Page 47 of Crossfire

“I suppose leadership is forgetting that everyone who tried to get Vosch before me came back in a body bag.”

“This was a hard job,” Daniel said in a softened tone. “Don’t take offense.”

How could I not? I had dedicated my life to this organization, taking orders and never challenging or pushing back. When they said they wanted something done, I carried it out to a T. This was my first failure, and now, they were treating me like I was on probation.

How insulting.

It was like a kid getting straight A’s the entire semester, and then they flunk one test, and their parents ground them for the summer. Then again, maybe I deserved it. I had screwed up afailure is not an optionmission. Maybe I was just being defensive here.

I scrubbed my face.

“Fine. Tell me what these requirements are.”

“It needs to look like a home invasion or burglary. Maybe even an accident, but nothing that looks like the CIA was there. Stage the scene after to make it look sloppy.”

“Why?”

“You think they tell me everything?”

It had been my experience that when the CIA attempted to conceal the true source of someone’s death, the target was of higher value.

Perhaps succeeding at this would redeem me in the eyes of Daniel and leadership. The CIA was all I had. If I failed again, they might no longer see me as reliable, and if I wasn’t reliable, I wasn’t valuable to them.

If that happened, best-case scenario, I would lose my job and my only purpose in life—to end the lives of as many wicked men as possible while I was still breathing. Worst case, they might decide I knew too much and needed to be taken out to protect the CIA’s secrets.

When I had joined the CIA, I was assured repeatedly that the CIA never targeted their own. But over the last few years,I suspected otherwise as operatives fell victim to unfortunate circumstances.

I didn’t particularly care to die.

And I certainly would not fail again—that was for damn sure.

I needed to prove to them I was still the reliable agent that I always had been.

“What about a regular robbery? Or carjacking?” I pondered.

“Too risky with witnesses. This needs to be intimate and decisive.”

I nodded.

“There’s one more thing.” Daniel used hisyou’re not going to like thistone.

There weren’t a lot of things that could get under my skin, so I couldn’t wait to hear what he was about to say.

“Our target is a female,” Daniel said.

A dread crept into my stomach. What if the CIA had already found out Ivy’s identity and determined that she was a risk? A risk worth eliminating.

The CIA had a policy to not kill innocent civilians. If anything, Ivy would become a witness, and even if she had no information of value to the CIA, again, no innocent civilians were supposed to be targets.

That was one rule I’d consistently seen them uphold.

It was bad enough when they died as collateral damage in a bombing or shoot-out; the CIA tried to prevent that at all costs, not only because it was against the code of ethics, but practically speaking, their families would scream outrage, bringing unwanted attention and questions.

And yet apprehension coursed through my veins like a lead poison spreading toxins.

“I don’t kill women. I told you that on day one.”

“Women are just as capable of being violent criminals as men.”

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