Page 4 of Polestar (The Global Paranormal Security Agency #3)

FOUR

A na perched on the edge of an elegant, silk-embroidered chair stuffed with horsehair, in the most luxurious eighteenth-century library she’d ever been in.

Barely aware she was present, Jolena Kane and Jack Maeda still argued by the floor-to-ceiling French doors overlooking a rolling green that ended some distance away at a dark band of woods. Their coffees, in hand, were also forgotten except to use as emphasis on certain points.

Ana sighed and sipped her own drink. By now, they were on their third iteration of the same debate. Apparently, they’d forgotten her, too, despite her being summoned almost as soon as she’d closed the door to her room after hauling her suitcases in.

Two full-sized suitcases. What was she thinking?

I panicked.

With nothing else to do, she carried on in the theme of the moment and ignited an internal argument with herself over every moment since Carson Perenga’s call woke her with the word ‘Iceland’.

She shivered and sipped more of her hot coffee.

To a lifelong California girl, images of Iceland evoked frigid, barren landscapes of rock, snow, and ice. Sure, the northern lights would be pretty, but the light show wasn’t worth the risk of frostbite.

So, she’d packed almost everything she had in her closet that could be considered colder weather wear.

That done, she reminded herself that the routine was to be summoned to your superior’s office for a briefing, settled into a hotel to review the file and freshen up before getting to work the following morning.

Pretty much like what was happening now. Here, in Ireland. Not Iceland.

Not for her, just yet, anyhow.

“Look, we were barely able to squeak that ship out of territorial waters before their coast guard arrived,” Kane said to Maeda.

“Perenga and McLachlan know what they’re doing. They can handle themselves in the deep-sea sectors. It’s Ortega I’m worried about.”

Ana’s gaze snapped to the director. He scowled at Kane, his superior.

“Noted. That’s why she’s here, instead.” Kane’s attention flicked to Ana. She turned, finally drank from her cup, and set the vessel on a nearby gilt end table before moving toward her.

Ana set her own cup aside, careful not to rattle the porcelain, and stood to face Kane at eye level. Well, almost at eye level, the other woman stood several inches taller than she did.

“It’s good to see you again, Agent,” Kane said, extending her hand.

Ana shook it. “Thank you, Madam Kane.”

“Feel free to call me Joey, here at the estate. Jack’s been keeping me apprised of your progress on this case.”

Ana nodded. “I’ve been working with the rescued survivors and Raya Burns during debriefings when she returns from the field.”

“But you’ve been on leave for the last month.”

Ana swallowed. Nodded. “Yes.”

Kane’s expression softened a fraction. “I was sorry to hear about Private Antony Ruiz. Please accept my condolences and those of the other members of the Organization.”

“Thank you, ma’am. We had already separated before… before our team cracked the Montreal trafficking sector. But still on friendly terms until… well, until a few days leading up to the accident.”

Kane nodded. “It’s hard losing someone you love. And it hasn’t been long.” She glanced at Maeda. “Your director insists you need more time, Ortega. I ordered Perenga to call you in, despite Maeda’s protests.”

Ana looked at Maeda’s grim expression. He wasn’t a soft man.

Professional and demanding, often setting Ana through grueling exercises to hone her ability so she could be a stronger tool for the GPSA.

People’s lives depended on all their abilities to go above and beyond what even the most skilled human agents could do.

Maeda knew what Ana’s capabilities were. She respected him to no end.

He was also the only person who knew what had happened, and how deep Antony’s loss went.

Ana straightened her spine and shoulders. She’d told Perenga she wasn’t ready.

“People’s lives are at stake,” she finally said.

It wasn’t really a choice. She had to set her personal grief and guilt aside.

She went on, “You mentioned a ship, so there are more survivors. When do I talk to them?”

“I had Magnus bring you here instead of Iceland because we’ve run into jurisdictional resistance, so we have other agents working on that.

The ship is being escorted to the north coast where the survivors will disembark.

We’re working with Garda and the Irish Coast Guard.

They know we’re a branch of Interpol, but nothing more.

They’ll care for the survivors and provide us with access to interview them. ”

“Can I get aboard the ship?”

“I’ll make it happen,” Kane said, “Maeda is going to consolidate the data and draw up a new plan of action. We’re getting close, and any of these survivors could hold the key to where that trafficking hub is located.”

“I know. I’ll do everything I can.” She glanced at Maeda, whose expression hadn’t changed as he watched her.

She swallowed. She didn’t need to be psychic to sense his disapproval.

“You’ll go first thing in the morning. I’d prefer to be there when they disembark, but Garda will want to have their medical needs attended to before we can have them.

Magnus Bjornson, Raya Burns and Aaron Connor are your primary team on this.

” Kane studied Ana’s face for a long moment.

“I know you’re the right person for this case, Ana.

That’s my superpower.” Kane’s lips quirked.

Ana’s shoulders eased a fraction. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Get some rest. There won’t be much time for it in the coming days.”

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Maeda said, striding toward the mahogany paneled door to open it for her. He led her along a different path from what she’d seen before, and she wondered if she’d have the time to get to know the estate’s secrets before she went home.

If I go home.

She sucked in a breath at the unexpected thought, but it was true. As a field agent, there was always the danger that one of the team wouldn’t make it home.

“Kane’s right,” she said to Maeda’s back as she followed him.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “I don’t know that she’s right, but she’s not wrong.”

Ana snorted. “Cryptic as ever.”

He slowed his brisk pace. “You know what I mean.”

“I know, but we don’t have a choice.”

He stopped walking. She stopped to face him.

“If your emotions block your ability—.”

“I know. And I told Carson I wasn’t ready.

How can I be?” her voice cracked, “My ability was useless to save Antony and his crew, Jack. I tried to warn him, and it made no difference. He died. They all died anyway. How can I trust that? I thought he could save them if he just knew—.” She swallowed down anymore words.

Jack nodded. He understood. He always did.

She’d been having nightmares since the accident. A routine naval exercise gone wrong. Antony and his crew were never recovered from the ocean.

Controlling her grief, she straightened. “But I have to at least try. Any information I can glean is better than no information. You said so when you started training me.”

“As long as you can allow enough information in to interpret it correctly and not let your personal emotions taint it.”

He resumed walking. Ana followed until they arrived back at her door again.

“Go through the practices tonight. Rest and find your balance.”

“Thanks, Jack. For everything.”

“You’re a good agent, Ana. I know you need more time. Anyone would after a loss like that. But, yes, time is essential, and we need you.” He rubbed a hand over his cleanly shaved scalp. “I’ll see you in the morning before you leave,” he said, and departed back the way they’d come.

She watched him till he rounded the corner and turned back to her door. Hand on the knob, she glanced to the other end of the hall, where she’d seen Magnus go earlier.

Is that his room?

Memories of Magnus Bjornson over the last twenty-four hours flickered through her mind. She was going to be working directly with him.

She twisted the doorknob and entered her room.

Shower first, then practice.

I have no time to waste on thoughts of bearish pilots that smell nice. Really nice.

A t the sound of hurried footsteps, Magnus glanced up from pouring his coffee into a travel mug.

Agent Ortega, no doubt.

Seconds later, the woman in question entered through the open door of the breakfast room.

Today she wore a pantsuit and more reasonable shoes.

Her dark hair tumbled down so that it framed her face, making her dark eyes look larger in her small face.

She straightened her shoulders and breezed toward the spread of croissants, scones, muffins, and pastries he had no names for.

The scent that was uniquely hers, mingled with coconut and vanilla, drifted past his nose.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, reaching for the raspberry jam and a scone. “Not hungry?”

“Nope.” Magnus had eaten a full breakfast between his six a.m. run around the estate grounds, first in his human form, then in his animal form, and a morning shower. His coffee in hand was, in fact, his third of the day—so far.

Studying her down-turned face, he noted the concealer powdered across the delicate skin below her eyes as she stifled a yawn.

Raya Burns’ laughter echoed in the corridor before she appeared in the door, followed by another familiar face.

Magnus smiled at his teammates. “Nice to see you up before noon, Connor.”

“That’s Agent Connor to you, Bjornson. And you should try it, you know. You could use the extra hours’ beauty rest.”

Magnus snorted.

Connor turned to Agent Ortega, proffering a hand. “Aaron Connor.”

“Analiese Ortega. Stationed on the West Coast—California,” she added as she accepted Connor’s hand with a wide smile.

Magnus sipped his coffee as he observed her friendly interaction with Connor.

She hadn’t smiled at him like that , although she had offered her hand as a professional courtesy.

The fine bones of her slim fingers had all but disappeared in his grasp.

Unbidden, he recalled the sensation of her smooth skin under his palm as he tended her unconscious form at the hangar. He cleared his throat, shoving the image of his vulnerable colleague from his mind, and sipped more coffee.

“I see you brought the boots I sent you,” Burns said to Ortega.

“You sent Ortega boots? You’ve never sent me boots, and we’ve been working together for years,” Connor complained.

Mischief glinted in Ortega’s eye as the corner of her mouth quirked. “Well, the incident involved a mountain forest run and a taser.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Burns owed me.”

“Come on, Ortega. What happens on the mountain, stays on the mountain,” Burns growled.

Magnus chuckled, recalling Burns’ report of events that led Ortega and Perenga to working with their team. “I’m impressed. No one has ever tased Burns before.”

“Shit, you must be fast with that thing,” Connor said, looking from Ortega to Burns.

“Fast and fierce when it comes to my favorite boots,” Ortega said, biting into her scone.

Burns grabbed a couple of pieces of fruit. “I heard Lirikai owes you a new skirt.”

“She does. Where is she, anyway?”

“We sent her to Iceland in your stead. Not happy about it, either,” Connor said, as he grabbed his own breakfast, and followed the small group over to a table.

“Would anyone be? Better her than me, though.” Ortega shuddered. “I hate the cold.”

“Bjornson would be. He’s the only nutter around here that loves it. Colder the better,” Connor said, pulling a chair out for Ortega before she could put her breakfast on the table to do it herself.

Magnus grunted as she smiled at Connor again.

Ortega sat. Her gaze flicked up and down Magnus. “All that Viking blood, I bet.”

Connor snorted. “You’d think. Bear blood. Polar Bear.”

Ortega’s dark brows arched, her expression changing to one of interest. “I’ve never met a polar bear shifter before.”

Magnus’ cheeks warmed. He couldn’t say why.

“We all know you’re a mind reader, and you know Raya is some kind of water spirit.” Connor went on. “And I’m a white tiger. Now we all know everyone’s secrets.”

“Why, agent Ortega, I do believe you’ve made our Magnus blush.” Burns’ smooth voice turned mirthful.

“Too damned hot in here,” Magnus grunted.

“Yeah, cuz it’s not minus sixty-two in Ireland,” Connor said. “But I believe you’re right, Ms. Burns.”

“Leaving in ten minutes,” Magnus said, rising from the chair he’d barely occupied. “Don’t be late.”

“Fastest way to get on his bad side,” Connor said to Ortega. “Stickler for punctuality.

“Oh, I know that already. I, uhm…was an hour late getting to the plane to come here.”

“Huh, and you’re here all in one piece. No chew marks or limbs missing.” Connor’s gaze flicked between Magnus and Ortega. “Ah, but then, you’re cute.”

Magnus stalked toward the door, growling, “Don’t be late.”

Burns’ laughter followed him out.