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office or downstairs in the lobby."

"Why, what's up?"

Ben rubbed his jaw. "Listen, mate, I couldn’t go home without saying something."

I braced myself, because for Ben to leave Livy, it was something serious. "Yeah?"

"I know it's none of my business, but the Nyla thing… I know you don't trust her, but she took gunfire, not only for herself, for us. I know you don't trust anymore, and I know that you're likely to turn all your attention toward her and the seventy-five ways she could betray us again. And while I appreciate that, I don't think this has anything to do with her. If it does, her own men shot at her. Which is useless and a quick way to get an agent dead."

I held my breath. "Yeah, I know. I hear you. You came back up just to tell me that?"

"It's bothering me. We're not seeing the picture properly. First of all, what the hell was Interpol doing there? Secondly, who was shooting at us? Because Nyla was right; it wasn’t Interpol. It's someone secondary. But it leaves me to believe that we've had a leak somewhere. It's making me nervous."

I nodded because I was thinking the same thing. I’d assumed our leak was Nyla, but again, it didn't make sense that her own people were shooting at her. "Theroux?"

"Maybe the shooters, yeah, but it doesn't make sense that he’d call Interpol on himself."

"Well, he did tell Nyla he'd turn himself in."

"Maybe, but he would control that situation better, and you and I both know he's not really going to turn himself in."

"Yeah, tell that to Nyla though."

Ben winked. "I'll leave that to you. So now we're stuck."

"I know. I'm on it. We'll figure it out. We always do."

“Yeah, we always do.” As he turned to leave, he gave me a brisk nod. "Just think about what I said about Nyla. You think you're the one outside looking in and that what she did was fucked up. I know that. But maybe you should ask her about it and talk to her. Because otherwise, it's going to eat you up."

The only thought that ran through my head was that I hated it when he was right.

Chapter 14

Nyla

Never say never, because chances were, at some point, you’d have to eat your words.

A big heaping serving of them. But there was no way around it. We kept running into roadblocks with the search for Warlow. Amelia wasn’t speaking to me, so I couldn’t ask her for help, and I knew it would come back to haunt us somehow anyway. I was working my contacts, but there was a limit to the information I could give or get. I was between a rock and a hard place, and there was only one thing I could do to soften that hard place.

When my father suspended me, I’d told myself I was never going back. I was never going to put myself in the position again where I would have to beg for attention, or scraps, or anything else from him. But there I was, waiting in the Interpol visitor's conference room like I didn't belong there, like I hadn't spent countless hours searching for kernels of information, cataloging financial crimes. I’d spent years of my life in this place or other rooms just like it.

Instead, I was the one being offered coffee like I was some kind of tourist. When my father walked in, he hesitated when he saw me, and I quietly said, "I was told to come on in. Sorry, if I should have made an appointment."

"We don't have anything else to say to each other, unless you have an apology ready. And even then, there's not much you can say."

I had to force myself to swallow the retort that he wasn't the damn one who should ask for an apology. I had to force myself to bite my tongue, to not scream and let the rage out. I wanted to yell, You were supposed to be my protector. Stand in my corner. Instead, I bit my tongue.

"Actually, I do have an apology. It's probably been a long time coming. In hindsight, Denning and I working together was probably an error in judgment. While Agent Sinclair is a fine agent, there were so many reasons why we didn't mesh, and it caused a clash in our working situation."

As apologies went, it probably lacked the flair that would satisfy Denning, but it was the best I could do. Like hell were they going to get me to say I’d been at fault. "Dad, I know that you're disappointed in me." That was accurate. He was disappointed in me. "But I would like you to know that it was never my intention. I've worked hard and have done my best to be a good agent. I'm tenacious, and smart. I work my butt off."

"Nyla, no one is concerned about your work ethic. If anything, your inability to let things go is the problem."

Bile tried to claw its way up my throat, but I managed to keep it down. “I do need to learn to let things go and walk away. The thing is, in the last several days that I have taken and used the opportunity to reflect on my life and my career, I’ve discovered there isn't anything else I'm suited for. I was meant to be an agent. The people in this building are my family. And you actually are my family. Denning too. As much as we… uh… disagree, I’m part of a team here. I need this team, and I’m ready to be a team player."

My father watched me warily. I liked being part of a team. I did. I just wasn't very good at waiting for the rest of my team to get on board with things. When I was right, and I knew I was right, getting me to slow down and include everyone was difficult.

Queasiness unsettled my stomach as I recalled

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