of it. It didn’t work. Unable to help herself, she snuck one last glance at Spence before opening the door.

Brewer was the enemy. But Spence? He was the complication she couldn’t afford.