Page 2 of Rafe’s Future

Serves you right for thinking about Rafe rather than the real reason you’re here.

The tension in Lena’s shoulders eased as her hand returned to her mug. Her subconscious was right. At twenty-two, she was the youngest Operations Officer to ever run an op of this magnitude. She’d earned her spot, and there wasn’t an agent out there who could ever argue that fact.

But if she messed this up—if this op was anything other than mission success—her future with the CIA would be spent behind a desk. Or worse, she’d get burned, never to return to the field again.

Keep your eye on the prize, and the higher-ups will be singing your praises instead.

More importantly, she and the others would be responsible for taking down two of the world’s worst monsters.

Lena glanced around, checking everyone around her for familiarity in hopes of spotting their target. After perusing those sitting at the tables around her, as well as passersby on the sidewalk to her left, her gaze shifted to those walking past the quaint boutiques and shops across the street.

That’s when she saw him. Alexei Kozlova had just exited the back seat of a car parked next to the curb.

“Heads up.” Her spine stiffened as she put the team on alert. “Target confirmed. Kozlova is going into the restaurant across the street.”

“Haddad’s already inside.” Rafe’s deep accent filled her ear with utter confidence. “His right-hand man just got out of a silver car parked out front.”

Lena sent a casual glance that way. “And that’s Kozlova’s guy parked right behind him. Looks like the party’s finally starting.”

Omar Haddad was Kozlova’s Syrian counterpart. Word from the inside was the two were meeting today to solidify the merging of their respective organizations. She and the others planned to nab them both after, as they were leaving.

“Everyone get into position and be ready,” Lena ordered. Taking her time, she stood and pushed her chair up to the table. A few seconds later, she was checking both ways before crossing the street.

Get inside. Observe. Wait for them to leave. Initiate extraction.

The next steps in their plan rolled through her mind on loop as she made her way past the two men without suspicion. When she got inside the small restaurant, Lena found most of the small tables already occupied, but thankfully there were a few available seats.

To her left was the counter where customers could place their orders. She walked toward it, pretending to peruse the menu mounted high on the wall before her. With her peripheral vision, Lena spotted the pair at a table for two in the back.

I spy with my little eye . . .

Moving naturally, she brought a hand to her face, scratching her nose as she updated the team. “Targets Alpha and Bravo confirmed,” she whispered. A tiny sniff preceded another strategic scratch. “They’re alone at a table near a small hallway in the back.”

Rafe was the first to respond with, “Copy that, Alpha One. I’ll let you know when I’m in position.”

“Copy.”

Lena ordered and paid for another tea she had no intention of drinking. The paper cup was warm against her palm as she asked the barista, “Is there a restroom I can use?”

“In the back.” The young woman’s Arabic accent was thick as she pointed in that direction. “First door on the left.”

With a polite nod, she gave her thanks before turning and walking that way. The low hum of conversation mixed with the powerful beats of her heart as she kept her vision forward, rather than on their targets.

When she passed by the two men, they didn’t look her way but kept their conversation to a low murmur. Lena locked the door behind her upon entering the single-occupant bathroom before flipping the switch to the built-in, overhead fan. She used the moment alone to get an update on Rafe and the rest of the team.

“Alpha Two, I need a SITREP.”

“Just got to the roof and I’m settling into position.”

With Rafe serving as overwatch from his sniper’s perch across the street, she checked in with the others.

“Alpha Three?” Lena prompted fellow agent Caleb Calhoun to respond.

The Texan’s southern drawl came through despite the man’s efforts to rid himself of the identifying trait.

“Alpha Three, here. Just sittin’ at a table outside, enjoying the sun with Four.”

With Caleb and Agent Sabrina Sanchez, that only left Alpha Five.