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Rouxier stood to one side but Mitchell was the one calling the shots here.
Short, wiry, serious, and now I was this close to him… did I get a sense of evil? No, just an icy indifference and that seemed worse.
Was he cartel? Is that why this had escalated in a hurry?
“On your knees, both of you,” Mitchell ordered.
Danvers began to protest. “Hang on a minute, there was nothing—”
“On your fucking knees, hands behind your head.” Mitchell waved his weapon at Danvers who still hadn’t gotten the message.
“I’m FBI, I—”
Mitchell stepped forward and placed the barrel against Danvers’ forehead. “On. Your. Knees.”
I’d already made a big show of getting to the ground, the solid wood of this middle-of-nowhere barn was hard under my knees, and I winced and grumbled, but was down with my good hand behind my head, a long time before Danvers gave in. It gave me a chance to double check out the vicinity for a moment while all eyes were on Danvers. The barn was old, a gaping hole in the roof let the rain flood one corner where the building tilted. The whole structure screamed unsafe, and it wasn’t a working barn. In fact, the clue was in the metal grating a few feet from us—this was a structure covering old mine workings, but where this put us in the country I didn’t know.
“You. New guy.” Mitchell ordered and I glanced up to see he was talking to me. “What the fuck?”
“A group took us by surprise,” I lied. Kayden wasn’texactlya group, although he’d done more damage than an entire unit, all on his own. He’d left seven security personnel dead, the rest injured, and me stabbed and knocked unconscious. Him and Sanctuary were working on Plan B here, and I hope to hell the good guys stopped the other half of the children in the same way they’d done with mine. Danvers and I hadn’t talked—I had no idea what went down with his side, but given we were both on our knees in this barn, with no idea of where we were, I hoped the other kids were safe. At least if I’d managed that, while slipping a knife between the partners in this enterprise then that was one good thing.
My life had meant something.
“Explain.” Mitchell snapped.
Danvers cleared his throat. “I—”
“Not you. Him.” He gestured his gun at me again.
I exchanged a glance with Danvers who seemed smug it was me who was getting the attention.
I stared up at Mitchell. “Ten, maybe twelve men had prior knowledge of us being there and—”
“So, you betrayed us?” Mitchell accused.
I shook my head. “Fuck no. I’m new to this. I didn’t even know where we were going, how could I—”
Mitchell redirected his aim, shot Danvers, the percussiveboomshocking me, the echo of it lingering as my ears rung as blood and brain matter splatter on me.
Point blank.
Danvers slammed into me, knocking me sideways, and was dead before he hit the ground. I scrambled to get out from under him as Mitchell turned the gun on me, and I was close enough to see the curl of smoke from the barrel.
I love you Josh.
I wanted my last thoughts to be about Josh and Ben and Oreo the cat and the future I’d begun to hope for. I straightened, grabbing every ounce of bravery I had, refusing to consider how Josh would feel when he found out I’d died.
We’d talked about love, but was it strong enough so that me dying meant his life changed again? Or would he be able to walk away, take Ben, and not look back?
I hope he doesn’t hate me. I hope he doesn’t love me enough to care.
I’m sorry.
“You,” Mitchell said, and gestured with the gun, “tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you too?”
Fuck. Okay. I need to pull out all the lies.
“Because you need someone in the FBI, and you’ve killed the last man with the job.”
