“You want him to hack into the charity emails?”
“Exactly. See if he can find any mention of lethal plants or poisons. After all, most of the charities are plant-related.”
She enthusiastically replies, “I’ll ask him tonight!”
“Good. It’ll be nice to have more eyes out there.”
“Thanks, Nova.”
“Don’t mention it, Ella. Talk tomorrow.”
I hang up the phone and instantly regret my decision to involve Eagan. Though nothing we’re doing is against any rules, he could easily find out that Ella works for the CIA, and that could get both of us into more trouble than we already are.
There are bodies everywhere. Enough to make me believe this was all a set-up. But how? And why? This specific crime syndicate isn’t this brutal. There must be at least twenty shooters. I lost sight of the target, but that’s not surprising.
This is a cover-up for something larger. I know it is, but I can’t figure out for what. Or why they would go to these lengths. No mission I’ve ever been on has had this much public display of violence and loss of civilian life. There has to be a reason for it.
I stumble toward the rendezvous point, fighting the pain and blood loss, my vision blurring. I know I won’t be able to figure this out right now, so I try to bury it in my subconscious.
I have to get to Gray. I have to get out of here. Then I can figure out what happened.
A few steps into the dark, I find myself falling. The blood loss has me too dizzy to catch myself, and I trip, my head colliding with the edge of something hard.
Everything goes black.
Snapping my eyes open, I’m not surprised to find my shirt soaked with sweat. I sit up and grab my phone, my hands shaking as I jot down notes from my dream, trying to piece together what happened. Trying to make sense of it. Trying to have a coherent report for the lawyer’s defense.
I groan while reading through what I’ve already written. None of it makes sense.
Looking at the clock next to the bed, it reads 4:15 am. It’s too early to go into the office, but I can’t stay here. I’m too anxious. Getting up, I turn on the shower and wash the sweat away.
When I step out, there’s a message notification on my phone.
Owen:You awake?
My heart doubles in speed.
Me:Yes.
The typing bubble appears, and I don’t understand my anxiety.
Owen:Couldn’t sleep again?
Me:No.
Owen:Do you ever text more than one-word answers?
Me: No.
A laughing emoji appears.
Owen:Why does that not surprise me?
I send a shrugging emoji.
Owen: I can’t sleep either. Meet me at the office?
Me:As long as there are no naked women and you’re sober.
