Falcon Falls Security Boxed Set: Books 1-3, page 58
“Ella.” The woman nodded her acknowledgement because, of course, she knew Ella’s name. But her green eyes were still burning that hole through Carter’s pressed white button-down. He was the only man in the room in formal dress, as if auditioning for Daniel Craig’s replacement in the next Bond movie. Now that she thought about it, Carter had been wearing those same clothes under his “battle armor” at Rochella’s.
“Still drinking on the job, I see.” The British accent made the jab sound congenial when this woman, whose name they’d yet to learn, was giving off vibes that were anything but pleasant. She was clearly pissed off and thoroughly irritated with Carter—if her body language and burning gaze directed at him were anything to go by.
Back still to the room, Carter casually lifted a hand in the air. “Everyone, meet Zoey. Zoey, this is everyone.”
“Are we okay with her being here?” Jack spoke up, moving farther into the room to where Gray and Sydney stood by a row of laptops on the oak table near the fireplace.
“I don’t know what to think,” Jesse said, breezing past Zoey without so much as a glance, hurrying to Ella as if their guest was a potential threat. At least he’d stowed his weapon after Jack had radioed them of their unexpected visitor.
Griffin must’ve felt the same as Jesse because he made haste and sat next to Savanna.
Ella remained standing, unable to tear her focus from Zoey. The name fit her perfectly—beautiful and mystical. Ella knew it meant “life” in Greek, and there was no denying Zoey had a presence. She would also really look killer in one of the dresses from Ella’s “winter collection” of designs. Maybe the light blue silk would soften the woman’s “Fuck you, Carter” look she had going on.
When Jesse’s hand went to the small of Ella’s back, she realized she was wearing a tee she’d designed that proclaimed, Bless Your Heart on the front in sparkly red letters. She’d always loved the shirt, but standing next to this Zoey person, it made her feel unrefined. But the comforting touch of Jesse’s palm lightly moving up and down her back quickly erased that thought.
Ella zipped her focus to Carter when he finally faced the room, a bottle of Glenlivet scotch in hand. He poured a generous portion into the tumbler in his other hand without lifting his gaze to their visitor. “Who sent you?”
“No one, you cold-hearted bastard.” Well, that delivery was a bit rougher than Zoey’s first one. “Put the drink down and look at me.”
Carter took his time lifting the glass to his mouth without meeting her eyes. He didn’t seem worried about her presence, nor did he give a damn about pissing the woman off.
Ella looked up at Jesse, trying to get a read on him, but when she followed his gaze, his attention was fixed on the bottle of scotch.
“You have sixty seconds to explain why you’re here before we escort you out,” Carter said, his tone flat. Even-tempered. Like she was a bothersome fly he was swatting away.
Ella had witnessed Carter’s stony expressions before, but this felt different. Almost like he was actually trying to be a jerk when maybe he didn’t want to be. The fact this woman’s presence led Carter to drink on the job had to mean something though.
She’d overheard the guys say Zoey had punched him a few times back in that DGSE holding room, but hadn’t that been for show so that she could whisper intel into his ear? Wasn’t she on their side?
Ella’s shoulders slumped. Or was that all part of the intricate plan concocted by the alphabet soup of agencies involved?
“The eyes in the sky gave you permission to roll on up? They sent you?” Gray stepped forward, hands sliding into the pockets of his khakis as he fixed his attention on Zoey.
“No, but they didn’t stop me. Obviously.” Zoey faced Gray since Carter refused to give her his attention. “I’ve been suspended. My boss, and Thatcher, realized I shared intel with Carter at the—”
“Suspended? Really.” Sarcasm from Carter. Not a good sign. Nor was the second drink he was already pouring himself after quickly polishing off the first. “That was an act. They wanted you in that room with me. Make it look like we were on the same side. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Zo.” Ella caught him wince after he’d said the nickname, but the stony expression was back in seconds. And what did that mean?
Ella thought back to their arrival in Paris. Jack, or maybe Oliver, had joked about what Carter might have done to earn this woman’s hostility. And were they on the brink of finding out?
Carter turned his gaze to Zoey, and the room went still. The tension between them was razor sharp and molasses thick, sucking up all the air in the room.
“I’m not bullshitting you.” Zoey took two confident steps farther into the room but kept herself at a comfortable distance from the lion staring back at her like his duty was to complete the circle of life. Chew her up and spit her out. Send her on her merry way in about three seconds. Yeah, that cool, calm look of his was gone the closer Zoey came, and now Ella knew why he hadn’t wanted to face her until now. He’d have shown his hand, exposed his . . . emotions. “You know why I’m here. You know why I had no choice but to come.”
“I also know you’ll let your quest for vengeance get us all killed,” Carter hissed.
Vengeance? Ella looked back and forth between the two dominant personalities as they faced off, then scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be in the same boat as Ella. Unsure what to say, if anything at all.
“You’ve been hunting The Chechen for years, Zoey. And now you think you have a shot at getting to him through me.” Carter set the bottle and his glass on the bar before stalking toward her. “I won’t let you die for him.”
“You can’t stop me.” Zoey lifted her chin in defiance. “And it’s been clear over the years that you stopped giving a damn about helping me.” Zoey’s voice faltered as the first sign of emotion slipped through. “You got your vengeance for your wife’s killer, but you failed to keep your promise to help me get mine for Preston.”
Preston? Ella shot Savanna a quick worried look, checking to make sure she was okay. If Zoey lost a man she loved, it might bring on a wave of emotions for Savanna if she were to sit through this conversation. Memories of her own loss would likely roll through her mind like a tsunami.
Griffin had Savanna on her feet a moment later, most likely having sensed the same. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Ella reached for Savanna’s hand as they started past her, and she gently squeezed, letting her know she loved her.
“What’s she talking about?” Sydney broke the silence that had enveloped the room like a blanket of fog once again after Savanna and Griffin had left.
Zoey turned and gave Sydney her attention. Maybe she’d sensed Sydney’s strong presence, realizing she commanded the respect of her gaze. “The Chechen killed my fiancé.” She jerked her thumb Carter’s way. “And this arsehole let him.”
“Is that really the story you’re still selling?” Carter’s gravelly tone raised the hairs on Ella’s bare arms. She smoothed her palms over them like she was chilly rather than frightened so Jesse wouldn’t feel the need to whisk her away too. No, she wanted to be there. She wanted to know the circumstances behind the situation she’d been thrown into and the dangers they were all facing.
“It’s not a story. I’m stating a fact.” Zoey squared off with Carter again, this time with less than a foot of space between them. “You left him alone to die.”
Carter leaned in, dropping his gaze to level her with a steely look. “Both of us couldn’t stay and keep fighting The Chechen, not when a bomb that would level three blocks was on the verge of going off.”
Ella closed her eyes and clutched her stomach at Carter’s revelation and the picture it painted.
“One of us had to handle the bomb, and I had the best chance. More experience. Your stubborn fiancé insisted I go.” He paused for a moment. “He was MI6. He knew what he was getting himself into. People die in our line of work. People we care about become collateral damage because of our fucking battles.” His tone gradually ticked up and up into a full-on yell, and Ella’s eyes widened in shock. “But like hell will I let you be that fucker’s next victim,” he snarled, emotions officially on display from the man.
Zoey was visibly shaking, but was it because she wanted to cry or hit Carter? “I’m not leaving, not without killing Yuri myself,” she returned in a calm tone.
Yuri? Was that The Chechen’s real name?
Zoey faced Gray as if seeking his approval, so she must have known he was co-leader of the team.
Carter went back to the bar for drink number three. The alcohol made sense now. He felt guilty and a whole lot of other feelings, she was sure. Feelings she doubted a man like Carter was used to sharing so publicly.
“I’ve accumulated years of intel I can share with your team. I can help you bring down this man once and for all.” Zoey slipped her hand into her coat pocket and retrieved a USB, but when Gray reached for it, she shook her head and returned it to her pocket. “You’ll have it when you talk your arsehat partner into agreeing to accept my help.”
Gray frowned and looked at Jack, then over to Sydney. “How do we know this isn’t part of Thatcher’s plan? They may have eyes in the sky, but they don’t have eyes and ears on the inside.”
Ahhh, true. Could Zoey be trusted, especially when it sounded like she’d go to any lengths for revenge? What if she knew about the plan with Rochella? Jesse wouldn’t let her stay if that were the case, and Ella knew it.
“I was the one who informed the CIA that Zoran hired Yuri, so the Agency owed me a favor. When I learned they’d be intercepting your plane in Paris, I was allowed to tag along,” Zoey steadily explained. “But I wasn’t privy to any of the initial intel regarding why you all came to Paris or what they’d planned at Rochella’s. I knew when you knew.” Her polished British accent, combined with her poise and sophistication, made even such critical information sound elegant.
But a polished tone didn’t make it true. And based on the way Gray eyed Zoey, he wasn’t sure whether they could trust her or not.
“I risked my neck by giving Carter that intel at the safe house. And I risked my job.” Zoey turned toward Carter, his back once again to the room, a drink in hand. “But you’re right, no one stopped me from coming here, which leads me to believe that cocksucker Thatcher hoped things would play out this way. He most likely knew what I’d do even before I did. My suspension may have been calculated as well. I wouldn’t put anything past the CIA, or hell, my own boss.”
“If Thatcher wants you here, it’s for his own benefit, that’s for damn sure,” Jesse spoke for the first time since Zoey’s arrival.
“He wants Yuri. We all do. But the difference is Thatcher wants the son of a bitch captured and will use any means to achieve that, and I want The Chechen dead,” Zoey informed Jesse, leveling him with a hard look. Her gaze then moved to Ella, and her green eyes softened. “I promise I would never use innocent people to get what I want though. I would never have agreed to Thatcher’s plan involving you.”
The plan. Rochella. Paris. All fake. Ella closed her eyes for a second, doing her best not to stalk across the room and throw back a shot of one of her favorite whiskeys she spied there.
“Yuri won’t come here. Nor will he send his men. If Thatcher told you to stay here like sitting ducks, it was because he knows you won’t actually do that.” Zoey shook her head. “I’ve worked with him before, and I know how he operates. He’s anticipating you won’t follow his rules.” She turned toward Carter. “Especially you.” She let go of a deep exhale. “There’s a reason you’re called The Rogue One.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I think they need to hash this out,” Jesse suggested. “Alone.” He dropped his hand from Ella’s back and stalked over to the bar, snatched the bottle of Woodford Reserve she’d eyed earlier, then slipped out the door to the courtyard without another word.
Did he just . . .? Ella looked around the room, taken aback by Jesse’s abrupt exit, especially the part where he left her there, which wasn’t like him. Everyone but Carter and Zoey quickly cleared out, so Ella ran to their room, grabbed a coat and shoes, and hurried outside in search of him.
The jacket was Jesse’s, the one he’d thrown over her shoulders at Rochella’s after the battle, and his strong, masculine scent clung to her nose as she hugged her arms to her chest in the freezing night air.
The courtyard was enclosed by stone walls, and she imagined it was beautiful in the summer, but the few circular wrought iron tables were covered in snow, and the raised garden beds were bare. The only illumination came from the windows of the B&B and the moon overhead, surrounded by a handful of twinkling stars.
She would’ve taken a moment to appreciate the beauty of the scene if she weren’t worried about her “husband.”
“Jesse,” she cried out softly when she spotted him, his ass on the snowy ground, knees propped up and his back against the stone wall. He had to be frozen to the bone.
“I’ll just be a second. Go back inside. It’s too cold,” he said, raising the bottle and taking a long swig.
Ella ignored his order and crouched before him, not wanting to get her sweats wet with snow. And from the looks of things, Savanna’s prediction was wrong—she and Jesse wouldn’t be “consummating” their fake marriage tonight. Technically, it was well after midnight at this point anyway.
And why did that thought disappoint her so much? After everything she’d heard between Zoey and Carter, was there something wrong with her to even still want sex?
Because it’s not about sex. She needed the emotional connection being with him gave her. The comfort and security of his embrace. The way he made all the bad disappear when his eyes were set on hers.
“Why’d you leave me?” she asked gently, tipping her head. Although based on his odd behavior since the phone call with Thatcher—the uncharacteristic fidgeting and now sitting in the snow drinking straight from the bottle—she wasn’t sure he’d answer.
“I didn’t leave you. I just needed, um.”
What, what do you need that you don’t want to tell me? Ella set a hand to his knee, and he lowered the bottle from his mouth to silently peer at her.
“Well, you going to share or not?” She held out her hand for the bottle and gave him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood a bit and ease the storm of thoughts in his head.
He studied her, mouth twisted to the side like the question needed serious consideration, but then his lips curled into a grin, and he handed over the bottle. “We drank this in New York. Remember?”
“How could I forget any part of that weekend?” The whiskey burned her throat but was effective in warming her chest. She licked her lips, catching a drop there before handing it back to him.
His smile slipped at her confession, and he lifted his eyes to the starry sky.
“Carter’s right,” Jesse said solemnly, returning his focus to her.
Those two words knocked the wind from her lungs and brought her to her knees on the snowy ground. She’d feared this would happen. That he would eventually backpedal from what he’d said in the bathroom earlier because he was terrified she’d become “collateral damage.”
She had to take the situation by the horns before Jesse ran with it—not in the direction she wanted to go. Not this time. Not anymore. You want that middle place, remember?
“Just because Carter is right about the job being dangerous doesn’t mean he’s prophetic. It doesn’t mean I’ll die because . . .” Because of your past. Or your future with Falcon. “I thought you and I were making progress.” She leaned forward, grabbed hold of his free hand, and squeezed. “What you said to me in the shower and—”
“I meant every word,” he rasped, letting the bottle in his other hand slip to the ground. “But I can’t change the fact I’m terrified something will happen to you because of me.”
“I don’t know if I made this clear,” Ella began around a sniffle, “but I accept you for who you are and who you were. And I want you. Every part of you. All of it.” Her tears fell freely now as Jesse pulled her onto his lap. “I just want you, and I don’t care about anything else. Please, please don’t run from me. Not again.”
“Oh fuck, Ella.” He closed his eyes, rested his forehead against hers, and sighed, his chilly hands caressing her face. “I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to give you up.”
She eased back and placed her palm to his cheek, prompting him to lift his gaze to hers, and when his beautiful blue eyes met hers, she cried, “I sure as hell won’t let you give me up . . . and you know how damn stubborn I am.”
His response was a tender kiss, which she hoped meant he was ready to let go of his worries and allow himself to be with her.
He pulled back only to lean in again and give her a quick peck on the lips. This time when he drew back, his attention shifted to one of the windows, to where the team appeared to be reassembling in the living room. “I guess we should go inside and hear the verdict.” Jesse stood and reached down to help her stand, and she brushed the snow from the knees of her sweats, but they were wet now anyway.
After snatching up the almost empty bottle from the ground, he hooked her arm with his and they crossed through the courtyard.
“Carter blames himself,” Jesse said before they reached the door. “He may not have acted like it, but I can tell he feels responsible for the death of Zoey’s fiancé.”
“I can’t imagine having to leave someone behind knowing they would undoubtedly die,” she softly said as he unlinked their arms to open the door.
“It’s the last thing anyone in the Army ever wants. Dying is better than being the only one to come home.” His voice was strained, and she knew he was speaking from an unbearable experience, and possibly more than one time.
Opening the door, he ushered Ella inside to the sound of Gray in the living room, adamantly declaring, “She’s staying.”
