Page 31 of Final Sins

“No, your style is more ‘boom first, ask questions later.’” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to soften her tone. “Psychological warfare might take longer, but it’s safer and more effective in the long run.”

Jason’s jaw clenched.

She spread her hands wide. “Look, I don’t like sharing airspace with you any more than you like sharing with me, but how about we act like grown-ups and go with the best plan?”

He muttered something under his breath, then sighed heavily. “Okay. That’s not a bad point.”

A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft lapping of waves against the cliffs below. Finally, Jason straightened.

“I’m turning in,” he announced, heading for the stairs. “Try not to overthink us into oblivion while I’m gone.”

Alex watched him disappear into the darkness of the upper level, then sank onto the oversized couch with a groan. “Smart move, Mendoza,” she chided herself. “Running off your only companion.”

But as annoying as Jason could be, she had to admit he wasn’t entirely wrong.

And then, with a jolt of clarity that left her both amused and dismayed, Alex realized: neither was she.

She leaned back, letting her head rest against the soft cushions. The realization settled over her like a heavy blanket—what they had here were two confirmed loners, each wrestling for control.

As her eyelids grew heavy, Alex’s last coherent thought was that this partnership might prove to be her greatest challenge yet.

16

Jason stood at the window,his reflection a ghost in the fog-shrouded glass. He’d slept surprisingly well, lulled by the high-tech security features and the rhythmic crash of waves. But this morning, unease coiled in his gut.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing as the movement pulled at his side. Lifting his shirt, he examined the neat row of stitches along his ribs. He’d have to be careful not to tear them open. The bullet graze was healing well after three days, but the area was still tender and bruised.

Lowering his shirt, he sighed. Bridger and the rest of the team would be chomping at the bit to jump in, guns blazing. But with Jane on the verge of delivering twins, Jason needed them to stay put, to keep her safe. Which left him here, squaring off against a shadowy organization with more resources than the GDP of numerous countries.

“One hand tied behind my back,” he muttered, tension knotting his shoulders.

The soft pad of bare feet on hardwood pulled him from his brooding. Alex shuffled into the living room, dark hair tousled from sleep, clutching a steaming mug of coffee like a lifeline.

“Morning, sunshine,” he quipped, forcing a lightness he didn’t feel.

Her mock glare didn’t quite hide the amusement in her eyes, and he felt a surprising twinge of ... something. Comfort? Camaraderie?

“So, what’s our game plan?” she asked, curling up on the couch.

Keep people safe. That was about all he had. He was a protector, always had been, but this ... this felt like trying to hold back the tide with his bare hands.

“First things first,” he said, pushing aside his doubts. He pointed at the kitchen. “I need a refill. Back in a sec.”

Jason returned from the kitchen, fresh coffee in hand, and settled into an armchair across from Alex. He took a thoughtful sip before speaking.

“Before we dive into planning a potentially dangerous op, I think we should get to know each other’s backgrounds a bit better. It’ll help us work together more effectively.”

Alex nodded, her fingers tapping against her mug. “Makes sense. What do you want to know about RAVEN?”

Jason shook his head. “Actually, I’m more interested in your time with the Agency. That’s where you honed your field skills, right?”

Surprise flickered across her face before she composed herself. “Fair point. Well, I spent five years with the CIA, mostly in Eastern Europe and the Middle East. My specialty was deep cover operations—infiltration, asset recruitment, intel gathering.”

She paused, taking a sip of coffee. “I’ve got experience in surveillance, counter-surveillance, and covert communications. Decent hand-to-hand combat skills, though I prefer to avoid direct confrontation when possible. I’m proficient with mostsmall arms, but my real strength is in improvisation and adaptability.”

Jason listened intently, mentally cataloging her skills. His gaze drifted to the scar on her inner arm, visible where her sleeve had ridden up.

“And you left with a souvenir,” he observed, nodding towards the mark.

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