Page 31 of Crossfire

I clung to these words, to the relief of survival. Mom and Grams still had me. This past year, I’d taken life for granted, hadn’t I? Caught up in my own struggles, I’d forgotten its preciousness.

But now, fate had granted me a second chance.

Yet, as shock and gratitude faded, an unbearable ache took their place as the full significance of what happened crashed over me. That man, “Bob,” coming for me, the evil glint in his face as he raised the gun—it all flooded back.

He’d appeared from nowhere. If I hadn’t fought back, I’d be on a morgue slab now.

The thought was too much.

I buried my face in my hands, body shaking with sobs. I surrendered to the pain, grieving until my eyes ran dry. As I sat in the cooling water, a chilling question surfaced.

Who is Bob, and why did he try to kill me today?

14

GRAYSON

“Look, I only have a few minutes before I have to leave for a meeting with other agencies,” Daniel said. The harsh yellow fluorescents cast an eerie glow over the room, turning his silver hair and beard into a ghostly, almost-greenish sheen—as if he’d aged decades in the span of hours.

“I’ve pulled in the FBI, DHS, CTC, the DOD, and others,” Daniel continued. “After what happened, there’s a chance the DHS takes the lead,” Daniel said.

Bureaucratic red tape—the bane of my existence. Every second we wasted arguing over jurisdiction was another second Vosch slipped further from our grasp.

Seth, Daniel, and I sat around a square table in the dimly lit back room of an unassuming office, one of the safe houses the CIA discreetly maintained across the city. Meticulously swept for surveillance devices and under the vigilant watch of hidden cameras, the space offered a fortress of privacy, where we could speak freely about the classified operation.

The air was oppressive with the threat that another agency could steal the case out from under us.

“That’s bullshit,” I said. “This is our case, so what changed?”

“For one, interrogations with the buyer, who was scheduled to meet Vosch in that garage, tell us the attack Vosch is supplying arms for is more imminent than we realized.”

When I opened my mouth to protest, Daniel held his palm up.

“That said,” he continued, “speed might be on our side; we’re more familiar with Vosch and his organization, so we may remain in charge.”

“This is what I hate about bureaucracy. We’re spending so much time deciding whose fire hydrant it is that the guy we’re chasing is six cities away before we decide who gets to chase him.” That, and how the red tape only seemed to appear when things went wrong. If things were going right, it had been my experience that agencies looked the other way and did not claim territory like this.

“We’re not sitting with idle hands,” Daniel assured.

Seth was still working with the team on the surveillance footage, Daniel was working with the FBI on forensics, and I was still working on finding out Ivy’s identity.

“We’ll get Vosch,” Daniel assured. “We just have to be patient while the bureaucracy plays out.”

“And what if someone else takes this case from us?” I couldn’t live with that. I had never screwed up something so badly. “I need to be the one to put the bullet in this guy’s skull.”

“Maybe you should sit this one out. You survived. Take that as a win.”

“He’s alive; it’s a loss. I’m not stopping until he’s dead,” I protested.

“You know most agents, when they fail at a target, they accept it as part of the job. You obsess. You let it consume you.”

“I’m fine. So, tell us what to do to keep the mission with us.”

Daniel sighed. “Look, the DHS won’t push us out. We’ve got the expertise and intel they need. Cutting us out could just put lives at risk.”

“But it’s possible?” Seth pushed.

Seth’s bleach-blond hair was cropped so short, it bordered on being buzzed, accentuating the angular contours of his face. His matching eyebrows framed his piercing light-blue eyes that gave him an air of innocence at first glance, but Seth’s powerful jawline and bulging muscles hinted at his strength and determination.

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