Separate Lives
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Chapter One
The street lights cast an eerie glow on the uneven sidewalk, making the dark of the night appear uneasy and unpredictable. A blue plastic shopping bag caught in a light breeze blew across the seemingly deserted road. Rows upon rows of apparently deserted warehouses and other buildings sat on either side of the street. Most of them had boarded up windows or thick chains across the doors. It wasn't a promising section of town. No one loitered about. A broken down old Chevy sat along the edge of the road, sitting up on four blocks where its tires should have been. Spray paint marred its once-tan color. Even the stars poking through the puffy clouds above weren't as brilliant as they should have been. The entire area seemed to be painted in despair and desolation, without an ounce of hope or faith to soften its edges.
Well aware of the shady and suspiciousness of the surroundings but left with no other option, Trixie threw her shoulder against a side door of one of the warehouses. It took two efforts before she was able to break through the lock holding the door shut. Then she shot through it like the bullet from a deadly gun. She took time to slam the door shut behind her and sprinted down the rotting steps, taking them two at a time, before her foot fell through the last step. Grimacing, grateful for the black boots that protected her leg from what would surely have been a set of painful splinters, she tugged her foot out of it. Her feet took on wings as she rushed onto the uneven sidewalk, moving at as quick a pace as her shorter legs would allow. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She ignored it as it coursed down the side of her face. Her breath came in quick, sharp breaths while she threw a look over her shoulder even though she knew better than to waste the precious seconds she had on any possible pursuers. All she knew was that the plan had been blown to hell and back. The rest of the agents were engaged with the enemy while she had to follow her orders and carry what she possessed to safety, which meant that all she had at the moment was herself. There wasn't any cavalry hanging out in the wings, ready to assist. They were too busy on the front line.
A testament to her speed, she rounded the corner a few seconds later and headed west, down the long sidewalk and passed an army of seemingly empty and decrepit buildings. Only the headlights of a vehicle were showing up ahead, about a block away. She watched with curious eyes as the car pulled up to the corner and a trio of scantily clad women approached it. Deciding not to interrupt what was most likely a meeting with the prostitutes and their pimp, she ducked into a side alley and raced on. Only the pounding of her boots on the pavement was audible. Stopping wasn't an option. It was her assignment to keep the object in her pocket safe, sound, and, most importantly, out of the hands of the enemy. At all costs…which meant that she needed to continue, to get away, while the rest of her team hopefully kept the others occupied and off her back. The only deterrent was the fact that there wasn't a meeting place or any guarantee that she would have a team left to meet up with. Patting her pocket to make certain that the small disk was still there, she ran on, a lone figure dressed in black, and sent up a quick, fervent prayer for the well-being of the rest of the agents.
When Trixie was two full city blocks away from her starting point, she paused in the shadows to take a much-needed break. Pressing her back up against the building, blending in with the dark, she took a deep, fortifying breath and let it out slowly. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. With her senses on high alert for any possible sound or an approaching unwelcome guest, she pulled out her cell and quickly typed in a message, hoping that she would receive a reply. One came back a full sixty seconds later and made her face frown. "We know. Ten minutes. Corner of East and Chestnut Street. Be there." Her lips moved as she read the message but she didn't make a sound. Recalling the map of the city with a low, disgruntled groan, she lifted her eyebrows and damned her choice in directions. It was just her luck that she would have picked the wrong way to go.
"Damn it," Trixie grumbled lowly and peered back out into the night, giving her head a small shake at what she perceived as her stupidity and not a twist of fate. With her handy Glock at her side, ready for action if the need arose, she stepped out of the shadows and began to back track her path, her only choice if she wanted to make it to her rendezvous in time. It wasn't with speed this time but with slow, deliberate steps. She was heading back in the direction of the warehouse where any number of potential enemies could be searching for members of the group who had infiltrated their midst. After the way the mission had broken down from practically the second it had started, she didn't relish running into any of them. She stared down at the cell phone clipped to her belt, contemplated asking for more information about her surroundings, but that would only be wasting precious time. Her deadline was already ticking away. She didn't have a choice. She had to get there.
Reaching the corner a few minutes later, she veered off to the right, hoping to follow a parallel road and miss the street that housed the warehouse altogether. If she chose right, she knew she could be at the rendezvous point without coming into direct contact with any potential enemies from the warehouse. As she ran on, her feet slapping rhythmically on the pavement, she was brought to a sudden, halting stop. A loud explosion ripped through the air, sounding as if it was right next to her instead of an entire street away. Her heart raced with a mixture of trepidation and fear. Swallowing a shocked gasp, she stared up into the night sky and saw a plume of angry gray smoke rising above what would have to be the warehouse. Bright fingers of fire flew from the direction of the roof, turning the sky red into a horrifying display that would have brought any Fourth of July fireworks celebration to their knees in appreciation…but not tonight, not when it was the cause of something much more sinister and debilitating than a carefully constructed display celebrating the birth date of the United States of America.
Her stop of horror, shock and disbelief lasted only a moment. How she hoped that her team had made it out before the building blew. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that it was the warehouse. Ignoring her worries and her curiosity, she pressed on, another set of agonizing steps, and ducked into another alley that would connect her to the corner and take her even farther away from the burning inferno yards away. So focused on her pace, forgetting to pay closer attention, she was brought up short by a gravely chuckle from behind her, followed closely by a sharp sound she could identify in her sleep. It wasn't the low laugh that made her stop or made her face turn grim. It was the quiet click of a gun, undoubtedly aimed at her back.
"Well, well, well," a hoarse, satisfied voice declared from behind, as menacing and as dangerous as the sinister smile sloping across his lips. "Look what we've got here."
It took an effort but she stayed as still as a marble statue. Her blue eyes had widened but not with fright. Slowly, Trixie pivoted around on her low heels, her gun held hopefully, unobtrusively at her right hip. With a defiant toss of her covered head, she faced the man in front of her and didn't miss a detail from him. Muscular arms, broad chest, an ugly sneer, and eyes that seemed to gleam with an inner fury and hatred for her and for all that she represented. Keeping her face impassive, thoughts whirled through her mind. First and foremost, she figured he had every right to be furious with her,, and that only made him more dangerous and the situation even more tenuous. After all, he had a wiry strength she had tested and bested only half an hour earlier. The dried blood under his crooked nose, which was most likely broken from the heel of her hand, glimmered in the weak light offered by the odd orangey glow of an outside light above them. He had joined her in the office right after she had hacked into the computer and started to copy the information onto her disk. At first, she had believed he arrived to help her retrieve the information. It had caught her by surprise when it had dawned on her that he wasn't there to help; that he had, in fact, turned on them. Then she had fought and, with a smug look to her face, had won.
They stared at each other, sizing each other up, for an endless moment. "Adam," she declared after a moment, her voice as even and dispassionate as she could make it, and mentally drew up a list of the best choices available to her. Since she had worked with him through her training and her entire career with the CDA, she had knowledge of his strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately for her, he was one of their top shooters. He wouldn't miss, she knew with a sinking feeling in her stomach, should his finger itch to pull the trigger. It would only be a matter of where the bullet would be aimed and if it was a slow or a fast death.
"Belden," he replied with a sneer, his handsome face marred by the truth of his character. He ignored the pain that seemed to be centered on what was left of his nose, and grinned through it. A twisted, evil grin that lifted the fine hairs of her neck, either in dread or in dark anticipation, she couldn't tell. Adam couldn't have been more pleased to have run into her again and vowed to create a better outcome this time around. He touched his nose with his free hand and declared, "Imagine meeting you, of all people, out here. What are the odds?"
She ignored the question, not wanting to get sidetracked. It sucked facing down a former agent, especially one who had gone through the exact same rigorous training that she had. He would recognize every ploy she used because he had been trained in them all, too. Hoping to throw him off track, she started off with the truth. "They know, Adam," she replied easily, never taking her gaze off of his gun. It didn't escape her attention that he held it too tight, that it shook slightly in his grip. That worried her the most. He was on edge where the wrong word or action from her could snap him. Forcing her breathing to even out, ignoring the pounding that seemed to roar in her head, she faced him down, never letting her own nerves and fright show as she had been trained to do. The right moment would come. She had to believe it would or do everything she could to manufacture it herself.
"So what if they do?" He tossed back at her with a tilt of his chin, uncaring if the rest of his former friends and allies were aware that he had switched sides. Sounding tough, he added with a touch of insolence, "It doesn't matter to me. I've got a car waiting to take me away from here. I'll be long gone before they finish going through the wreckage of that building. There won't be much left. I saw to that. I did a pretty good job with it, if I do say so myself."
"You set the explosion?" Trixie jumped on the information he had let slip immediately, needing something to keep the conversation going and his mind occupied on something other than the gun in his hand. She kept her weapon pointed down, amazed he hadn't asked her to relinquish it yet, and quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn't currently in his right state of mind. Begging wouldn't work, not that she had it in her to beg or plead. Neither would an attempt on her part to turn him back from the course he had set with promises of immunity. All she had was the hope that if she kept him talking, he would make a mistake she could capitalize on or someone from her team would find her; whichever came first.
"Yeah. My final farewell to that damn agency," he replied with a hostile sneer and chuckled again, feeling immensely pleased with himself. His chest puffed out a bit at the realization that he had one of their top agents completely at his mercy. He used the barrel of the gun to rub his cheek and advanced two steps towards her, grinning when he noticed the way she poised on the balls of her feet, readying for action. Not wanting to attack yet, he stopped and contemplated her, pleased to have run into her again. "I only hope that the explosion I set managed to take at least another agent out with it."
She caught the implication. Despite her best intentions, worry flashed briefly in her sapphire eyes. The agents weren't just her co-workers. They were her friends. She trusted them as they trusted her. They were the only ones who knew the truth of about her and her job, who she was completely free to talk about anything with or celebrate another successful mission with. "Another?" Trixie asked with a growing feeling of terrible consternation.
"Poor Shane," he murmured, shaking his head with feigned solemness, uncaring that he had shot the one agent who had always considered him a good, if not best, friend. He hadn't even hesitated before his finger had pulled the trigger and had felt an overwhelming sense of power and rightness when his former friend's body had fallen to the ground, with a bullet straight to his back. He hadn't wasted time to check to see if Shane was dead. Instead, he had sprinted through the door because he only had a few minutes to get out before the bomb he set up was going to detonate. "I caught him by surprise. He was in-between me and freedom. One of us had to go down. Too bad for Shane."
Trixie didn't react, staying as stoic as she could. The guilt would come later. If she had taken Adam out for good when he had turned on her in that small office in the back of the warehouse instead of merely rendering him unconscious from a blow to his head, then maybe Shane wouldn't have been hurt. She thought of the disk which sat in her pocket, feeling as if it weighed a ton, and wondered when he was going to demand it back. Losing possession of it wasn't an option for her. As a well-trained and highly valuable agent, she wasn't going to give it up. Not without one hell of a fight or a breath left in her body.
"Gun, Belden," he said, finally noticing the sight of it by her hip. He pointed to the ground and arched an eyebrow when she stayed still and didn't make a move to comply. "I don't need to tell you what I want. Now."
With the barrel of his leveled threateningly on her, she didn't have much of a choice. Trixie crouched down carefully, moving as slow as she could without alerting him, and dropped it carefully on the blacktop. Her left hand brushed against the side of her boot. Palming something, she uncoiled herself until she stood to her full five feet and almost four inches of height.
"Now be a good girl and kick it over here," Adam spoke with an irritating cajolingness and motioned for her to comply.
She didn't let his tone bother her or the thread of insolent amusement in his eyes affect her. Instead, she kicked the gun over towards him, hard enough so that it was just out of her range but not far enough to reach him. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to make it easy for him. "Tell me what happened, Adam," she spoke after he raised his eyebrows in sarcastic delight at her tactic.
"What do you mean?" he replied with sham innocence and let the Glock lay between them. He hadn't expected anything less. Truth to tell, he would have been disappointed if the gun had reached him. "There are so many ways I could answer that statement. Why did I set you and the rest of our team up? Why did I decide to blow up the warehouse? Why am I no longer an active agent with the CDA? Or why did I shoot Shane? How about my favorite one…why am I about to kill you? I'm certain there are more questions," he considered, tapping his chin with his free hand. Shrugging a shoulder, he added, "I simply can't think of them right now."
"Take your pick," she retorted, her fingers on her right hand drumming in anticipation against her thigh, and overlooked his obvious plans for her. "You know me. I'm always curious."
"You certainly are. You have more curiosity than any of the other agents I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," he remarked, taking a step closer. For him the time was moving much slower than it actually was. Too caught up in his diatribe, he reveled in the dark joy of sharing his plans with her and forgot that speed was more important than gloating. "It'll make your pitiful amount of time left on this earth more interesting, won't it, Belden? I'll start off first by saying that money certainly makes the world go round." He almost despised being impressed by the fact that her face didn't give anything away. Not fear, not anger, not dread or even sadness that she was closing in on the end of her life. He couldn't imagine a way out for her. She was alone and unarmed, with no apparent way out. He let his satisfaction pour out through him. "And there is now a significant amount waiting for me in a bank account somewhere in the Caribbean. I'm looking forward to getting my hands on it."
Not if she had anything to say about it but she wisely kept that thought to herself. A toe started tapping. One thing she had never been able to completely control was her need to stay in motion, especially when faced with a high-stress situation. The smaller-sized pistol in her left was her ace in the hole. It evened the score, enough for her to hope that she wouldn't be on the receiving end of a bullet anytime soon. If that's the way it was meant to be, then she was taking him down with her. The thought brought a strange glint to her eyes, one that he didn't take the time to notice or ponder.
"So you were bribed." Trixie couldn't keep a strain of shock out of her voice. The fact that an agent for the CDA, the super secret agency that few people were even aware existed, could be approached and bribed by a member of the outside world was practically inconceivable. She cocked her head to the side and studied him, wondering how on earth that had happened.
Even white teeth gleamed in the night. Understanding perfectly, he answered her unvoiced question. "I went to them right after I found out about our target two days ago," he shared proudly. "And I'm now the proud owner of a couple of a million dollars, holed up in a special account just for me. I'm only a few minutes away from getting in that car and cruising away into nothingness. I imagine I'll be spending the rest of my life on some forgotten beach somewhere, sipping margaritas and enjoying the senoritas. It sounds like paradise."
"That's your plan when you leave here? You're going to try and hide from us?" Trixie kept her eyes focused on him, only him, and refused to give in to the tiny frissons of fear that wanted to overtake her. Instead, she stood straight and tall and continued on, speaking in an impertinent tone that she hoped would grate on him and push him over the edge, "Good luck with that. You'll never be able to go fast enough or far enough away. Like I said earlier, we know. We all know what you did, Adam. We'll find you. You can count on that. When we do, it won't be pretty."
"Maybe. Maybe not." He shrugged off her claim, secure in the belief that he would be able to stay out of their sights. His confidence was growing with each moment. After all, he had managed to mastermind the night's events, which were turning out perfectly wonderfully for him. "Whether or not the agency finds me, you won't be there, will you, Belden? You'll be six feet under."
"That remains to be seen," she answered neutrally, refusing to be baited.
He didn't like her answer, was expecting her to start begging or bargaining for her life. It wouldn't have changed his mind but it would have fueled his own ego. His gaze sharpened when he realized she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "Did you know that I was never a big fan of yours, Belden? Never?" he said, changing the subject. Staring at the deadly weapon in his hand, imagining the best place to shoot her, he observed her closely. "From that very first day I met you, right outside of the Chief's office in San Diego, I didn't like you. I almost wished I had hit you harder on the head than I had that day."
Keep him talking, keep him talking, she thought to herself, recalling the meeting with perfect clarity. It was the day she had discovered a bunch of truths: the truth behind her scholarship, the identity of 'Mr. Miller', and the reason why she had been enticed to move out to San Diego in the first place. "I never knew you didn't like me," she breathed out, pretending to be astonished when she didn't particularly care how he felt about her, then or now. She merely wanted him out of the way. A second finger starting tapping against her thigh while possible courses of action were considered and then hastily discarded.
"It was tough for me but I didn't let it show, not to you, not to anyone. I couldn't talk about it with the other agents, either, especially the ones we've worked with the most. Shane, Max and Jocelyn think you walk on water." He shook his head, remembering her beginning with the agency and how she had been welcomed in with open arms, right from the start. At first it had only bothered him to see the amount of time and patience that went into her training. He couldn't ever remember any other new agent having two experienced and extremely high-up agents training them or the lengths the agency had gone to to entice her to join them. The fact that she had bonded strongly with Jocelyn and Max had only sickened him more. His jealousy ran deep, for many reasons. The close relationship the three had was part of it, as was the fact that the trio was constantly handed the most challenging assignments again and again. Even worse, they had met every single challenge with an apparent ease that he found appalling and earned them even more accolades from the other agents and their chief. To his knowledge, Belden hadn't failed on a single mission she had ever undertaken. Having an unblemished career was practically unheard of. He let the jealously and envy show briefly on his face and smirked when she couldn't swallow back her gasp. "I thought it was sickening how the Chief and the others all doted on you as if you were the best thing to ever come out of our agency, like you were the second coming or something. It's only become worse in the years you've been with us. You celebrated your sixth anniversary with the agency this past January. I can't believe I've had to put up with you for over six years now. Screw that, I thought to myself," he spoke lowly and scathingly. "And screw you, Belden."
The waves of hatred he felt for her were practically radiating off of him in nearly tangible waves, turning his face a mottled red and his eyes into something that seemed to belong more on a demon than a fellow human being. She wanted to take a step back from it but forced herself to stand completely still. She never had a clue that he felt such powerful and negative feelings towards her. Clearing her throat, she gestured weakly in the direction of the burning building and chose not to address his confession. "What about tonight?" she questioned, her voice infused with strength.
He shrugged a shoulder. "My defection has been a long time in the coming. I've been getting more and more disgruntled with the agency. I hate the fact that I've been put on so many back burner missions recently." He shook his head, recalling his own track record, and went quiet. While it was solid, it wasn't impressive. It could have been better, had he been able to partner more with Max and Jocelyn.
She eyed him warily, not liking the silence he lapsed into. Uncertain if it was a good thing to prod him further, she murmured, "You should tell me, Adam. I want to understand."
"Don't play the understanding and sympathetic shrink with me, Belden," he warned her sharply. "You forget. I know all the moves. They won't work on me."
"You got me." She held her right hand out in supplication and admitted, "That's exactly what I was doing."
"Right." He laughed lowly, deciding that it didn't matter if he shared his plans with her. So it would take a few extra minutes. A drop in the bucket compared to the lifetime that awaited him, free from the agency that he had come to hate. "As I was saying, I wanted to leave and in a big way. I simply didn't have a vehicle for my departure until the other day when we were briefed on our assignment." Now that his explanation was starting to roll, he was beginning to revel in telling it, especially to her. "I knew it would need to be a team effort. Routine and quick. Break into the warehouse, copy the information on the main computer, and get back out, all without anyone being the wiser. It was supposed to take, what, a total of eight minutes, tops, right?"
"Yeah. That was the plan." The amount of time that had passed since the mission had started was nearing an hour. The seconds were falling away, like water through a sieve. She had more than missed her time for her rendezvous and wondered if anyone was looking for her. So far she hadn't heard any sounds that someone was coming to assist, which meant that she was entirely on her own. Her ears were straining to hear a sound, any sound. "It didn't work out that way, though."
"No. I made it happen." His pride was oily, slick, and made her skin want to crawl. "I alerted the owner of the building soon after we were briefed about the mission. I didn't tell him who we are since I doubt if he would have believed me. Instead, I let him know that his warehouse was going to be broken into. In return, he promised to have a welcoming committee ready, as well as my healthy bank draft for the information I gave him."
Since her point of entry had only been shared with her, she had already broken into the warehouse and had been on her way to the office when the 'welcoming committee' had greeted the rest of the agents. She had missed out on the ensuing melee although she had heard the sounds of battle behind her. As an extremely well-trained agent, she knew that her orders came first and foremost. She hadn't been able to leave her post, not until she had taken care of her assignment. "Thanks for that," she remarked dryly. "From what I heard, you and your friends were marvelous hosts."
Her response amused him. Feeling an unusual amount of power, he bowed lowly to her and laughed, low, long and hard. "I'm glad you appreciate it, Belden. It was the least I could do."
She didn't respond to his performance. Standing tall, she wondered, "What about the other agents? Where are they?"
"Shane is the only one I took down. The last time I saw him he had a bullet in his back and was lying on the floor." His words made her pale. His grin widened. It didn't bother him to have shot his former friend in the back. He would do it again if need be. "I have no idea where our fearless leaders are or the other members of the second team. Hopefully they're all within the burning confines of the building, becoming the main course for an early spring barbecue."
She couldn't control the way her face whitened but she refused to shudder. Showing any signs of weakness was simply not allowed. Breathing in slowly, she clutched the small item in her left hand and murmured proudly, "They're CDA, as am I. I highly doubt that. Adam." She spoke his name in the same tone she would use to curse, vicious and vivid, with a spark of defiance lighting up the blue of her eyes.
Adam didn't appreciate her answer. He narrowed his eyes, stared at the gun down in his hand, and decided that enough was enough. He was through humoring her or toying with her or whatever the hell he was doing. As far as he was concerned, it was past time to move on to the final act. "I'm through talking with you, Belden. I think it's finally time to end your career here with the agency. It'll be such a shame. A real tear-jerker. Promising agent, shot down in the prime of her career. I wonder what that family of yours will think when they find your body down here in Georgia? Any ideas?"
He finally broke through her steely resolve. She couldn't bite back the pain. Her family and friends had always been her number one weakness, one she couldn't overcome. Ever. The love she felt for them went too deep. Trixie did take a step back this time and shook her head. Her blonde curls slipped out from under the black cap she wore and bounced with the movement. "That's not going to happen," she declared fiercely. She would never allow it to, not as long as she had a breath left in her body. "It won't."
He disagreed wholeheartedly. "Yes. It is. Your mother, father, brothers and the rest of that damn gang you grew up with will be crying over your closed casket. By the time I'm finished with you, there won't be much left to see." He lifted his gun, leveled it at her, and smiled evilly, anticipating the coming minutes with something akin to misplaced glee. "Say goodbye, Trixie Belden of New York, and say it fast."
Her palms pooled with sweat. "Good-bye," she answered. She flicked her left palm up with a fluid swiftness that a gunfighter from the Old West would have envied. She was not as proficient with her left, was much better and more accurate with her right hand, but she didn't waste a single second. Her finger pulled the trigger a millisecond before another gun shot rang out through the night.
Two bullets were released, silent, deadly and aimed at the same target. One came from her. It slammed into his right shoulder and made him lose his hold on his gun. It clattered to the blacktop. The second tore into his chest a millisecond later, a bulls-eye straight through to his heart, and ripped his chest wide open, right before he fell to his knees, a look of unmitigated shock on his face. Something that sounded like a swear word came from him before he collapsed, face down, onto the sidewalk. Dark red blood pooled around him in a streaming river, painting the ground with its garish color, while he went completely boneless and didn't move. Even though she had seen more than her share of gore and death in her line of work, her insides started to quake. "Oh, God," she mumbled lowly, unable to look anywhere else but at her once-comrade, while the image burned unpleasantly into her mind.
"You did a great job of distracting him," a familiar voice announced from the shadows.
She turned, her left hand still holding her weapon. A wispy thin of smoke meandered through the air. "Thanks. I guess," she replied and strode towards him, doing her best not to look back at the fallen man. She concentrated on the man who moved out into the light. Inquisitive eyes scanned over him, noticed the bruises on his face, as well as the stain of ashes and soot across his cheeks. A makeshift bandage, most likely tied on by Jocelyn, covered up a wound on his left arm. "No problems, Max?" she whispered once she reached him. A nervous hand brushed a curl off her forehead while she waited for his answer.
He gave a curt shake of his head. "Nothing we couldn't handle," he replied, knowing that only a few stitches and a lot of antiseptic would help clean the gash on his arm, caused by a well-timed knife swipe from one of Adam's new friends. It had turned into one hell of a night. He started back towards the man he had shot and pondered where it had all gone wrong for him.
With her hands on her hips, Trixie watched him through large eyes as he reached down to feel for a pulse. Remorse flashed across his face when one didn't register. Understanding, she waited quietly by and didn't say a word. He, like the others, had always considered Adam a true and trusted friend. It would bother him for a long time to know that he hadn't been, not in the end, and that he had been the one to end his life. When he rose after a minute of quiet introspection and started back to her, she inquired, needing to discuss something else, "What about Jocelyn? Is she okay?"
He did his best to put it behind him, well aware of the fact that it wasn't good for his health or his sanity to dwell on what had happened. Adam had chosen his own path. There wasn't anything that could be done about it now. Clearing his throat, he replied, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep well for a long time to come, "Joss is great. No problems with her at all." He pointed to the pair of headlights that flicked in their direction. "She came through with flying colors. I don't think she even broke a nail."
Trixie released a small sigh. "What about the rest of us?"
The lights flickered again, urging them to come forward. "Come on, Trixie. We'll fill you in as soon as we get to the car. Joss is getting impatient. She's in charge of the wheels." He grabbed her elbow. Together they hurried down the sidewalk, away from the body that was just beginning to lose its warmth. She had to work hard to make her shorter legs keep up with his longer ones.
She couldn't wait until they reached the car. She had to know. "Adam told me about Shane. Is he okay?" Trixie studied him out of the corner of her eyes, hoping against hope that their friend was going to be all right, and bit her lip in anticipation.
"He's the reason why we couldn't make it to the rendezvous Jocelyn planned any earlier." He glanced down at his shirt, knew that some of the blood he was wearing was from Shane, and ran a hand through his hair. Wearily, he shared, "I found him and carried him out of the building before the explosion happened. He's already been taken away from the scene and should be at the hospital by now. He was shot in the back, by our lovely former agent back there," he explained, hooking his thumb in the direction of Adam. "Luckily, he is breathing. Barely."
Jocelyn rolled down the window and ordered them, her voice low and direct, "Enough dawdling. Get in here, you two. We've spent too long here as it is. We've got to get going. Now."
They didn't waste another minute and clamored inside the vehicle. Max took shotgun while Trixie settled herself on the backseat. After buckling herself in, she leaned forward. "You told me about Shane. What about the others, Max? How are they doing?"
He aimed an easy grin her way, pleased that there wasn't a long list of casualties. "Only Saunders got hit. She took a bullet to the leg and was taken to safety immediately. She's being seen to. We'll find out more about her condition and Shane at our debriefing. The rest are like me. A little bruised but relatively fine. The rest of the second team is already out of the area."
"That's good." She released a breath she hadn't even known she had been holding and let her body relax against the seat. She despised it when an agent got hurt, especially on one of her missions. This time two agents had been shot, which was practically unheard of.
While they were talking, Jocelyn drove the vehicle down the empty streets, speaking a mile a minute into her headset, as the building smoldered a few blocks away behind them. Sirens could finally be heard off in the distance. She held up a hand to silence Max and Trixie and continued, "Yes. I've got them. Both of them. They're okay. Adam's not." She shared a look with Max and sighed at his negative shake of his head. He had been a good friend, once upon a time. It was going to be awhile before she could reconcile the fact that she had never actually known him. "Yes. Adam's down for the count. The fire will need to be contained before it spreads to the other buildings. Have you already alerted the clean-up crew yet?"
With a nervous hand playing with the strap of her seatbelt, Trixie listened in for the answer. She heard the voice on the other end offer a decisive "yes" and felt a surge of relief. The 'clean-up crew', as they were affectionately referred to, would take care of the mess created by the mission. While technically CDA agents, they weren't active agents and didn't partake in any missions. Instead, they served as the liaison between the agency and any law enforcement agency they happened to come into contact with. Their job was to hide the work of the agents. They were excellent at it. By the time they were finished, the fire would be construed as an accidental blaze, most likely caused by faulty wiring, and Adam would be classified as a victim of a mugging. They wouldn't need to spin a tale for Agent Saunders or Shane since the CDA had taken care of them. No one outside of the agency would ever know the truth about the events of the night.
"And the disk?" Jocelyn repeated into her headset. She eyed Trixie in the rearview mirror and nodded in appreciation when she saw the moonlight gleam off of it. "No problem, Chief. Belden's got it."
Trixie accepted the protective covering from Max and slipped the disk inside it. Normally she would have been more curious about what it contained. Not tonight. Even though the mission would go down as yet another successful one, she couldn't help but be disappointed with the outcome. One agent in the hospital, another with a broken leg, and a third one who had gone rogue and had, subsequently, died. It didn't matter how she looked at it. It sucked. Pure and simple. Hopefully the disk contained something they needed once it was decoded and would make the hellish night worthwhile.
Needing a distraction, and badly, she slipped off the black cap from her head. Long blonde curls fell in waves past her shoulders. She watched Max lean over and place a comforting hand on Jocelyn's knee while she continued to receive directives. Her lips tilted up at the corner. The two were an even stronger couple than they had been when she had first joined them. She couldn't remember the last time either of them had been assigned to a different mission. Chief Ogilvie seemed to understand that their relationship was not a liability but a strength. They worked best when they were together and not apart. Trixie caught the way Jocelyn acknowledged his comforting touch with a small smile of her own before giving her full attention back to the Chief, obviously getting their departure plans from him, as well as the information on their upcoming debriefing. Deciding she didn't need to know all the particulars because Max and Jocelyn would fill her in on them once they stopped, she closed her tired eyes and pulled in her visualization exercises. An image of Crabapple Farm floated behind her eyelids while her smile deepened. Slowly, the stress and tension began to leave her while she let the rhythm of the vehicle relax her.