Page 9 of Avenging Jessie (Black Swan Division Thrillers #3)

Nine

Jessie

The way Spence looked at the coin in his hand, like it held the weight of his entire past, made Jessie’s throat tighten. She didn’t speak, didn’t move—just watched him turn it over, his jaw clenched, eyes far away.

I’m looking for my baby sister, he’d said.

It was the kind of sentence that had so much behind it, so much more story. But Spence wasn’t one to embellish. He let it hang there, stark and raw, like an open wound he’d finally decided to show.

Jessie swallowed. The coin gleamed in the light, but it wasn’t the silver that held her attention. It was the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. There was something different there than she’d ever seen or heard before.

She wasn’t sure, but it appeared that Spence Stirling, the man who built firewalls for breakfast and brought terrorists to their knees with one swift kick, had just opened the door to a secret side of him.

For her.

For a moment, she didn’t know if she wanted to thank him or run.

She opened her mouth—no idea what she would say—and the laptop chimed.

The soft sound managed to hit like a gunshot in the silence. Spence flinched. So did she. Whatever fragile thread had connected them snapped.

Spence was instantly back to his usual self, opening it and frowning at the screen. “It’s Flynn.”

“Already?” Jessie glanced at the kitchen clock, hurriedly whipping off the towel from around her neck and raking a hand through her wet hair. She joined Spence on his side of the table. “I thought we had—”

He was already clicking to answer. Director Flynn’s lined face filled the screen, voice sharp with urgency before either of them could say a word. “We’ve got eyes on Brewer,” Flynn said. “In Paris.”

Jessie’s heart stuttered. “What?”

Spence cocked his head, every inch of him going rigid. “That’s not possible, mate. He was at the Gorlitz compound less than four hours ago.”

“Then he’s either learned how to teleport,” Flynn said, voice strained, “or he has doppelg?ngers.”

Jessie leaned in. “You have photos? Video?”

“We do.” The sound of Flynn’s typing preceded a traffic cam shot of Brewer crossing a street. “Del has confirmed it’s legit.”

It did look like Brewer, the bastard. Jessie’s guts crawled. “It can’t be unless he’s cloned himself.”

“She’s right.” Spence shared his screen and the security footage of Harris and Hastings outside the warehouse. “He’s teamed up with Jonathan Hastings, a former CIA handler, who now goes by Jonas Keller.”

Flynn grunted. “Hastings? Are you sure? You’ve located him after all this time? What the hell is he doing with Brewer?”

“He has an ax to grind with Langley, just like Brewer does,” Jessie said. “And since I was one of his operatives, I can confirm it’s him.”

There was a string of cursing on the other end.

“Brewer had amassed quite a team, then, hasn’t he?

” Another round of cursing and more pecking at a keyboard.

“Del cross-checked the cam footage with his personal facial recognition. It’s solid—CCTV in Paris caught Brewer outside the Galerie Vivienne just before sunrise.

Here’s another kicker—Meg swears she saw him in D.C.

yesterday, outside the Naval Observatory.

That’s three cities in under twelve hours. ”

Spence’s fingers curled into fists. “Then it’s not him. At least not every time. He’s using decoys, impersonators. High-quality masks, makeup, implants—whatever tech he can get his hands on. He’s using them to muddy the waters.”

Jessie paced. “So we’re chasing ghosts and playing wack-a-mole.”

“No.” Spence’s voice was confident. “One of those sightings is real. The rest is noise. And if I were Brewer, and I had something to launch—something I wanted no one to interfere with—I’d be at the launch site.”

Flynn grunted. “Tell me about the warehouse.”

Jessie started to give her report, but Spence spoke over her like a man reciting scripture, facts, and probabilities layered with terrifying potential.

It annoyed her, and yet, she realized why he’d done it—he was in charge, whether she liked it or not, and giving Flynn their official update was his job, not hers.

“That warehouse,” Spence continued, “could house hundreds of thousands of drones. He possesses the necessary capacity, AI technology, and infrastructure. If he activates that swarm, we’re talking city-wide blackouts.

Air traffic disruption. Biological payloads.

EMP devices. Contamination of water supplies.

There are no limits to what he could do. ”

Flynn rubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus.”

Spence was grim. “We’re looking at apocalypse-level damage.”

The line went quiet. Jessie could practically hear the seconds ticking past in Flynn’s head, weighing options, imagining political fallout, calculating the risks to innocents.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and measured. “You two stay in Germany. I want eyes on that compound. No breach. No heroics. Just confirmation. I can’t put any plans into action until I have that. No breach,” he repeated. “Got it, Mendoza?”

Jessie folded her arms. “You want confirmation, you’d better be ready for noise.”

“Don’t test me,” Flynn snapped. “This is me trusting you not to get dead.”

“My watchdog already has me on a leash,” she fired back. At Spence’s wince, guilt made her sigh and close her eyes for a split second. She’d just damaged the bond between them. Again. Shaking it off, she resumed pacing. “And if we get confirmation?”

“We go in hot and hard.” Flynn’s voice wavered—just for a second. “But I’m not gonna sugarcoat this. Brewer escaped on my watch. Six months have passed, and we haven’t brought him in. The president’s morning brief is in a few hours. If I don’t give her something concrete, my head’s on the block.”

Spence frowned. “Flynn—”

“If I get yanked, Black Swan gets shut down. Best-case scenario, you’re reassigned. Worst-case, they bury the whole program and throw us in a hole somewhere for treason and incompetence.”

Jessie’s pulse thudded. That couldn’t happen, could it? She’d known this was high-stakes, but hearing it out loud like that was like staring down a sniper scope.

Brewer’s photo disappeared, and Flynn looked straight into the camera. “If I’m removed, go off-grid. Immediately. Don’t wait. Don’t call Langley. Don’t trust anyone.”

Spence nodded, grave. “Understood.”

Jessie gawked. How could he be so cool about this? “That’s not going to happen, sir. They won’t remove you. You’re the GOAT.”

Flynn snorted. “One more thing. If they do take me out, if this is my last call with you—don’t stop. Don’t let that bastard disappear again. Find Brewer. Stop him. End it.”

Jessie gripped the edge of the table. How could this be happening? Damn Brewer. He’d already taken so much from all of them.

She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, and yet, everything Brewer touched, he corrupted.

Flynn was the most loyal, hard-working spy around.

His commitment to his country was unmatched.

She could only hope to live up to his standards someday.

She firmed her voice. “You have my word.”

Flynn blinked, then nodded once. The screen went black.

The silence afterward was heavy and absolute.

Jessie’s eyes locked on Spence’s. “We can’t screw this up.”

He pocketed the coin. Shoved the chair back to rise. “We won’t.”

He said it like a promise. Somewhere east of them, in a steel compound full of death and code, Brewer was planning the end of everything. They couldn’t afford failure—not now. Not ever. The swans were the only thing standing in his way.

Jessie turned to stare out the narrow window above the sink. “You ever wonder what we’d be doing if we weren’t chasing terrorists and megalomaniacs?”

Spence didn’t answer right away, staring at the blank screen. She knew he was thinking of his sister. “Yeah,” he said. “But then I remember why we do it—to stop them and keep our loved ones safe. For me, there’s no higher purpose.”