Page 6 of Code Name: Reaper (K19 Allied Intelligence Team Two #5)

“I’m not going to burn anything.” I turned the heat down anyway, which earned me a look indicating she’d noticed the concession.

She didn’t move fast enough when I reached around her for the eggs. For a moment, we were inches apart. Close enough for me to see her pulse jump in her throat and feel the heat radiating from her skin.

“Couldn’t you have asked me to move?”

“Could you not hover?” I shot at her when she continued supervising my every move.

“Could you not burn the place down?”

“I’m making breakfast, not conducting chemical warfare.”

“Debatable.”

I fought a smile despite the tension. Her dry humor caught me off guard, making me remember why I’d been drawn to her in the first place. She was brilliant and difficult and absolutely infuriating, but she was also funny as hell when she allowed herself to be.

The eggs overcooked while I was distracted, watching her lean against the far counter. She raised a brow but didn’t comment as she reached past me to turn down the heat. This time, she was the one who invaded my space when her arm brushed mine.

Neither of us moved away immediately.

“Better?” Her voice was quieter than it had been.

“Getting there.”

We weren’t talking about the eggs anymore.

She cleared her throat and retreated two steps, putting distance between us again. But the awareness lingered, electric and dangerous.

“This kitchen is surprisingly well equipped.”

“Blackjack took care of it.”

She raised a brow. “He stocks safe houses better than most five-star hotels.”

“He reminds me of our mother.”

Amaryllis chuckled, a sound I hadn’t heard very often. “Not something he’d take as a compliment, would be my guess.”

“You’d be right.”

We ate at the small table, forced into close quarters by the layout of the cottage. The meal became a work debrief that kept getting derailed by our physical proximity.

“So, your message…” I began.

“What about it?”

“Prism. What I don’t understand is how someone who created an organization designed to combat the very kind of treachery she’s doing could turn into the type of person she fought against?”

“Greed? I don’t know what else it could be, other than someone forcing her.”

“What about Mercury? Any leads?”

“Nothing confirmed,” she admitted. “But I’m not the only one looking. It’s unclear what the other parties’ motives are.”

“Protect or—” When she winced, I stopped myself. She wasn’t ready to accept Mercury might already be dead. I wouldn’t be either, in her shoes.

Her cell chimed with an incoming alert, and her brow furrowed as she read it.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Received fresh intel on Mercury. Need to meet. Come alone.”

“Who sent it?”

“Tatum Bright, code name Beacon. She’s?—”

“On Minerva’s council of twelve,” I finished for her.

“Something I only recently learned myself.” She set the phone down. “I thought she was an NSA Swiss intelligence asset. Now, I know her affiliation goes far beyond that.”

“Given her role in Minerva, if anyone would oppose Prism, it should be her,” I added.

Amaryllis picked the phone up and reread what was on the screen. “The ‘come alone’ part bothers me. She’s passed leads on to me previously without making that request.”

“Your instincts about people are good. What are they telling you now?”

It was obvious by the look on her face that my praise was unexpected. Granted, we were more apt to find fault with each other, instead of noticing anything good.

“My gut says it’s a trap,” she finally admitted. “But if she has intelligence about Mercury, I want to know what it is.”

“Then, we respond, but on our terms. No splitting up. Make it clear that coming alone isn’t an option.”

She set the phone down again, apparently not ready to follow my suggestion.

Instead of pushing, I changed the subject. “I’m sure you know we lost Jekyll.”

“I do. How is Delfino handling it?”

“A combination of sadness and closure. By the way, before he died, he said corruption goes to the very top—which we now think was referring to Minerva. He also said there are connections we don’t understand.”

“Many, I’m sure.”

Rather than press her on what she meant, I continued. “He also told Delfino that Suzanne Henning wasn’t Mercury’s real name. It’s Lyra Carrington. Which I’m sure you already know.”

Amaryllis folded her arms. “Unless that’s another alias.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Like my compliment, my question jarred her. Her shoulders tightened, then she let out a deep breath, and the tension in them eased.

“Not really. There are so many things I don’t understand. So many questions. I mean, why did she spend all those years making me think she was someone she wasn’t?”

“My guess is she had reasons.” The memory of Jekyll’s intensity during his final moments was impossible to shake. Now, I wished I’d asked more about what he meant. “What Jekyll told me…It felt personal for him.”

“That connects to something I found.” Her expression shifted as if pieces were falling into place. “I have a photo of him with Mercury at an intelligence symposium. Their body language suggested they knew each other well.”

“While unrelated, another thing you should know is that he protected me during the interrogation, convincing the FSB I was more valuable alive than dead.”

“Why would he risk exposure to help you?”

“He requested I pass something on to Delfino.” I set my fork down, watching her reaction. “Along with emphasizing the importance of finding Mercury, he wanted me to tell her he was running out of time.”

“He knew she was alive.”

“Or hoped she was.”

“Do you think her disappearance triggered Jekyll’s return or Aldrich’s escalation?” she asked.

“Both.”

“Do you think Mercury’s hiding or…?”

“Working with Prism?”

Amaryllis flinched. “She wouldn’t do that.” I wondered if she was trying to convince me or herself. “It’s more likely that she discovered the corruption and went underground.”

“Two days ago, Prism requested a meeting with Delfino and Hornet. I don’t know if you’re aware that Jekyll left behind a request that Delfino take his place on Minerva’s council of twelve.”

“I was not.”

“Prism told them Mercury was ‘being held somewhere in Eastern Europe, likely within FSB-controlled territory.’ She also showed them proof of life.”

Amaryllis processed what I’d told her, then raised her head. “She was lying.”

“I agree, but about which part?”

“They don’t have Mercury.”

“And the proof of life?” I reminded her.

“Easy enough to fake.”

“Irish thought the same thing.”

She cocked her head.

“He’s consulting with the coalition.” Not wanting to get sidetracked by Argead and Romanov now, I stuck to the original subject. “If Jekyll somehow knew Mercury was hiding rather than captured, his urgency makes more sense.”

“He’d want someone to find her before Prism did.” Amaryllis turned to look at me. “Someone she could trust.”

“What’s the next step?”

She pulled up a spreadsheet that cross-referenced dates and locations, I leaned closer to read her notes, and our knees bumped under the small table. She went very still but didn’t pull away.

“Here.” Her hand shook as she pointed at a series of documents on the screen.

The evidence she’d collected painted a clear picture of Prism’s betrayal, but with her nearness, all I could think about was the way she’d fisted her hands in my jacket.

“Reaper?”

“Kingston,” I demanded.

“Okay, Kingston.”

My name spoken from her lips made my chest tight.

“The timeline,” she prompted softly.

Right. The timeline. The mission. The search for Mercury.

“We should map out the connections.” My voice sounded gravely, and I cleared my throat, then stifled a yawn.

“I can monitor watch alerts,” she offered.

“I’ll do it. You need rest more than I do.”

Her eyes scrunched as though I’d insulted her, but the fight went out of her almost instantaneously.

“Fine,” she muttered, standing and heading toward the upstairs bedrooms.

Once she’d disappeared from view, I found one on the main level, spread my gear out, and set up the security monitoring that would issue an alarm loud enough to wake me if breached. But even with a floor between us, I could feel her presence.

As a rush of water sounded from the shower upstairs, images flooded my mind—steam and skin and the way she might look if she finally, for once, let her guard down. I tried to force my thoughts to threat assessments. It didn’t work.

The water ran for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of me lying on the bed, listening to every sound from upstairs.

When the water finally stopped, I heard her moving around the bedroom. Was she getting dressed? Undressed? Lying in bed, thinking about the same thing that was keeping me awake?

Hours passed. I tried to sleep, but every noise drew my attention. She was pacing. I could hear her weight shifting from one foot to the other, the restless energy of someone whose mind wouldn’t shut off.

Join the club.

Late morning stretched into afternoon, and still I couldn’t sleep. Exhaustion should have taken over, but my awareness of her made rest impossible.

At thirteen hundred, I gave up and went to the kitchen for water.

Amaryllis appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, and I nearly dropped the glass in my hand.

She wore a black tank top and sweat shorts that showed more of her skin than I’d ever seen. No armor, no weapons, no barriers except the distance she maintained.

“Can’t sleep, either?” I asked.

“I have intel feeds I need to check.”

The lie came so easily I almost believed it. Almost. “Sure, you do.”

“Reaper—”

“Kingston,” I corrected automatically. If we were going to have this conversation, whatever it was, I wanted her to use my real name.

She blinked, surprised by the second correction. “Kingston.”

The soft tone of her voice made me want to cross the kitchen, press her up against the counter, and take another taste of those lips I was obsessing over.

“About what happened?—”

“The kiss,” I finished when she hesitated.

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”

Another lie. It changed everything, and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to make it go away.

I stayed in the kitchen when she retreated upstairs without another word.

When I finally returned to the bedroom, I attempted to fall back to sleep, but my brain focused again on every noise from above. The creak of the bed frame when she turned over. The rustle of the sheets and blankets.

I’d drifted off, but sat straight up when I heard her cry out. Had I dreamed it? I held my breath and waited a few seconds. Nothing. Just as I rolled over, I heard it again.

“Kingston.”

It was as clear as if she stood beside me.