Page 18 of Code Name: Reaper (K19 Allied Intelligence Team Two #5)

AMARYLLIS

“ T ime to get up,” I heard Reaper say.

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to remember where I was and how I’d gotten here.

“The pilot said we’re about to begin our descent. We need to return to our seats,” he added.

“How long did I sleep?” It was a stupid question, given if we were getting ready to land, the answer was obvious. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Still a bit out of it.” I glanced over my shoulder to see if he’d heard me and noticed the hard set of his jaw. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” he responded, walking over to the door. What I didn’t anticipate was him leaving the stateroom. Not that there was any good reason for him to stay. Still, it was as if I’d fallen asleep with one man and woken up with someone very different.

Rather than press him on it, I returned to my original seat and pulled my tablet from my bag, thinking that maybe an email had gone out that would explain his about-face.

I scrolled through but didn’t see anything that seemed relevant.

On the other hand, it was after midnight in England, so unless something urgent had transpired, I wouldn’t expect there to be any updates.

I looked over at Reaper when he sat in the seat directly across the aisle. He’d folded his arms, and his eyes were shut. Maybe I’d kept him awake. Honestly, I couldn’t remember much after I lay down. I must’ve fallen asleep within seconds.

Rather than pester him, I searched through the dossiers until I found Jekyll’s.

Something had been nagging at me. The man was British.

Not only had he been with MI6, but he was a member of Unit 23, the most elite and deadly of the UK’s intelligence teams. So why had he attended high school in the States?

I scrolled through the brief, groaning when there was very little beyond the most basic information.

“What are you doing?” Reaper snapped.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. What are you doing?” he repeated.

“Looking for more detail on Jekyll’s early years.”

“Why?”

His tone annoyed me enough that I almost told him it was none of his concern. But given that would result in more tension between us, I stopped myself. “I was curious why he attended school in the US.”

“He went to Bethel-Rhodes.”

“As I’m aware.” This time, I did snap at him.

“Children of diplomats, upper administration, even presidents attend the academy.”

“Are you saying his parents fell into one of those categories?”

“Is there anything in what you’re reading about them?”

“No.”

“Then, why would you assume I’d know the answer?” The hostility that remained in his voice stunned me.

I momentarily considered throwing my tablet at him or hitting him with it. However, as hard as his damn head was, it might break. “Why don’t you say what’s on your mind and get it over with?”

“Nothing’s on my mind,” he responded without looking at me.

“One, that’s impossible, and two, I don’t believe you. You’ve been a grouch since you woke me up.”

“Leave it alone, Amaryllis.”

My mouth gaped, not that he could see me.

“Gladly,” I muttered under my breath. If he wanted to give me the silent treatment, I could give him the same.

It was the earlier stuff that tripped me up.

The kisses and him caressing my face, saying he wanted more than sex with me, that were far harder to handle.

I knew the danger of getting involved with someone I worked with. Not from experience per se, but I’d seen what could happen when workplace romances ended badly. Typically, one or both parties transferred out of the office or left the NSA entirely.

Which gave me an idea. Maybe meeting with Edmonds alone would be more productive than if Reaper was with me. The man obviously knew who I was. Or at least that I’d grown up in Newport News. Maybe he knew a lot more, including things I didn’t know myself.

I opened a new document and started an agenda.

“What are you doing?” Reaper repeated.

“Preparing for my meeting with Edmonds,” I said without looking in his direction.

“ Your meeting?”

“That’s right. He may be more forthcoming with information if I do it alone.”

“Not your decision to make, babe .”

His emphasis on the word made my blood boil. “I don’t like this version of you.”

“There’s only one, sweetheart. What you see is what you get.”

“Don’t,” I spat at him.

“Don’t,” he repeated. “Do you know how much I fucking hate it when you do that?”

I glanced out the window. If we weren’t about to land, I’d get up and change seats. Instead, I ignored him and continued my notes.

“How am I supposed to know what it is you don’t want me to do? There’s usually a list.”

“At the moment, what I don’t want to do is talk to you.”

“Or hear what I have to say.”

“Especially that.”

“I was going to wait until we were off the plane to tell you this…”

My neck snapped when I turned toward him. “Tell me what?”

“The meeting with Edmonds is off.”

“What are you talking about? I checked, and I didn’t receive anything saying it was canceled.”

He pulled out his phone, swiped the screen, and handed it to me.

I gasped when I read the text Blackjack had sent him. “He suffered a stroke?”

“He’s in intensive care.”

Something the text clearly stated. “Yes, I see that. Why wasn’t I informed directly, and why would you wait to tell me?”

“I can’t answer your first question, but as for the second, I didn’t want to upset you.”

Rather than hand his phone to him, I threw it at him. “ Upset me?”

He held his hand out, palm up. “Case in point.”

“ Argh. I think it’s obvious we should abort this entire trip. I’ll figure out another way to approach Briggs.”

“Again, not your decision to make?—”

“Do not call me babe again. Or sweetheart or any other condescending, fake term of endearment.”

“Fake?”

“Yes, fake, babe . There, how does that make you feel? Lesser maybe? Or like someone I don’t take seriously?”

“I didn’t mean any of those things.”

“You know what? I don’t care. I’m finished with this conversation.” I folded my arms. “I’m only glad we didn’t…” I turned toward the window.

“Didn’t what, Charity ?”

I shook my head. There was no way I’d finished that sentence, particularly since I didn’t mean it. Even as angry as I was at him presently, I still wanted him. Maybe even more now.

The passion between us had been intense from the moment I met him in Budva. It was instantaneous, not that I’d believed in that sort of thing until it happened to me.

Everything about him had slammed into me. His eyes as they bored into mine, his lips, the set of his jaw, his rock-hard body, his hands that I immediately longed to have on me, and the heat that seemed to pour out of him. I wanted him then as much as I did now.

“What happened?” I finally asked.

When he didn’t respond, I looked over my shoulder. His elbows rested on his legs, and he’d covered his face with his hands.

“Why are you so angry with me?”

When he turned his head, his expression sent chills up my spine. “Dagger’s cover was blown.”

It took me several seconds to process his words. What did that mean? Was he okay? Did Reaper think I had something to do with it? I couldn’t figure out which question to start with. Finally, I settled on what was most important. “Is he alive?”

“I don’t know.” Reaper’s voice sounded flat, emotionless.

“He could be?—”

“You were the only other person who knew what he was doing, where he was embedded.” The way he continued looking at me made my stomach clench. “The only one.”

“You think I had something to do with this?”

“The timing is too convenient. Hours after I read you in, he’s blown.” He leaned against his seat, arms crossed. “Either you’re the unluckiest person alive, or there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“How could I possibly have—” I stopped myself, my mind racing through the implications. “I’ve been with you every second since you told me about him.”

“Not every second.”

The words slammed into me harder than his fists could have. “Are you seriously suggesting that I?—”

“I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I trusted you with information that’s probably gotten him killed.”

I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of the man who’d held me, kissed me, and told me he wanted more than sex. All I saw was barely controlled rage.

“I would never—” My voice cracked. “I would never betray that confidence.”

“Wouldn’t you? How well do I really know you, Amaryllis?”

“So that’s it?” I whispered. “One coincidence, and you decide I’m the enemy?”

“I decided that I made a mistake. A potentially fatal one.”

I turned away from him, staring out the window as the plane touched down. My chest felt hollow, scraped clean of everything except the familiar ache of abandonment.

“For what it’s worth,” I said without looking at him, “I’m sorry about Dagger. I hope he’s okay, and whatever resulted in his cover being blown has nothing to do with me.”

Reaper remained silent even after the plane’s door opened so we could deboard.

“We need to go,” he finally said.

Go? Where?

I grabbed my bag and followed him toward the exit, my mind already calculating options. The coalition had sent me here, but that didn’t mean I had to stay. I had contacts in the area—people who owed me favors, friends, albeit ones I hadn’t been in touch with for years, something I now regretted.

The chill of the October night hit me as I followed Reaper down the airstairs and over to the black SUV that waited on the tarmac.

I climbed into the passenger seat while he got behind the wheel. The keys were in the ignition, and an envelope sat on the console. He tore it open and scanned the contents.

He started the engine. “The Yard.”

That the area he’d spat at me was minutes from where I grew up meant I could disappear if I needed to. I knew every rural road, every shortcut, every place where someone could vanish without a trace.

The question was whether I should.