Page 13 of Avenging Jessie (Black Swan Division Thrillers #3)

Thirteen

Jessie

Her pulse wouldn’t slow down.

Not from the near kiss. Not from Flynn’s ominous vanishing act.

The heat from Spence’s body lingered beside her, a whisper of what almost happened. And in the space between breaths, the mission came crashing back. The warheads weren’t nuclear, but they were just as dangerous—code and hardware instead of bombs and bullets.

Jessie pressed her palms against her thighs, staring out at the warehouse through the streaked windshield.

Flynn was gone. And if what Declan said was true, the political noose was tightening. They were officially in the dark. Off-book. Probably already considered rogue.

She took a shaky breath. While they’d considered this might happen, she still felt caught off guard. She wanted—needed—a plan. Her anxiety and PTSD were spiking hard. “What do we do, Spence? Please tell me you have that Plan B ready.”

Spence’s jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the compound like he could will it to reveal something. When he finally spoke, his voice was just as tight as his jaw. “Same thing we were going to do before. Our mission hasn’t changed.”

Jessie nodded once. She needed that—the mission. Focus. She could unravel later. After Brewer was behind bars. Then, she could take an extended vacation in a warm spot and try to put everything behind her.

Everything except the man beside her. Her partner.

She adjusted the comms rig on her lap and slowed her breathing. Her adrenaline spiked—but this time, it was clean. Sharp. The kind that told her something big was about to happen.

And it wasn’t about drones or their MIA boss.

Something had shifted between her and Spence.

She didn’t know what scared her more.

Movement at the gate caught her attention.

Both her and Spence’s gazes snapped toward it as a dark SUV and a panel truck rumbled into view, headlights off.

They rolled past the entrance checkpoint like they owned the place—no stops, no questions.

That alone told her what she needed to know. “We’ve got company.”

Spence was already moving. He powered up the signal interceptor and adjusted the satellite link, fingers flying across his tablet like a pianist mid-performance.

The SUV parked off to the side while the panel truck backed up to a side bay door. Neither had plates. Two men got out of the truck. Through her binoculars, she noted it was her friends from the gala. Then a third emerged from the SUV, and Jessie’s stomach flipped.

Hastings.

He wore a black trench coat, collar up, hands in his pockets. Same smug gait. Same dead-cold stare that used to haunt her dreams back when she was under his command as he scanned the dock and the surrounding grounds.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

The others filed ahead of him, and Hastings touched his ear and spoke.

Spence continued typing furiously, nodding that he knew it was Hastings. “He’s on the phone. Let’s see what I can do. Give me twenty seconds.”

His concentration was razor sharp—jaw clenched, eyes locked on the screen. No hesitation. No wasted motion.

Her mouth went dry. It was ridiculous, how attractive that was. How dangerous.

Focus, Mendoza.

Hastings walked up to the warehouse doors. One of the minions keyed in a code, and the panel slid open, swallowing them whole.

“They’re inside,” Jessie muttered. “What the hell are they doing here?”

The device in Spence’s lap pinged once. “I’ve got audio.”

Jessie leaned in closer.

Static crackled, then a voice came through—distorted but clear enough to make out Hastings’ words.

“…drones loaded and in position. Brewer wants the first wave en route to Berlin by midnight. Real-time deployment. We’re taking the test units now.

We hit the summit at 0800 before the idiots have even had breakfast.”

Jessie’s breath caught.

Berlin. A summit.

She glanced at Spence, and the grim look on his face confirmed it—this was a supply run. A damn prelude to that something big hovering in her stomach.

Brewer was about to make his move.

“There’s a diplomatic summit at the Waldorf Astoria,” Spence said, reading from his screen. “Thirteen nations are represented.”

She swore again as Spence shared a few more tidbits from the newspaper article he was reading. Those attending the summit were a diverse group, comprising diplomats, cybersecurity experts, and representatives from billionaire tech startups.

The two minions reappeared, moving with purpose as they lifted heavy crates from a wheeled cart into the back of the panel truck. Jessie could see the stenciled markings on the side—serial numbers, air vents, ports.

Drones. No question.

Hastings filed out behind them, a set of papers in hand, still on his call. “You want in? This is your last chance. In less than seventy-two hours, we’ll be global.”

Jessie’s blood turned cold.

Global.

Not just Berlin. Not just a test.

Deployment.

Mass scale.

“Spence,” she whispered, “we’re out of time.”

The panel truck rumbled to life, red taillights flaring through the mist as the back doors slammed shut.

“We have to follow them,” she said, already shifting in her seat to check her weapon and slide her seatbelt on.

Spence didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on the warehouse, not the truck. Hastings was still standing on the dock, cutting a deal with whoever was on the phone while flipping through the papers. “If we lose eyes on Hastings, we may not get another shot.”

Jessie clenched her fists. “If Brewer’s about to launch something that could torch Berlin and half the diplomatic core, we can’t just sit here.”

“I’m not saying that. I’ll call for backup.”

Backup? They were off the grid, and the other swans were too far away. “We’ll lose them if we wait.”

The truck pulled out, headlights vanishing down the service road. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a war drum. Hastings retreated inside.

Flynn’s voice echoed in her mind. If I disappear, go off-grid.

Was he even still alive?

She turned to Spence and placed a hand on his arm—not hard, just enough to make him look at her. “The time to hide behind that screen is over.”

His jaw worked, and she knew what was going on in that massive tech brain of his. The warehouse. The truck. A thousand unknowns spinning in his head. Finally, he nodded once. Tight. Resolute. He handed her the tablet. “I’ve tapped into their GPS. Let’s move.”

Silently, she let out a relieved sigh.

They followed the panel truck at a cautious distance, their headlights off, their tires humming over the wet asphalt. Trees pressed in on either side, thick, looming silhouettes in the moonlight. Jessie gripped the edge of her seat, tracking the taillights as they dipped around a bend.

Spence eased their car around the curve and slowed. “Where the hell—?”

Ahead, a narrow road jutted into the woods. No signage. No lights. No movement.

And no taillights. The panel truck was gone.

“Son of a bitch.” Spence clicked back to the last ping on the GPS tracker. “They blacked it out.”

“They knew you were tracking them?”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

They crept forward, inch by inch, but the road was empty. Spence checked the dash display, tapped a few commands into the thermal sensors. Nothing.

Jessie stared at the hollow stretch of pavement ahead. No truck. No sounds. Just cold, wet silence.

She cursed under her breath. “We’re not the only ones playing spy games tonight.”

Her hand found the grip of her sidearm. Her pulse thumped in her ears, every nerve on edge. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The enemy had disappeared like smoke, and Jessie had the sinking feeling they’d just walked into a trap.

A trap she’d expected all along.