“How certain are we that the micro drive isonthe premises?” KC looked at the schematics and blueprints Kris was pulling up of what she assumed was Mirabel’s estate.
Yardley snorted. “Mirabel’s probably going to have it on a silver platter surrounded by a garnish of bullets. We’ll need a bidder plan A that comes with a briefcase full of gold bars, a plan C, the one with the helicopters, speed boats, and soldiers rolling out of vans with tactical gear—which, so far I have never used plan C and would rather keep it in the ‘never’ column—and a plan B that involves stealing and getting out alive.”
KC watched Yardley scan the intel Kris was finding, the day already careening toward an evening that would have to be the end to all of this. After so many months—after the horror of the demo in Toronto—it was hard to believe. The stakes were so enormous to depend on a single night.
KC was still contemplating that when Yardley murmured into her comm, then looked up. “Grocer’s van in the west alley in five.”
Kris and KC stood to retrieve their things while Yardley gathered up KC’s comm set and pulled the one she had been using out of her ear. Then she piled them on the table, picked up Kris’s empty tea mug, and smashed them to bits, twisting the mug over their remains until they were obliterated.
Kris had stopped packing up the laptop in its case mid-buckle. KC couldn’t seem to make her thoughts move past the horror of two twenty-five-thousand-dollar comm sets reduced to silvery shards on the table.
Yardley put the mug down and brushed her hands together. “Before we’re on that van, then on a plane to Evenes to plan this mission, and while we still have some privacy, I do have a question.”
“Okay?”
“When were either one of you going to tell me that the architect of the weapon used in Toronto—the one that you, Kris Flynn, just made even better—was Katherine Corrine Nolan?”
Yardley raised one perfect inky eyebrow.
KC had been Unicorned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Even as Flynn sat back down, her hands settling instinctively over her belly, KC kept her chin up. She didn’t look away.
Her expression gave Yardley nothing.
Yardley depended on what she knew about people to complete operations at a high level in the field. What she had learned was that there were no coincidences in intelligence, to keep her eye on the women, and that a whole bunch of lies tended to eventually add up to the truth.
So far, she had worked out that KC seemed to be hiding and lying the most, even though, between KC and Flynn, Flynn had more to lose—unless her baby bump was a con, but when they’d taken the micro drive off her, that inside-out belly button looked very real. Not to mention that a pregnant woman had gone through a lot of danger and trouble to get to her old friend.
KC started to open her mouth. Yardley held up a finger. “Before you answer, keep in mind that my options are significantly more vast than yours are. You can lie, but I can report my suspicions.”
She hated saying that, but she didn’t have a choice. In the aftermath of the assassination attempt—and Yardley had no compunction about calling it what it was—she was desperate to protect KC, whose situation had become untenable. Worst case,the people trying to find her would get to her and take her out. That outcome was unacceptable, so Yardley had put it out of the question by bringing in the agency. They’d move to Evenes, where fences and guns would keep them safe.
But that meant they’d be under the CIA’s purview. Soon enough, the agency would figure out the same things Yardley had, come to its own conclusions, and Yardley would never see KC again.
Just as unacceptable. That outcome would force Yardley to go rogue to find where KC was on the planet, and, yes, that was exactly what she would do, which meant she understood what her nan had been trying to tell her. Finally.
She was still breathing, so it wasn’t too late.
She had to act as if she had no fear. She had to do what she should have done from the beginning.
Right now, that meant it was time to demand the truth from KC.
Yardley didn’t much care what the truth was. Once she had it, she would do whatever she needed to do to keep KC from harm. Anything. And knowingthatprovided not a little clarity about what she wanted in the uncertain future on the other side of this mission.
“I’m aware of what I am gambling by answering your question.” KC shoved her hand through her hair. “Are you aware of what you’re gambling by asking it?”
“Not even twenty-four hours in the field and full of vinegar, I see.”
KC, possibledouble agent, rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t call fighting off hostiles you lured to the door where we’ve been holed up since yesterday and were tracked down by our target being ‘in the field.’”
Her color had come up, and for the first time Yardley noticed she had changed into some jeans she’d likely retrieved from the wardrobe, because she’d had to cuff them at the bottoms. Those cuffs were hitting her black boots, and paired with the T-shirt that was a little small and showed off the muscles in her arms, KC looked like a darling, white-hot, redheaded James Dean. It made Yardley dizzy to think of what she could do to her if every single circumstance were different.
“Don’t look at me like that.” KC’s tone was as stiff as her jeans.
“Like what, like I’m applying the necessary pressure to do what’s right for your country?” Yardley ignored her own blush.
