Page 7 of Avenging Jessie (Black Swan Division Thrillers #3)

Seven

Jessie

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Certainly not curled up on the sagging couch like some burned-out agent in a B-grade spy flick.

But after Spence all but ordered her to take the bedroom, she’d refused out of sheer principle, maybe because she didn’t want to owe him.

But also, because the idea of sleeping in a bed while he was only a room away felt too intimate.

Too tempting. She didn’t need that kind of vulnerability. Not tonight. Not with him.

Now, hours later, the blanket she’d yanked from the lumpy mattress was tangled around her legs, and her back ached like hell. Her ankle vied with it for her attention. The air still smelled like yeast, raspberries, and coffee, thanks to the bakery.

She pushed upright with a groan and limped to the kitchenette. The light was on in the tiny den next to it.

Spence.

Of course.

She found him exactly where she’d left him a few hours ago—at the old desk wedged between two bookshelves, eyes glued to the laptop screen. Fingers flying. A half-eaten protein bar beside the keyboard.

His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his t-shirt, which sported a V, and his smooth, tan skin underneath. A thick layer of scruff dusted his jawline, and his hair stood at odd angles as if he had been raking his fingers through it.

She combed her fingers through her own hair, teasing out knots, and leaned on the doorframe. Words seemed to escape her. Before Hagar and Brewer, she’d been an ace at making small talk. Now? It was as if her brain no longer functioned that way.

She cleared her throat. “Did you, ah, sleep at all?”

He didn’t glance her way. “Didn’t want to waste the bandwidth.”

“You’re going to burn out your retinas.”

“Already did. Back at university.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. A little.

Spence glanced at her. Dark smudges had appeared under his eyes. The lines around his mouth seemed deeper, thanks to a scowl. She wasn’t sure if it was for her or what he’d been reading.

His gaze raked over her body, assessing her messy hair, bruised cheek, and the swollen ankle she was favoring. She had the unnerving desire to straighten up and meet that assessment with defiance.

When he spoke, however, that rebellious feeling evaporated. “You didn’t sleep much, either.”

Funny, because it had been a deep sleep. Something she hadn’t had in a very long time. No nightmares, no shakes. With Brewer back on the scene, she’d expected the worst ones to rear their heads.

They hadn’t.

Not even her aches and pains had bothered her. She’d slept like the dead.

Was it due to the adrenaline from last night’s encounter at the gala, or was it because of the man sitting across the room who made her feel safe?

She hadn’t lied when she told him she trusted him with her life.

He was still studying her, and it made her uncomfortable. Her stomach growled, and she placed a hand over it as if that would silence it. “I can function just fine on three to four hours of shuteye. All I need is a shower and some coffee, and I’ll be ready to go.”

He shifted so he could angle the screen toward her, tapping a couple of keys to bring up what he wanted her to see. “Got a hit.”

She crossed the room and leaned in, trying not to touch him.

On one of the screens, she saw a series of pictures of young girls.

Not just pictures—missing persons bulletins.

Before she could ask about them, they vanished, thanks to his tapping fingers.

In their place, a grainy black-and-white appeared.

Security cam footage, timestamped six hours earlier.

She squinted at it. “Is that the compound?”

“You bet your secret decoder ring it is. I managed to piggyback on a low-orbit satellite and tapped into a rural fiber-optic line feeding the Gorlitz compound’s surveillance network.

It’s only the exterior. Still working on gaining access to the internal feeds.

If there are any access points. I’m doubtful about that. ”

What he’d captured, though. Her breath stuck in her throat, her blood going cold.

Hastings posing as Keller. And next to him—Harris Brewer.

Jessie’s stomach clenched. Seeing him again made her whole body go rigid. The room spun for a second, and she had to grab the edge of the desk. Breathe.

She blinked. Once. Twice. But the image didn’t change. She closed her eyes and focused on her aching ankle, her stinging shoulder. Pain always had a way of stopping the panic.

When she flipped open her lids again, she felt back in control. She sneered at the photo. “There you are, you bastard.” Her words dripped with the disdain she felt in every cell. “No one’s had eyes on you for six months, but we got you.”

Spence leaned back, rubbing his eyes. “I assumed he’d had plastic surgery and changed his appearance so he could stay off our radar, but nope.

Facial rec confirms it. This is him. Our guy is alive and well and definitely working with Keller, er, Hastings.

The Pentagon security breach was most certainly him. ”

She’d known this day would come when Brewer was flesh and blood again. Not just a shadow. Not a ghost. He was back. Her body started down the panic highway, thanks to her PTSD, but she shut it down. In her mind, she painted a red bullseye on his chest.

Spence typed a series of commands, lines of code scrolling by in one of the black boxes. “If only I could worm my way inside the warehouse. Tap into some form of audio. There has to be a way to see and hear them. Without it, they’re ghosts.”

Her pulse kicked harder. Even ghosts left fingerprints. He just had to find them. “This is it, though. We need to get to that warehouse. Now, before the meeting is over.”

Spence shook his head. “That photo is from two a.m.—and before you break my neck for not waking you, I didn’t get into the feed until thirty minutes ago. This is from a recording. The meeting was probably hours ago. What we need are live feeds, terrain intel, and an exit plan—”

“Exit plan? Jesus, Spence, you sound like Meg and Dec. Everything has to be planned out. Everything has to be timed. Even if it was hours ago, Brewer might still be there. We need to find out.” She checked the old-fashioned cuckoo clock hanging on the wall.

“If we leave now, we can get there in the next hour.”

He scoffed. “No.”

That was it. One word.

Anger roared through her. She smacked the top of the desk.“That will be your live feed. That’s how you get your terrain intel. We can form an exit plan after I gun Brewer down and send him to hell.”

Spence stopped typing. He stood so abruptly, his dark eyes hardening into flint, that she had to stumble backward to keep him from bumping his chest into hers.

“Enough with the renegade bullshit, Mendoza. Above everything else, you are still a CIA operative. You are tasked with a mission, and that mission has parameters.” His voice was as stern as his eyes.

“Those parameters are in place to protect you, me, and the rest of our team, as well as to catch the bad guys we pursue. I’m all for taking risks and bending a few rules, but your recklessness needs to stop right here, right now.

You are not a vigilante.” His voice lowered.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I don’t want to pull rank, but Flynn put me in charge.

I will pull you off this mission and ship your reckless ass right back to Langley if you keep acting like this. ”

It was as if he’d slapped her. She lashed out before she could stop herself, storming across the room—well, as much as she could manage on her traitorous ankle—and grabbed the first thing she could find—a cracked ceramic vase sitting on top of an old wooden chest. She hurled it across the room at him.

It missed and crashed against the wall, shattering it. “You don’t understand!”

Spence didn’t flinch. He crossed the space between them in two strides. Caught her wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop her from grabbing something else. Just enough to pull her in close.

She froze.

His breath mingled with hers. His eyes searched her face. Fire and pain and something raw burned between them.

“Jess,” he said, low.

She didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. She hated how much she wanted to lean into him. To let Brewer and everything else she’d been carrying all these months fall away.

Their lips were inches apart. Should she do it? Give in to these raging feelings that weren’t only about her nightmares but about…him?

A crash came from downstairs.

Spence stepped back, releasing her. “You might be surprised at what I understand about the past and how it keeps a grip around your neck, no matter what you do.”

Air. She needed air. Jessie turned without a word and limped toward the rusted fire escape. She shoved open the window, cool air slapping her face. She braced her hands on the railing, breathing hard.

Behind her, Spence followed.

Damn him.

But he didn’t say anything. They stood in silence.

The city was still dark. The street below was empty except for a garbage truck rumbling past. Through the thin walls and wooden floorboards, more sounds came from the bakery as the owner prepared to open shop.

Spence blew out an audible breath. “Every time I get near you, I forget how to breathe. I forget what the mission even is.”

“That’s the problem.” She stared out over the rooftops. The sunrise did little to scatter the heavy, gray clouds. Her voice cracked. “I never forget.”

His body tensed. She could have bounced that silver coin he was constantly toying with off his tight muscles, straight back, clenched jaw.

She turned back toward the apartment. “I need a shower, and then that coffee.”

He raised his face to stare at the sky, as if he couldn’t stand to look at her. “I’ll grab breakfast from downstairs. Don’t overdo it. You need to keep that ankle elevated again today.”

Embarrassment crept up the back of her neck and into her scalp. God, she was acting like one of those ridiculous drama queens on a reality show. She felt like a bomb about to explode every damn day. Hypervigilance. Fear. Her adrenals were shot. “Bossy bastard.”

He smiled faintly, and her pulse kicked. “You love it.”

It was just an offhanded remark, but of course, it wasn’t. The truth was, she hated being bossed around, especially after her time with Brewer.

Yet, coming from Spence, it wasn’t so bad.

And didn’t that scare the shit out of her? The ugly truth was, she did love it. His attention. His protection.

Him.

No, no, no. She could never love anyone again. Ever. They would only end up being used against her.

And that was the real danger.