Page 7 of Avenging Jessie
“No,” she snapped again. “Don’t you get it? I blew my assignment with him, and now he’s teamed up with my archenemy. I’m not going to blow this mission to bring down Harris Brewer by getting sidetracked by that asshole.”
He stepped closer. “You’re not twenty-three anymore. Not a rookie. You can handle Hastings, and I’ll handle Brewer. Think of it as a two-fer.” He shot her a grin. “Commodations will land in both our files, and Meg, Declan, Tommy, and Tessa will be pissed that we brought in two traitors instead of one.”
While her insides turned, she locked down all expression. “I told you before, I work alone.”
“You survive alone. That’s different.”
That hit like a blow to her chest. She turned away. Her skin felt too tight. Her thoughts raced. She hated the idea of being seen. Of wearing a dress. Of letting him see her bare skin. Her scars.
Yes, most had healed and were barely visible now, but… “We’ll track Hastings once he leaves the gala at the end of the night. That way, we don’t have to risk having our covers blown and alerting Brewer we’re in town.”
Spence watched her, and when he spoke again, it was softer. “It’s not Hastings you’re afraid of. It’s being seen.”
Even her guts froze. Why wouldn’t he leave her the fuck alone? “You’re not my shrink.”
“Well, you need one, since you stopped going to Dr. Kumar six weeks ago. Not that he was doing you much good, but perhaps you should consider finding someone else. Someone who can help you with your body issues, as well as your emotional ones.”
“How dare you?” She flung out an arm and pointed at the door. “Get out.”
“Jessie, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” He took a step toward her, then stopped when she backed up. He raised placating hands. “I know you’re doing the best you can.”
Oh, my God. Seriously? That was even worse. And within those words was a question in Spence’s mind—why had Flynn cleared her for fieldwork?
Fuck. She had to prove to Spence that she could do this. She hadn’t wanted him for a partner, but now that he was here, a lot was riding on his opinion. On what he would report back to Flynn.
She sure as shit didn’t want him digging around in her head. She’d always admired how smart he was—street smart as well as tech savvy—but now, it was like nails being driven into her back.
She steeled her voice. “Everyone thinks I’m broken, but here’s the truth—what happened to me has made me stronger and more resilient. I’m a better spy than any of you because of it. So, I don’t need a partner, and I especially don’t need one who thinks I’m justdoing my best. Why don’t you pack up your laptop and go back to Langley, where you belong?”
His eyes went hard, and he strode toward her until he was towering over her. “I’m exactly where I belong.With you. I’m on your side. Always. But you can’t do this if you’re still bleeding inside. You were never like this before, and I know the old you is still in there. Yes, you went through something extremely traumatic, but you’re not the only one in this room who’s had people screw you over.”
She was well aware of his background on the streets of London as a young boy. About a mentor who had adopted him and two other boys and turned them into weapons. How they had been groomed to help the Mastermind, an evil man who’d been part of a shadow government, and how Spence and his adopted brothers had been forced to take down the only father any of them had ever known.
It still didn’t give him the right to say these things to her. “Go to hell, Stirling.”
He gathered up his hardware and didn’t look at her as he walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.
She stood there alone, pulse hammering, fists clenched, eyes burning. The past wasn’t done with her yet.
And neither, apparently, was Spence.
Four
Spence
He wrestledwith pulling the plug on the gala visit all night, pacing and listening to what went on beyond the other side of their connecting doors.
He expected her to sneak out. To go off on her own.
She didn’t.
Which surprised the hell out of him.
The next morning, he was still debating. Not only the gala, but the op itself. He could track down Brewer on his own, but he didn’t want to. Brewer was Jessie’s Achilles’ heel. She needed to be the one to capture the man and send him to prison if she was ever going to find closure.
Nursing bad coffee from the room’s coffee pot, he nearly had a heart attack when the door banged open. She didn’t knock—just barged in through the connecting door between their suites like she owned both rooms and the air in between.
Coffee spilled over the rim of the heavy white mug, burning through his shirt. He sat up too fast and blinked up from his laptop. “Jessie?—?”
