Forgetting Josephine

Chapter 4: Suspicions

Previously:

But something across the room catches his eye: a figure, darting towards the hidden staircase where Nikita and Tristen had just walked up. Holding a gun.

And Michael is experienced to know that this is never a good sign. He immediately takes off, sprinting across the room, pushing through the throng of people.

But he's not fast enough. There's too many people; the staircase was too far away.

Two gunshots ring out, throwing the Embassy into perfect pandemonium.

Michael turned his comm back on. "Nikita? Nikita!"

No reply. The guests were being ushered towards the exits, but all Michael could do was stand there, frozen. Did Tristen find out who she was a spy? Did he call someone in to kill her, just like he had slaughtered the others?

Two words kept repeating in his head.

Not her. Not her.

Tristen had led her up the stairs to a small, luxurious sitting room, slamming the door and shoving her up against it with a force that knocked her breath right out of her. She fought the urge to take him down, to overpower him, to kill this man whose hands were inching under the hem of her dress and lips were smothering hers. She pushed him, hard, shoving him in the direction of the antique couch, trying to put space between them, trying to regain some sort of control. But he dragged her with him onto the couch, tangling and falling, banging her limbs on the metal arm of the furniture.

She would have bruises tomorrow that she'd have to cover up. Just more pain she'd have to keep hidden from the world. From Michael.

The thought of him made her eyes sting. This animal had her pinned on a couch, hands roaming, pulling at her clothes. Here, in a sitting room where just anyone could walk on in. Yet her thoughts still drifted the man she wasn't allowed to have such thoughts about.

Suddenly, the door flew open with a bang. A giant Russian, blonde haired man with a gun and a crazed expression on his face.

He raised his weapon and fired.

Nikita rolled to the floor, a bullet flying by her head as the man shot at them. With a swift kick, she swept his feet out from under him and he fell to the ground with a thump. Her eyes grew wide. She recognized this man.

He worked for Ari Tasserov. For Gogol, an entity she had heard of from inside the walls of her briefings in Division, but had been on enough missions to recognize their presence, their best hit men. They were Russian Division.

They weren't after her. That meant they were trying to take out Tristen. She looked back at the stunned man, his clothes askew, the shock still fresh on his face. What did you do that Gogol would send one of their best to take you out? She wondered.

He looked up at her. "How did you do that?" he demanded.

Dammit. How could she explain this? Her target knows that there are spies after him. He's killed them before. Who's to stop him from killing her?

Suddenly, she was aware of a shadow just outside of the doorway, just out of Tristen's line of sight, and a wave of comfort swept over her. Michael.

"Tell him you were sent to protect him by his intelligence service," Michael's rough voice whispered in her ear over the comm.

She turned to Tristen, aware of the way his hand was poised over his cell phone, suspicion written all over his face.

"We knew you'd be targeted tonight, Tristen. I was sent to protect you from any threats."

"By whom?"

"Your intelligence service, of course. I'm a private contractor."

"A spy?" his tone was still accusatory.

She smiled a little, trying to diffuse the tension. If he snapped, this room would be flooded with his security, and there would be no hope for her. Division would leave her behind. Even Michael wouldn't be able to save her.

"No. I don't gather intelligence. I just do as I'm told."

"And were you told to sleep with me?"

She forced a laugh that sounded surprisingly natural, and she sauntered over to him, her fingertips brushing over his arm as she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "That was not part of the plan, no. But if you want to continue this..."

"Not here," he said suddenly. "Whoever is after me could strike again." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Come back with me. To Wales."

She looked up at him, trying to ascertain whether his suspicions still lingered. For all she knew, he could turn and kill her any moment. But if Gogol was involved, surely this ran deeper than she knew. This man, this abhorrent villain, deserved to be brought to justice. She could do that. She could take down whatever circle of crime he was running. Even if it meant prolonging this mission. Even if it meant more bruises and nightmares. This was her chance to do something good.

Michael's voice rumbled over her comm again. "Nikita, he might suspect-"

"I'd love to."

"Good. The jet takes off in an hour. You don't need to bring anything. We're leaving right now."

Tristen took her hand and pulled her out of the room. Michael had disappeared from the hallway.

For a fleeting moment, she felt the danger and risk of what she was walking into with a lucidity that frightened her. She was willingly entering the lion's den, and her life depended on how well she could sell her side of the act. How well she could read him.

One mistake and she'd be dead.

…

"We have to plan an exfil," Michael said, standing in Percy's office. He kept his arms crossed and his expression stoic, but his voice betrayed him, harsh and urgent. He wasn't fooling Percy or Amanda. "It's too dangerous for her. He's on to her, I know it. Once he finds out that his intelligence service didn't hire someone to protect him-"

"Then Nikita will problem solve. You don't give her enough credit, you know," said Percy, his eyes narrowing. "She's been in precarious situations before. Certainly with higher stakes. Why is this different?"

Percy's statement was a challenge. A challenge with consequences if he answered incorrectly.

"All I'm saying is that the mission has been jeopardized. He suspects her, so any recovered intel is invalid."

"We don't know that," said Amanda. "Nikita can be very... convincing."

Michael flinched inwardly at the thought.

"Since you're so worried, how about you oversee the mission and set up on location tactical surveillance?" Percy suggested. "She was your recruit, after all, and some backup may be necessary if what you say is true."

This suggestion wasn't innocent. Was this another one of Percy's tests? He had to tread carefully. He had to appear indifferent.

"Fine," Michael said. "I'll get Birkhoff to book me a flight for tonight."

Amanda watched Michael leave, and turned to Percy.

"Do you think he knows?"

"Not a chance," said Percy, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression. "We're in for quite a show."

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I will be updating more frequently again. Expect more chapters soon! (As in tomorrow, probably)