Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“I didn’t count on them being so well organized,” she says in a low, thoughtful voice. “Mejia must have people all over the place because they chased me right into a trap in the middle of the road. Cars blocking it off, machine guns leveled at me. I had no choice but to stop the motorcycle, but I broke one guy’s nose before they were able to subdue me.”
That’s my girl, I think.
And then immediately chastise myself.
She’s not your girl.
“I assume we can retrieve the drive fairly easy?” I ask.
Greer nods. “We’re about twenty minutes away.”
“Then we’ll head straight to the airport. If we’re lucky, we can be in the air in thirty.”
Now that I’m up to date, it turns silent, other than the occasional direction Greer gives me. Awkwardness hangs heavy between us.
Greer finally asks, “What are you doing here? We’re out of immediate danger, and I think I deserve an explanation.”
I ignore her as a sudden rush of anger sweeps through me. I’m torn between the relief I got her out safely—just minutes before she was going to be raped—and a fury that’s been buried deep for the past twelve years, one I thought was permanently put to rest. Apparently, seeing her again has ripped all the scars wide open.
“Ladd,” she snaps, and I turn my attention from the road briefly to look at her. “Why in the hell are you here? You’re not with the Company anymore.”
I’m surprised she even knows that. I never would’ve thought she’d keep tabs on me. “You’ve been disavowed,” I tell her.
She knew that had to be a possibility, especially if her identity had been compromised, but a flash of hurt still crosses her face that she’d been abandoned after what she’d risked for our government.
I look again in the rearview mirror—still no one behind us. Greer stares blankly out the windshield. “They hired the outfit I work for to come get you.”
“And you came alone?” she asks dully.
Another rush of anger toward her, born of the hurt she inflicted on me all those years ago. “This wasn’t a mission I felt worth risking my teammates’ lives on and I figured I could handle it on my own. Besides, I owed you.”
That was a shitty thing to say, and it strikes her deep.
“You didn’t owe me anything, asshole,” she snarls.
And that offends me. That she can’t just be grateful, despite the fact I just said her life wasn’t worth enough for me to bring in help.
“So, you would rather me leave you there, to be raped, tortured, and eventually killed?” I demand.
Greer lifts her chin defiantly, because her pride is in danger of being demolished. “If it meant not having to deal with you again, I think that would’ve been the better option.”
CHAPTER 6
Greer
It’s fairly easy to retrieve the USB drive, considering I chucked it as hard as I could during a high-speed chase in a place I wasn’t familiar with. But I’m trained to be observant and to remember things. As I was flying around a corner, I spotted a cluster of white sapotes, which are fruit trees, and the only reason I knew that was because Mejia had them in his courtyard garden at his El Salvador home. I threw the USB in that direction and hoped I would be back later to get it.
It takes about fifteen minutes of searching once we find the copse, and then we race to the airport. It’s tense, not because of our awkward reunion—that can wait—but because at any moment, we expect Mejia’s forces to find and cut us off.
But they don’t, and at the airport, Ladd flashes credentials that earn us passage to a private hangar where a jet sits gassed up and ready to go. After boarding, it takes no more than twenty minutes to get us in the takeoff queue, and then we leave El Salvador behind.
It’s not until we reach cruising altitude that my adrenaline fizzles and I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train. I feel disgustingly filthy, not just from sweat and dirt but from what could have been done to me. I feel vulnerable in my T-shirt and too-big sweatpants borrowed from Ladd. I’m on edge having him back in my life after twelve years, and I’m confused as to why he’d bother.
It’s a maelstrom of emotions, and despite my exhaustion, I sit up straight in the seat. The jet is clearly owned by the CIA—I’m sure it’s one of a few kept at Camp Peary for just such uses. It accommodates ten, and Ladd and I sit opposite each other in facing seats with a table between us. He’s currently surfing his phone, probably doing his best to avoid interaction, and I’m staring out the window at a darkening sky, also doing my best not to have to interact with him.