Taking Sides (ARC Operatives Book 2) (6 page)

“Nothing is what it looks like, Daria, I was coming to get you, that is all,” he said, expression heartfelt. She wanted to believe him, but couldn’t let herself. Suddenly it made sense, how off he’d been as soon as they’d received the call that they were going to be split up. Had he been angry she wouldn’t be with him, that it would be harder for him to give her up to the rest of his little extremist buddy group? Her heart was sinking in her chest and she looked away as she heard a noise outside.

The extraction group was there, the
whump-whump-whump
of the helicopter blades pounding the air in the distance followed by the crunch of gravel as a dark-tinted cargo van pulled up the driveway.

“Is that all you have to say?” she asked Nicolai, giving him one more chance to say anything, explain himself beyond that he was coming for her. It was obvious, given the men the extremist group had tossed at them, that he was
coming for her
. The thought made her stomach bind up so tight she thought she’d be sick. Nicolai opened his mouth to speak when Russi stepped in, eyes dark. He booted Nico hard in the back, catching the younger man off guard and sending him sprawling with a groan.

“Extraction is here. Grab your shit and get in the van now. The chopper is going to cover us on the way out. Rykov and Balfour are here and are gonna mop up these shit faces for us,” Russi said, pressing his boot down hard into the middle of Nico’s spine. Nico grit his teeth and didn’t make a single noise, although the way Russi was grinding the heel of his sole down into him, it had to hurt. Daria’s nails bit into the palm of her hand, but before she could tell Russi to stop, he’d lifted his foot off of Nico and stepped back. “C’mon kid. It’s more than a few hours to New York yet, and I want to get you home.”

She stepped around Nicolai, skirting him with a wide berth, and saw him follow her with his eyes only. A shiver went through her, for the close call she’d had, for the loss of the trust she’d put in him, and then she pushed past Russi and moved out onto the porch. A team of agents were outside, talking in low voices. Balfour was leaning up against the side of the cargo van, a frown creasing his normally cheerful face.

“Griffin, shit,” he jogged over to her and wrapped her up in his arms, burying his face in the top of her head. She choked out a breath and then leaned into him hard, willing herself not to cry. “I knew you’d be fine,” the big blond man said, hugging her even tighter. “Me and Rykov are going to take him in. Russi will see you’re home safe. You just sit tight and rest up, alright?”

She pried herself out of his grip.

“Don’t I need to give a statement?” She asked, not liking the hollow tone in his voice, what it meant for Nicolai’s future. She cursed herself for being an idiot in love with a terrorist, a double-crossing agent, someone who’d stabbed her in the back as quickly as he’d fallen into bed with her.

“We can take care of that later, sweetie, seriously, you head home with Russi and check in with me after you’ve had a good night of sleep.” Balfour planted an affectionate, brotherly kiss on her forehead that did little to soothe the unpleasant tremor in her stomach, but she smiled at him anyway. She didn’t want him thinking that she wasn’t professional enough, that she couldn’t handle a little treachery between partners. She’d prove to them all that she wouldn’t fall apart, especially Nicolai. The next time she saw him, if she saw him again, she’d hold her head up high and show him how little impact him selling her out was having on her.

Balfour finally let her go and patted her on the shoulder when she moved towards the back of the cargo van. Russi was there, eyes dark with emotion as he held the door open for her and lent her his hand so she could hop up into the seated area built into the rear of the cargo area.

“You got word of what our next move is?” Russi asked, his voice rough as he clambered up after her. Another agent slammed the doors shut, leaving them in the quiet. Soon their driver would be in the front, and the chance for any private conversation would be lost.

“Yeah. You guys are dropping me off at my place?” she asked. Russi nodded and leaned back into his seat, reaching for his seat belt.

“I’ll clear it for you, make sure there’s no surprises waiting-“

The driver-side door opened and the agent stepped up into the cab.

“You both buckled?” he asked without looking over his shoulder. Daria looked to the front. From his profile, he wasn’t an agent she recognized, but there were so many away teams that rarely hit home base, and she hadn’t had the chance to meet all the of the extraction units yet.

“You bet, Kirkland,” Russi said then shot Daria a grin as he looked pointedly at her unbuckled belt. She rolled her eyes and belted up then relaxed back into the cushions with a sigh, her back sagging hard. Their driver was about to put the van in reverse when something slammed into the side of it, banging hard, and there was a volley of shouts from the agents outside. “What the hell,” Russi snarled, reaching over to push Daria back up against her seat.

“Novik’s half out of his fuckin’ restraints,” the driver’s voice was clipped and tense as he threw the van into reverse and squealed the tires over the gravel. “He wants the girl.” Greenery flashed by the windows as they sped backwards down the unpaved road, and Daria was grateful that Russi had reminded her to put on her belt so quickly. As it was she was barely hanging on, the deep padding of their seats cushioning her from the worst blows.

“He following?!” Russi was unbuckling himself and Daria felt her eyes widen as he threw himself across the van to sit beside her, quickly snapping himself back in and then covered her with his body. He’d drawn his gun, she realized, and she cried out when the van spun, tossing them against each other. She was clinging to him hard to stay upright, her stomach churning with adrenaline and motion sickness.

“Shut up, hang on,” Kirkland sounded irritated, barely as stressed out as Daria thought he should, when their car surged forward and he punched the gas as they hit the paved roadway. Russi’s arm was wrapped tight around her waist, holding her between him and the backrest, his hand cradling the back of her head so it wouldn’t bang up against the wall. If they’d gone fast down the gravel, they were ripping along the two line highway, taking the slight curves at a higher speed than Daria was exactly comfortable with. Her nails dug into Russi’s chest and she swallowed.

After several tense minutes of racing away from the safe house had ticked by, Kirkland looked at his mirrors again and then sighed out.

“I think we lost him. He was still in his damn hobbles, but he managed to get out of his wrist restraints. They’ll have him, but let’s get back to the city so we can catch our flight home.”

Daria’s heart was still beating madly away in her chest as Russi hugged her, the scent of his shampoo, and the woodsy smell of the fireplace clinging to his skin and overwhelming her senses. They’s slowed their breakneck pace, and Russi let his arms go slack around her.

“You okay, kid?” he asked gruffly, turning to her as he tilted his head down to hers. She swallowed and then nodded.

“What the hell was that?” she breathed out all her feelings, a shaking tremble running through her arms and legs. Blake squeezed one of her arms.

“Stupid asshole thought he’d get his hands on you? I dunno, it’s not like he could’ve gotten far without someone putting a few bullets in his back. If we’re lucky, they put a bullet in his brain and we won’t have to deal with that BS,” he said. She glared up at him and gave him a shove, uncomfortable with the amount of violence and vehemence in his words.

“Don’t talk like that,” Daria’s voice shook, “they wouldn’t. Right?” She searched Russi’s face anxiously, wanting him to admit that they’d never put down one of their own agents unless they absolutely had to, and if Nicolai was still bound by the ankles he wasn’t that much of a threat.

Russi’s expression was neutral and then he sighed.

“Novik’s probably fine, don’t worry about it. Just… go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get to the airfield.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The trip home was uneventful, the ARC plane kitted out with plush leather seating. She slept most of the way, event though Russi kept waking her to eat, or ask her a question. They finally landed at the private ARC airstrip in New York and she crashed out in the back of the van for the final leg of their trip. Her sleep was fitful, in starts and stops with the sharp movements of the van, and all she could see was Nicolai’s pleading blue eyes in her dreams and the way he’d hauled himself up off the ground. She only stayed asleep by sheer iron will because she just didn’t want to be awake.

“Hey, Griffin,” Russi’s hand was warm on her shoulder when he shook it gently. He’d been next to her the whole last part of the trip, the hot length of his leg pressing into her hip, his arm across her shoulders,
to keep you from bumping your head
he’d said into her hair. His presence had melted from comforting to oppressive, and as she woke, her throat scratchy and her eyes sore, she fought the urge to shove him away.

Daria lifted her head off of the back of her seat and looked out the front windshield, recognizing her street as they pulled up outside her apartment building. Her whole body hurt, her neck cricked painfully, and she ached.

“I’m up,” she said, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt and grab her bag as they slid to a stop. Russi was right beside her, still in her space, and she shot him an odd look before shifting away from him. “I’m good,” she said to both him and Kirkland, needing to prove that she was fine, show them both that she could handle the fact her amazing boyfriend turned out to be an amazingly huge slime bag. It still was throwing her for a loop and she had to yank her brain back from the edge of those thoughts before it wrecked her.

As soon as she was inside her space, as small as it was, she’d let herself have a total messy, ice-cream inhaling meltdown. Then she’d marathon some of Netflix’s
House of Cards
or maybe
The Good Wife
and then sleep for a whole damn day. Her phone beeped at her when she went rooting through her bag, a message from Balfour, and she sighed. It could wait until later, she thought and stashed it back into her back when she found her keys.

“Gotta clear your place first. I’ll go in, you wanna back me up or are you too tired? If you are, Kirkland can be my backup,” Russi jerked his head to the man in the front. The only thing Daria wanted more than her bed was a hot bath, and she knew that her place would probably be fine since it was a studio. It’d take a second to clear it of any unknown intruders.

“I’ll do it,” Daria said and then stepped down onto the pavement. The sounds of New York were all around her again, and while she was grateful to be back in the city, it reminded her too starkly that Nico wasn’t with her. Her chest hurt.

She fished her keys out of her bag and walked up to the front door, Russi tailing her closely. His fingers brushed her shoulder and he grabbed her bag for her, hauling it over his arm before she could protest.

“It’s a walk-up,” she warned him and he laughed softly, under his breath.

“That’s not a problem for me, sweetheart,” he replied and then followed her in and up the stairs. Her legs felt heavy as they approached her door. Russi set her bag down and then took her keys out of her hand, unlocking the door without waiting for her. He let it creak open, his gun out in a breath. “Sounds clear,” he murmured. She’d never asked him what his augmentation was, and she wondered for a moment if it was super-hearing, but she couldn’t catch any noise coming from inside the room either.

Russi shifted inside, scanning the room and then she heard him walking across it, towards where the bathroom was. There was a creak, a shifting of her shower curtain and then,

“Clear. Come on in, Daria.”

She grabbed her bag and dragged it inside. Immediately the scent hit her, Nico’s scent, hanging in the air still from the last time they’d been there together. Russi was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching her.

“Well, thanks,” she said, not looking at him as she tossed her bag onto the queen bed that dominated most of the living space in her small studio. He didn’t move and she raised and eyebrow at him. “What, you want me to tip you or something?” she asked, her frustration and sadness from the last 24 hours overwhelming her and coming out in the form of sharp words. Russi was looking over her with heat in his eyes, and she felt the sudden urge to run.

“Close the door,” he said, his muscles slack as he watched her. “I got something I wanna talk to you about.”

Against her better judgement, she reached out and pushed the door. It swung shut with a click.

“Alright, talk.” Daria folded her arms over her chest and did her best not to fidget.

“Nico ever mention me to you?”

The question took her by surprise and she took a moment before replying,

“No, why… why would he? He never talked about you.” She watched his face closely, but other than a hint of appreciation in his eyes, he wasn’t giving anything away.

“I trained him,” Russi said simply and then looked away towards her window for a moment before glancing back at her. That had to suck, the agent you trained turning out to be an environmental terrorist. Still, her heart was wrung out and she barely had the smallest stirring of pity for him. She just wanted to collapse on her bed and sleep for a week.

“Okay, well, that’s crappy,” Daria tried her best not to let her exhaustion and irritation seep into her voice. “Look, if you want to talk about this, I’m… I’m not sure I’m in the mood for it right now, to be honest, but give me a day and we can go grab a coffee-“