The Animal Under The Fur Page 9

  Cracking my knuckles under the table, I imagine all the things I could do to him if there weren’t witnesses. My gaze goes to the few wisps of hair desperately clinging to his head. I’d shave those off first. Make him watch in a mirror as I take away the last thing I know makes him feel young.

  And then there’s Jules…

  Loveable, quick-mouthed, no-reason-not-to-trust-her Jules. I can’t even bring myself to look at her. She’s my right-hand lady. The person I depend on to provide me with all my information. She’s supposed to be the one truth in my life. Did she know about this?

  I hold back a disgusted snort.

  I should have known better.

  I work in an industry of lies, and even if I didn’t, relying on anyone is a fool’s mistake, which currently makes me a big fat buffoon.

  David Axel’s voice continues to fill the room, but I can’t concentrate on his words, my attention distracted by the sensation of being watched, or more specifically hunted. With my nerves set to buzz, I glance up, not surprised to find 3’s eerily composed face pinned to mine, but even with her mask, there’s no hiding the malice swirling in those sapphire eyes.

  Yeah, well, feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.

  My gaze drifts over the top half of her that rests above the table, memories of her walking into Axel’s office replaying like a shameful dirty dream. The first thing I’d seen were long, toned legs fitted in dark-washed jeans, before traveling over a tight gray T-shirt hugging hills and valleys that teased under a black leather jacket. My body went rigid, pleased, before my gaze continued up to find gleaming copper hair framing a delicate familiar face. And just as quickly as my blood heated, it got doused in ice-cold grandma bathwater. Nashville poop Brown had made her way toward me, and everything in me recoiled.

  Despite how my body initially reacted, I hate her.

  Hate this agency.

  Hate every single sentence being said in this stupid room.

  I’ve spent days trying to clear my head of this witch, and now…now I’m being forced to work with her.

  Yeah, this isn’t going to happen.

  “No,” I state flatly, interrupting Ploom muttering on about how this will be good for our records.

  “What do you mean, no?” Ploom asks, all eyes landing on me, and I want to strangle him for looking surprised by my reaction. He knows how mad I was after Hong Kong. He was on the receiving end, for Christ’s sake.

  “No. As in, no, I’m not doing this.”

  There’s a pregnant pause as Axel and Ploom share a glance.

  “I’m afraid declining this assignment isn’t an option,” Axel says.

  “Well, I just did,” I say. “Sorry to have wasted your time, but I think we can all agree this is not going to happen, nor will it have any sort of successful ending.”

  “Carter.” Ploom clears his throat while smoothing down his lopsided silver tie. “To explain further what David said, the companies are mandating this. They already have most of it planned, and it’s going forward with or without your full cooperation.”

  The room grows out of focus. A blinding flash of a bulb.

  With or without… What the f—

  “I’m a little confused why our previous assignment wasn’t considered a success for the companies to apply with other SI6 and COA operatives,” 3 pipes in. “Carter and I proved that it can work. Why do we need to prove it again?”

  I’m pissed that I’m both grateful and impressed with her argument.

  “While that’s a valid point,” Axel agrees, “this next assignment is an extension of the one you completed in Hong Kong, making it rather time sensitive. It wouldn’t make sense to brief a new team.”

  “Well, considering I’m no longer full time with the agency, and have in my contract the right to refuse assignments…” She drums her nails on the table. “I’m going to have to turn this one down.”

  For the first time since all this started, Axel shifts uncomfortably, and the movement makes me realize how much she has the men on her team by the balls. I hold back an eye roll. Good luck trying to grab mine, honey.

  “I’m sorry, 3,” he says, “but for this specific assignment, that option has been withdrawn. If you remember, there’s also a clause in your contract that overrules agents if the board of directors get involved.”

  The energy in the room plummets to freezing as 3 grows deathly still. Akoni inches slightly away from her while I bite back a grin. Despite both of our predicaments, I can’t help feeling smug that little Miss Freelance-Special-Pants isn’t so special after all.

  “You’re going to have to work together on this.” Axel holds her sharpened stare. “We all will.”

  “This is absurd,” 3 grinds out, her fury finally showing. “Don’t you see you’re already sabotaging the mission? Carter and I can’t work together. It’s impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible where you’re concerned.” Her group director looks at her with a soft smile.

  I think I just vomited in my mouth.

  “As much as it pains me to admit this,” I chime in, “I agree with 3. We are solo Ops.”

  “Who both have had partner training,” Ploom adds.

  “Years ago,” I counter. “And that was with people who could be cooperative. No offense, darling.” I glance to 3, catching her fingers curling into a fist on the table. “But I have a feeling you wouldn’t use my hand if it was extended to help you out of a burning tar pit.”

  Akoni snorts next to her, and she flashes him a steely glare, quickly having him swallowing back the sound.

  I shake my head. This chick needs to unclench a little.

  “Despite you two starting off on a rocky foot,” Axel cuts in, “I’m confident in each of your abilities to get this done. You’re both the top Ops in your agencies and know how to put personal issues aside for the sake of a job. Or am I mistaken?” He pointedly looks at 3.

  Her nostrils flare once, twice, before giving the smallest nod.

  “Carter?” Ploom glances to me, and the room hangs in a deafening silence waiting for my answers.

  Say no. Say it. Tell them all to go to hell, and then get up and leave. No, run! Run far away and never look back. Do absolutely anything, but say—

  “Fine,” I grunt. “It’s not like it can get any worse.”

  Famous last words.

  24

  Carter

  SI6 HEADQUARTERS

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS: 1035 HOURS

  “What!” 3 and I both blurt out.

  Jules pauses, flipping through the files that are lit up in the center of the darkened conference room. “Newlyweds,” she repeats in an I’m-so-innocent-I’m-guilty tone. “You’ll be paired up as newlyweds.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Carter.” Ploom sighs. “Please let Jules finish the debrief.”

  “But—”

  “It’s done,” he cuts in. “Everything you’re about to hear is happening whether you curse and throw punches the whole time, so I suggest you let us finish so we all can get out of here quicker. No offense.” He glances to David Axel, who raises his hands as if to say We understand each other.

  Crossing my arms, I slouch farther into my seat, ignoring the fact I’ve just mirrored 3’s exact movements. Instead I glare daggers at Jules. It might be dark in here, but there’s enough glow from the hovering projection to make out the twinkle of pleasure in her hazel eyes.

  You’re dead, I mouth to her.

  She merely winks before allowing David Axel and Ploom to go through the broader part of our assignment. As Akoni stands to hand out the briefing tablets, they each take turns explaining that we’ll have to do most of our own recon on site for this mission, making it a longer trip than usual.

  I mean really, they should just pull off my fingernails one at a time. It would be less painful.

  “As we’re all aware,” Axel says, clicking to display an image of Kam, “our last target, Chenglei Kam, was successfully put down. We didn’t get the
code to retrieve the formula, but the Sunday auction was momentarily cancelled, and the DNA samples that 3 swiped were enough for our client to gain access to certain information. It helped us to move forward and bring us to our current assignment.” A new image of data lights up, matching what’s on the tablet in my hand. “There seems to be a silent partner aiding Kam’s biochemical weapon.”

  Swiping through my screen, I study the multitude of pictures and articles, a little astonished with what’s on them.

  “I can see you’re all a bit surprised at the name connected to this,” Axel continues. “Which is understandable since a group like this is rarely involved in such business, but we believe that’s why they saw the benefit in it. The silent partner is the Oculto Cartel in Mexico.”

  Surprised is putting it mildly. I’ve never heard of a drug cartel, especially such a notorious one, that has ever been attached to biochemical before. Physical weaponry sure, but biochemical? A picture of Manuel Mendoza, the current leader of the Oculto, is featured at the top. His square-jawed face and weathered brown skin would almost be warming if not for the mangled scar on his neck and his hardened gaze. Even with his bright-blue eyes you can tell he’s a man whose soul has long since been sucked away.

  “Our intelligence found that the Oculto have been responsible for perfecting the formula and has been working on manufacturing the weapon locally.” Ploom pushes up his wire-rimmed glasses and continues where Axel left off. “If this is indeed the case, what we need to find is the lab it’s being created in, acquire a sample before shutting it down, and take out this second-party threat. The fact that we’re only finding out about them now shows we’re not going up against amateurs. They are known for their abilities to stay hidden and keep quiet, and with Kam’s death, the Oculto will be lying even lower until things cool down. Which is where we come in. Their stillness buys us time to find their lab before they move or sell off the product at another silent auction. Kam and his company were the face of this business, had the connection to traders. The Oculto were behind-the-scenes research and manufacturing. This will be their first time handling this side of things, and we’re hoping their greenness causes them to drop trails, leading us straight to them.”

  “Questions so far?” Axel leans back in his chair.

  “Why would a drug cartel switch to biochemical?” 3 asks.

  “We’re not too sure, but ever since Mendoza took over from the long-ruling Vicente Rios, the business of the Oculto has slowly shifted away from drugs and into this territory,” Axel explains.

  3 looks back at her tablet, her eyes slightly unfocused, as if she’s trying to piece something together. “Do we know what form this weapon is active in or what it exactly does?”

  “Unfortunately, we’re still unclear on these details. We just know it’s being marketed as something to advance the power of armies by tenfold,” Axel says.

  3 frowns. “Advance the power of armies…and we’re sure it’s biochemical?”

  He nods. “Yes, that we know for certain. From what was pieced together from the few files we were able to retrieve of Kam’s, it has something to do with DNA mutation. There’s been talk of a possible virus, but again, we’re not one hundred percent certain. This will be up to you and Carter to go in and finish filling in the pieces.”

  “Can we get access to the acquired Kam files?” I ask.

  “Yes, of course.” Axel nods to his tech guy. “Akoni, can you gather that for 3 and Carter?”

  “Sure thing.” Akoni types something on his tablet.

  “Are there any more questions regarding the Oculto?” Axel asks.

  3 and I shake our heads.

  “Great.” He nods to Jules. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course.” She sits up straighter, covering the center of the room with new images as she launches into the specifics of the mission. “The Oculto’s operation is said to be located near a small town set high in the Mexican hills, called Cuetzalan, which resides in the state of Puebla. It’s about a hundred and twenty miles outside of Mexico City. Perfect for them to have access to airports and deliveries, but far enough away to be secluded and aware when visitors come to town. It’s also close to the ocean for port access.”

  Images of a small, quaint town lights up the room. It looks like a place, on a different occasion, I would love to spend days exploring. The narrow streets are filled with cobblestone paths that wind around whitewashed houses and red-tiled roofs. The whole city of sixteen thousand residents is surrounded by lush green mountains, making it hard to imagine the Oculto being a resident.

  “We don’t know exactly where in the mountains the lab is.” Jules flips to a map of an expansive jungle terrain. “But we’ll be starting in Cuetzalan and taking expeditions to a few different suspect locations.” Six red dots light up the areas. “Cuetzalan is known to have a few tourists throughout the year, especially of the honeymoon variety. Which is why”—Jules slips me a quick grin—“as I mentioned previously, you’ll be going as newlyweds.”

  I swallow down a bit of bile as Jules explains that she and Akoni will be traveling with us but staying at a different hotel in town. They will be there under the guise of photographic journalists, and we’ll have a backup team standing by in Puebla for when, or if, we need to call them in.

  This is when I start to drown her out as thoughts of how exactly I’ll get through this undisclosed amount of time with 3, as my wife, fill my head.

  How will we survive the first night without one of us stabbing the other in our sleep?

  With 3’s attention on her tablet, I steal another moment to study her. In the muted lights, her hair has turned a darker maroon, and the glow from her screen highlights a scattering of freckles that are normally hidden. On first appearance she looks like a girl who should be laughing more than she frowns, and I find myself wondering if she ever does. What’s she like when she leaves this place? Does she have friends? The capability to keep them?

  Following her graceful neck down to her exposed skin that’s framed by her T-shirt’s collar, I glide over the hint of cleavage peeking out and am brought back to my initial attraction to her at the gala.

  Maybe we just misunderstood each other.

  Maybe she’s not that big of a beast.

  Maybe we actually might get along and have some fun on this assignment.

  Looking back up, I find a cold blue glare stabbing into mine, 3 more than aware of where my attention was just resting.

  I don’t know what makes me do it, but there’s something about this girl that provokes my worst self, because before I can stop, I slide her a crooked half smile and wink.

  And I gotta say, the dripping disdain that pools in her eyes afterward made it completely worth it.

  With the room’s lights brightening, our debrief ends, each of us instructed to meet in Mexico City in four days’ time before heading to Cuetzalan. Standing with a stretch, I make my way to talk to Jules, but before I can utter a word, 3 stomps toward me.

  “Just so we’re clear,” she says, her voice barbed wire. “I don’t like you. I don’t like your methods, and if you get in the way of me completing this mission, I will not hesitate to remove the one thing from your body that I know gives you your sole reason for existing.”

  I cock a brow. “I’m flattered you’re even thinking about my thing, sweetheart.”

  My head being slammed to the conference table and my arm being twisted to a near breaking point catches me off guard.

  “And whatever you do,” 3 hisses in my ear, her impressively strong grip tightening and making me grunt against the pain. “Do not call me sweetheart, honey, or babe ever again.” With a final push, she lets go and stalks from the room.

  Pushing myself up, I calmly straighten my shirt and smooth back my hair. “Right,” I say, turning to the shocked-silent audience. “Who do I see about getting a divorce?”

  25

  Nashville

  Sitting on my couch in a white T-shirt and yoga pants
, I flip through the files on my tablet that outline our undercover profiles. They assigned me one of my usual aliases, but now my Ms. Stephanie Keller will be Mrs. Stephanie Keller Nickels. Can I get a million barf bags, please? Carter is Benjamin Nickels, owner of a small Internet startup based out of Paulo Alto, and I’m his lovely new bride trying to make it as an interior decorator. I’m playing someone a bit older, like usual, and Carter someone a bit younger. We’re twenty-eight and have been together for four years. The quaint and vanilla couple met in college in San Francisco and tied the knot this past month. It sounds like a happy, peaceful life.

  I hate it.

  I’ve never been one for white picket fences, two-point-five kids, and flowers on my birthday. Considering it isn’t even the real date, I never saw the point in celebrating. Ceci of course never misses the day, but I suspect it’s because she revels in any chance to sing loudly off key, embarrassing me in a public. A lesser mortal wouldn’t stay alive to croon the second verse, but Ceci’s different, and she unfortunately knows it. I’ve worked hard to limit close relationships in my life, and considering how much of a handful she is, I was right to do so. I don’t know how anyone has mental or emotional space for more. No wonder my parents couldn’t handle raising a kid.

  Pushing my new profile aside, I look back at the information on the Oculto cartel. Manuel Mendoza’s image stares out. With pitch-black hair, weathered olive skin, and a low brow that seems to rest in a permanent scowl, he seems every bit the mob boss. But what’s more unnerving are the piercing blue eyes inside his shadowed features. The contrast of light to dark make them that much more focal, and as I stare into them, I find myself unable to look away.

  Like a bulb breaking, I get a flash of similar eyes, but warmer. They are filled with love and awe, and I blink, startled, dropping the tablet.

  My skin erupts in a chill as I stand, having no idea where that memory came from. Fervently glancing back at the screen that rests innocently on my couch, I hesitate to pick it back up. Whatever that was, I don’t want it to happen again.