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  I sat next to the window, looking out. Wally sat next to me, bumping shoulders with me, as if trying to cheer me up. I finally had to tell him to knock it off. I’m pretty sure he thought I was upset that I’d lost, but I wasn’t.

  I was furious.

  And I was completely done with Kira Romanova.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  After we got off the bus, the guys trudged to their room, and we went to ours. Kira even accompanied us for the first time in forever, which was surprising, because every time she dared to look my way, I glared at her.

  If looks could kill…

  Frankie, as usual, chatted cheerfully as if nothing had happened. Hala, Kira, and I let her talk. For once, I was thankful for her constant stream of chatter so no one else had to say anything. I got to the door and tapped in the code for our room, pressing my thumb to the pad before it clicked open.

  Kira went straight to the bathroom, while I sat down on Frankie’s bed and started taking off my shoes.

  “Hala, your score was amazing,” Frankie said. “You had the most accurate hits out of all of us. Totally impressive. How did you do it?”

  Hala pulled out her desk chair and sat down, shaking her hair out of a ponytail. “My dad took me shooting for the first time when I was eight. He’s with the FBI, so we have guns in the house. He wanted to make sure I understood how to use them and what it meant to be safe around guns. We went to the firing range quite a bit. Shooting with a laser isn’t quite the same, though. The beam spreads out in a cone, so it affects your accuracy. I tried to account for that. I wish I’d found the exit, but Wally got there first and scored the bonus.”

  Frankie sat down on her bed next to me. “Wally wouldn’t have gotten out at all—none of us would—if it hadn’t been for Angel.”

  “I told you, I just got lucky,” I said, although at the moment, I wasn’t feeling remotely lucky at all.

  “I’m sorry, Angel,” Hala said. “Frankie told me what happened. It was really nice what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything nice,” I said testily. “Just so we’re clear, I would have shot Kira if Frankie hadn’t stopped me.”

  Hala looked away, and my anger dissolved. Now I was feeling depressed. Two tests, both failed. Things weren’t looking good for me.

  Kira came out of the bathroom, her eyes red and face blotchy. She carefully avoided eye contact with me. “Frankie, can I speak with you privately? Please?”

  Frankie glanced at me. I narrowed my eyes, but Frankie, being Frankie, stood up. “Sure, Kira. See you guys later.”

  Just like that, Frankie went off with Kira—the girl who’d tried to bump her out of the game and had caused me to fail a trial. My anger flared again and then settled into a slow, uncomfortable burn in my stomach.

  One thing was clear. Kira wasn’t going to get off that easy with me.

  “So, what did Kira want to talk to you about?” I asked Frankie when she returned. Kira hadn’t returned with her and Hala had gone for a walk, so it was just the two of us.

  Frankie sat in her desk chair and started braiding her long black hair. “She apologized for trying to shoot me. It wasn’t personal and I understood that. She also thanked me for saving her. She has a lot going on in her life, Angel, which is why she’s not been that friendly. She thinks you don’t like her.”

  “I don’t,” I confirmed.

  “Don’t say that,” Frankie admonished me. “I told her you were just prickly.”

  “I am not prickly.”

  “I also told her you would come around.”

  “I won’t.” I fumed inwardly until it bubbled over. “How can you just forgive her like that?”

  “What’s the point in being angry?”

  “Maybe the fact that she’s a backstabbing, self-centered, untrustworthy threat makes it worthwhile.”

  Frankie patted me on the arm. “Oh, Angel. You’ll come around.” She sat next to me on her bed. “Now it’s time to talk about us. Why did you take that shot for me?”

  “Why do you think, Frankie?” I blew out a breath in exasperation. “You’re my best friend. One of my only friends. I want you to stay.”

  “Hmmm.” She finished braiding her hair and secured it with a tie. “You know what I think? I think you need to stop trying to save me and stay focused on you. You’re the best candidate out of all of us for UTOP.”

  “What?” Had she completely lost her mind? “No offense, Frankie, but you couldn’t be farther from the truth. I almost killed us in the first test, and I killed myself in the second one. That does not make me a good candidate for an operative.”

  She sighed and shook her head like I was completely dense. “If you don’t believe me, I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

  I had no idea how to answer that one. While I appreciated her faith in me, it hurt to realize how misplaced it was.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  I was looking forward to Saturday and our trip into town more than I’d thought I would. I needed a break from all that was UTOP, even if it was for just a little while.

  The bus dropped us off on Main Street and the driver told us they’d be back for us in four hours. Frankie and Wally tried to talk me into seeing a movie, but I really wanted some alone time.

  When we got off the bus, all of us scattered. The air was cool but not cold. My blue sweater kept me comfortably warm, so I walked around for a while, enjoying the fresh air and figuring out what was available in the town. Virginia’s fall foliage was in full display, in gorgeous shades of red, gold, orange, and brown.

  All the buildings were in the colonial style, and I felt like I’d stepped back in time. A pretty redbrick courtyard with benches and a statue of a former local politician completed the look. The courtyard was relatively empty, so I sat on one of the benches and called my mom. We spoke for a good thirty minutes, mostly with me answering her questions the best I could without violating my promise of secrecy regarding the specifics of what I was doing. I promised to call her again soon, and she hung up happy.

  I stood and decided to return to a cute little bookstore café I’d seen earlier. A tinkling bell sounded as I opened the door. Books of all shapes and sizes were crammed into heavy wooden shelves and took up nearly every inch of wall space. There was a small fireplace and a couple of warm, cozy armchairs facing it. The entire room smelled like coffee and chocolate. It was fairly crowded, but the line was only three people deep. I stood in line, drooling over the croissants and delicious-looking pastries before making my selection.

  “Hot chocolate, large, and a chocolate croissant,” I said when it was my turn. I dug into my purse and suddenly realized I’d forgotten my wallet. I closed my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I forgot my wallet. Please cancel my order.”

  “Not necessary,” said the person behind me. It was an elderly gentleman, dressed in a gray sweater and holding a cane. He had twinkling blue eyes. “It’s on me.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t,” I said.

  “You can.” He handed the cashier the money. “I insist. My treat.”

  “Oh, thank you so much,” I said. “I really do have money, I just forgot it.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  The cashier handed me a hot chocolate and a croissant on a plate. I thanked the man once more, and carried my goodies to a small empty table near the fireplace. I’d just sat down and picked up my hot chocolate when Jax stood behind the empty chair at my table holding a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, Red. Mind if I join you?”

  I almost spilled my drink. Had he just appeared out of thin air? I was pretty sure I would have noticed him before this, but apparently not. That didn’t speak well to my spy abilities. “Um, sure, have a seat. What are you doing her, Jax?”

  “The same thing as you.” He slid into the chair and lifted his cup in a mock toast. “But, unlike you, I brought my wallet.”

  “So, you saw that?”<
br />
  “I did.” He grinned, his dark hair windblown and cheeks ruddy. He blew on his coffee and took a sip. “You know, you intrigue me. I can’t figure you out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a mystery to me.”

  That was weird, because I’d thought the same thing about him. But now my curiosity took over. “Why would you want to figure me out?”

  “Why? You know why. It’s smart to keep an eye on the competition. There’s just something about you, Red. I can’t put my finger on it, and that bugs me.”

  “Maybe you haven’t met anybody who can resist your charm,” I said drily.

  “Ah, so you admit I’m charming.”

  My cheeks heated. “I’m not admitting anything.” But his smile widened, and I hated that my heart did a little leap.

  “So, why didn’t you go to the movies with Wally and Frankie?” he asked.

  “How did you know about that?”

  He leaned across the table, lowering his voice to a whisper, his face close enough to mine so I could feel his breath against my cheek. “Spy school, remember?”

  I rolled my eyes at the dramatic tone of the whisper. “Well, why didn’t you go to the movies?”

  “No one asked me.”

  “Oh.” I fell quiet. I’d always been on the outside, and now that I wasn’t, I’d forgotten about those who were. I wasn’t sure what that said about me.

  He wrapped both hands around the mug, watching me thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you did in the maze. Sacrificing yourself for your friend…that took guts.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, really. Didn’t peg for you that, which is part of your intrigue. You’re not going to quit the trials, are you?”

  His question made me wonder why he’d asked. “Why would I quit the trials? I’m not a quitter. They’ll have to boot me out first, which I admit could happen. Are you quitting?”

  “No way. I wouldn’t give up. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get kicked out.”

  “Why would you get kicked out? You’re probably the best suited of any of us for this kind of work. You don’t seem intimidated by anything.”

  “Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow. Pushing aside his coffee mug, he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “What else have you noticed about me?”

  “You’re not afraid to challenge authority, you’re smart, quick on your feet, and you have a loose code of honor, which is probably a good thing for an operative. You’re also physically fit and not bad-looking, either. Seems a perfect fit for the criteria of an operative to me.”

  He laughed. “Really? That’s what you see in me? Most of the other candidates would say I’m a troublemaker.”

  “You are. Kind of.” I lifted my hands to soften the blow. “You purposely seem to look for trouble. Why?”

  “It isn’t hard to find trouble when you don’t have to go far to get it.” His voice was light, but I could hear something else just below the surface.

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. I think that’s just an excuse. In fact, there’s something about you I can’t put my finger on.” Having played back his own words, I gave him a self-satisfied smile.

  He seemed impressed, and his smile widened. “Touché.”

  Taking my croissant, I split it in half, handing a part over. It was a peace offering of sorts. “Here, have some.”

  He reached out and took it, his warm fingers brushing mine. “Thanks.”

  He took a bite, regarded me thoughtfully. “So, you’re good at math, and even better with computers. What else can you do?”

  “I like chemistry.” I took my own bite of the croissant and chewed before speaking again. “How about you? Other than math and engineering, what’s your specialty?”

  He finished off the croissant. He’d left a little spot of chocolate on his lower lip. Not that I was staring at his mouth or anything.

  He looked around the café and then lowered his voice. “My specialty is deception. And because I’m so good at it, I’m also excellent at spotting spot deceivers and liars.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or serious. “That’s definitely a useful skill to have if you want to be an operative.”

  “Yes, it is. Let’s just say I have a good understanding of human psychology. Within a minute, I can tell a lot about a person—marital status, occupation, hobbies, desires and needs.”

  “That’s a pretty bold claim. You sound like an armchair psychic.”

  That made him chuckle. “I can back it up. Let’s take you, Angel Sinclair. Red hair, the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, a cautious nature, and a mind like a steel trap. That’s a lot packed into a small body. You’re a careful observer, but you don’t say much. Add to that, you have unswerving loyalty, naïveté, stubbornness, and a logical perspective on the world. You’ve also got a temper when pushed—the red hair gave that away—and you’re slow to trust.”

  “Wow.” I clapped. Definitely an armchair psychic. “Anyone can play that game, Jax. But you get points off because the red-haired claim is stereotypical.”

  “Okay, then tell me it’s not true. Just remember, I’m good at spotting liars.”

  I pursed my lips at him and stayed silent.

  He grinned. “But you…what is it about you, Red?”

  “You may not be as good at psychology as you think. I’m an open book.”

  “Not completely. I’m exceptionally sensitive to moods, facial expressions, and even mutual feelings of attraction. But there’s a wall around you.”

  I let my gaze rise to his, meeting the fiery green of his eyes. “What do you really want from me, Jax?”

  He finished his coffee and set down the mug. “I’m not sure yet. But trust me, when I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  CANDACE KIM

  NSA Headquarters, Fort Meade, Maryland

  Candace caught Slash’s eye as they were walking out of the director’s weekly stand-up meeting. He gave her an imperceptible nod. After chatting with a couple of assistants, she returned to her office and waited. Ten minutes later, Slash sat in her visitor chair.

  “You’ve got news?” he asked.

  “Yes, and not the good kind,” she replied. “We have a problem. The terrorist networks given to us by Sinclair in his last communication have suddenly vanished. They stopped returning to the two hideouts they were using and faded away. We were following one individual who took a sudden flight to São Paulo and then eluded our contacts there. The others were going about their normal business and never returned. They were tipped off.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know, but people are speculating it was Sinclair.”

  “Why would he do that?” Slash frowned. “That makes no sense. He wouldn’t jeopardize the immunity deal when he’s so close, and he’s never done anything like that in the past.”

  “I know, but people are arguing this is proof that they can’t trust him, and with the evidence of good faith gone, we should cancel the deal. The Justice Department is getting jittery about the latest development. It’s taking everything I’ve got to calm everyone down. What do you think?”

  “I think it stinks.”

  “I agree. Someone is purposely sabotaging our efforts to bring him in, and my number one suspect is Isaac Remington. Did you come up with anything involving the Ahab/pope connection?”

  “Nothing.” Slash rubbed his hand against his stubbled jaw, thinking. “Would you send me the transcripts of all the correspondence we’ve had with Sinclair? He’s a cryptologist by training, so we should think like one when we’re trying to decode whatever message he might be sending.”

  “I’ll have everything to you by tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you. When’s the next communication scheduled with him?”

  “Four days. I don’t even know if I should tell Sinclair what’s happened. Right now, I’m leaning toward keeping it quiet and
seeing if he brings it up. It may give us some insight as to his mind-set.”

  “Sinclair isn’t behind the leak.” Slash expression turned grim. “Our problem is in-house. I’m more convinced of that than ever. We should trust Sinclair until he gives us reason to doubt him.”

  She liked that their thinking matched on this issue. It didn’t often work that way when she worked with other colleagues. “I concur, but staying the course will be hard with the others arguing to the contrary.”

  He fell silent for a moment, thinking. “See if you can stall them. In terms of this investigation, I’ve got a much lower profile than you. If you’re in agreement, I’ll do some investigating behind the scenes.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

  He stood, crossing his arms against his chest. “Just keep in mind, if I don’t find anything, we’ll have to rely on Sinclair to flush them out on his own. That could be dangerous for him.”

  “I know.” She’d considered that, and knew it was a risk, but they’d have to take it. They didn’t have any other choice. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  After Jax left the café, I looked around. The elderly man who’d bought me my hot chocolate and croissant was sitting near the fire reading the newspaper. He must have felt me staring at him, because he looked up and smiled. I gave him a small wave. Other than him, I didn’t know anyone else in the café.

  That was a good thing.

  I opened my laptop, keeping my back against the wall so there was no one behind me to look over my shoulder. I wasn’t going to hack in a café full of people and slow Wi-Fi, but that wasn’t going to stop me from pulling up a list of employees at my father’s last known place of employment, King’s Security, for the period of time he’d worked there. I’d already hacked the list when I was still at home. During that hack, I’d discovered King’s Security was a cover for a NSA satellite office, which led me to believe my father might have worked for the NSA.