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“TJ, carry her over here!” the woman called.
TJ pulled me out of the car and heaved me over his shoulder like I was a rag doll. That did nothing to ease my panic, but it did make quick work of getting me to the van and onto the gurney that the doctor and Jensen rolled out from under IT desks and set in the middle of the space.
Seconds later, I was flat on my back on the gurney with an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.
“Slow, even breaths,” the doctor told me. She strapped something onto my wrist. “It’s a high-tech watch that allows me to monitor your vital signs without a lot of equipment.”
Already, my chest and throat were relaxing. I focused on breathing slowly like she’d told me to do, even though I wanted to suck in quick breaths.
“Ashlee, do you remember having an appendectomy when you were seventeen?” she asked.
I opened my eyes and stared up at her. How did she know that? Then I remembered the contract on TJ’s phone that I’d signed with my thumbprint, laying out the tentative agreement between the United States Government and me. I had given them permission to access my medical records, among other personal data.
“Ashlee,” the doctor said again, “do you remember that surgery?”
I nodded.
She held up a small vial with clear liquid and stuck a syringe into it. “Shortly before they wheeled you into the OR, they gave you a dose of Midazolam. Do you remember that?”
Was she planning to poke me with that syringe? I shook my head and wriggled to the opposite side of the gurney.
“Ashlee, I need you to calm down.” The voice of calm, of peace, of safety.
I turned my head toward TJ.
“Listen to me. Take slower breaths,” he said. “Let Bond give you this shot. It’s not the sedative we gave you on Saturday. I promise.” You’re safe, I promise. Trust me.
There was a prick in my arm.
“You’re going to be fine,” Dr. Bond said. “That’s the same antianxiety medication you were given before your surgery. Perfectly safe. You didn’t have any negative outcomes from it, and you’re going to feel better in just a minute.”
She was right. My throat and chest eased more. My arms and legs relaxed. I was calm, content. TJ held out an eye mask.
“This is protocol,” TJ said. “I’m sorry. If there were any other way...”
I tensed but quickly relaxed as the drug continued to work its magic, and the light weights in the mask put gentle pressure on my closed eyes. My panic attack had passed. I was safe. I was calm. Planning always put me in a meditative state, so I ran over the details I’d already begun hashing out with TJ and some I hadn’t.
Today, I was going to learn the truth. Then I would use what I learned to write an exposé on the group Aiden had been researching, the shadowy and dangerous organization I was sure was behind our kidnapping. It would be the high note and the swan song of my career all in one fell swoop. And before it even hit the news wires, Ashlee Armand would disappear from the face of the earth.
Now that my body was relaxed and the adrenaline had abated, a wave of harsh reality washed through my mind. I was about to throw away the life I loved. My family, my creative and whimsical mother, who was head chef at a Michelin three-star restaurant, my funny and charming father, who was a retired race car driver and NASCAR team owner, my smart and loving sister, who was a contract lawyer with a great marriage and twin girls—my nieces, just two years old. We had plans together, those girls and I, even if they were too young to understand just yet. I was going to be their doting aunt, their refuge when they were teenagers, their confidantes when their parents weren’t cool enough to understand, and their loudest cheerleaders as they grew into women and made their life choices.
I couldn’t leave them. Words were my life and livelihood, but I had no idea how to say goodbye.
I tried to raise the alarm and renege on the deal I’d made, but my limbs were heavy, and my speech was obstructed by the oxygen mask. I reached for TJ. When he took my hand between his, my fingers were too weak to grasp his. The van jostled. We were moving, driving toward his agency’s headquarters, where my briefing would begin. I wanted out, out of the van, out of the agreement, out of the future I’d naïvely agreed to live, but it was too late. There was no way to stop the literal moving van or metaphorical barreling train that was about to derail my life.
* * *
TJ
“Explain to me how a reporter has come to be detained by my agency.” X stared me down across my office, where she stood with her back to the window that looked out over the team gym, which was currently unoccupied.
In fact, the entire first floor seemed to be deserted, and the rest of the building was so quiet, it could have been abandoned. For a group of kick-ass spies, the Alpha Team members were going to great lengths to avoid X’s crosshair as she raked me over the coals for bringing Ashlee Armand into WITSEC. And I couldn’t blame them for a hot second.
“Not detained,” I explained. “Here for her own protection until we have her prepared for her meeting with Kovac.”
X arched an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe there was no other way?”
I’d been standing in front of my desk, facing her. Now I sank down and perched on the edge of it. I’d asked myself the same question a hundred times since we’d met Bond and Jensen in the secure parking garage and Ashlee’s bravado had crumbled into a million pieces. “What I believe,” I finally said, “is she won’t leave this story alone unless we give her a damn good reason to walk away.”
