Hope groaned as she slapped her cell phone closed. She had no clue why, but her boss from the New Directorate wanted to keep her in their employment. The whole attempted assassination thing was a mix-up, or so she was told. Some stupid guy who had some vendetta against her.
Personally, she didn't care if that was the truth or not. She just wanted out.
It still bugged her slightly that she wasn't sure she was working for the people she should. She had known rather quickly that she wasn't working for the CIA in those early days, but she still hadn't quite figured out the impact of the missions she was paid to do. However, she eventually started tohear about the repercussions of the things she had done. The gossip didn't bode well for her.
And yet she couldn't give it up. If she did, her only option would be to join the CIA. Her parents would still never agree to that. Hell, her parents still didn't even know she was a spy, let alone a spy working for the people they were trying to apprehend on a daily basis.
She had no clue how she had hid her other life from them for so long. They knew the Black Widow existed. In fact, a few times she had run in to them in the field. Once they had even been sent after her to apprehend the greatest spy in the world which she was quickly becoming.
Luckily, she had had some advance warning, considering her father was positively glowing about getting such a good assignment for days before they actually had to track down and capture the Black Widow.
She had let them hunt her down. Let them almost feel her in their grasp.
And then she had just disappeared.
She hated to be the one to cause her parents to have a failed mission, but she really didn't want to have that conversation with them about why she was the Black Widow. They would probably blame themselves for raising her in such a fragile world.
That stupid prophecy was still controlling her life. She hated it.
Her mind ran through the little she knew about her possible death. She and her parents had made a pact not to discuss it unless absolutely necessary a few years back. That had made their lives a little less stressful. But the downside was she couldn't ask her parents questions about it.
That wasn't good seeing as how she was beginning to forget critical pieces of information that she should probably remember.
She couldn't explain to them that when she started working for the New Directorate they had given her a small implant in the back of her neck that would systematically block out memories that interfered with her performance. And by given, she meant being knocked unconscious only to wake up to a throbbing in her head and a new scar to display.
Turns out the idea of her predicted demise was making her hesitate at critical moments. So it was blocked out.
And she was operating in the field almost completely blind.
She didn't even remember the name of the person she was supposed to fight. Which made her treat every single person she came into contact with an enemy and potential killer.
There was no easy way to make friends when you think they're going to kill you at every turn. So that's why she had stuck mainly to her family and the small group of people who had been around to insure she was raised in safety. If she didn't remember someone from before she started working with the New Directorate, she didn't let them in. She couldn't let them close.
Cursing softly about how much her life sucked, she made her way into the grocery store that was down the street from the little house she called a home when she wasn't staying with her parents. Sydney and Sark hadn't been happy when she demanded a little freedom, but they had allowed her to find this place she now called home. She spent the majority of her "work week" there due to its close proximity to the bank she had an imaginary job at.
During the weekends that she was not called away on a business trip, she returned to the small house in the hills of California that her parents had called home for a few years now. It was comforting to have the opportunity to give up the façade of hardened spy and to be able to just trust the people around her. To know that they were not going to cause her harm.
She shook her head as she browsed the cereal aisle. She had no idea when she had gotten so deep in the spy world. One day she was going out on her first solo mission, and the next she had a brain implant and was fighting attempted assassinations. If she could only tell her mother what her life was like in order that they might compare. It would be fun to see if Hope beat the great Sydney Bristow in the bizarre department.
Grabbing a box of the most sugary cereal she could find, she turned to make her way to the next aisle. At least she would have left the aisle if she hadn't ran headfirst into the man standing behind her. "I'm sorry," she said, picking up the box she had dropped.
When the man didn't extend the same courtesy, she finally looked up at him. "Tyler."
"Hi, Ana. Fancy meeting you here."
His voice sounded cold, which surprised her. The last time they had talked, he had been all out flirting and joking with her. "I do eat, you know," she said, waving her cereal in front of his face. "So it shouldn't be that big a surprise to find me purchasing food."
"You're right. Even evil spies have to eat."
"Ouch," she said, grimacing. "Your words wound me, and I don't even know why."
"I did a little research into who you were. You have some surprising connections to my life."
She rolled her eyes. "Imagine that."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I have connections to practically every active spy. It runs in my family."
"A family of spies," he said. "I did find that out."
"We do what we're good at. Now if you excuse me, the frozen foods are calling my name. I can't get enough of those mini pizzas."
She pushed her way past Tyler and walked down the aisle, making it all the way to the end before turning back to look at him. She was happy to realize that he was still watching her. Not knowing whether or not she wanted to get into this with a CIA agent, she opened her mouth to say something but then promptly changed her mind and shut it. This occurred at least three or four times in rapid succession without her making a definite decision on whether or not she should let this Tyler character have it.
"Is there something you wanted to say?" he asked her, smugly, obviously pleased at what his cold words had done to throw her off.
"I was just curious as to why the hell you are being such an ass to me. What did I ever do to you?"
"You didn't tell me about your connection to Nadia Santos."
"You didn't tell me that my personal information would cause you to be a dick. We both held things back." She stomped over to stand in front of him and poked his chest hard with her right hand. "Why the hell do you care, anyway? We've only met once."
"And you almost got me killed."
"You did just fine. You're above the normal caliber of CIA agents."
"Are you trying to get me to come to your side?" He suddenly gasped in a mock of some sudden realization. "Oh wait. That's right. You don't still work for them, do you? You don't even have a side anymore. Makes it a little harder to figure out if you're a good guy or a bad guy when you wake up in the morning."
"Actually, I do still work for them, so I guess that makes me a bad guy. At least in your eyes, apparently. Not that it matters, but the only reason I'm still employed by the N.D. is I seem to be under a contract I can't quite get out of. Why? You thinking about switching sides? Want to know if the benefits package is good?"
"No. I kind of like working to make the world a safer place. To each their own, I guess."
Hope growled softly before turning on heel and yelling back over her shoulder. "I don't take abuse from people like you normally."
"And who do you suppose a person like me is? Since you really seem to want to throw me into a stereotype," he said as he ran after her.
"A stuck-up CIA agent who can't understand that maybe there are reasons why I'm doing what I'm doing. You didn't even give me a chance to explain. You just assume."
"Then give me a chance," he said.
Her heart skipped a little beat at the small smirk he gave her. She didn't know a look like that could be so sexy. "You want a chance to do what?"
"Take you out to dinner."
She shook her head. "I thought you were the good agent. Good agents don't ask out bad agents."
"This one does." His eyes scanned the freezer they were standing in front of until they obviously hit whatever it was he had been looking for. Reaching into the cold, he continued to talk. "I'll have you know that bad agents usually say yes when they get propositioned."
"And you want me to be a bad agent, don't you, Tyler?"
"Yeah. It makes things a little more exciting."
She laughed loudly. "You are definitely not the typical CIA agent."
"I take after my father. He didn't really like to follow the typical expectations that the CIA set."
"Guess I'm not the only one to have a spy family then."
"No. It's highly common these days. So? What do you say?"
"My daddy told me to never go on dates with strangers. And Mr. Secret Agent Man, I don't even known your last name."
"It's Vaughn."
The name made her do a double take, but she had no idea why. Hesitantly, she said, "Tyler Vaughn. That has a familiar ring to it."
"You've probably heard my name from your mother."
She tried to focus but felt the familiar buzz at the back of her neck. Something was being blocked out again. Damnit. She really hated this stupid spy job.
But on the bright side, all she had was a chip in her head. At least she hadn't been abducted for two years and declared legally dead only to return to life to find that everyone has moved on including the man she thought she would love for the rest of her life.
"So? How about giving me a chance to ask for that explanation?"
His words pulled her out of her thoughts on what her mother had gone through in her early days of being a spy. This guy was serious. He really wanted to throw caution to the wind.
That little notion made her eyes sparkle. She had no idea why, but talking to this guy made her happy in a way she hadn't been for a long, long while. Which is why she found herself, against her better judgment, saying, "All right. I'll do it."
"Good." He tossed her the box and began to back his way out of the aisle. "Meet me at Trattoria de Nardi."
Hope stiffened at the mention of one of her mother's favorite restaurants. Now that was a strange coincidence if she had ever lived one. "But that's in Rome."
"Yeah. You're resourceful, though. Figure out a way to get there. I'll be waiting for you at ten o'clock Italian time."
She shook her head as he disappeared around the corner without another word. This was definitely not where she thought this little encounter would end up. After all, he had been so cold and mean to her when they first bumped into each other. She still had no idea what that had been all about.
Something told her it had to do with her Aunt. Her mother had never really talked about Nadia Santos and what had caused her sister to do such mean, heartless things to Hope's family. It was a sore spot that they all chose to ignore.
But obviously it was important enough to get a man who obviously was intrigued by her to want to hurt her with his cool words and hidden meanings. She would have to try to get more information on her aunt before her date.
Before her date. Now that was just weird. She didn't think she would get over the fact that she had said yes, but at least she felt the shock of having accepted a date with a CIA agent begin to slowly fade away. It was as this occurred when she realized that she still had the box he had tossed her in her hands, and it was beginning to drip.
"Pineapple and bacon mini pizzas." She let out a surprised laugh as she read the box. "Now how the hell did he know this was my favorite?"