He would always be there.
He’d never leave her.
He was hers.
She was his.
Voices came from the shadows and through the walls, one of which was Cosmos barking orders on how to get through the mirrors.
Triumph’s brain was telling him to cover her up, to keep everyone from seeing her this way, but she was still gripping him in a stranglehold, and he didn’t think she’d be willing or able to let go.
Moments later, a shadow moved over them, and something was laid over Glennon’s body. It looked like a picnic tablecloth, probably from one of the eating areas out by the food trucks. He looked up to see Wes crouched over them, a hand on Glennon’s head, smoothing her hair.
“She’s alive, and that’s all that matters,” he said gruffly.
Triumph nodded, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, continuing to rock her through her tears. It was going to be a long road to recovery, he was sure. But he’d be there every step of the way.
WHAT DOES A SPY DO WHEN SHE GETS COLD?
Glennon
She slippedinto the back row of the contortionist’s room and waited for the show to start.
Just as it did, a man sat in the seat next to her.
“Agent Thompson,” he said by way of greeting.
She wasn’t an agent. Not anymore. The CIA didn’t acknowledge her presence, which was fine by her. She really didn’t care.
“I spoke with your boss at the CIA. Turns out, your handler was partnering with a DEA agent, also dirty, connected to the Colonel Cartel. When he was killed, she took over their operation and reported you as KIA, but kept collecting your intel under the table, which is why you were never pulled. They honestly didn’t know you were still alive.” He shook his head. “Makes me feel so secure that they have no clue what their own people are doing.”
She said nothing. What was there to say? It didn’t matter anymore.
Together, they watched the contortionist run through her positions. After the third one, she reached into her pocket and took out a thumb drive. He took it and put it in his pocket.
“That’s everything I can remember. I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote until everything came out of my head, and now it’s empty. There’s nothing left. Don’t come back to me for anything. Glennon Thompson doesn’t exist anymore. She’s dead.”
“I heard. Your boss said when they tried to find her, they heard she died in a small-engine plane explosion in the Andes Mountains while trying to flee the country. Her body and the wreckage are a total loss. Very tragic.”
He stood. “I’d give you my card, but I know you’ll just throw it away. I texted you a phone number. You’ll look at it, then delete it, but old habits die hard, and you’ll have memorized it. If you ever need it, use it.” He walked past her and out of the room.
Sitting in the back of the theatre, Glennon watched stone-faced as the contortionist finished her routine. Without thinking, she grabbed the end of her braid, placing the tips of her hair against her lips.
For her final position, the woman placed both hands on the blocks at her feet, and she smoothly moved into a handstand. After holding the pose for a few seconds, her legs began a controlled descent toward her face, which was now pointed out toward the crowd. Looking at them from between her pointed toes, she smiled seductively as she let go of one of the blocks and extended her arm straight out to the side.
Then the platform she was on began to rise until she was three feet up in the air, and then it slowly turned so everyone could see her from every angle.
She barely wobbled. There was no evidence on her face that she was in pain. That she was worried she’d lose control. She simply beamed at the audience as they applauded her skill and grace.
Glennon wondered if that’s how she looked to people in this room right now. Unshakeable. Totally in control. Happy.
They might see a woman who was all those things, but until this moment, it had been a partial facade.
Every night since leaving the hospital, she’d drifted like a ghost through the labyrinth. She went from space to space, watching the live acts. She ate food. She had a drink, maybe two. She watched the dancers in the Big Top.
In the last two months, she’d lost zero sleep over shooting Guillermo.
The assault had been no different than the years spent in Argentina, save for the role Cesar had played at the end, and even the physical aspect of that had been similar to her experiences when Guillermo had shared her with others.
