"And then I get to go free?"

  Gabe chuckled at that. "Oh no, you're never free. From now on, you'll work for us."

  I laughed. "Oh yes, and one other thing."

  He blinked the moment he realized that I'd delicately planted a knife between his balls. "What I gave you a taste of the other night was barely a hint. I am deadly. You think the Syndicate will kill you? I will absolutely kill you the moment you step out of line. And more importantly, when I'm done with you, he would love to have a word with you." I inclined my head toward Gabe.

  Gabe scowled. "How's that shiner? I would have loved to take some real time with you. Your survival depends on how happy Tabatha is. If she's unhappy, you get hurt. And whether you'd walk away from being hurt or not is entirely up to you."

  Tate swallowed hard. "So that's it? I work for you?"

  I grinned at that. "Yes." I pushed to my feet, and Gabe took my hand. As we exited, I paused and turned. "You have three days to get me those contact names. Every single one. If we think you're holding out, I'll do that dance with the knife again."

  I remembered one more thing and turned back. "Oh, and if you ever put your hands on me again, the promise I made you the other night when I said I was going to cut off your balls and feed them to you, I will carry it out efficiently. And then I'll sit here and watch you bleed out. Have I made myself clear?"

  He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah. Crystal clear."

  "You have seventy-two hours and then we'll come looking for you."

  35

  Gabe

  Luck was finally turning our way. The morning after our impromptu meeting with Tate, One of the irons in the fire bore fruit. Webster had a lead on chatter between two Syndicate members talking about cargo and transporting it. They mentioned Gennifer Good by name. As well as one other person, Sam Bromstadt.

  I double checked the intel with Rook. I’d told him to follow chatter about cargo shipments from South Africa and do a deep dive on Bromstadt.

  I was kicking myself for not doing that earlier. I’d been so worried about her movements I hadn’t dug deeper.

  Once Rook confirmed the intel, Tabatha and I were on a plane. I would have taken a larger presence, but the team had three missions rolling. Saff was managing them all. It was a recon mission. If I got eyes, then I’d call everyone in.

  Now that we were here, we had to keep focus. No fucking surprises today.

  Eyes on the prize.

  The hum of adrenaline was a familiar companion.

  Next to me, Tabatha was quiet, her steps barely making any sound. She was always good at this. She knew what she was doing.

  Okay, then maybe trust her and what she's doing when it comes to the relationship stuff too.

  That was way more complex.

  She'd been trained to do this. There was no training to handle a situation like ours.

  No, there's not. But what's the point of being scared?

  I did not have time for this bullshit running through my head.

  We had her sister to rescue.

  She pulled out her tablet and accessed the schematic, pointing along the pathway we were on. I nodded and gave her direction. I'd go east, she'd go west. Both of us would toss a flare if we got into trouble. I would not be tossing my flare. I would only be looking for hers.

  You can get into trouble too.

  I could, but I would much rather she save her sister than come for me. My plan had been to use the police, but now we knew they weren't reliable.

  Besides, we were only going to go in if it would be an easy grab. We weren't going to be heroes, not today. If we got eyes on her, we'd call Interpol. We had a favor or two to call in.

  At our divergence point, Tabs lifted her gaze to me, eyes big as if she wanted to say something.

  Instead, all she did was nod, and head off her way.

  For once in your life, you have someone who understands, who gets what you do, and you're still scared.

  Fuck.

  I shoved the thoughts aside. I didn't have time for that. Not when so much was at stake.

  I went to my first checkpoint then slid into the side door and cleared room by room. I could see the guards were in the center.

  But what were they doing? I tapped a quick message on my phone so that Tabatha knew the rooms were clear on my side. She did the same. We both moved in tandem toward the center. It was when we reached the console that I froze.

  Sam Bromstadt cut in my way. I ducked behind a pillar, staying to the shadows.

  He froze for a moment and glanced around.

  For a long moment I could have sworn he could see me in the dark, that he could feel me there.

  In my head I just kept thinking, that's right arsehole. Give me a motherfucking reason.

  I wanted to make him pay for betraying Tabatha.

  But then he glanced back over his shoulder and continued along his way, lighting a cigarette.

  I stayed in position, holding my breath, not moving. I slowly released air once he went past me again back the way he'd come.

  Holy shit. That was close.

  We cleared and cleared until finally we were in the inner perimeter of the building. We had Kira on the monitors. She didn't look like she'd been restrained, but Gennifer wasn't pleased with her. "Because of you, things are going to shit," Gennifer screamed at her.

  Kira said nothing, just glowered up at her.

  I could see Tabatha about to make a really bad choice. I knew what she wanted to do, and I couldn't let her do it.

  She almost stepped out from the shadows into the light, and then her gaze met mine. Her jaw clamped and she backed away.

  Good girl.

  She tapped a message that showed on my wristwatch. I'll contact Interpol.

  I clicked my affirmative and headed back the way I'd come, sticking to the shadows. We were almost home free.

  I now understood how Saint felt about Kaya being in the field. From an Ops Command standpoint, she wasn't ready yet. But from the standpoint of the man who cared about her, loved her, God that shit was terrifying.

  Love?

  My gut clenched thinking about it. That was not part of the plan. Not what I had bargained for.

  Just get her out of here.

  I went to meet her outside, and I could see her at the roundabout point, running. And then there was a crack in the air and we both ducked.

  My shoulder burned and I frowned. I glanced down and saw a fray on my shirt. When I touched it, it was tender. I automatically ducked and rolled, lifting my weapon to fire back.

  Holy fuck.

  Sam. He had seen me. Son of a bitch.

  He dove behind a set of barrels, and I could hear the bullets ping off with a clinking sound. I dove for what minimal coverage was in the brush. And before I knew it, Tabatha was running for me like an avenging angel, spraying cover fire.

  I started to crawl, and she hauled me up by the back of my shirt, dragging me to my feet as we both booked it.

  Once we were behind a retaining wall, we heard more footsteps and other gunfire. Goddamn it, we couldn't catch a break.

  "Can you make it to the main road?"

  "I'm not leaving you, and it looks like you could use me." She frowned at my shoulder. "I think that's a graze, but I won't know until I look at it."

  "It doesn't matter. We need to get to the main road."

  "You're okay?"

  I glanced at her. And then I could see it. She didn't need me protecting her. She’d just saved my ass. That could have been bad if I had stayed there. We both stood up from the retaining wall. There were six gunmen now. More automatic weapons.

  And then something from the north side. An explosion. There was shouting, running, and the gunmen split. Three were coming for Tabatha and me, and three headed in the direction of the explosion. One by one, the ones headed for the explosion were taken down. I could hear the pfft, pfft, pfft, sound of the bullets.

  Tabs was up as soon as the second guy went down and fired at one of the three coming to us.

  That left two.

  It was my turn to grab her and haul and run just as I turned to deliver a bullet. Pop-pop. One hit, but the other one went wild. Then we booked it for the waiting car a quarter of a mile away.

  And then bad news from the west. More cars.

  Shit.

  They were heading straight for our ride.

  And suddenly, there was a whistle from the east. I turned in the direction of the whistle as a shot fired and took down the last guy I’d missed.

  "Come on, looks like we have help."

  "Who is that?"

  "No fucking clue. But he has a ride, and we need out."

  She nodded and followed behind, knives at the ready.

  The car sped up to meet us, whipping around, driver's side open, and I leaned down, cursing under my breath. Drake Webster grinned back at me. "Looks like you need a fucking ride."

  I opened the door for Tabatha and shoved her in.

  "Who the hell?"

  I slid in right behind her, shutting the door behind us. "Move."

  Tabatha turned to glare at me. "What the fuck?"

  Tabatha

  When your world had upended, sometimes you had to bring out the knives. I’d accepted the ride from enemy number one, but someone needed to bloody explain.

  Drake Webster was relaxing on the couch with his feet up. He kept a shrewd narrowed gaze on me because, in this situation, I was the unstable one.

  "Tabs, it's not what you think," Gabe began.

  "I'm waiting for one of you to start talking."

  Webster just shrugged. "Well, it won't be me. But I would assume that the first rule of spy school is not to admit that you're a spy."

  I glowered at him, and he winked at me. The son of a bitch actually winked.

  I turned my knives on Gabe, and he held his hands up. "Tabs, remember how we talked about all the stuff that I can't talk about? This is one of them. I'm sorry that you feel like I lied. I'm sorry that I had to."

  Someone was going to talk or someone was going to lose a nut. "Explain what the fuck he’s doing out of cuffs walking around free.”

  Drake shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just being a good Samaritan. I saw some people shooting at some other people, so I thought I'd help. But now, I think I should call the police."

  I released one of my knives, and it hit the couch right next to his shoulder, just an inch from wounding him. He stopped moving immediately and lifted a brow.

  "Oh. Well, aren't you a surprise? You look like Ariel's spicy cousin. But oh no, you're better than that aren't you? You are the blueprint."

  I narrowed my gaze at him. "Gabe probably should have warned you that charm does not work on me."

  "Well, I think charm works just fine, doesn't it? You are his, after all, aren't you?"

  I lifted my brow. "That knife hitting the couch wasn't an accident, FYI."

  Webster chuckled then. "She has spunk, Gabe."

  Gabe’s voice was low. “Leave it be, Webster. Don’t make it worse.”

  I lifted my brow. “Pretty sure it can’t get worse than tonight.” I had no idea what was happening, but Gabe was keeping some big secrets.

  Drake chuckled. "Now, if you two kids are done, and everyone has checked on their bumps and bruises, I'll be going because I'm supposed to be somewhere else entirely."

  I laughed. "You will do no such thing."

  Webster pushed to his feet and stalked toward me. There was menace in his eyes. He knew that I wouldn't release another knife until I was sure. He, on the other hand, had no such compunction. He was the devil. He was the villain of the story.

  I released another knife without even thinking. This one nicked his shoulder. Which, to be fair, sent him into action. When he reached for me, Gabe was between me and him in seconds.

  Drake cocked his head. Gabe stayed unmoving.

  The whole scene unfolded like some twisted tango as the two men danced around the room, exchanging blows, and I watched them, fascinated. It was a chaotic ballet, and I was front row center, the reluctant audience. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  They were rolling on the floor. My only option was the tranq gun.

  Jesus. How did this happen?

  I fired the tranq gun and hit one of them.

  Unfortunately, it was Gabe. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but he would certainly be loopy. Drake tried to roll out of the way, and he got hit on the ass when I fired a second time. "Now, both of you are going to calm the fuck down and somebody tell me what's going on."

  Gabe pulled out the tranq. "You fucking shot me?"

  "Not the first time."

  He was going to kill me later. It might be fun.

  "I can't believe you fucking shot me."

  "I need answers. You wrestling with dumbo there, it does me no good."

  Drake groused from his position, his words slurring slightly. "Hey, I wanted to be Tweedle Dee."

  I turned my attention on Gabe. "Will you just talk to me?"

  His eyes were pleading even as he swayed. “He's never been a bad guy. He’s Intelligence."

  Intelligence? There was no way that was true. Sure, he’d saved Saff, but he worked for the enemy. He’d also almost gotten her killed. How could Gabe not tell us?

  Drake's words were really slurred. Likely a product of me hitting him with two darts. "I gave the Intel. Found out… target… mark. So… came."

  The fact that he knew to come for us suggested they’d been working together. For how long? How long had Gabe been keeping secrets?

  He’s Ops Command. He is nothing but secrets.

  I knew that. I did. But this felt like betrayal. But more than that it highlighted the problem. Gabe would always have secrets. Things I couldn’t know.

  It was more about the how, the jarring truth of it. There was no escaping shadows with him. But even when necessary, he’d try to control the situation. And he would always control me too. I'd never been one to mince words, but this time, my anger was boiling over like a volcano.

  "You know, Gabe," I spat, "I'm getting real tired of the shadows and half-truths. You keep so many secrets I'm starting to think you're actually a Matryoshka doll with smaller, more irritating Gabe dolls inside." I dragged in a breath and glowered at him. "You want me to talk to you? You're going to have to talk to me."

  He pressed his firm lips together. "No. You need to let this one go."

  "I understand classified and non-classified. I know the reason for him walking around free must be dangerous and important. But I'm your partner in the field. This feels need to know.”

  "Tabatha, I'm not trying to control the situation," he insisted, his voice as smooth as butter that's been slathered on a snake. "This is about national security."

  “Oh, please. That's like saying ice cream is about dairy nutrition.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. "You always say that, Gabe. You'd think national security was your middle name or something."

  He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. "Look, I can't always tell you everything. It's for your own safety."

  "My own safety?" I snorted, my eyes practically rolling out of my head. "I'm not some delicate flower that needs protecting, Gabe. I'm a grown-ass woman who can take care of herself."

  He looked away, clearly trying to come up with some clever response. But I had him on the ropes, and I wasn't about to let up. "Just answer me this, Gabe," I demanded, poking him in the chest for emphasis. "If Drake wasn't the one to rescue us, would you ever have told me?"

  I could see the wheels turning in his oh-so-secretive brain, but he hesitated. That's right. I'd backed him into a corner, and he knew it.

  Finally, he met my eyes with that infuriatingly calm expression of his. "Absolutely not," he said, his voice level and infuriatingly sure of itself. "It's my job to protect you. I take that job very seriously."

  Well, wasn't that just the icing on the cake? The nerve of this guy, acting like he was my personal bodyguard or something. I was so furious I could've exploded into a million tiny pieces of righteous indignation.

  But instead of detonating, I took a deep breath and counted to ten. One, two, three… Yup, still pissed. Four, five, six… Oh, who was I kidding?

  I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You know what, Gabe? I don't need your protection. I need your honesty. I need a head's up. I need some communication. I need you to talk to me. And I certainly don't need your secrets. If you can't be honest with me, then maybe we shouldn't be together."

  His face softened a little. "Tabatha, I'm doing my job. I don't want to put you in any more danger than necessary."

  I laughed, a bitter sound that echoed off the walls of our cramped little hideout. "Well, guess what, Gabe? You're doing a bang-up job, because I feel more in danger now than I ever have before."

  He opened his mouth to say something, probably some half-baked excuse or another empty reassurance. But I cut him off before he could even start.

  "Don't bother, Gabe," I muttered, too exhausted to continue this fight. "Just save your breath for all those top-secret phone calls you like to make when you think I'm not listening."

  My stomach knotted when I thought of losing him. Things had spiraled out of control. I wasn’t supposed to get attached. I wasn’t supposed to let him inside. But I’d failed.

  And I knew that we couldn't be together because he was Ops Command. It hadn’t been real. It had been a secret. Something that no one knew about. Right now, we couldn't stay away from each other. But fuck, in the long term, what was this?

  You know what this is.

  I loved him. I’d fucked up and fallen deep.

  It felt like love. Not that I'd ever actually been in love, but that's what it felt like. That obsessive need to be with him. But not just to have him holding me close, whispering dirty things in my ear, no.

  It was more about knowing I was loved. Knowing he cared. Knowing that when I was sad, he would draw me in and make me feel better. He was the only person I wanted to talk to first thing in the morning and right before I went to bed at night.