Page 32 of Avenging Jessie
Something had shifted between her and Spence.
She didn’t know what scared her more.
Movement at the gate caught her attention. Both her and Spence’s gazes snapped toward it as a dark SUV and a panel truck rumbled into view, headlights off. They rolled past the entrance checkpoint like they owned the place—no stops, no questions. That alone told her what she needed to know. “We’ve got company.”
Spence was already moving. He powered up the signal interceptor and adjusted the satellite link, fingers flying across his tablet like a pianist mid-performance.
The SUV parked off to the side while the panel truck backed up to a side bay door. Neither had plates. Two men got out of the truck. Through her binoculars, she noted it was her friends from the gala. Then a third emerged from the SUV, and Jessie’s stomach flipped.
Hastings.
He wore a black trench coat, collar up, hands in his pockets. Same smug gait. Same dead-cold stare that used to haunt her dreams back when she was under his command as he scanned the dock and the surrounding grounds.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
The others filed ahead of him, and Hastings touched his ear and spoke.
Spence continued typing furiously, nodding that he knew it was Hastings. “He’s on the phone. Let’s see what I can do. Give me twenty seconds.”
His concentration was razor sharp—jaw clenched, eyes locked on the screen. No hesitation. No wasted motion.
Her mouth went dry. It was ridiculous, how attractive that was. How dangerous.
Focus, Mendoza.
Hastings walked up to the warehouse doors. One of the minions keyed in a code, and the panel slid open, swallowing them whole.
“They’re inside,” Jessie muttered. “What the hell are they doing here?”
The device in Spence’s lap pinged once. “I’ve got audio.”
Jessie leaned in closer.
Static crackled, then a voice came through—distorted but clear enough to make out Hastings’ words. “…drones loaded and in position. Brewer wants the first wave en route to Berlin by midnight. Real-time deployment. We’re taking the test units now. We hit the summit at 0800 before the idiots have even had breakfast.”
Jessie’s breath caught.
Berlin. A summit.
She glanced at Spence, and the grim look on his face confirmed it—this was a supply run. A damn prelude to that something big hovering in her stomach.
Brewer was about to make his move.
“There’s a diplomatic summit at the Waldorf Astoria,” Spence said, reading from his screen. “Thirteen nations are represented.”
She swore again as Spence shared a few more tidbits from the newspaper article he was reading. Those attending the summit were a diverse group, comprising diplomats, cybersecurity experts, and representatives from billionaire tech startups.
The two minions reappeared, moving with purpose as they lifted heavy crates from a wheeled cart into the back of the panel truck. Jessie could see the stenciled markings on the side—serial numbers, air vents, ports.
Drones. No question.
Hastings filed out behind them, a set of papers in hand, still on his call. “You want in? This is your last chance. In less than seventy-two hours, we’ll be global.”
Jessie’s blood turned cold.
Global.
Not just Berlin. Not just a test.
