Page 142 of Exposé

"Goddammit, Nate, I'm not playing games here."

"Look, Ava's been finding some pretty damning things during her investigation. Callie tried to convince me to get the fuck out of your office." I dropped my hand to my side. "Happy?"

"Now we're going to be honest?" Keith glared at me as the two agents remained at either side of me, then turned his attention toward the men in the room. "Everyone out. Now."

Hesitation bled through the air, except for Santa Claus, who jumped from this seat and scrambled out the door before Keith could utter another word.

The others followed, their faces scrunched in confusion.

He doesn't want you to hear this, you dumb tyrants.

The last agent shut the door behind him, closing us into the security 'closet'. Keith cocked his head at me, his nostrils flaring in frustration. "Your job was to stop her from finding out too much, not come here to confirm it."

"What information were you hoping she wouldn't find?" I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. "Something about you?"

"Me?" His eyes narrowed, darkening beneath a heavy brow as a slow, cold smile crept across his face. "Do tell."

I shrugged. "Nothing that I know of."

"Tighten it up, Baker."

"But I'm curious about something."

"And what's that?" Keith moved back, resting his butt on the desk.

"At what point in time did you plan on telling me you were responsible for the death of my men?"

Keith's face turned ashen, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath his tightened tie. "Where did you hear that?"

I pulled out the dummy USB and put it down on the desk beside him. "You know, I used to think you had honor." My heart skipped a beat, and a biting anger prickled up my spine. "But you're nothing more than those worthless Generals who sit back in their posh chairs and issue commands from their air-conditioned rooms."

Keith tilted his head, a mocking smile on his lips. “Honor, huh? Let me tell you something, Barlowe." His voice grew colder. “I didn’t make it as far as I did by following some romanticized idea of duty. I didn’t survive Kandahar by holding hands with every soldier under me. I did what had to be done.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You were supposed to have our backs.”

"I did." His eyes burned into mine, ice-cold. "But you were their Lead, and because of that, we lost good men that day.”

My fist flew, my knuckles popping as it connected with his jaw. "Fuck you." He leaned to the side, and I grabbed his lapels, twisted him toward the door as it opened from the outside, and pushed him out into the hallway. "You don’t get to blame me for what happened in Kandahar. You’re the one who led us into that mess, who played politics and dropped us into a death trap."

I pushed him away, and he stumbled into the wall opposite me. The agents waiting in the hall rushed to my side. The one on the left took hold of my arm, and I landed a backward elbow into his nose, sending him crashing to the floor.

The next one broke out his baton and swung down.

Ducking out of the way, I seized his wrist and twisted it behind him, pushing upward until it popped. His screams echoed down the sterile hall.

"Enough." Keith held his hand out to the young security guy who stood up to me like a fighting Irish statue. Blood trickled down his chin as he moved it side to side, his jaw tightening. "You're a liability, Barlowe." He pointed his finger at me, his voice raised. One of the agents groaned on the floor, holding his gushing nose. "You’ve been a liability ever since you walked into this agency, thinking life played by a certain set of rules. But guess what?” His cut lip curled into a sneer. “There are no rules here.” He swiped his hand to the side, encompassing an entire group of people in his debauchery.

My lungs heaved as I shook my head, my knuckles popping under the strain. “I'm not going to sell my soul for whatever sick game you’re playing here.” I glanced down at the two men. Four more men rushed down the hall toward us.

He drew in a deep breath as though regret hung heavy within. "That's too bad. I had high hopes for you." Keith’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pulling you off this mission, and I’m revoking your access to headquarters." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “And don't worry about the journalist," he whispered. "A couple sliced wrists and warm bath water—everyone will think she was no better than her mother."

Security Santa Claus handed Keith a tissue, and he took it, wiping the blood off his face. "Now get out. I don’t want to see your face in here again.”

"If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I'll burn you alive on your own front lawn."

"Cute. But if you couldn't even protect your men in Kandahar, how do you expect to protect some dumb broad?"

"Come after her and find out."

---