Page 51 of Avenging Angel

If laser beams could shoot from Owen’s eyes, Bennett would be a pile of ash. “The wedding was annulled,” Owen says. “I’m not married.”

“What wedding?” Daisy punches her brother in the arm, clearly perturbed that he never mentioned anything about getting hitched. Annulled or not, that’s something he should have told her.

Bennett shakes his head as if he’s disappointed with us, then says to Daisy, “Like I said, all secrets eventually come out in the open if given enough time. I can’t wait until Genesis’ secret comes out. It’s a doozy.”

“Why are you looking into my past, Bennett?” Owen asks. “How is it relevant to this mission?”

“It’s not, but if I had to wager a guess, it’s for the same reason I found this in my coat pocket.” Bennett holds up the tracking device I planted before he left for Langley. “There’s a lack of trust which I have not earned. I’ll make a deal with you, Agent Zurkowski. If you get your Director to call off the task force he’s creating to look into Dominion, then I’ll tell you where your wife was last seen. Honestly, I’m surprised you never once tried to track her down. So much for true love.”

“You’re full of nothing but hot air, pompousness, and CIA bureaucracy,” Owen fires at him. “You know as well as I do that I don’t have the power to stop the task force just because you have information you think I want. I’m not even sure how you were aware that the task force was being formed in the first place.”

I am. The CIA has Director Finnegan under surveillance, as they do the Directors of the NSA, DEA, DNI, DIA, and every other security agency known to man. Then there’s the White House; you can’t throw a stone without hitting an undercover officer walking the halls and posing as a staffer. Dirty laundry is better than gold in D.C.

“Then no deal? That’s a shame,” Bennett says without remorse. “You might not want to know where your wife is, but there are others looking for her. Oh! And last I heard, there’s a new man in her life. His name is Cyrus. Out with the old and in with the new, I suppose.”

Bennett takes another bite of his burrito and turns to go back inside, leaving the three of us alone.

Owen stares at the spot Bennett just vacated, his jaw locked and his body coiled tight.

The conversation that needs to happen isn’t any of my business, so I try to gracefully excuse myself. When I attempt to let go of Daisy’s hand, her grip tightens. “Angel, please stay. I may need you to hold me back when I throttle my brother for keeping something like this from me.”

For the first time since I’ve met him, Owen looks haunted; gone is the confidence he usually wears like a second skin. “It’s okay, Angel. I’d rather have you stay and listen to my confession than become a pincushion for whatever form of retribution Daisy has in store for me.”

I rub my thigh absentmindedly, well aware of what Daisy’s form of penance entails.

“Start from the beginning,” Daisy demands.

Owen nods. “I’ll give you the quick version. In 2005, the CIA had begun operations in Pakistan along the Afghanistan border. It was believed that high-profile Al-Qaeda members were crossing between the two countries and hiding in the smaller villages.”

Daisy interrupts him. “But you didn’t go to Afghanistan until 2010.”

“You said you wanted me to start from the beginning. Let me finish. As I was saying, during that time, the CIA used locals to provide intel, often paying them with goats, sheep, money, or the promise of something far greater. Zahid and Madiha Alam helped the CIA in exchange for U.S. citizenship for their fifteen-year-old daughter, Ibtida, which means ‘Genesis’ in Urdu.”

Owen walks over and rests his back against a tree, his chin hanging low. “When I first started with the FBI, I was put in contact with a hacker by the name of VexPixie for intel gathering that might be of questionable legality. For years, we communicated through encrypted emails via Tor, private chat rooms on the dark web, and texts using the Signal app. If I couldn’t find the information I was looking for, then I’d reach out to her. She’s that good.”

He looks up at us, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he recalls the memory. “Over time, we sort of developed a relationship through ones and zeros, using only our handles instead of our real names. For the record, mine is ByteBandit. When she hacked into my system to warn me about a terrorist cell she had discovered in the Las Vegas area, I didn’t hesitate to go straight to the Director and ask for the mission.”

With a sigh, Owen continues the story. “We spent six months posing as an engaged couple and infiltrating a Pakistani organization called RAKAHN: Rah-e-Azadi, Khudmukhtari, Adl, Haq aur Nizam. Translated, it means The Path of Freedom, Autonomy, Justice, Truth, and Order. It was the only way they would accept me since I’m not of Persian origin. Trust me, it wasn’t a hardship on my part to spend time with Gen. She was, is, spunky, hard-headed, and quick with her quips. She gives as good as she gets. Not to mention her beauty eclipses mine when she’s standing next to me. Can you believe that?”

There’s the Owen I’ve come to know; hurt or loneliness buried under egotistical bravado.

“I’d never connected with anyone like that before or since.”

Daisy snorts. “Is that why you decided to get married and not tell Mom or Dad? Or me, your sister who would have made a wonderful Best Woman to stand next to you?”

Owen pushes off the tree and walks over to Daisy, the wan smile disappearing completely. “It wasn’t like that, and it wasn’t my finest moment. After the raid, which took down leaders of the cell and put an end to a plotted terrorist attack, Gen and I went to the Strip and had more drinks than either of us should have had to celebrate. She already had the engagement ring, and we stupidly thought that we should just make it official. Things spiraled out of control, and one Elvis preacher later, we were officially husband and wife.”

“I know what it’s like to feel an undeniable pull toward someone. It doesn’t just go away,” I say, drawing Daisy closer to me. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Owen. So what happened?”

“I had to go back to D.C., and Gen promised she’d meet me there. Six weeks later, instead of her knocking on my door, I was getting served with annulment papers. I tried to reach her on her phone, in the chat room we had, and even tracked down her aunt and uncle, but they hadn’t heard from her in two years. I cloned their phones on the off chance she’d call them, but she didn’t. Eventually, I signed the annulment she wanted, sent it back to the return address, and never once looked in the rearview mirror. Until today, I assumed she handled it on her end.”

Daisy lets go of my hand and hugs her brother. “You’re an idiot for not telling me. You’ve always been a rock I can lean on, and I’m supposed to be that for you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Owen’s arms band around his sister as he rests his chin on her head. “Like I said, it wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“Did you love her?” I ask.

“Yes,” Owen says without any hesitation.