Oxblood (14 page)

“I've got the surveillance footage pulled up,” Claudia called from the dining-room table.

We joined her, eager to find out if we could identify our hotel stalkers.

“That was fast! How did you do that?” I asked, peering over her shoulder.

“I'm insulted, but I'm going to let it pass since you're still new.” She smirked. “It's the twenty-first century. All that stuff is kept in the cloud. No more of that ancient hard-copy crap.”

We all huddled around Claudia and watched the footage from different camera angles and locations in the hotel. It was devastating to see the moment when the poor girl behind the counter was killed. One of the men distracted her while the other one came from behind, took a knife, and slit her carotid artery. That explained the pool of blood on the counter. But they were smart. Both kept their heads down so there was no clear shot of them.

When I walked into the lounge onscreen, I confirmed that the two guys who killed the girl were also the two who followed me into the hallway. And then I pointed out the old lady pretending to knit. We watched the two thugs, and it was clear that they were keeping a close eye on me. My skin began to crawl, reliving what it felt like to be watched and followed by two cold-blooded killers.

As soon as I moved into the lobby, the two men got up and spoke to the old lady. She must have given them some kind of instruction because they just nodded.

“I just need them to look up, dammit!” Ian said, frustrated.

I watched myself walk behind the reception desk and quivered as my hand slid across the desk in a puddle of blood. Even on the black-and-white screen, it was easy to see my face pale.

Damon rubbed my back comfortingly.

We watched as I got into one elevator and nervously pushed the button over and over again, while the two thugs and the old lady got into another elevator. They said little to one another but then, miraculously, the woman looked up at the numbers above the doors, giving us a clear view of her face. I was right: the old lady was anything but.

“Pause,” Ian instructed. He stared at the screen. It didn't take enhanced observation skills to tell he was working hard to contain himself.

“Do you know who that is?” I asked.

“Yes.” His answer came out quick and sharp. “That's Bianca Moran. She's a Rogue agent.”

Chapter 13

The room was deadly silent. Confusion passed over the faces of each agent as they tried to understand why a Rogue agent would turn on her own.

Ian walked slowly toward the back bedroom where he and Damon had been working. “Victoria,” he said by way of asking me to follow him.

He shut the door behind me. I studied Ian's face. He was scared.

“Why is a Rogue team coming after us?” I asked, worried.

Ian shook his head. “This is bigger, no, worse than I could have imagined. At this point, I
wish
the mob were after us.” He wouldn't look at me. “You can't be here, Victoria.”

“We've been over this,” I said. “I'm the only one who can decipher the journal. You need me. And I need you. I'm not leaving without my brother. I can't.”

Ian turned and started pacing. “I don't know that it's a Rogue team. It could be just her, but I'd be surprised. I worked with her a couple of years ago on an arms case. She was always a by-the-book agent. Something is happening here, and I'm not sure I can protect you. If she has bad intel, she's going to follow her orders until she hears differently. If she's going off the grid and trying to take us down because she's joined a mob family, it's the same thing. She will not stop until she completes her mission.”

“Can't we just contact your boss and find out? I mean, we could get some help, some backup from another team, couldn't we?” Ian looked at me and I knew my naïveté was showing.

“I can't just walk down the hall to the Command division's office and file a report.”

“Well, there has to be something we can do. Carter and Eva are here now, so maybe they can—”

“You can't stay,” Ian said. “Claudia will get you to a safe house in France tomorrow. Then you can take the train to England and fly home out of Heathrow. I'll have an agent watch you once you're home until we quash this.”

“I'm safer with you, and you know it.”

“You're not safe anywhere. Not as long as whoever has Gil is still out there. If they don't know you're his sister now, it's only a matter of time before they do. And then they'll come after you to get to him.”

“Why do you keep looking for reasons to send me home?”

“I don't need to
look
for
reasons
,” he said defensively. “All I see is proof.”

“You and Adam ran me ragged in training so I'd be prepared for a situation like this. For the most part, I succeeded. So why are you going back on all that and trying to get me to leave?”

“Because you're different.” He looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. “You're not like us, Victoria. That's what I tried to tell you from the beginning. You have a family. You have a real life. This work is merciless. It hollows you out. It steals your soul. It kills your heart. I can't let that happen to you.”

“I'm no different than you, Ian,” I said. “You have a heart and a soul. I know you do. I've seen it. And those people out there?
They
are your family.
They
are your home. I saw the look on your face when you thought they'd been harmed. You love them.”

“Maybe so, but”—he ran his fingers through his blond hair—“I used to have this all figured out. Then you show up and remind me what it was like to have people you would travel halfway around the world to save. I haven't seen that, haven't
felt
that, in a really long time. And now all I can think about is keeping you safe because I couldn't stand it if something happened to you.”

Ian rested his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. It was like he was embarrassed to have let his emotions take over.

“Hey,” I said as I moved closer to him. “You don't have to be a machine to do your job, Ian.”

“Yes, I do. I can't . . .”

“You can't what?” I asked softly.

He lifted his head and swallowed hard. “I can't look at you and feel what I feel. Emotions get in the way. In the face of an impossible situation, I can't be sure I'll make the right decision. And that's unacceptable.”

“What is it, exactly, that you feel?”

Ian shook his head. “That first night, when I sat across from you at dinner, you stirred up parts of me that I thought were long gone. The problem is I haven't been able to shut that valve off since then. I've tried being harsh with you, wearing you down, but damn it if you don't just get back up again.”

Ian cupped my face with one hand and ran his thumb across my cheek. An electric current shot through me, and the emotions I'd been pushing down fought their way back up.

“It's been so long since I've felt like this I'm not even sure
what
it is. It's not that I haven't encountered beautiful women before. It's that I've never come face to face with Victoria Asher. Why do I feel like you're going to be responsible for my undoing?”

I was supposed to say Gil's name to get us back on track and remind us of why I was there. I was supposed to remove his hand from my face. I was supposed to tell him not to say the things he was saying because they made feelings that scared me bubble up in me.

But the truth was, when I looked at him and he looked back at me, I felt stronger than I ever had before. I wanted him to keep speaking from the heart, keep talking about the way we made each other feel. I wanted him to hold my face with
both
of his hands. And I wanted him to kiss me because I knew that a kiss from Ian Hale would be unlike any kiss I had ever had or would ever have again.

But I didn't tell him those things. And he didn't do those things.

“I'm sorry,” he said. He lowered his hand and turned to the window.

“Don't be.” I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying any more.

When Ian turned back around, he looked at me, and I wordlessly reminded him that I was there to find Gil and would leave as soon as that was resolved. My time in Italy would be a story that no one could believe anyway. A dream so vivid that even I wouldn't be able to separate fact from fiction.

“I suppose I would rather keep my eyes on you to ensure your safety,” Ian finally said. “It's only right. Gil is your brother, after all.”

“So it's settled. I'm staying. Right here. By your side,” I told him.

“Yes.” His eyes were still soft. I couldn't deny how I felt when Ian looked at me that way. I knew he felt it, too. I wondered how long we could keep up the facade of being just teammates.

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now we have to figure out what the hell Bianca is doing.” He walked past me toward the door and I followed him out into the living room.

“That bitch! I totally saved her ass in Moscow, and now she's a traitor?” Carter was fuming. Apparently, Damon's update on Bianca was enough to distract him from the shock of my presence.

“We don't know enough yet,” Ian said. “Damon, what did you find on Scarpone?”

“I made some calls and tracked him to Parma, but my friend with the local police said they pulled his body from a burning car a week ago,” Damon replied.

Ian sighed and gave me an apologetic look. “Okay. Thanks.”

My heart sank at having lost what had been the only solid lead on Gil's location.

Claudia still had Bianca's face frozen on the screen. The black-and-white surveillance video didn't reveal too much, but from what I could tell, she was a small woman. With delicate, feminine features, it was hard to see her as a ruthless agent. Especially one who was spearheading a hunt for Ian's team.

“So how do we find out why they're after us?” I asked.

“We'll ask around,” Damon answered.

“You'll ask around?” I replied. “We need to smoke out a potential hazard to our team, not find a good place to eat on a Friday night.”

“Hey! Newbie!” Carter called to me. “You do whatever it is you do, and we'll do our job.”

“You're so grumpy after you've been shot at,” Eva yelled to Carter before she turned to me. “There are always a few locals who have their ear to the ground. Damon, Ian, Carter, me, we each have our go-to guys. We toss a little money their way, and they're willing to find out whatever we need.”

The group broke up, each pursuing individual tasks. Eva gestured at me, and I followed her to a set of chairs.

“Thanks,” I said. “Seriously, though, what is his problem?”

Even seated, Eva was wonderfully tall, just like Tiffany. “I wasn't joking when I said being shot at made him grumpy,” she explained. “But outside of that, Carter is a suspicious person. It's the training. It's what we do, living among the enemy. And then this skirmish happens and suddenly you're here? It's just his natural instinct to question you. Don't take it personally. It'll wear off. In the meantime, expect more attitude, but don't be afraid to give it back to him.” She leaned in closer. “What you did earlier was impressive. It's a natural skill? You don't have any training?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I've just always been observant. My dad used to have his buddies over to play poker when I was a kid. He would sit me on his lap and point out everything the guys did to show they were bluffing or had a great hand. I got really good at picking up little details about people,” I told her.

She nodded. “It's a great skill. Just make sure you're focusing on the right things. It may take a while before you can differentiate between good and evil, safe and dangerous, trustworthy and devious. In this industry, the lines can get blurred.”

Eva got up and disappeared into the kitchen. My mind was buzzing with everything we needed to figure out, and quickly. Was Bianca after us or Gil? Or both? Where was Gil? Was he in hiding or being held captive? And who was the mysterious Paolo?

I looked around the apartment. Ian and Damon were speaking quietly, Claudia was still engrossed in figuring out how Bianca's team had gotten past their security, and Eva, Adam, and Carter were huddled around the kitchen table salivating over weapons.

I needed a break. I stood up, crossed the room, grabbed a hoodie from the hook next to the front door, and slid into the hall.

I moved quickly down the stairs and outside with the hood pulled over my head. I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going, but I knew I needed a little space, even if just for a few minutes.

It was a charming town, like the Italy I had imagined—before joining a Rogue team and trying to stay alive—with basilicas and bell towers, ancient Roman ruins and museums, piazzas and streets filled with people. I watched a man adjust the display in his wineshop, and above him on the second-floor balcony, a woman was watering pots of geraniums hooked over the railings. I listened to the voices in the streets and decided that Italian was the most beautiful language I'd ever heard.

I wandered into a small park and sat on a bench. I only walked about three blocks. I had no intention of getting lost, especially considering the circumstances.

Mothers held babies on their laps, while older kids ran around them, playing. Although the sun was beginning to set, there was still plenty of time left for the little ones to get out all their energy before dinner. I watched the children, and it reminded me of afternoons swinging at the park and walking on the beach with my own mother. Even though I missed her, the memories always calmed me, probably because it was impossible for me to think of her without being reminded of the lullaby she always hummed. I had long since forgotten the words, but the sweet melody was there.

I took a deep breath and considered the last week of my life. How had I gone from having dinner at The Cheesecake Factory to flying to Italy and joining a secret organization within INTERPOL?

At least I wasn't in it alone. If I trusted my gut, I couldn't say I was 100 percent sure about Carter. My mom always told me that suspicious people were, in fact, suspicious themselves. But I knew I was absolutely sure I could trust Ian. As long as I had him, I was going to be okay.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell you're doing out here?” It was Ian. When I turned around, I could see he was panting.

“Have you been running?” I flipped the hood of my sweatshirt off my head.

“Yes, I've been running! I turn around and you're nowhere to be seen.” He sat down next to me. “You realize it's incredibly dangerous for you to walk around completely by yourself without telling anyone—especially since another Rogue agent is after us?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. After all we'd been through, I was not in the mood for another lecture.

He seemed to get the point, and his face softened. “Why did you leave? What's wrong?”

I sighed. “I made a decision less than a week ago to hop on a plane and come to Italy to find my brother. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. Everything at the hotel and the factory. Your team. You. It's all so much. I just needed some air.” I hugged my knees to my chest. “I'm doing my best to follow your orders, and I know we've made progress on the journal, but I left everything behind to find Gil and we aren't that much closer. It just makes me feel . . . helpless.”

“I'm sorry. I never considered you would feel that way. Rogue agents . . . we typically feel empowered when we give all that up. With no ties to anyone or anything, we find freedom in this life. At least that's what we tell ourselves.” Ian leaned back on the bench and looked at me.

“I'm sorry I just walked out.”

“It's understandable.”

We sat there for a moment in silence. It was comforting.

“Ian,” I began. I turned to face him on the bench. “Before we go back, I just wanted to say thank you. I just showed up here and took over and you kind of went along.”

“You didn't really give me a choice now, did you?” he smiled.

“No, I guess not. But you really made me feel like a part of the team when we were going through the journal. Believing that I was actually doing something to make a difference has helped.”