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“I hardly need an escort,” I snapped at him.
“I’m going with you.”
When the lift arrived, I stepped inside, turned around, and stood in the threshold, barring his entry. “You’re doing nothing of the kind.”
“This is the CIA’s mission as much as it is yours.”
The level of my temper was equal to what it had been when I was informed Emerson left without my consult or permission. I didn’t owe the man in front of me any kind of explanation, and it was unlike me to parlay information when it wasn’t necessary. However, this agent was becoming a problem, and I needed to set him straight.
“The CIA’s initial mission was to convert Dr. Charles into an asset in the same way MI6 intended to. Given that the mission was aborted upon the disappearance of one of our assets along with one of our agents, you,” I looked at him pointedly, “are no longer needed.”
I stepped back, allowing the lift’s doors to close.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly,”I said, getting into the vehicle and closing the door behind me. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Initially,” the agent, code name Angel, answered.
I would ask what she meant, but I was still reeling from the combination of Emerson’s reckless action along with Irish’s insubordination. I would ring Copeland, but before I did so, I needed to temper my frustration. I let my head fall against the seat and closed my eyes. I had a great deal to process on a drive that should take a minimum of ninety minutes.
I opened my eyes when Angel brought the vehicle to a stop and cut the engine.
“This will be quicker,” she said, pointing to the helipad with a waiting copter.
Even more surprising than our unexpected mode of transport, was that Angel climbed into the cockpit, handed me a headset, and sat in the pilot’s seat. I shook my head. Teagon Engel, aka Angel, was one of those MI6 agents who, every time I saw her, had acquired yet another skill. “When did you get your pilot’s license?”
“Just helly for now, mate, but I’m working on the other.”
“Congratulations, Angel. I’m proud of you.”
She smiled, and her cheeks flushed.
“What?” she asked when I continued staring.
“Nothing.” What I couldn’t tell her, not that she’d care, was that her sweet cheeks did absolutely nothing for me. Emerson’s, it seemed, were it for me.
“Is this a touch-and-go retrieval, or are you sticking around?” Angel asked through the headset once we were in the air.
“I’ll be staying, at least for a time.”
“With Charlie?”
My eyes opened wide at her use of the nickname. “Do you know her?”
“No, but Saint talked about her quite a lot.”
I was not prone to motion sickness, but suddenly, I felt nauseous.
“What does he say?”
“You can’t quote me on this.”
I held up a couple of fingers like some kind of half-assed pledge.
“He was pretty pissed the last time I saw him. We both were ten sheets gone, actually.”
“What did he say, Angel?”
She raised a brow. “Why so anxious?”
