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Isabella had seemed excited about the fucking fake ring. She might understand the world in which she’d been forced to partake in, but every action she took, every word out of her mouth was a hard push to keep from accepting what she hated. The intimacy I’d allowed myself to feel with Isabella had left me with an ache that I couldn’t explain and didn’t want to.
I’d always believed that the act of sex for a man was taking advantage of being stronger, controlling the situation with a few whispered words and rough touches. But for a woman, she offered a portion of her heart and soul, allowing her body to be used as a vessel for the briefest hint of salvation.
She’d given me a tremendous gift and I’d turned my back on her. While my reasoning was substantial, it had broken the thin line of trust that I’d developed from saving her life. I moved to the small case near the cash register, noticing a pin that I believed she’d like. A butterfly. I’d noticed the only theme noted in her apartment revolved around the butterfly. Fragile but with strength to accept change.
I thought of a quote my mother had used several times over the years.
“Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and set softly on your shoulder.”
“That’s Thoreau. You must care for your friend very much.”
I hadn’t realized I’d said the words out loud. “Just something I remembered. I’ll take this.”
“Would you like it giftwrapped?” She winked as she pulled it from the case.
“Just in a box.”
As I left the store, the box safely located in my jacket, I continued to be surprised why I’d made the purchase. I had no need to make her happy or keep a smile on her face. I was here for one purpose, then out of her life as soon as the mission was over.
Yet Isabella’s eyes had haunted me, the gift she’d provided one I’d taken for granted not once but twice.
Maybe this was some form of redemption.
Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I was a soulless man, nothing more.
But as I started the engine, I thought about Isabella’s beauty and grace and another realization came to me.
Isabella was the beauty at the end of the pain.
* * *
Isabella
I held the small drive in my hand, turning it over several times, feeling guilty for taking the last part of the formula from my laboratory as well as not telling Cobra about the threats. Had the Russians known I’d taken the information? They couldn’t have unless they’d had someone working on the inside. I thought about the team of men and women I’d worked with for almost eighteen months, some of whom were foreigners.
But their backgrounds, beliefs, social media posts—everything had been thoroughly checked in order to obtain security clearance. I’d never doubted a single one of them. I continued to rub my fingers on the drive, longing to continue my work. Maybe what I’d developed hadn’t been such a good idea. I’d placed parameters on the data, the formula, and every calculation. I’d managed to keep the volatile effects at a minimum. In order for the particles to be used as a weapon, the formula needed additional molecules.
Was there another scientist in the world who could figure out the hidden codes? Maybe. Or maybe I was missing something. I’d come into work at six in the morning finding several other team members starting their day ahead of me. Was it possible I’d overlooked the fact changes had been made right under my nose? Something else I couldn’t rule out. I’d uploaded the last data, locking down the system because of the last threat.
One I’d never forget, the text succinct and terrifying.
Continue your work or face the ultimate punishment.
I’d laughed at it the moment it had come across the screen of my personal phone, the unknown sender previously providing two less caustic threats on my office cellphone. Those had already been detected by the team of experts maintaining a firm lock on all communications within the building and on the communications devices every employee was provided. They hadn’t bothered me.
But my personal phone had never been made public. Hell, the Secret Service, the CIA, and other law enforcement agencies regularly swept every personal communication I had. But they hadn’t noted the last threat coming through, which meant whoever had sent it had specialized equipment blocking the various scanners. They’d also been able to find a number that had almost as much security surrounding it as my work in the lab.
A sickening feeling formed in my stomach again. The formula hadn’t been the only data I’d copied onto the drive. I should have taken the threats more seriously before everything had escalated. Before I’d become certain I was playing into unknown hands, the purpose for my work being used in a different manner than I’d signed up for.
That had been thirty minutes prior to leaving for the club. By then I’d already taken the drive, locking down the project.
As I moved through the house, pacing the floor, I noticed a closed door I hadn’t paid any attention to before. Without thinking, I tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked. As I walked inside, I took a deep breath. The room was set up as a communications center complete with two computers and satellite equipment. There was a console equipped with three monitors. As soon as I pressed my finger on the console, the screens became active. He’d positioned cameras in at least three dozen locations.
I stood in front of them, shifting my eyes from one to the other. The late afternoon light provided a clear view of the surrounding area. While they provided some level of comfort, I continued to feel chilled to the bone. This was real. This was… terrible.
Cobra could run several operations out of here. Why did he need to leave the cabin in order to make a phone call?
Because he didn’t want me to overhear what was being said? What was the man hiding from me and why?
