Chapter Twenty-nine: Creations of Irina Derevko

"I think we need to have a word, Ms. Banning."

Brooke looked up from the stack of papers on her desk, smirking at her former lover. "Sark," she greeted him. "Shouldn't you be on a plane to the other side of the world right now? Irina knows you're the one who set Jack Bristow free."

"Jack Bristow is free?"

For just a moment, Brooke's heart stopped. Maybe he wasn't responsible, and she had just told him something Irina could very well kill her for. Then she saw the smug smile on Sark's face, and she knew her suspicions had been right. Sark had freed Jack Bristow. "You're so full of shit, Sark."

"Maybe," he agreed, perching on the edge of her desk. "What I want to know, Ms. Banning, is why you were so quick to point Irina in my direction."

"Maybe because you were guilty," she shot back.

"Maybe." Sark drew closer to her; he stood behind her and began massaging her shoulders. "Or maybe you have your own agenda."

"Get your hands off of me," Brooke snarled, flinching away from his touch.

"You didn't used to mind my hands on you, did you, Brooke?"

"Go to hell," Brooke snapped. Of course what he said was true. Not only had she not minded his touch, she had craved it; she had actually loved the bastard once. The two of them had been recruited into Irina's organization at practically the same time; they'd been teenagers, children, really. It had been scary-- before Irina had found her, Brooke had been a junkie, a whore, and Sark hadn't been much better off. They'd been grateful to Irina, at first, for saving them. Little had they known that she was ushering them into a life of indentured servitude where they would find comfort in only each other.

It hadn't been as bad for Sark. He hadn't been expected to trade his body for intel, to sleep with whoever Irina asked him to. For that, Brooke would always be resentful. She knew that was why. Why Sark wanted badly to rule the Organization while Brooke wanted only a way out. Why they had fallen out of love with each other, if Sark had ever cared for her at all.

"Poor, sweet, Brooke." Sark's lips touched her neck, and Brooke shivered. Not that Brooke Banning was even her real name. Brooke Banning and David Sark were inventions, creations of Irina, and in Sark's case, she had definitely created a monster. "I would think you would be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" Brooke repeated incredulously.

"Of course," Sark said. "You were Jack Bristow's contact within the Organization. Perhaps now that he's free, he'll offer you a deal. A way out."

Brooke swiveled to face him, glaring up at him. "You know that if I do, your ass is going to jail for the rest of your life."

"I'm sure you won't let that happen, Brooke." Sark trailed his index finger along her jaw line. She wanted to tell him not to touch her, but she seemed to have lost the power of speech. "After all, you can't tell all you know about the Organization without incriminating your precious Michael Vaughn."

Brooke wanted to protest that she cared nothing for Michael Vaughn, but she thought it best to pick her battles. "What the hell kind of deal can Jack Bristow offer me if I'm not willing to talk, Sark?"

"That's a good question, Brooke," Sark said, his voice soft. "Maybe you should stop trying to get out and content yourself with running the Organization with me."

"You-- you're not going to run the Organization," Brooke said, but she knew her words lacked conviction. "Irina doesn't trust you."

"Then I'll just have to get rid of Irina, won't I?"

Brooke's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

"Why not?" Sark said with a shrug, moving around the desk to sit in one of the black leather chairs facing Brooke. "Over the past year she's stupidly given me access to everything-- files, contacts. And I learned so much from Sydney. Irina's really outlived her usefulness, if you ask me."

Brooke glared at him. "I could easily tell Irina what you've told me, Sark."

"You could," he agreed. "But you won't. Because you know I'll succeed, Ms. Banning, and if I find out you've tried to sabotage me, you'll be dead, too." He rose from his chair, returning to her side of the desk so he could kiss her cheek. "Think it over, darling. The next few days are going to prove to be very important, and I think it's best that you decide where your loyalties lie."

He paused once on his way out the door. "By the way, I hear Irina gave you orders to seduce your Mr. Vaughn. Was he everything you always dreamed?"

"It turns out that my Mr. Vaughn is more honorable than your Sydney," Brooke snapped. She tried to stay cool, but damn it, she couldn't do it. "So I wouldn't know."

Sark made a tsking sound, shaking his head. "You're losing your touch, Ms. Banning."

He slipped out the door before she could think of a proper comeback. So she merely sat back against her chair, letting the tears well up in her eyes even as she willed herself not to cry.