Renee tried to tell her the same thing she’d been trying to tell herself. She wasn’t doing this because her boyfriend had signed up. She wanted to tell her mom that she was afraid of college, and that after the awful years of being a terrible student, struggling with dyslexia, and feeling like an idiot in school, she felt this might be exactly what she needed. But she just couldn’t quite get it out.
Finally, she found the address and pulled into the driveway she’d already passed three times. The white stucco walls and dark wooden trim were a drastic contrast to the dirty brown compounds of the Middle East, and the unfamiliarity made something as simple as finding an address incredibly difficult.
She knocked on the heavy oak door and a moment later a man’s distorted face appeared in the lead-glass window. Her contact, Joseph Davis, worked for the Defense Intelligence Agency, and he was ruining her day.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming by,” he said, holding open the door for her to come in.
“We have a problem. I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up,” she said, getting right to business.
“I must have been in the shower. You got time for dinner? Annie’s making meatloaf.”
Renee looked around the pristine entryway, taking in the little touches that people fill their house with to make it a home. Joseph turned and walked through an open door, and she stepped in, careful not to track dirt onto the spotless terra-cotta tile.
Following him into the kitchen, Renee saw a fit brunette standing over the stove. The woman frowned as Renee walked in, and immediately a palpable tension filled the air.
“Annie, this is Renee. She flew in from Afghanistan to help us out at the office.”
Renee could tell Annie didn’t like her right away, but she was used to the injustice of women acting hostile around her. Wives were the worst. Female soldiers weren’t supposed to look like she did, and the fact that their husbands were working long hours with the pretty blonde was interpreted as a threat. This was exactly why she preferred to stay in Afghanistan.
Relationships had never been her strong suit, and observing the couple gave her a glimpse into what she’d given up to pursue her career. Renee had always planned on getting married, and she knew vaguely that she was running out of time. Someone had once told her that a young girl’s father is her model for future mates. If that was true, then it was no wonder she was still single. Her dad had only paid her attention when she stood in front of him and demanded it.
“Renee said she called, but I never heard it. You didn’t hear my phone ringing while I was in the shower, did you?”
“Nope,” Annie said, looking back down at the pot she was stirring.
She was a terrible liar, and Renee realized immediately that she’d probably heard the phone and most likely erased the call log.
“The target got a call. He was on the line for ten seconds before hanging up and deactivating his phone,” Renee said, ignoring Annie’s scowls.
“Shit, did you let the guys know?”
“I let them know, but apparently someone canceled the surveillance. No one is watching him.”
“What the fuck do you mean it got canceled? We had authorization for the rest of the month.”
“Joseph,” his wife exclaimed, apparently surprised at his language.
“Sorry, baby. Look, I have to go,” he said, grabbing his pistol from the kitchen table.
“I’ll be in the car,” Renee said. It was obvious that this was going to need some smoothing over.
She could hear the emotion in Annie’s voice as she made her way to the door. Outside, she shook her head as she unlocked the Jeep with the key fob and climbed in. Renee could imagine what Joseph was going through inside. The job demanded flexibility and total dedication, which left little time for healthy relationships.
Renee had left Afghanistan forty-eight hours earlier and had already lost a day trying to get caught up with Joseph’s end of the operation. Her team was counting on her to bring back actionable intel, and she was getting nowhere sitting in her new partner’s driveway.
According to the intelligence report Joseph had sent up the chain, he had found evidence that her target was about to make a major buy, and she needed to know what was important enough to pull him out of hiding. Three months ago she’d come across an American soldier of fortune by the name of Decklin who was funneling guns and money for al-Qaeda affiliates in the Mideast. At the same time, the Department of Defense’s intelligence division, or DIA, was investigating a two-million-dollar wire transfer that originated in Saudi Arabia and was traced to California. The recipient, a Dr. Keating, ran a company called BioCore, which had a handful of government contracts with the CIA and the DoD. Believing Decklin could be working with this Dr. Keating, Renee had been sent to California to assist the DIA.
Renee was frustrated as she sat in the Jeep, waiting for Joseph to join her. There was no time to waste; she had a job to do. When she was gone, Joseph could go back to domestic life, but right now they needed to move.
Renee had tried her hand at balancing work and love, and she’d failed miserably. During her first deployment, she had been naive enough to think her relationship with Jonas was the real thing. But the reality quickly became obvious. He had wanted her to be two people, an equal during the day but subservient at night. Their relationship had died before they ever left Kuwait, and Jonas had gotten himself transferred to another unit by the time they landed in Iraq.
Joseph worked for the Department of Defense, and according to his file, he had requested to come back to the States five times in the last two years. Being an operative wasn’t exactly conducive to having a family, and Renee understood, but he still had a job to do. The fact that she’d wasted so much time driving out to his house annoyed her the most. Personal issues were a by-product of the job, but Joseph was coming with her one way or the other.
“Sorry to take you away from meatloaf,” Renee said when he finally got into the Jeep.
“Just shut up and drive.”
“There, there, little bear, national security comes first,” she laughed as she backed out of the drive.
“Women,” he huffed. “Since I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, you mind telling me what the plan is?”
“Help me figure this out. Jim Green is the chief of station, right?”
“We don’t call them that, we call them the agent in charge,” he replied.
“Okay, well, as the agent in charge, why is he pulling your surveillance package? My guess is that he doesn’t like taking orders from a girl, but I could be wrong.”
“But the Riyadh transfer was legit. Hell, he signed off on it.”
Renee had learned the hard way that men had a huge problem taking orders from a woman. As a member of Task Force 111, Renee was the tip of the spear when it came to tracking high-value targets for the military, but the job came with more than its share of bullshit. The Special Operations community was an all-boys club, and they felt that women were being forced on them. Since she had the dubious honor of being the only operational female in her unit, Renee was seen as the enemy.
The government had long ago cracked the network of accounts that rich jihadists used to finance terror cells, and the large amount of cash was cause for concern.
“I wouldn’t think Jim Green would jeopardize his career for something so juvenile,” Joseph said. “He can’t wish to be the assistant agent in charge his whole life.”
“Yeah, well, some people have a hard time seeing the whole picture. I’ve got someone working on the phone issue. The doctor might have shut off his work phone, but he doesn’t go anywhere without being able to talk to his mistress.”
“That’s pretty slick, Renee.”