Page 11 of Code Name: Reaper (K19 Allied Intelligence Team Two #5)

“Third, locate Dr. Carrington, code name Mercury. She disappeared seven months ago during an op in Montenegro. At present, we’re unsure whether she’s in hiding, captured, working with Romanov, or deceased.

What we do know is that she possesses critical information that we cannot allow to fall into enemy hands.

Previous but unconfirmed intelligence suggests she might be at the Western Naval Base in Odesa. ”

Nemesis’s expression hardened. “These objectives are interconnected. Finding one may lead us to the others. And time is not on our side.”

When what was on the screen changed again, she looked between Wren and Amaryllis.

“The two of you will lead the team searching for Mercury. Amaryllis, you’re the best person to craft the mission, based on your past experience as well as the intel you gathered on Prism.”

“Roger that, ma’am,” she responded.

“Delfino and Hornet, you’re responsible for deepening the investigation into Minerva Protocol. The specific objective will be to gather intelligence on their structure, identify any other compromised members, as well as determine if locating Prism should be a joint mission.”

She turned to me. “You and Blackjack will be in charge of the team focusing on Romanov’s operational network—tracking Vasiliev’s movements, mapping their trafficking routes, and coordinating rescue ops for the missing assets.

“Any questions at this time?” Nemesis asked. After no one spoke up, she continued. “I’ll repeat that time is not on our side. The other thing we need to take into consideration is that there are people in this room who may already be on the FSB’s radar, which will impact active deployment.”

Several people murmured their agreement.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s get to work. Ares and I are available to float between teams as needed.”

As the briefing broke up, I remained, watching Amaryllis collect her materials.

Without so much as a glance at me, she walked out of the room with Wren, their heads bent in discussion.

She’d forgotten all about me—the guy who’d saved her life.

I watched the door long after they’d disappeared, hating how worried I was about her emotional state and what she might find when she located Mercury.

Finally, I rolled my shoulders and looked around the empty space.

I needed to get the hell out of here. I stalked out of the entryway I’d walked through less than an hour ago, not knowing where I was going, only that I couldn’t remain where Amaryllis was behind a door I wasn’t welcome to enter. Both literally and metaphorically.

The grounds of the estate stretched for acres in every direction, and I followed the main path toward the stables, breathing in the crisp English air that usually helped clear my mind.

The familiar surroundings should have centered me. I’d spent weeks here over the past year and knew every trail and building on the property. This was as close to home as I had in the intelligence world.

Moments from the past few days replayed with every step I took.

The tunnel kiss, Amaryllis’ flushed face on the plane, the way she’d trusted me enough to share intelligence about Prism.

Behind every thought was the growing certainty that whatever was building between us was going to end badly for both of us.

“Brooding again?”

Blackjack’s tone came from behind me. I didn’t turn around, didn’t want to see whatever look he was wearing. Probably that knowing smirk he got when he thought he’d figured out something I hadn’t.

“Not now, Bishop.”

“When, then?” He fell into step beside me, matching my pace. “You’re wound tighter than a Swiss watch, my brother.”

I shot him a look that reiterated that now wasn’t the time for him to give me any shit about anything.

“I’m here to offer some brotherly advice.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “Advice?” I snapped at him. “First, you wanna tell me what the fuck you were thinking when you rented that cottage?”

“I was thinking my brother is losing his goddamn mind over a woman and needs to do something about it.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are.” He held up a hand to forestall my denial. “You chased her across half of Europe for days, broke every rule in the book getting her out of Berlin, and you’ve been coiled like a fucking jack-in-the-box since you walked into the command center.”

“She’s a colleague?—”

Blackjack’s laugh was sharp. “Right. And I’m the damn pope.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is you two need to either fuck or fight. All this pussyfooting around is getting you nowhere.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious.”

When I started walking again, he did too.

“The bullshit arguments and the sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife are keeping you from doing your job—do something about it.”

My eyes flared. “You’re questioning my work ethic?”

“You know better than that.”

When we reached the stable complex, we leaned against the split-rail fence and watched the horses graze in the pasture.

The Andalusians were beautiful animals—intelligent, powerful, and bred for endurance and loyalty.

I wanted to smack myself when my first thought was how much Amaryllis would appreciate them.

“Even if anything you said was true, which it’s not, she’s made it clear she’s not interested in anything personal,” I argued.

“Has she? Or is she scared shitless of getting attached to someone who might disappear on her like everyone else in her life?”

I felt the air leave my lungs in the same way it would if he’d punched me in the gut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s lost everyone who mattered to her. Parents, grandparents, now her mentor. Do you think maybe she’s protecting herself from caring about someone else who might vanish?”

I considered that. Amaryllis’s fierce independence, her resistance to accepting help, her automatic defensive responses when things got too personal—they could all stem from a lifetime of abandonment and loss.

“Even if you’re right, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Stop being a fucking idiot. Stop arguing with her about everything. Stop pretending you don’t want to strip her naked and fuck her senseless.”

The crude honesty was pure Blackjack, and it made me want to punch him and thank him at the same time.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why the hell not?”

Because she wasn’t someone I could have sex with to get her out of my system. She was more than that. The realization formed before I could stop it, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

But it was true. Amaryllis wasn’t a one-night stand or a casual hookup.

She was brilliant, complicated, and damaged in ways that made me want to protect her even when she was perfectly capable of defending herself.

She challenged me intellectually, matched me in the field, and made me question assumptions I’d held for years.

“She’s good for you, Kingston. I watched you in that briefing room. She challenges you.”

“She argues with everything I say.”

“Because she’s your equal. When’s the last time you met someone who wasn’t intimidated by your reputation or your family’s money?”

The honest answer was never. Most women I’d met either worked in the intelligence community—which created its own complications—or outside of it entirely, which made real relationships impossible.

Amaryllis was different. She worked in my world but wasn’t dependent on my contacts or reputation.

She had her own skills, her own network, her own agendas.

“This isn’t some romantic comedy. It’s a classified investigation with international security at stake,” I barked at him.

“So? You’re both adults. You’re both single. You’re both hot for each other. What’s the problem?” My brother walked away, but on his way up the hill, he shouted over his shoulder that we had work to do.

As I followed him inside, I considered his question. What was the problem? Actually, the answer was obvious. Amaryllis was someone I cared about more than I should. Which meant I was totally fucked.