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I follow him down, nearly wiping out before fine-tuning the bend in my knees.
Ever the athlete, Trevor seeks out jumps. I focus on my path, given I can’t afford to get injured before the Toros even arrive. Sure, the stated objective is for Sophia to bond with Gemma, but they’ve set me up to be of interest to Rafael.
My cover is that of an owner of a small brokerage in debt. The debt makes me attractive should he be in the market for an additional money launderer in the States.
Once we’re back on a lift, a shorter lift with just the two of us on the bench, skis dangling below us, Trevor takes advantage of the privacy. “So, how’re things going?”
I stare straight ahead, considering my answer. I’m pretend-married to our buddy’s daughter. To my former boss’s daughter. His business partner’s daughter. Running into Trevor drives home the insanity of the situation.
“I don’t mean with whatever you’re out here for. I mean, with the new gig.”
I study the friend beside me. He’s always had it all. He made it through BUD/s. Served as a SEAL for several years and quit. I’m still not sure why he walked away from the dream. Yeah, he went through some crazy years, but now he’s married to a fantastic woman. No matter what missteps Trevor makes, he lands on his feet, seemingly better off than before. We don’t all have that luck.
“It’s good.”
“Bureaucracy doesn’t get to you?”
Truth is, I’ve been on nonstop missions since joining an elite group within the CIA. One of the benefits of constant assignments is I’m less aware of the bureaucracy. Or at the very least, less encumbered by it. We gather intelligence. Eliminate a risk here and there. But out in the field, the bureaucracy isn’t stifling. “It’s not too bad.”
“If it ever gets to be too much, I hope you know you’ve still got a home at Arrow.”
“I appreciate that. I do.” We can’t see each other’s eyes with our reflective goggles pulled down, but I shift in my seat and look straight at him. It’s the universal sign for I see you, and I hear you.
Years ago, when I wasn’t in a good place at all, Ryan, one of Trevor’s partners, sought me out. He gave me a purpose when I was dangerously close to hitting bottom. Trevor stepped in and helped me with PT and got my ass back in line. I owe the two of them. They helped me see failing didn’t mean I was a failure or a worthless sack of shit. I’ll forever be grateful for them.
“At the risk of stepping out of turn, life’s short. You’re due some good things. There’s more to life than the next mission.” Trevor’s always gotta be the trainer, the coach.
The top of the lift comes into view. “Says the guy who has it all.”
“Can’t argue with you there. I do have it all. You can, too.”
The full personal life Trevor’s referencing isn’t in the cards for me. Not when I’m never who I say I am. Not when I’m full of lies and disappear for months on end.
“Seriously. I wish the marriage thing were real.”
I pull my face mask up from my neck and over my lips to hide them. He has no idea what he’s saying. Or I guess he does, if you consider he’s wishing for what Sophia represents, not who she actually is.
“I’m up for a shift change.” It’s all I’ll give him. If I get that promotion, I’ll spend time in one place. Then, who knows.
“Whatever happens, just remember, we’re here.” It’s clear from his tone, he means it.
“I appreciate that.” As we prepare to get off the lift, I hasten to add, “And, down at the base, this week…if you see me or…” Hell, I might as well tell him. “Sophia Sullivan, you and Stella need to act like you don’t know us.”
“Holy shit. Sophia’s on your op?”
“No one.” I say it with an edge, so he gets I’m deadly serious. “No one can know.”
CHAPTER6
SOPHIA
The restaurant’s rough-hewn wood walls and ebony table tops evoke a cabin aesthetic. Low level nerves strum as I play with my phone, striving to blend into the scene. There’s another woman sitting at a table alone, but she dragged an extra chair over, so she’s definitely expecting a group. At the table closest to mine is a thirty-something woman with two young kids. The youngest sits in her lap, while the toddler sits on the floor playing with a game she took out of her bag. In the far corner, near the fireplace, two middle-aged couples in ski clothes gather around a table.
Given the Four Seasons resort isn’t directly at the base, for the most part, only those who didn’t go skiing would be here at lunchtime. The one table of couples looks like they skied earlier and are done for the day.
I purposefully got here before the lunch crowd and staked a claim to the best positioned high-top table with an indirect view of the lobby and, through the front entrance, the covered drive.
Two black Range Rovers pull up, and uniformed men scurry to assist the guests. I swirl my water and glance down at my phone. The last text from Fisher said he was on his way.
