and satellite feeds. Or, in my case, woman the hell out of them.
I don’t take my eyes off the feed of Cole’s home, smoking and smoldering. The place he brought me to against my will. Were the walls thin and the paint chipping? Yes, but it was his—a place that Red kept in working order and the home in which he planned to raise Abbott. It’s only been a matter of weeks but I’ve come to love his old farmhouse. I’ve been with Cole for years but we’ve never had the opportunity to be domestic together.
And now it’s gone.
What’s left of it is in shambles. I’m afraid of what it will look like in the light of day. This latest event will most certainly send Red right back to irritable land.
It’s after two o’clock in the morning. Red and Abbott are still sleeping as Cole insisted we let them be. I think it was a good decision given the fact Red probably lost most of his tools in his shed.
As I watch Cole and Crew’s team sift through rubble as the fire department finishes, my attention is drawn to a different live feed. There is activity at the so-called church Cole’s boss’s boss attends.
A mid-size crossover—something I realize Americans have a thing for—rumbles up the drive to the building, dust billowing in its wake. I enlarge the frame.
A somewhat official looking woman emerges in a plain business suit. Odd for this time of night when most are snoozing.
Hmm.
Three men meet her at the front door of the building and usher her in as if she were royalty. I look down at the files in front of me and open a plain manilla folder labeled CIA. I keep flipping until I find her profile.
The one and only, Wendy Sisson. The woman who is fucking with my future.
I study the feed, seeing only a grouping of heat—bodies congregating in the center of the building and I wonder when X-ray technology will improve so we can see through walls and roofs. I’m about to call Crew, but there’s movement outside and I don’t dare take my eyes off the screen. Cole will have to wait.
Yes, it’s definitely Wendy, the wicked witch of the CIA. She’s stomping to her car with one of the men tight on her heels like an angry predator. She’s about to reach for her door when he grabs her by the bicep and swings her around with so much force, even her short, low-maintenance hair flings in her face.
I enlarge the frame to its highest capacity and am impressed with the technology Crew invested in. The picture is quite clear and their expressions tell the tale even though the feed has no sound—they’re angry.
Wendy rips her arm from his hold and he motions to the building behind him, then the sky dramatically. Wendy pokes him in the chest and I’d roll my eyes if it didn’t mean looking away. Seriously. She’s CIA upper brass and poking the bloke in the chest? I’m embarrassed for her and wonder how many arses she’s had to kiss to get to her level because it doesn’t seem like she did it by ninjaing anyone on her own. No self-respecting woman who works in intelligence would do that unless she were working covertly, and I’m guessing this is not the case.
I bet Wendy is wishing she were more of a badass about now because the man has her back against the car, standing nose-to-nose with her, speaking so fast, I can’t read their lips.
She finally pushes him out of her personal space and rips open her purse. A wad of cash is shoved at him.
Arguing ensues.
Another handful of bills is pushed his way with a few fluttering to the ground. This must be enough to appease the man because he steps back and almost gets hit in the head with her hastily-opened car door when he bends to pick up the fallen blood money.
Or, in this case, fire money?
Wendy is off, her cloud of dust bigger and dirtier than when she arrived.
Well, then. That was an interesting turn of events.
I grab Ozzy’s cell since Cole has stolen mine and make a mental note to ask Crew for a secure phone attached to his new satellite network.
Cole
“No shit?”
I turn and look at the rubble that was my house. It’s mostly gone—leveled and still smoking. The firefighters are doing their jobs to make sure it doesn’t reignite. I can’t believe I’m standing here in the middle