Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (71 page)

I
'm still cold later
; much later when I'm alone in a new room, this one without mirrors or windows. I'm sitting up on the small cot in the dark, and though part of me just wants to
sleep
- to close my eyes and dream this all away - I know there's no way sleep is coming tonight.

Because temperature aside, there's a coldness inside of me that I know no sleep or blanket is going to warm.

Fuck him.

I'm angry. I'm angry at my circumstances, and Benson and the rest of Blackwater. And I'm livid at Javier. Javier the con man, the snake in the grass, and the criminal. The Agency always taught me that in the field, danger is always where you least expect it.

I want to choke on the sour laugh in my throat. What about the danger you see clear as fucking day that you choose to ignore?

I shut my eyes and count backwards from twenty, trying to calm myself down. I can hate Javier, and Benson, and every turn of every event of the last few days that brought me right here to this cell, but I know deep down that none of that is who and what I'm really mad at.

Because the one I'm the most furious at is myself.

I
hate
that I let myself fall into it all; to be swept up in the bullshit of Javier and this whole adventure. I hate that I forgot who I was, and who my family was, and all the reasons why this man was the worst possible thing that could have happened to me. And I let all that slip away inside because I got so tangled up in his
lies
. Hook, line, and sinker; I swallowed the whole damn thing, like a stupid little girl.

I hug my knees tighter to my chest, and wonder if the Agency even knows that I'm missing yet.

Even more, I wonder if my family knows.

I squeeze my eyes shut, burrowing my face into my knees as every single regret, and every single pang of guilt I ever had about not telling my sisters about what I did comes rushing back at once. I should have told them. I know it's against the rules, but I don't know how much the rules matter at this point, when I'm locked in a cell.

I should have told you; I'm so sorry.

I wonder what the Agency will tell them, when they eventually realize what's happened; when they realize I'm dead. Protocol is something stupid like a plane crash or an accident of some kind; something cliched that wraps the whole affair up neatly with a sad but final little bow.

And they'll never know. My own sisters will never know what happened to me, and that might be the thought that hurts the most.

I'm scrunching my face up, determined not to cry, when I suddenly hear a shout from outside my door. There's the sound of a scuffle, of muffled yelling, and then a sickening crunch.

I sit bolt upright; my hands gripping the edge of the cot and my face tight as I stare at the door and the silence on the other side.

Something slams against the door, making me jump. The crash comes again; the sound of someone trying to break down the door. I shiver as it hits again, and again, and then a fifth time, before the door suddenly gives way and comes splintering into the room along with the figure crashing through it.

You've got to be kidding me.

Javier stands from the ground, shaking his head and wincing as he looks up suddenly and meets my wide eyes with his own fiery ones; “Let's go.”

I stare at him in absolute shock; “
Excuse me?
”

“I said let's go, princess,
now!
” He runs to the door and looks quickly around the hallway before he ducks back inside and marches right over to the bed where I still haven't moved.

“We need to go righ-”

“What the fuck are you-” I start to bat his hands away, shoving away from him. But suddenly he grabs me, and I gasp as he yanks me into his arms and kisses me. He kisses me with a passion I've never felt before, with a hunger and a fervor that I could've never imagined. For a moment, I want to believe it; I want to let myself slip back into this and drown delightfully in the fairytale fantasy.

It's just for a moment though.

I shove myself back from him, and before I can stop myself, my hand is slapping him hard across the mouth; “Fuck you!”

“Chelsea!”

“You- You- you
set me up you fucking assh-
”

He grabs me and shoves me against the wall this time as his lips crash into mine again, and this time, I only whimper as I grab his face and kiss him back with every single ounce of my being.

“Koufax,” he growls, breaking away from my lips for a moment; “Koufax sold you out. He's here, with Blackriver.”

“
What?
” I stare at the man in front of me; the man that makes me feel things I've never felt, the man that fills me with contradictions and questions I've never had to face or answer.

But he's also the man I never want to stop kissing me; not ever.

“They think I'm back with them, Chelsea; it's why I couldn't say a damn thing earlier.” He kisses me again, and I moan into his mouth as his powerful arms draw me tight against him; “Believe me, I wanted to kill them all right there with my bare fucking hands.” He growls, nipping at my lips.

So, what happens now?” I look around the room at the smashed-in door and the guard slumped on the ground; “What are you going to do?”

Javier grins; “I'm a criminal, remember? I’m a thief, and I’m going to do what I do best.” He winks at me; “Take something I want from people who I don't think should have her.” He kisses me once more, fiercely, his arms holding me tightly as he sears his lips across my own.

“C’mon spy-girl, we're getting the fuck out of here.”

T
he plan is insane
. I know that beyond a shred of doubt, but it's not going to stop me from following through.

It's also not going to make me tell Chelsea what's really going on here, because if I did, she'd never go through with it.

But, as someone much wiser than me once said, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. And you know what? I'm really fucking tired of doing the same thing every time. I'm tired of being the bad guy, I'm tired of forcing myself to be the worst version of myself just to get myself through another day of hating who I am.

And so this time, I'm changing it up. This time, I choose to be the better version of me. It's not like it matters anymore anyways; none of it matters except making this right.

“Where are we going?” Chelsea yells next to me. We're in one of the Blackriver jeeps, the top down and the wind and the road roaring past us as I hurl us towards the airfield as fast as I can. In any other circumstances in the world, a drive through the night with the top down next to
this
girl would be fucking perfect. I've never actually had a night like that - one of those movie-scene memories with the perfect girl and the perfect night and all that shit. I've actually never had “perfect” at all.

That is, until I met Chelsea Archer.

“I'm making sure y-” I shake my head;
not yet
; “I’m making sure we get home! We're leaving this fucking country and these Blackriver assholes in the dust.”

It's a lie, but only half of one.

“We're going back to the States?”

I stare straight ahead, because I know if I look into those big blue eyes of hers, I'm lost; “Yeah, princess; the States.”

I'm thinking back on the first of three phone calls I made from the Blackriver outpost right before I knocked out the guard and ripped her the hell out of there. It's amazing how much change you can make happen with a single phone call sometimes; especially when that phone call is to the head of the C.I.A.

It's a phone call that's also the end of me. I know that, but I'm fine with it. Karma might be a
motherfucker
, but karma always gets paid.

And I’m
way
overdue.

We pull off the main road and roar up the dirt one through the trees to my airfield. Esteban's a good man, and sure enough, he's right where I asked him to be with the plane already revved up and ready. He's standing at the gate to meet us, face grim, and he slowly shakes his head at me as we screech to a halt.

I know he's not into the plan, he made that pretty clear over the phone, but I honestly don't care. I could try and explain to my old friend about debts and dues, and how I'm ready to settle up for the horrible shit I've done, but it'd be wasted breath. He doesn't have to agree with me. All he has to do is do me this one, last favor.

I grab Chelsea out of the jeep and we all run towards the plane. I can already see headlights back on the main road, and I swear under my breath as I help her up the steps into the plane. She's buckling her seatbelt, but when she sees Esteban come over to shake my hand and embrace me, her eyes narrow as confusion clouds her face.

“Wait, what are you doing?” She looks wildly at the headlights bouncing up the dirt road through the trees; “Get on the plane!”

But I know what happens if I get on that plane. And it's not jail that I'm worried about either, it’s the trouble and the hell that comes with me. If I get on that plane, she'll never be safe. They'll chase us forever, even if I do get thrown into jail with the key tossed away.

But if I stay here, and I get her the fuck out of here, she’s got a shot, and that’s one chance I'm willing to take. She's protected when she’s home.

I stay here. I take the heat and whatever hell and damnation comes with it.

Again, I’m way past due on karma.

“You're going to be fine, princess,” I say quietly before I press my lips to hers and kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with everything I have left, because Goddamnit, if I'm going to go down, I'm gonna get one more fucking perfect kiss with this perfect girl before I go.

There's so much more to say to her; so much I need to tell her, and so many things I want to explain. But there's just no more time.

“Get on the plane! Javier!!” She's screaming at me as Esteban climbs up into the seat next to her and revs the engine.

“Tell Logan and Quinn I’m sorry, for all of it.” She's starting to cry and I grab her face in my hands; “I'm sorry, Chelsea; I'm so sorry.”

“Javier!”

There’s headlights coming towards us, and it'll all be over soon. I kiss her once more; “I love you.”

I've literally never said those words to anyone in my life, and the pain is like a bullet through the heart. My face is grim as I nod to Esteban and the plane starts to move as I close the door and move away from the plane.

The engine is roaring as they start to taxi down the runways, and Chelsea's screaming something as she pounds on the window. I'm about three seconds away from falling apart right there, when she mouths words that I want to believe are something I hope they are, but they can’t be, because that's a wasted wish to think she feels the same after all the shit I've pulled.

The plane skims down the runways, bounces once, and then they're up.

And she’s gone.

I turn towards the sounds of jeeps crashing through the driveway gate, of yelling voices, of lights in my eyes, and calmly put my hands behind my head.

Now it's time to pay the reaper.

“
Y
ou're to be commended
, Agent.”

The Director's office is as cold and sterile as the rest of the building; all metal and glass and blank surfaces devoid of emotion. Because that's what the job is; a lack of emotion and a lack of empathy in order to get done what needs to be done.

Except a “lack of emotion” is basically the exact opposite of anything at all that happened on my first field mission. The Director doesn't know that, of course, but it's still making me feel impossibly small and unrewarding of any sort of “commending”.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You kept your head, you kept cool,and you followed your instincts.”

No, I didn't
.

My instincts were to get as far away from that man as possible, and telling my instincts to fuck off was the best thing I’ve ever done.

“I didn't-” I shake my head; “I didn't complete the mission, sir.”

The Director snorts a laugh and stands from his chair. He walks over to the dry bar in the corner of his office and holds an empty glass towards me; “Drink, Agent?”

How about tequila with a side of waves and a dash of sunset.

“No thank you, sir.”

He nods before turning and pouring himself a splash of scotch; “I'm not worried about the original mission, Agent Archer; we did one better. Javier Toro was a nuisance; a pain in my ass and a thorn in the Agency’s side. With all due respect to what happened to you with your mission, it was a gopher mission; basic retrieval for an asset I'd rather just have disappear off the face of the Earth than actually have to deal with.”

My hands clench into fists and I force myself to breath as I close my eyes and count backwards from twenty.

“I have no idea how you managed to persuade him to make that phone call, Agent, but Javier gave us
everything
; Koufax, Blackriver, all of it.” He sits back at his desk and frowns; “They're denying it, of course; saying this Benson character was a 'rogue operative' or whatever. It's all bullshit, obviously, but we'll have a hell of a time proving that.”

“What happens now?”

“With Koufax?” The Director's lips turn into a smile; “Colombian border control caught him coming through Cali and our teams there took over.” The Director smiles thinly; “Koufax disappears; end of discussion. I've got him on collusion, espionage, and treason. He's gone; he's a Goddamn ghost.” He sips his scotch and nods slowly at me; “Toro's phone call solved a lot of stuff, Archer. I'm glad you got out when you did, but you should know we were going to come for you no matter what.”

Of course you were,
I think, mentally rolling my eyes.

“We leave no one behind, Agent.”

Except we did.

We left the man I love.