Right.
The agent taps her finger on a stack of files spread out on the coffee table. “We’re tracking every movement and call. Don’t do anything stupid while we gather the final intel necessary.”
That’s a tall order. “So what’s my role, then?”
Ruiz steeples her fingers over her knees, giving me a rare smile. It’s supposed to be encouraging, but it only makes me more suspicious.
“If everything else falls into place, we’ll need you in about two weeks.”
“I’ll be ready.”
After the elevator doors ping shut behind Ruiz, the apartment feels oddly quiet. I’m left staring into space, my brain spinning with the weight of what I’ve just agreed to.
A steaming cup of tea floats into my line of vision.
“Eliza taught me how to brew it,” Carter says.
Only a year ago, we’d have had the hard conversations over a glass of his finest whiskey. Look at us now.
He drops onto the couch beside me, elbows braced on his knees, clutching his mug. “You know you don’t actually have to do it.”
I trace the slow swirl left by the spoon, watching the steam curl upward, still digesting everything Ruiz said. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re always the one fixing things.” Carter taps his finger against the ceramic surface. “But this is a big ask. Even for your first and biggest client.”
I don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking.
“You know I’d do it anyway,” I say, finally turning to him. “Even if you were just my annoying friend. No fat payroll to back you up.”
Carter nods, then clears his throat. “I don’t want you saying yes just because you feel like you owe Jackie or me something. Or to prove a point.”
He’s alluding to the very beginning. My mind rolls back to Jackie, perched on the counter of my tiny kitchen, legs swinging, telling me I should apply for the internship at Congressman Turner’s office.
Later, when I decided to open my public affairs consultancy firm, Carter pushed me through every door he could open for me. He helped me sketch out the plan on a bar napkin, and signed on as my first client. That vote of confidence brought in other clients.
Everything I am now circles back to these two people.
Gratitude has always lived along a sharp edge of shame. I made damn sure there was never a reason for either of them to regret taking a chance on me.
My gaze drifts past Carter, out the window to the city skyline. I do want to prove something. That nobody threatens Jackie and walks away. That every last one of them will end up behind bars. And I want Jackie to be safe to return to her life. Maybe I’ll even be part of it.
I don’t say any of that.
“It’s not the case,” I tell him instead, offering a half-smile. “Besides, I thrive on this spy shit.”
He lets out a short laugh that relaxes his posture. “I didn’t want to ask while Ruiz was here,” Carter starts, grimacing. “I bet she’d disapprove. But should we tell Jackie?” he asks.
That’s a recipe for disaster. “Absolutely not. She’ll go nuclear.”
“She’s not one to stand on the sidelines,” Carter counters. “Lately, we’ve been having some heated arguments about this. She’ll notice.”
“I’ll be discreet,” I say firmly. “It’s safer for everybody.”
The words hang heavy between us.
Carter sips his tea, clearly unconvinced. “It’s your funeral.”
This looked centered the last time I checked. I tilt my head, reconsidering the setup again. For good measure, I twist the vase full of my mother’s favorite flowers a few inches to the left. Just in case.
