Grey and Lonnie through the casino floor downstairs, but realistically it was more like he pushed her, "Do you want to tell me what the hell happened up there?" he demanded.

"Not really," Lonnie said, despondently.

Grey grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, "You better start talking. Just who in the hell are you?"

Wilson showed up and ushered them quickly toward the exits, "We need to leave, now."

Grey stopped them again and thrust Lonnie towards Wilson, "Not until she tells us what's going on," he thrust a finger into her face, "She knew that maintenance man upstairs – who was he and what was he doing here?"

"There's no time for this, we'll talk to her in the car, we have to move," Wilson beckoned, "and you have a lot of talking, little girl," he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the garage.

Grey brought up the rear and would pause on occasion to look at their surroundings and make sure they weren't being followed.

When they reached their car, Wilson shoved Lonnie to the backseat and got in next to her, while Grey sped off. "Our rendezvous point is in the desert to the south," he said, "we should be there soon."

"Good," Wilson said, "Call and find out how soon we'll meet up, I want to get out of this state in the next few hours. We're burned… And we have excess baggage," he took out his handgun and trained it on Lonnie, "start talking."

Lonnie fluttered at the sight of the gun. It wasn't the first time she was staring down a loaded barrel, but admittedly it was the first time she was staring while unarmed. This wasn't supposed to happen like this…

The moment she purposefully ran into Grey a couple months ago, Lonnie made the decision to try to get a close to them as possible. That was within the mission parameters if it didn't endanger her, but what wasn't a part of the parameters was that she wanted in on their plan.

Lonnie meant it when she told Muntzy that she was done. At the time though she had no idea of the context, but a light went on in her head after her run in with Grey. The Old Lonnie was back, she was bored, dissatisfied and wanted to be a part of something big. This was her chance – not to mention, it was a hell of a great way to make money. She just had to get them to trust her.

She planned to maintain her cover through the very end, but then run interference for Wilson and Grey and escape with them and the plans. When she would reveal her true identity she hadn't really planned yet, but she would do it with the understanding that they owed her big time.

And then Wilson told her… her of all people to go upstairs and get the designs. How easier could it be? And then that guard had to play hero and all hell broke loose. She knew Muntzy would be up there, but she had that figured out too. In the blink of an eye her entire plan was shot. And now her life was as stake.

"I saved your ass," she said.

"Bullshit," Grey yelled into the rearview mirror, "where's the designs you were supposed to get? You expect us to believe you didn't botch that on purpose?"

"Absolutely not," she shot back with unfettered certainty, "your little mercenary at the door wouldn't let me in and I had to take care of him."

"And then you pulled a gun on your partner."

Lonnie stared down the gun barrel again, and then back up at Wilson, "Let me guess… you were going to have me steal your designs and either kill me or leave me in the desert after I turned them over to you, right?"

"Something like that," Wilson said, "and don't think I've deviated from that plan."

If anytime was a good time to come clean, it was now. "Look," she said, "I'm with the FBI…"

"Jesus!" Grey yelled. He pulled to the side of the road and grabbed Lonnie out of the car before Wilson could react. He shoved a gun into her neck and cocked it."

"Not yet!" Wilson yelled as he got out of the car, he gestured towards Lonnie, "Go on."

Grey didn't move an inch as Lonnie spoke, "I'm FBI, or at least I was. Tonight was a sting operation – they've known about you guys for a year, we've been planning to take you down for the last six months."

Wilson laughed loudly, "Why should we believe you? Why should we trust you?"

"You don't have any other choice," Lonnie said, "If you want to get out of town alive, like it or not, you need me. You can kill me now and they'll come after you and never stop. Or you can take me with you and help me disappear… I can help keep you one step ahead of them all the way. I'm here to get paid – just like you."

"Darling," Grey said, pressing the gun further into her jugular, "I come from counterintelligence, and if anything you sound more full of shit now than you did a few minutes ago. How do I know you're not some kind of double agent?"

Adrenaline started to take over, and Lonnie pressed herself further into Grey's gun and got closer to his face, "You don't."

"I say we kill her," he quickly replied.

Lonnie closed her eyes and winced. One of the more gruesome elements of training involved discussions on taking a bullet. A number of agents spoke to the horrors and pain involved with getting shot, and how there are no good places to be hit, just bad and fatal. It felt like an eternity before Wilson spoke.

"No. She's coming with us," he said.

Grey dropped the hand holding the gun to his side and turned to face Wilson, "Are you crazy?"

She looked over at Wilson hoping for some kind of answer or saving grace. But he didn't utter a single word, just glared at Grey.

Michael and Taylor raced through the casino looking for Wilson, Grey and Lonnie. Both men were confused as to what happened. Taylor saw more than Michael; he watched Lonnie pull a gun on Muntzy, and then Grey promptly gunned him down before the two absconded.

The better question was why? Was Lonnie so deep that she had no other choice? Michael hoped so because the alternative was too unbearable to speculate.

There was quite the amount of confusion among Wilson's hired help. Without a leader, most of them fled immediately, some stayed without orders and unsure of what to do. Tanya stayed by Acton's side while the CEO was fuming. When she saw Michael run past, she grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Michael, just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I don't have time for this, Tanya," Michael said, trying to move on with Taylor.

"You have all the time in the world because you're being paid good money…"

Michael cut her off, "I don't work for Acton!" He grabbed his wallet and produced his FBI badge, "Your head of security is in deep shit, and he has one of my agents. We can deal with this later, but I need to do my real job, your boss is the least of my concerns for now."

Tanya blinked and stared him down, "I don't believe you," she said coolly.

"What the hell else are you going to believe, Tanya?" Michael yelled, "Grey just killed my partner, Lonnie was one of ours who they directed to rip off your boss, and now Wilson and Grey have her and no designs. I gotta get her back."

He tore himself away from her grasp that she maintained through the entire conversation. She also maintained her eye contact; with that piercing unsettling gaze.

By this time, Acton had Taylor cornered and was demanding answers. Michael left Taylor to sort out the mess while he hopped in a local Bureau car to try to head after Lonnie. He had no true idea of where they were; Lonnie's issued phone was either off or nowhere near her, so he couldn't track her. His one piece of fortune was a covert network of cameras that were installed in Vegas and the surrounding area shortly after it came up on a post-9/11 target list. The last glimpse of them was in a car heading south on a local road.

Michael knew there wasn't much out there to speak for, so he was hoping they were still somewhere out there, waiting.

Waiting for what? Or who?

Car lights ahead of him drew his attention after what seemed to be an eternity of driving. Michael noted he was only about 35 minutes out of town. He quickly dialed Taylor and informed him of his location.

"Keep this line open and I'll be right behind you," Taylor replied, "Get her back alive."

"You bet your ass," Michael said. Ahead of him, figures came into view, he could clearly see Wilson and Grey, but where was Lonnie? He grabbed his Glock 22, made sure it was loaded, and was out of the car barely before it stopped.

Instantly, Wilson and Grey had their handguns out and trained on Michael, who was aiming between the two of them, ready to strike at a moment's notice. "Federal Agent!" he yelled, "Drop your weapons."

"You're outnumbered, Mr. Roesler," Grey said, "If that's your real name."

Michael trained his weapon on Grey and took a step closer, "I know yours isn't Grey," he said. He still couldn't place where he recognized Grey from, but he could tell he slightly jarred the man with the recent revelation.

"How did you do it," Wilson asked, "how did you get three agents so close to us?"

"You got sloppy," Michael lied. These guys were good and they knew it. The only reason he got anywhere near them was because Natalie Markins had no social life to speak of. It was dumb luck, and their luck was running out.

Especially his when he heard a familiar voice behind him and the click of a handgun.

"Put it down, Michael," Lonnie said.

Any special agent worth their salt knows you don't throw down a loaded and chambered weapon, nor do you bend down in a vulnerable position to surrender. Instead, Michael raised his arms in the air and allowed Lonnie to retrieve his gun. She unloaded the bullet from the chamber and tossed it to the ground.

Michael's mind was working overtime to evaluate the situation. While he had been in worse, much worse while deployed, this was different. He could handle himself being surrounded, hell him and his unit were sold out and burned over there, their cover blown completely. But this? What was Lonnie's angle? What was she doing and whose side was she really on? There had been times before where an agent was so deep they had to play the part in order to gain full trust of the mark. He's done it once or twice, but never involving other agents who weren't in on the gag. There was always some kind of code-word or gesture, but not this time.

What if this really wasn't a gag?

Lonnie circled around him until she was standing with Wilson and Grey. Michael stood alone with three guns trained squarely at him. Uncomfortable silence and a few feet of desert separated them.

"Lonnie…" Michael started, but she promptly cut him off.

"Don't, Michael," she said.

"Just tell me what's going on," he said, "why are you doing this?"

"Why do you think?" she yelled, "You all sent me into this to play the part of doting and observant secretary. That's all I was worth to the Bureau. I'm smarter than that! I'm better than that. I'm not meant for some menial life – I want more! And none of you cared… not even Jordan. And I was nothing to you but some little sister to protect, not a partner."

Wilson took a step forward and kept his gun trained on Michael, "Is it that hard to believe? Lonnie has talent. She has guts. I reward that," Michael was about to speak but before he could, Wilson cut him off and re-aimed, this time at Michael's face, "You did this! You're responsible," he grinned and lifted his arms slightly outward, briefly losing his aim on Michael, "Can you really blame someone for wanting a piece of the action?"

"This is what you wanted?" Michael asked Lonnie, "To turn your back on your partners, the Bureau, and sacrifice every oath you swore? Your morals?"

"Don't lecture me on oaths, pride and country!" Lonnie screamed, "I didn't spend half of my adult life in the military, I don't bleed the colors, hell I barely know the Star Spangled Banner. All my life I've been coming up short, stuck in the middle, being mediocre. I'm sick of it! I want to be on top, be in control. And I took it, Michael," she said through clenched teeth, "I finally took control of my life."

The lights and sound of the car pulling up behind him was just the distraction Michael needed to get a slight advantage. Thank God for Paul Taylor's impeccable timing. When Wilson shielded his eyes from the headlights, Michael leaped forward and swiftly disarmed the man. Had it been Grey, he might not have been so lucky.

He trained his newly acquired weapon on the trio, sure it was two guns to one, but he counted on Taylor's backup in the next crucial seconds. The footsteps behind him grew closer and Lonnie's eyes widened in surprise. He could see her mouth the words "Oh my God."

What Lonnie was so shocked at, he wasn't sure, but he quickly found out when another voice spoke up. A very familiar female voice, "It's about damn time, I've been looking for you forever."

Tanya Walker.

What the hell was she doing there? Why wasn't she back at the Montecito? If anyone needed her there more than ever, it was Acton. She must have slipped out of the casino shortly after Michael did, but in whose car? She arrived with Acton… And why didn't Taylor give him the head's up she was on her way?

Michael thought for a second about notifying Taylor, but didn't want anyone to know he had an open line. Though he was sure Lonnie knew, at least based on past protocol. But she was so far removed from the situation, it seems she didn't think of it. He breathed a sigh of relief when Taylor's voice came through his ear bud.

"Who the hell is that, Michael? Is that Tanya? I'm not too far away, keep her safe."

For some reason she stayed behind Michael, and while he wanted to turn around to face her, Grey still had a weapon trained on him, and Lonnie was too unstable all the same. He shouted out the side of his mouth and over his shoulder for Tanya to stay in the car and that his partners were on their way.

"We need to talk about what's going on," Tanya said. There was something about the tone of her voice, Michael felt, almost like she wasn't quite interested in what he had to say. She was stepping closer and clearly had no intention of getting back in her car. And with being out-gunned, Michael clung to one last desperate attempt to keep the upper hand until Taylor arrived.

But there was no time for that. The world around him began to slow down. Lonnie started to raise her arm, reaffirming her aim – and maybe it was a combination of the dark desert and the various headlights, but he couldn't quite tell where Lonnie was exactly aiming. Was it at him? Either way there was something different this time. There was a certain look in her eye.

He had seen that look many times before, and without pausing for thought, his adrenaline took over in and focused on his own thoughts of self-preservation. There was no time to think it through, and before Lonnie had a chance to shoot, he squeezed the trigger.

Despite being in the open desert, the gunshot echoed and snapped Michael back into reality. He looked at Lonnie… that killing look in her eye gave way to something saddened and confused. Her breathing was labored and her eyes drained of what appeared to be all of her tears. She uttered Michael's name before she crumpled to the ground.

"Oh my God," he said. He moved cautiously toward her, the gravity of what just happened slowly beginning to sink in. But he had to, right? She was about to shoot him. At least he thought she was…

He kept his gun trained on Grey, who surprisingly didn't shoot back, and instead lowered his weapon. Perhaps Grey was stunned that Michael actually did it. What other choice did he have?

"Don't you move," he yelled and gestured with his gun. He knelt down next to Lonnie. She was still alive, but not for long, he feared. His instincts had him aim at a key spot on her chest, and he hit the target perfectly.

"Michael," Lonnie said through deep breaths and tears, "I'm so sorry."

He shushed her, held her tight and tried to make her comfortable, all the while he knew the would was fatal, "I'm sorry, Lonnie. I… I…"

"I messed up," she wheezed, "I didn't want this." She repeated that line over and over as she died in Michael's arms. With her last bit of energy, she looked up at Michael, her green eyes started to glaze over and lose their color. Her eyes never closed, that dying gaze would be held forever. He gently pressed her eyelids closed and set her down on the desert floor.

Rustling behind him caught his attention, he leapt to his feet and raised his gun, only to find Tanya had her own and was aiming right back.

That's when it hit him… Lonnie wasn't about to shoot him. She was aiming for Tanya.

"You work for them too, don't you?" he asked her. Michael had enough death and betrayal for one night, but this? Everything was starting to come together, and it was a nightmare. The buxom blonde using every ounce of sexuality to worm her way next to the CEO and allowing Wilson and his team to take over.

But it made sense now. Muntzy felt uneasy at their initial briefing six months ago, but it wasn't in reference to Michael's concerns about Grey. Natalie had no intel or information about Tanya at all, and for good reason, she was just as invisible as Wilson and Grey. They were a perfect trio who took many things from many people.

And now they took Lonnie away from him.

Tanya smiled and held that unsettling gaze with Michael once more, "Michael you've underestimated me I'm afraid," she said, "they work for me."

Michael's stomach dropped. He looked around and saw himself surrounded by nothing but wreckage and rage. He thought he heard Taylor say something through his ear-bud, but his entire world around him became hollow. He raised the gun he took from Wilson, intent on emptying the clip on Tanya. But before he could, a violent white flash and searing pain consumed his entire world. His back and head were on fire, and his ears rang from the sound of the gunshots that came a split second later.

The inertia of the bullets from behind and the single one from the front caused Michael to crumple awkwardly on top of Lonnie's body. The physical pain was unbearable… Whoever said that a body would go into shock in the face of severe trauma had lied.

Everything was muffled around him and the shot to the head had blinded him. His face felt warm for what seemed to be the longest time, but now it was quickly getting cold. This felt nothing like it did when he was injured before. It was a million times worse.

That's when he realized the gravity of his wound. It took all of his energy to reach his face with his hands, and to his horror, he discovered it was gone. All he could feel was a grotesque mass of muscle and bone.

The exposed nerves in his wound fired simultaneously and the pain consumed his entire being.

He heard a scuffle around him; Tanya, Wilson and Grey were obviously on the move. His lone solace was that they were getting away empty handed.

But still getting away.

His final thoughts before blacking out involved Stevie.

He promised her he would be careful.

He promised her he would come home.

He never lied to her before.