Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

21. GRAYSON

21

GRAYSON

“While we wait for the dust to settle with Vosch, we need to move on to that other assignment.” Daniel shifted.

“This one is related to Vosch, isn’t it?” I pressed.

“Don’t know. It’s one of those need-to-know-basis assignments.”

“It has to be related to him. There’s no way there’ll be a second target right here in Chicago.” Certainly not this quickly. “When is this happening?”

“Tomorrow night. And this one needs to be quick and clean. We can’t afford another miss.”

Another. I could tell by his soft tone he hadn’t meant for it to be an insult, but that word grated against my nerves and sent an electric charge of offense through me. I had ended the lives of some of the most dangerous men in the world, risking my own to achieve it. Trust me, no one was angrier that Vosch was still alive than me.

“I suppose leadership is forgetting that everyone who tried to get Vosch before me came back in a body bag.”

“This was a hard job,” Daniel said in a softened tone. “Don’t take offense.”

How could I not? I had dedicated my life to this organization, taking orders and never challenging or pushing back. When they said they wanted something done, I carried it out to a T. This was my first failure, and now, they were treating me like I was on probation.

How insulting.

It was like a kid getting straight A’s the entire semester, and then they flunk one test, and their parents ground them for the summer. Then again, maybe I deserved it. I had screwed up a failure is not an option mission. Maybe I was just being defensive here.

I scrubbed my face.

“Fine. Tell me what these requirements are.”

“It needs to look like a home invasion or burglary. Maybe even an accident, but nothing that looks like the CIA was there. Stage the scene after to make it look sloppy.”

“Why?”

“You think they tell me everything?”

It had been my experience that when the CIA attempted to conceal the true source of someone’s death, the target was of higher value.

Perhaps succeeding at this would redeem me in the eyes of Daniel and leadership. The CIA was all I had. If I failed again, they might no longer see me as reliable, and if I wasn’t reliable, I wasn’t valuable to them.

If that happened, best-case scenario, I would lose my job and my only purpose in life—to end the lives of as many wicked men as possible while I was still breathing. Worst case, they might decide I knew too much and needed to be taken out to protect the CIA’s secrets.

When I had joined the CIA, I was assured repeatedly that the CIA never targeted their own. But over the last few years, I suspected otherwise as operatives fell victim to unfortunate circumstances.

I didn’t particularly care to die.

And I certainly would not fail again—that was for damn sure.

I needed to prove to them I was still the reliable agent that I always had been.

“What about a regular robbery? Or carjacking?” I pondered.

“Too risky with witnesses. This needs to be intimate and decisive.”

I nodded.

“There’s one more thing.” Daniel used his you’re not going to like this tone.

There weren’t a lot of things that could get under my skin, so I couldn’t wait to hear what he was about to say.

“Our target is a female,” Daniel said.

A dread crept into my stomach. What if the CIA had already found out Ivy’s identity and determined that she was a risk? A risk worth eliminating.

The CIA had a policy to not kill innocent civilians. If anything, Ivy would become a witness, and even if she had no information of value to the CIA, again, no innocent civilians were supposed to be targets.

That was one rule I’d consistently seen them uphold.

It was bad enough when they died as collateral damage in a bombing or shoot-out; the CIA tried to prevent that at all costs, not only because it was against the code of ethics, but practically speaking, their families would scream outrage, bringing unwanted attention and questions.

And yet apprehension coursed through my veins like a lead poison spreading toxins.

“I don’t kill women. I told you that on day one.”

“Women are just as capable of being violent criminals as men.”

My jaw flexed. “I don’t kill women.” It irritated me I had to repeat myself. Daniel should’ve known better than to come to me with this. “There are plenty of CIA operatives who will kill anyone without question.”

“Well, this one came to us, and it needs to get done. In case you haven’t thought about this, you’re not the only one with your name attached to a failed mission.”

The burden of my screwup sharpened his tone.

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms; how far would the bleeding of my mistake go on?

Of course Daniel would be in the doghouse, too. This hit was probably a test for our entire team, not just me. They could have given it to anyone, but “we” had just epically failed to carry out a high-level mission.

Here was an assignment with a little bow on it. In our home city, with no complications of travel, no complications of parking garages with bombs. A quick in-and-out hit.

“I’m the leader of that mission, Grayson. And I can’t push back on leadership when they hand us a job. Not right now, not after what happened with Vosch.”

Still, I could not imagine ending the life of a woman.

And the fear, no matter how irrational, continued to pulse through my veins that this was Ivy.

Ivy, who’d shown up at that meeting. Ivy, who I believed was an innocent victim. Ivy, who I found myself thinking about every moment since I left that coffee shop.

And not just due to work.

“We don’t have the upper hand here,” Daniel said. “We’re lucky we haven’t been taken off the Vosch case. Just get this job done and move on.”

I raked my hand through my hair, scraping my nails across my scalp until it hurt.

“She’s a violent criminal planning an attack, Grayson—that much I know. Our job is to eliminate this woman before she causes bloodshed. This will be on your hands if you don’t stop it.”

Goddammit. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to steady the frustration in my voice.

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Samantha Jackson.”

I exhaled a breath of relief.

It’s not Ivy.

My relief was short-lived, though.

I didn’t want to kill a woman, no matter how evil she might be.

Maybe that was sexist. Women were just as smart and capable as men to carry out whatever their hearts wished. And the CIA would only target her if lives were in imminent danger. What if I said no, and in the time it took for them to secure another agent, innocent people were killed? Children, even? How could I live with that? I pinched the bridge of my nose, my mind torn between my principles and my responsibility.

Still…

A woman.

How in the world was I going to do this?

The struggle had the power to tear me apart from the inside out. But in the end, the lives of innocent people were hanging in the balance, and I couldn’t let my personal reservations stand in the way of that.

With a resigned sigh and twisted soul, I steeled myself, knowing that what I was about to do might haunt me for the rest of my life.