Charlie

“Yes, I understand.” My mind is at war with my mouth. I can’t seem to say all the things I want to. It’s years and years of perfecting my self-control, now coming to bite me in the ass. The truth is . . . I don’t understand one single thing.

“We’re not fully removing you, Charlie.” Tom sounds as though he actually believes the bullshit he’s spewing.

“I’m not sure we have the same definition of ‘off the case’.”

My debrief lasted an additional four days. Since Vanessa needed to go over all of my notes, I was required to play more of their mindfuck games. It’s the one part of this job I truly hate. It’s hours of questioning, a polygraph, and then more interrogation about what you already said. It’s easy to lie, but when you’re forced to remember each detail of a lie, you’re likely to slip. They know this. We all know this, but I’ve been trained since I was a kid to believe the lie. To make that my truth. It’s the reason any of us can pass a polygraph with flying colors. It’s true to me, because I’ve made it so. With that, though, comes loneliness.

Even after I told the actual truth—no spin, no half stories, no chance of tripping up, even though that would never happen—they remove me from the case completely. I want to lose it.

“It’s a break. A chance to recharge.”

“Don’t insult me, Tom. Placating me isn’t really your style.” I sneer.

“You’re too close to the target, the case, the entire thing. You missed check-ins. Your handler was left in the dark too often. You were reckless. You lost Mazir and compromised your cover. There are more minuses than plusses in these columns. The Director wants you off the case. That’s the end of this discussion.”

I hold myself together. There’s a bigger picture, one they fail to see. So I’ll take my lumps—for now.

My mouth forms a thin line. “I can’t say anything because you’ve made your decision. I’d like to take leave from the agency.”

Tom is good. He doesn’t flinch or appear at all surprised. His eyes don’t shift or widen. But his cheek twitches. It’s a small sign, but it gives me a tiny thrill that I was able to catch him slightly off guard.

“Charlie,” my handler, Mandi, says calmly. “Don’t.”

She’s been my partner, so to speak, for six years. I’ve been fortunate to have Mandi since the beginning. My life has been in her hands. She’s guided me, made my covers reality, and now she’s turning her back on me.

There was no question as to why I had to stay quiet. I wasn’t dark; I was playing a part. My cover had been carefully crafted. When my father was killed, it was imperative I became Fahima. I had to become an orphan who wanted to serve and belong, as well as help with the missions of her country. I needed to hate freedom. I needed to hate my country in order to infiltrate them. Any means necessary was what I was told. Apparently, that included rules I was unaware of. But her testimony sealed my fate.

I stand with new life flowing through my veins. I didn’t think the decision would be reversed, which is why I already put plans in motion. Mark should be here later today, and I’ll continue my work without the agency behind me. “I’ve already filled out the paperwork.” I hand the leave request over. “I think I’ve earned a vacation in the sun and sand, don’t you?”

Mandi’s brown eyes give too much away. It’s why she couldn’t be in the field. She knows me, though. Our jobs required us to trust each other. I don’t think for one second she believes this is over.

She would be right.

“Charlie, I think you’re making a mistake.” Mandi’s voice shakes at the end. “I know you feel—”

“You have no idea how I feel,” I cut her off. “I’m taking some time to spend with my mother. I need to grieve the loss of my father. My life has been this case. My life has been this job. You decided I failed; therefore, I’m going to take some time for myself. I’ll be out of the country, which is on the paperwork. I plan to enjoy the sun.” I say it with such conviction that I almost believe myself. Almost.

Tom stares me down without giving anything away and signs the document. “We’ll be waiting for you to come back. I urge you not to miss the check-in. Forty-five days, and if you miss a single one for any reason, I won’t have options. I can grant you an extension, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing you prior to the first six months.”

Meaning that if I don’t check in, I won’t be able to come back at all. I’m fairly certain he has his suspicions as to what I’m planning. Any spy would do this. He would do this. There’s more at stake than just finding my father’s killer. It’s also about taking a very deadly and blood thirsty terrorist down. Even though there’s nothing concrete connecting Mazir to my father’s death, I’m certain he was. Call it a hunch. Call it intuition, but either way, I’ll have my answers soon.

“Thank you.” I stand, grab my clutch, and walk away, completely on my own.

Well, except for the former Navy SEAL who’s on his way.

What was I thinking when I called him?

One week later

He’s late.

I don’t do late.

I check my watch for the tenth time, then my phone, and my watch again. He’s got exactly one minute.

My phone rings and Mark’s name pops up.

“You better have some fantastic excuse planned,” I warn.

“How many more times are you going to check your watch?”

I scan the area.

“You’re spying on me.” I laugh.

“I out-spooked the spook.”

He seems genuinely pleased with himself. I’m impressed. Well, and irritated with him—and myself.

“I didn’t know I had to be on my A-game with you.” I fight the smile that forms knowing he’s watching. Last thing I need is him to have a read on me.

But the reality is that I like him. He makes me laugh, which isn’t easy. The adrenaline rush wore off on the plane, which caused my impenetrable armor to develop a small gap. He found it and used it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it a little. Feeling like a woman, allowing myself to laugh, joke around a little, just have fun. Mark knows who I am. I don’t have to lie and use my alias. There is no need to talk about antiques, which I hate. They seriously gave me the worst cover story ever. I would’ve rather had to study biology over antiquities.

“I’m more than just a pretty face, Charlene.”

This is going to be when I kill him. My real name is my secret. My mother still feels the need to use it but never around anyone else, and sometimes not even in private. There’s something about my name. It’s sacred to me, and the only piece of me I’ve never given away.

“You guessed it.” I roll my eyes.

“Nope, you just told me I didn’t.” I continue to look around for him.

I grab my coffee cup and put my earpiece in. Once I stand, I go on autopilot, trying to look like the antiquities dealer I’m supposed to be. My long black hair is in a low bun. My knee-length pencil skirt clings tightly to my legs, and my pearls adorn my neck. I smile to the cute little girl sitting with her mother who’s too busy on her phone to notice the chocolate all over the girls face. I hoist my Michael Kors tote over my shoulder and scan the area as I walk. “Are we going to play this game or are you going to be a man and face me?” I ask.