Page 101 of Only the Wicked
How do I come back from this? What’s my next step?
Arms folded, his back to me, he claims the high ground without even trying. In a low tone that forces me to strain to hear him, he asks, “How much did they pay you to sleep with me?”
I rise slowly, reclaiming some semblance of equal footing. The plush carpet silences my approach as I position myself where he can see my reflection in the glass. There’s power in making him look at me, even if it’s just my reflection.
“It wasn’t like that. I promise.”
You did your job. There she is. That’s the inner Syd who gets me through the downs—the same voice that talked me through that extraction in Istanbul when everything went sideways and I had to improvise with a paperclip and a tourist map.
We’re sluts for hire now? And that’s my conscience dressed in Caroline’s disdain.
Classic Farm analysis—favoring the ethical implications over the operational success metrics. This is why field agents and analysts rarely date. Different frameworks.
My chest aches. Yet another sign I screwed up because I’m emotional and that wasn’t the assignment. In fact, the assignment is to not get emotional. But it happened.
I left the CIA to join KOAN because I believe in the mission. There’s a need for an investigative team searching where the government either can’t or won’t. When powerful people have no accountability, they can’t be trusted.
“Should I leave the room and let you pack?”
I lift my head to find he hasn’t moved, his back to me, anger wafting off him like steam from a hot spring.
There was never going to be a relationship between us. Get it together and focus on what’s important.
Tell him the whole truth. It’s your best bet.
“I applied for an intern position within your company. I didn’t get the position.”
“You had to have lied on your resume.”
“I did.”
“It’s amazing. The arrogance you and your team must possess to believe that you could pass our filters.”
The urge to tell him one of our teammates got past his glorious filters is strong, but I won’t tank the team. I’m down, but I’m not terrible. Besides, while I believe him, or at least I find it impossible to believe he’d sell state secrets that could lead to deaths, it’s not up to me to kill the operation. I’m an operative, trusting leadership.
“Anything else you want to add?” He’s itching to kick me out. But I won’t leave like this.
“The plan was for us to have a casual meet. Then once again in D.C. A coincidence that couldn’t be ignored. And perhaps I could get hired with an in from the CEO, or I might observe something useful. Intelligence gathering is slow and the plans evolve in real time.”
He’s still giving me his back. Classic avoidance.
Outside, dusk blankets Washington, D.C., transforming the monument into a glowing white sentinel against the darkening sky. The suite’s climate control hums softly, keeping the room at precisely 72 degrees—a stark contrast to the emotional temperature between us. The faint scent of his cologne, woody and understated, still lingers in the air between us, a ghost of intimacy now turned hollow. The crystal tumbler he’d been drinking from earlier sits abandoned, amber liquid catching the light from the desk lamp. I can’t blame him for turning away.
“When I slept with you, it was because I wanted to. Every single time. I chose to be as real as I could be with you. I loved having sex with you. Probably the best sex of my life. Freeing at a time…” My gaze drops to the floor. He doesn’t need to hear how much I needed my time with him. “Everything I told you about me is true.”
“Except your employment.”
“True. I left the CIA willingly when another job became available.”
“You were dealt a raw deal. Pushed out of the field.”
How does he know that? It’s not publicly available information.
His refusal to turn around and face me shows that he’s disgusted by me, and I won’t change that, but maybe if I share the ugly reality, that it’s not about my career, it’s about lives…
“Four of my assets died. The station chief believed my cover was blown. I was reassigned for an indefinite period. When I told you my boss was an asshole, that’s true. I don’t know that I would consider it a raw deal. While I’m curious about your source, I’ll stay on task.”
In the window’s reflection, I can see his profile. Stern. Unforgiving.
