Page 36 of Final Sins

Jason lurched toward the house. “Not happening.”

“Excuse me? I was an active CIA operative for years, not to mention my private work. I have tradecraft.”

“It’s not about your skills,” he explained quickly, recognizing the storm brewing in her expression. “I’m just not sure you’re their primary target. It’s more likely they’re after me, or possibly just Gravy.”

Alex’s anger deflated slightly, replaced by curiosity. “What do you propose?”

Jason hefted himself up the stairs and paused on the porch, turning to face her. “Paige and our new Seven-Five expert, Cody, think we should set up a fake safe house. Something convincing enough to draw out a Seven-Five operative.”

Alex’s eyes lit up with interest. “Go on.”

“We’d make it look like Gravy and I are holed up there, then leak information about the location. Wait for the rats to show up, then close the trap.”

“That’s good,” Alex nodded. “But how do we make it convincing enough?”

Jason shrugged. “That’s where we’re stuck. Any ideas?”

Alex’s lips curved into a sly smile. “As a matter of fact, yes. What if we use Gabriel’s tech against them?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know enough about his VR and holographic research to cobble together a display,” she explained. “We could project holograms of you and Gravy inside the safe house. It would be convincing enough to make the attackers believe you’re really there.”

“That’s brilliant. How long could you keep the illusion going?”

“Long enough to lure them in and spring the trap. Once they’re inside, thinking they’ve hit the jackpot?—”

“We’ve got them.”

Their strategizing was interrupted by the chime of Alex’s phone. She quickly scanned the message, her grin widening.

“It’s Liv,” she announced triumphantly. “She got the cup to a trusted lab. We should have DNA results sometime tonight.”

Despite his aching side, Jason felt a surge of optimism. For the first time in days, it felt like they were making real progress.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a good day,” he said, realizing as the words left his mouth that he wasn’t just talking about the case.

Alex’s answering smile confirmed that maybe, just maybe, she felt it too. As they headed inside to finalize their plans, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. And for once, he wasn’t in any hurry to analyze it or push it away.

Let Seven-Five come. With Alex by his side, he was ready for anything.

19

Two long days later,Alex’s muscles ached from hours of stillness as she crouched behind a weathered Ford pickup, her eyes fixed on the ramshackle house across the quiet residential street. The previous day’s mad dash back down the coast and the nerve-wracking infiltration of her own headquarters to gather as much of Gabriel’s equipment as they could, felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, she and Jason crouched in a sliver of shade, sweat pouring down their backs, watching lifelike holograms of him and Gravy moving about inside the decoy safe house, visible through grimy windows.

She allowed herself a moment of pride. The AI-generated traffic cam footage of Jason and Gravy driving through the San Fernando Valley would have set Seven-Five’s facial recognition software ablaze. Now, all that remained was to spring the trap.

A hot breeze ruffled her hair, carrying the scent of nearby ocean mixed with urban decay. This neighborhood had seen better days, all peeling paint and chain-link fences. Perfect camouflage for their operation, but it made her skin crawl with unease. Bright and sunny this place was not.

She glanced at Jason. Jaw tight, he scanned the street. His earlier words echoed in her mind: “I’ll handle the retrieval. You stay back, no matter what.”

She had nodded, agreeing outwardly while knowing full well she’d intervene if things went south. He might have years of black ops experience, but she wasn’t a helpless civilian. The weight of her weapon against her hip was a reassuring presence.

Movement at the end of the block caught her attention. Two men in scuffed work boots and faded mechanics’ coveralls ambled toward the house, tool belts slung low on their hips. To any casual observer, they’d pass for local handymen. But Alex noted the too-careful way they moved, the constant scanning of their surroundings.

“Showtime,” she breathed.

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