Another short chapter…
Chapter Lucky Thirteen: The Conscience of Michael Vaughn
Michael led Brooke into his office, all but pushing her into the leather chair that sat opposite his desk.
"Oooh, Mr. Vaughn," Brooke said with a giggle. "Forceful, are we?"
"Don't give me that shit." Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so angry. Damn it. He hadn't trusted Brooke for years, and Syd had trusted her for even less time. However, the duties Sydney assigned her were so inconsequential to the Organization that neither of them believed her to be a threat. But if she was talking to Jack Bristow and telling Irina about the meetings she had with him, there was no telling the damage she could have done. Not to the Organization, but to him and Sydney personally. "How long have you been talking to Bristow?"
Brooke raised her eyebrows. "What worries you, Mr. Vaughn?" she inquired. "That the information I've given Jack might compromise the Organization? Or that I might let Irina know about you and Sydney's disloyalty?"
"What disloyalty?" Michael exploded.
"I know Jack offered you a deal," Brooke purred, swiveling in her chair. Michael had thought he might make her uncomfortable, standing over her like he was. That didn't seem to be the case. "Irina acts like she's not worried about either of you taking it, but I know she's bluffing." She smiled coquettishly up at Michael. "It's you that concerns her, Michael dear. Frankly, you'd concern me, too. It's clear that Sydney's completely under her thumb. But you just might have the balls and conscience to do the right thing."
It took Michael only fractions of a second to have his gun out of his holster and pointed at her head. "I might just have the balls to blow your head off," he said, his voice low and threatening. "And I assure you that my conscience won't get in the way."
Brooke raised her eyebrows. There was appreciation in her eyes, maybe even desire. No fear. "But then you wouldn't get what you want from me, would you, Michael dear?" she asked calmly. "And I'm assuming that you do want something from me, and that you didn't drag me in here just to show me what a strong sexy man you are."
"When do you meet with Jack Bristow again?" Michael demanded, not moving the gun from her temple.
"Tomorrow," Brooke said, examining the chipped red polish that clung to her nails.
"You will tell me as soon as he contacts you," Michael ordered. "And you will not attend that meeting. I will."
This earned raised eyebrows from Brooke. "And what makes you think I won't run off and tell Irina about our little conversation?"
"Besides the gun pointed to your head?"
A smile flickered across Brooke's face. "Besides that."
"I'm assuming Jack Bristow has made some sort of deal with you. I also believe I'm correct in assuming that if I tell him you've been telling Irina about your meetings with him, that deal will be null and void."
Brooke smiled. "Don't tell me you actually think I'm concerned about that deal. You actually think the CIA's going to succeed in taking this organization down?"
"Who knows?" Michael returned her smile, though his was cold. Thin-lipped. "I just might have the balls and conscience to find out."