But she was on a roll. “So glad everything I do is in service to my country and it makes such a difference.”
Her father’s piercing eyes closed slowly. “Your mother and I worry.”
A little late in the game to be telling me that,she thought. She’d been daddy’s little spy since she was six—a human tape recorder with a photographic memory and completely invisible when she wanted to be. Just a diplomat’s spoiled daughter running around embassy after embassy, occasionally getting underfoot but harmless, cute even. It had always been fun actually, and she thought of herself as a real-life spy kid straight out of one theDouble-O Troublemovies about super-spy kids.
Yeah. What I do is not so kid-friendly though.
“So, you worry. I’m fine, I promise.”
His eyes opened and his hands flew apart, slamming the top of his desk, making her flinch at his uncharacteristic lack of perfect control.
“You’re not fine. You want too much. You take these risks,” he gestured at her, “that go above and beyond, putting your life in too much danger. You could—no,should—have told him you don’t drink. He might have drugged you, thrown you on a plane, and we’d never find you again.”
“Yeah, I take these risks and nothing ever comes of it.”
“Things do come of it, Regina. It’s just that you don’t understand the long game?—”
She sat straight up, ignoring the icepick pain in her head.
“What I understand, Dad, is that innocent people are suffering every day while their governments are in bed together, paid off by corporate lobbyists, and they get away with literal murder.” Her temples throbbed as she raised her voice. “That daughter of his I mentioned? She’s not off on some religious retreat, she was locked away by her own father because she’s too outspoken. That’s on the recording, too. And nobody cares. Are we going to at leasttryand help her? Of course not.”
Regina’s mission was to spy on the crown prince, not save her, even when she’d brought up the truth of the situation in her last report.
“The fact that he admitted he’s holding her against her will, will help her.” His eyes narrowed again as he got himself under control. “But she will be helped on a longer timetable, understood?”
Gina gritted her teeth. “And if she doesn’t have time?”
“An international spotlight on the situation could spook her father and get the princess killed.”
All or nothing. “Then if that won’t work, I know I could sneak around the palace and find her. I could?—”
Her father shut his eyes as he steepled his fingers again—closing back up like a shell.
“We can’t save them all, Regina. That’s a lesson I wish you’d learn and that I can’t seem to teach you.”
Neither could the CIA. Her heart closed like a fist around her anger and she squeezed her eyes shut. If she wasn’t careful, she’d cry frustrated tears in front of her father and that above all else was unacceptable. He’d see her as weak and emotional.
“Sunshine.” Regina’s eyes popped open at the rare endearment. Her father’s gaze had gone soft—also out of character. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you can’t wage a one-woman war on every injustice. You’re young and passionate and I can’t expect you to understand that, not on an emotional level. You’re seeing one battle as an entire war. Sometimes, smaller sacrifices lead to bigger victories. If you don’t learn this lesson, at best you’ll burn yourself out and at worst you’ll get yourself killed.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” she asked, though she’d softened her voice.
“Learn to never go it alone, Regina. Find yourself a strong team you can trust, and never, ever go it alone.”
SIX
Gina, age 22
Regina checked herself in the full-length mirror one more time. The little black dress was a perfect sheath. The stocking seams ran straight up the back of her legs and disappeared under the short skirt. The white silk bow held her hair back and sat on the top of her head. The clutch she carried was covered in sleek black-and-white feathers. The whole outfit was a wink at a French maid’s uniform and the crown prince’s favorite kink. He’d pick up on it immediately and forget all about the other guests—women who billed themselves as models and charged by the night—who he’d invited to the party, and focus exclusively on her.
At least that was the hope.
The party was in honor of his son, Malik, the one he’d just designated his successor. If the current crown prince liked torture, the son outshone his father. Regina hated thinking about the atrocities that had already been committed and would only increase along this line of succession. yet the world turned a blind eye—as usual—so long as the resources kept flowing. In the prince’s case, it was oil, and increasingly rare earth minerals dug from foreign land owned by the ruling family. What was she even doing here, gathering intel that would probably only be used to blackmail the crown prince, not bring him to justice, while his daughter suffered? Regina swallowed down her anger.
Fall back on your training. Be calm. Be cool. Give away nothing.
Prince Rashid would want to see her smiling and docile, with just a hint of cruelty around her eyes. She’d practiced the expression in the mirror for hours using a picture of Rashid as a model for the eyes. She’d learned that if you mirror back someone to themselves—especially to a narcissist like Rashid—it goes a long way to gaining their trust.
She was going to need his complete trust if she had any hope of saving his captive daughter. Because someone needed to, dammit, even if she was the only one.
