Page 20 of Code Name: Reaper (K19 Allied Intelligence Team Two #5)

REAPER

I didn’t sleep. Didn’t even sit down. I paced. I could hear her across the hall. Sobbing. As much as I wanted to stalk over there, break down the door I’d heard her lock, and tell her I was sorry, I couldn’t.

No one knew about Dagger. No one other than Amaryllis and me. And since I hadn’t divulged his cover to anyone else, it had to mean she had.

I forced myself to think it through methodically. What did I actually know?

Amaryllis had been evasive about her contacts since Montenegro. Beacon had reached out, saying she wanted to meet alone, but what ever came of it? She’d pushed to contact Edmonds herself, then suggested meeting with Briggs solo too.

Whenever we received time-sensitive intelligence, she announced she preferred to work alone.

And the connections kept piling up. Mercury, Prism, Beacon—everyone in Amaryllis’s orbit seemed to be playing multiple sides.

Maybe that wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe it was a pattern.

Earlier, I’d thought about how she didn’t want to go to England. I’d blamed it on her insecurity. Maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe she had a damn good reason not to want “oversight,” as she’d called it.

The sobbing from across the hall had stopped. I pressed my ear to my door and heard nothing. Was she planning her next move?

I pulled out my phone and stared at Dagger’s message again. The one that had come over right before the pilot announced our descent. Cover blown. Going dark.

Less than twenty-four hours since I’d told her his identity. Now, he was running for his life.

The math was simple, even if I didn’t want to accept it.

My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out, silently praying there’d be another text from Dagger. Instead, it was from my mother.

Bishop says you’re due to arrive tonight. Time to get together tomorrow?

I cringed. My parents. I’d completely forgotten they were here for a Cerberus board meeting.

I fucking needed sleep. How long had it been since I’d gotten more than an hour or two? Days, at least. My judgment wasn’t merely clouded; I was beginning to lose the ability to think at all.

Arrived. Safe house in the Yard. Waiting for an update on another meeting tomorrow.

Rather than notify me of another text, my phone rang with a call from her. I raced out of the room and down the stairs.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Kingston, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too.”

“You mentioned you’re staying in the Yard? We are too.”

“Where?”

“On Armistead, in the guesthouse behind the Magnolia.”

It was a few minutes past twenty-two hundred. My parents lived on the West Coast, which meant, for them, it was three hours earlier. Plus, they were night owls, so they wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon. I made a snap decision. “Want some company?”

Less than five minutes later, I’d slipped out of the town house, walked two blocks over to where they were staying, and knocked on the door.

When my mom answered and pulled me into a hug, I felt like a kid again. Her comfort seeped into all my empty, angry crevices, where I needed it the most.

“My turn.” My dad stepped forward. Her warmth was immediately replaced with his when he embraced me. God, how I’d needed this.

“Come inside and close the door, Rick. It’s freezing.”

My dad released me. “Says the woman who goes jogging in San Francisco at the crack of dawn. It’s at least twenty degrees warmer here.” He reached behind me and shut the door.

“Let me get a good look at you.” My mother led me into the living room. “On second thought, I wish I hadn’t. Kingston, you look terrible . What’s going on?”

“Kyra, he’s in the middle of a mission,” my father chided.

“I don’t care if he’s in the middle of a war—wait, I didn’t mean that. No wars, please. Still, when’s the last time you slept?”

“Well? Honestly, I have no idea.” I looked up at the glass my dad held in his hand. “Got any more of that?” While I guessed it was either bourbon or some other kind of whiskey, I didn’t care what it was. I needed a good stiff drink.

He handed me a rocks glass filled nearly to the top. “Here you go.”

I took a long pull, then a breath, then another.

All the while, my mother sat beside me with the same worried expression she’d had every time Bishop or I were sick or injured as kids.

The effect of the alcohol hit me almost immediately, but I still drank more. What I needed was however much was left in the bottle.

When my mom reached out and stroked my hair, I wanted to lie down beside her and beg her to keep doing it until I fell asleep. Also like she’d do when I was a kid.

“I’m worried about you.” Her voice was heavy with emotion.

“I’m worried about me too.”

My father sat on the other side of me. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want us to mind our own business?”

I looked from him to her, then at him again. “I’m afraid I fucked up royally, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Pour us all another drink, Rick. Our son wants to talk.”

After finishing what was in my glass, I let everything spill out, starting with the night in Budva when Agent Beaudoin opened the door to the safe house and invited me inside.

I told them everything—about her disappearing after the attack on the villa, how I’d tracked her across Europe until I finally found her in Berlin, and about how crazy she made me when she’d argue with me about everything, including the color of the sky.

Then I got to the hardest part. Admitting I’d read her in on something I never should have and, because of it, I’d endangered an asset who trusted me with his life.

My dad spoke first. “You said you fucked up royally. Did you mean by revealing your source or something else?”

“Something else,” my mom answered without giving me the chance to. “What did you do?”

“I accused her of betraying my confidence.”

Her face was tight and her brow furrowed, but that she hadn’t stopped stroking my hair made me less worried about whatever she was about to say.

“Do you have proof?” she asked.

While I was ready to blurt out everything I’d told myself, I didn’t. None of it was proof. So I shook my head.

“Where is she—Amaryllis—now?”

“At the town house.”

“Well, she didn’t immediately get on another plane and return to England. That’s a good sign,” said my dad.

“I would have,” my mom added.

My father chuckled. “That’s what made me say it.”

“There’s a second bedroom down the hallway on the left. Go sleep, and we’ll figure the rest of this out tomorrow,” said my mother, perhaps noticing me struggling to stay awake.

“I should probably return?—”

“No, you shouldn’t. What you need more than anything is sleep, and if you return to where Amaryllis is, you won’t get it.”

“She’s right,” my dad muttered.

“I always am,” she said with a smile for me, then him.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Go lie down anyway. If you can’t, you know your father and I will still be awake and we can talk some more.”

As I trudged to the hallway she’d pointed at, every inch of my body felt too heavy to take another step. It was as though I was a teenager who’d confessed I did something they’d be angry about, yet, because I’d come and told them, they went easy on me, forgave me, and helped me sort it out.

It was too late for that with Amaryllis. I doubted she’d ever forgive me.

I fell onto the bed more than lay down, not even bothering to take off my clothes.

When I next opened my eyes, daylight streamed in through the window. I rolled over, remembering I was in my parents’ guesthouse, but wanting to forget everything else about last night.

“Fuck,” I muttered, checking the time on my phone.

I’d slept until ten hundred. I couldn’t remember exactly what time it was when I got here, but I guessed I’d slept close to twelve hours.

I checked my phone again for messages, but there weren’t any, which meant I hadn’t missed an alert about a meeting with Briggs. Thank God.

I set the phone down, rolled over, and stared up at the ceiling. Seconds later, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Come in,” I called out.

“Good morning.” My mother carried in a tray that—blessedly—held a cup of coffee and two large glasses, one with water and the other with orange juice. There was also a silver dome that likely covered food, something I couldn’t think about yet.

“I thought you could use these too.” She handed me two acetaminophen tablets.

“Thanks.” I downed them with a large drink of water. “I’m sorry about last night.”

She motioned for me to scoot over, then sat on the edge of the bed. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. At least not to your dad and me.”

I bristled. Didn’t I know it?

“Your father’s meetings wrapped up yesterday, so we’re here to provide whatever help you need.”

I rested my head on the pillow. “You didn’t have to stay in town.”

“If I’d had any doubt about that yesterday afternoon, it was certainly dispelled last night. Plus, your brother said there were things about your current investigation you wanted to discuss with your dad.”

Plus. Because I’d already dumped the other thing on them.

“Is he awake?” Part of being night owls who lived in another time zone was that they were also late risers.

“He’s having coffee and finishing up some reports the Cerberus board requested.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no. They want to appoint him chairman. That’s the no part. He says he turned them down. That’s the yes part.” She paused, then sighed. “What about you? Is everything okay?”

“No.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Part of me hoped you’d get a good night’s rest, and the other hoped you’d talk to Amaryllis.”

“I think whatever I say to her needs to happen in person.”

“That, I agree with.” She slapped her legs and stood. “Okay, I’ll let you either start your day or get more sleep if you need it.”

“I’ll be out shortly.”

“Bathroom is across the hall if you want to take a quick shower. I left a pair of your father’s jeans and a shirt in there for you. I’d say you were the same size, but by the looks of you, I doubt you are anymore. How much weight have you lost?”

“I really haven’t paid attention.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have had time to.” She opened the bedroom door to leave.

“Thanks, Mom. For everything.”

She smiled. “I’d also say it was my pleasure, but I don’t think that’s appropriate in this case. I will tell you this: mothers—and fathers too—love to be needed. Especially when their kids are grown and gone.”

I rolled out of bed, took the shower she’d suggested, and made use of the brand-new toothbrush and paste she’d also left for me. My father’s clothes weren’t as loose on me as she probably thought they’d be, so I wore them.

“Hey, Dad,” I said when I found him sitting outside.

He looked me up and down. “Are those mine?”

“Yeah, Mom strongly suggested I take a shower and put on fresh clothes. By the way, where is she?”

“She went for a walk. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Okay. On the one hand, I got much-needed rest and I feel a lot better for it. On the other hand, I need to talk to Amaryllis and I fear that isn’t going to go well.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But first, I want to talk to you.”

I glanced at my watch. “I really should?—”

“Sit down, Kingston.”

“Yes, sir.” I pulled out the second chair that sat by a café table.

“There’s something you need to ask yourself.”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you, or do you, think Amaryllis is responsible for your asset’s cover being blown?”

I rested against the chair and thought it through before responding. “Honestly, there were reasons.”

“What were they?”

I looked at the houses on either side of the inn’s property. There was at least one window open. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private first.”

Once inside, he poured us both more coffee, then motioned for me to sit on the sofa. “Go ahead when you’re ready.”

I started by reminding him that, other than myself, Amaryllis was the only person who knew about his cover.

“Are you certain about that?”

“Fairly.” Bad answer, but it was the truth.

“Go on.”

I gave him the rundown of all the things I knew about her and all I didn’t, including that she’d taken off without letting anyone on the team know where she was or that she was safe.

I also told him there’d been many instances where she was evasive, which I saw as another red flag.

“I’ve known her for a month, Dad. It makes more sense that I wouldn’t trust her. ”

“But you did, so that’s moot.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“Shouldn’t have what?”

I looked up at him. “Compromised my asset.”

“You’re right. It started with you, Kingston. Which means…”

“I should’ve been angry with myself instead of her.”

“I’d say you were.”

And I’d taken it out on her. Still, it didn’t change the fact that Dagger’s cover was blown and someone was responsible.

“I agree you shouldn’t have shared such sensitive information with someone you, by your own admission, don’t know well. I also think you did it for a good reason. You wouldn’t have otherwise.”

“You’re right. I wanted her to know she could trust me.”

When he raised a brow, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.

“Last night, I proved she can’t.”

“Not in the ways that matter most.”

“Fuck, er, sorry.”

He chuckled. “You’ve been using that word since you were three years old and I got pulled over for speeding and repeated it several times in a row.

For the rest of the day—probably longer than that—you walked around the house saying, ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ Your mother was quite angry with me until she hit her elbow on something and said it herself. ”

I chuckled and checked my phone again. “I’ve really got to go, Dad. I was supposed to schedule a briefing early this morning, which I didn’t do. And I’m waiting to hear about a meeting we hope will take place today.”

“Go on. I’ve said all I wanted to.”

I stood, then leaned down to hug him. “Thank you.”

“Let me know when you want to talk about the other things your brother mentioned.”

“Will do.”

I ran as much as walked to the town house, even though I was in no hurry to face Amaryllis.

I knew I needed to, though. I had to do more than apologize.

I had to tell her the truth, and that was that I’d made a mistake in sharing such sensitive information, and regardless of how Dagger’s real identity had been revealed, I was to blame for it.

Before opening the front door, I stopped. If I said all that, I’d only be reiterating that I believed she was the one responsible, which part of me still thought was possible.

“Fuck,” I muttered again, then stepped inside.