Edge of Retribution Read online

  Releasing the zipper from my grasp, I spin around. “I think I’d like to eat now, please.”

  Agent Smith smiles, her brown eyes filled with kindness. “What would you like? I’ll send someone out for food.”

  “Can I have pizza?”

  “You can have anything you’d like. I know this situation is difficult. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, but you’re safe with us. I want you to remember that. We’re here to protect you.”

  “How many agents are there are on duty?”

  “Three at the minimum. There’s one inside and two outside at all times.”

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I mull her words over. Three doesn’t seem like much against an underworld kingpin. Especially one who recently murdered two federal agents overseeing the task force set up to take him down. And tried to kill me as well.

  Agent Smith places her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re all trained and here to keep you safe. Everything will be fine.” She smiles, reassuringly. “Let’s go get a menu and order some pizza.”

  Two hours later, my belly is full, and I’m slumped down on the couch staring at the picture of my parents and I, the same one I snuck into my bag. I glance at our smiling faces until my eyes blur with tears. I can’t believe it’s been almost a week since we spoke or shared a hug. We had a daily tradition every morning before I headed off to school. Dad would call out for a “family hug,” and the three of us would crowd together in the kitchen and wrap our arms around each other. That reminder of how much my parents loved me, was always the best way to start each day. This picture is a poor substitute but will have to suffice now that there will be no more family moments to share.

  Who’s going to hug me? Who’s going to make me feel loved... even when I can’t stand myself? Who’s going to help me through the heartbreak of losing a first love, or walk me down the aisle when I get married someday?

  I could really use a shoulder to lean on. I’ve got someone shadowing me twenty-four-seven and yet I’ve never felt so alone. I’m not allowed to make any calls and from what little I’ve been told; internet access is a big no-no. Agent Smith mentioned she would go over the official dos and don'ts with me tomorrow. I imagine it’s a very short list for what I’m allowed to do. I may have survived everything that’s happened to me, but right now dying seems like it would’ve been the easiest option. I’d be with my parents and I wouldn’t have all this guilt crushing me.

  Was there something I could’ve done to save my parents? I’ve replayed the scene in my head on what feels like an endless loop. Could I have saved one of them? When my father was killed, did I hesitate too long? Was there something I should’ve done? Something that would have prevented my mother from the same horrible fate? Did I do anything in that moment to provoke Sergei? Was it my fault they were killed?

  These are the wearisome questions I repeatedly ask myself and I’m not sure I have the answers for them. I think Sergei would have killed them no matter what. He was what my parents used to call a blunt instrument - someone capable of nothing more than following orders. I’ll never know for sure and that’s why the doubt and guilt keep creeping in. But it’s the images I can’t escape; no matter what I do. Images of my parents beaten, begging and broken, keep flashing through my mind. It doesn’t matter whether I’m asleep or awake, I can’t stop reliving the sight of their faces and heads exploding right before my eyes. No matter how much I try, I can’t block those horrifying images. It’s a nightmare I’m afraid has no end and my life will never be the same.

  Another night spent fitfully tossing and turning, will I ever feel well rested again? What about safe? Because even with three people protecting me, I sure as hell don’t feel secure. Popov’s reach stretches far and wide. My parents were as open as they could be about the work they did. Of course, they couldn’t divulge details, but my safety was always utmost on their minds. As a result, I’m more informed about things most teenagers have no concept of.

  Throwing yesterday’s clothes back on, I brush my teeth and run a comb through my tangled strands. Glancing at my pallid face in the mirror, I take in the dark circles under my eyes. Each morning they appear to be larger. I don’t even look like myself. Who is this sad girl staring back at me?

  It’s difficult to believe how much your life can change in an instant. Less than a week ago, I was eating ice cream with my parents while we cuddled on the couch watching How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days.

  God, I miss them.

  My reflection blurs, tears pooling on my lower lids, before I brush them away with my palms. Crying won’t bring them back. I have to be strong and get through the trials and make sure their killers pay for what they did. My parents deserve no less.

  “How are you this morning?” Agent Smith inquires as I walk into the kitchen. She’s seated at the table, a steaming mug of coffee between her hands.

  “I’m fine,” I murmur, flatly.

  “I’m sure you must be bored by now.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Especially with the lack of technology. I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s for your safety.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it sucks for sure.”

  “I don’t know if this will help or not, but I grabbed you some books my daughter read when she was your age. You’re welcome to them.” She gestures to the neat stack of paperbacks on the table. Some are young adult romance type books and buried under the pile I find a few of the Harry Potter series.

  A small smile teases my lips. “Thank you. These are great. Reading is one of my favorite hobbies and you can’t go wrong with Harry Potter.”

  “My daughter always had a book in her hand, in fact she still does.”

  “How old is your daughter now?”

  She smiles, her face lighting up with motherly pride. “She’s twenty-two and just graduated from Boston College. Can you tell I’m proud?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ll find all these books interesting or not, but it’s something different for you to do.”

  “Hey, it beats television,” I reply over my shoulder as I pull off the milk cap and pour myself a glass.

  “There’s a plate of bacon and eggs on the counter if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks. You don’t have to cook for me, I know how.”

  “You seem like a very capable girl for your age.”

  I shrug noncommittally before answering, “I did a lot of cooking with my mom.” I smile as I think about how much fun we had together.

  “Happy memory?” she questions.

  My eyes flick to meet hers and I nod. “Yeah. There was this one time, I must’ve been around ten or eleven years old, my mom and I were making cookies and my dad threw flour all over us. We each grabbed a handful and tossed it in his face and then he chased us across the kitchen until he caught us both. By the time he was done hugging and kissing us we wore as much flour as he did.” My cheeks stretch into an impossibly wide grin.

  Agent Smith laughs. “Focus on the good times, Zoe. It sounds like you had a great relationship with your parents.”

  My teeth press into my bottom lip, scraping back and forth over the soft flesh. “I did. They were the best parents I could’ve asked for. My father always told me if anything happened to them I should be thankful for the time we had and not mourn the time we’d miss.” My eyes drop to my bare feet, toes curling away from the cold linoleum floor before meeting Agent Smith’s. “I’m trying to do that, but it’s a struggle. No matter how many great times we packed into eighteen years it isn’t enough.” I shake my head. “It’ll never be enough.”

  She rises to her feet and has me in her arms before I realize it, reassuring me while I sob uncontrollably.

  “I know I’ve been here with you around the clock, but that’s not how it’s usually done. I wanted you to have a chance to settle in before we switched out agents on a rotating schedule.”

  “What does that mean? Are you not stayi
ng with me anymore?”

  “I’ll still be here, but not all the time.”

  “Who’s going to be here with me?”

  “Agent Garrison.”

  A new agent? But I like Agent Smith. She hugs me when I’m down and bakes cookies.

  “Don’t look so concerned, honey. Agent Garrison is a very nice man.”

  “Man? I don’t want a strange man I don’t know staying with me.” The words fly out as my heart races anxiously.

  “Zoe.” Agent Smith places her hand on my shoulder. “Calm down. Everything will be fine. I’ve worked with Agent Garrison and there’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  I nod weakly. Her words do nothing to lessen my unease. The last time I was around a male stranger I was kidnapped; my parents were murdered in front of me and Sergei threatened to rape me. I know my worry seems unreasonable to Agent Smith, but for me it’s completely rational.

  “Besides, you’ve been fine with me for the last few days, right?” I nod my head in agreement. “Well I’m much scarier.” She turns to face me. “And twice as dangerous.” She winks and smiles, but it’s not what I’d call a friendly smile. For the first time I see Agent Smith not as a female sent to placate the scared little girl, but as a strong, capable operative; a protector.

  A sudden knock on the door has my heart thundering in my chest. Agent Smith glances at her watch. “Speak of the devil.” She smiles reassuringly, before she moves to let Agent Garrison in. I grimace at her horrible choice of words. I’ve seen enough evil to last me a lifetime. I know who the devil is - his name is Marius Popov.

  Spinning around, I head toward the kitchen. I don’t want to meet the new agent. Why does anything have to change? I’m fucking sure I’ve endured enough change already.

  I tug open the fridge and twist the cap off a bottle of my favorite soda, before checking the door shut with my hip. Taking a large sip, the cold bubbling liquid tickles the inside of my mouth, before I swallow it down. A loud burp unexpectedly erupts from my chest and I giggle.

  “Bless you.” A deep voice behind me has me whirling around so fast soda spills over the back of my hand. My cheeks instantly warm. I feel them flush a scalding pink color. “Here.” He plucks some napkins from the stack on the table and hands them to me.

  Careful to avoid his fingers as I grasp them, I mumble a reluctant, “thank you,” and wipe the sticky liquid from my skin.

  “I guess I should introduce myself.” My eyes swing up to meet his. He smiles and for a moment I’m struck speechless by the sight of his gorgeous face. Warm honey brown irises framed by thick, dark lashes stare back at me. “I’m Agent Garrison, but you can call me Nash.” He holds out his hand.

  Ignoring his polite gesture, I reflexively take a step back, placing more distance between us. “I’m Zoe.” My voice is unusually hoarse. Being this close to him has shaken me and not in a good way. My heart is pounding so rapidly, it’s pulsing in my ears. My knees are weak and the thought of my skin touching his has my stomach spinning wildly with fear.

  To his credit he moves further away, taking a seat at the table. “It’s nice to meet you, Zoe.” Relaxing, he casually props his ankle on his knee. I’m sure he’s trying to set me at ease, but it’s not working.

  “How long have you been an agent?” I question, as my inner voice shouts to be careful. He’s a stranger and I shouldn’t trust him, even if he is handsome and well spoken.

  “Six years. I came on board right out of college.”

  “So that makes you twenty eightish?” I’m not sure why I ask him this. What does it matter how old he is if he’s good at his job?

  “Yep, I am. And don’t worry, I’m good at my job.” He winks, teasingly. “And reading people.”

  I sigh. “I hope you are because I want those guys to pay for what they did to my parents and I’m the only one who can testify.”

  His stare is direct. “No one’s going to hurt you on my watch, Zoe. I give you my word and that’s not something I do lightly.”

  “Okay then.” I nod, walking across the kitchen. Reaching the doorway, I peer over my shoulder feeling somewhat placated by his words. “It was nice meeting you, Nash.”

  Chapter Three

  Nash

  One Week Later

  Zoe’s been reserved with me since I arrived last week. She mostly keeps to herself and doesn’t respond with more than one or two words when I try to engage her in conversation. I’m aware of her situation and what she’s been through, but I really didn’t expect her to be so stubborn after being around me for a while. I figured I’d wear her down and she’d naturally warm up to me...I figured wrong. Zoe’s a tough customer and all the charm in the world is wasted on her.

  The sound of harsh breaths greets my ears as I walk down the hallway. When I reach the spare room, I find Zoe practicing punches and kicks and her form looks pretty good.

  “Have you had formal training?” I question, interrupting her.

  Ignoring me, she continues, and I lean a shoulder against the door jamb to observe. Focused intently on what she’s doing, I don’t think she realizes I’m there. Crossing my arms over my chest, I notice her long, lithe limbs and the natural athleticism she moves with. She’s petite and muscular - lean, but gently curved. Her hair is twisted into a knot on top of her head and a headband is holding back the bangs that normally fall across her eyes.

  Her movements are graceful and strong. She snaps out punches in a fierce and steady rhythm, mixing in a series of spinning heel and jumping crescent kicks, as she whips around the room in a frenzied assault against an imaginary opponent.

  Zoe stops dead in her tracks and her eyes widen when she finally notices me standing in the doorway. She opens her mouth to speak, only to close it again seconds later and turn away in awkward silence.

  “Not bad, Taekwondo?” I see a small opening and try to engage.

  “You train?” Zoe spins around, facing me. “Never mind. What am I saying? Of course, you train.” She talks fast and smiles nervously. “You all have to be super dragon grandmasters or something like that, right?”

  “I do like the sound of that.” I smile, and she laughs.

  “Next time throw those kicks lower.” She looks surprised at my observation. “Here to here...” I motion down from my sternum to my knees. “Where they might actually connect and do some damage.” I shoot a quick wink her way, turn and leave the room. Making a connection will take time and I want to give her space. I don’t want to push her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.

  “Hold up.” Apparently, Zoe isn’t interested in space right now. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with my kicks?” She follows me from the room and down the hallway.

  “I don’t think you’re kicking high enough.” I keep walking through the kitchen and into the living room without looking back.

  “Wait.” Zoe stops and sounds confused. “What?”

  It takes a moment before she gets the sarcasm and appears at the door behind me. “Ha ha and fuck you too.” She plops down on the couch across from me, with her legs propped up on the coffee table. It’s hard not to notice the sweat soaked t-shirt, clinging tightly to the small amount of her body it’s covering. And those legs… my God, those legs. The Almighty himself couldn’t resist a pair of legs like Zoe’s.

  I suddenly realize I’ve been staring at her far too long and by the look on her face, she knows it. I cough to break up the silence. “Excuse me...” This is awkward.

  “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with my kicks or not?” She smirks a little and I can’t help but like this girl’s style.

  “I meant just what I said.” I stand and begin checking the windows throughout the room; partly out of habit but mostly to distract myself from the way she looks right now.

  “Here to here.” I motion from my sternum to my knees again. “Where they might actually connect and do some damage.”

  “Might actually connect?” Zoe sounds disgusted. “I’m a second-degree black
belt.”

  “That’s very impressive, I just meant...” I try to explain but she’s not hearing it.

  “Well, what belt do you have?”

  I stop and turn to face her, bowing at the waist and performing what I feel is a solid imitation of Mr. Miyagi from the Karate Kid. “JC Penney, you like?”

  “What the hell?” Zoe obviously doesn’t get the reference. “Are you on drugs?”

  “Listen, your form looks amazing.” In more ways than one. “And I’m sure you’re a very strong girl, but those high kicks aren’t going to work on anyone who knows what they’re doing. You need to focus all that speed and power toward the lower, softer targets. They’re a much safer bet; easier to connect, harder to defend.” I can see the wheels turning in her head as she thinks about what I’m saying. “Add in all that jumping and spinning around like a little F5 tornado and I’d say you’ll have a fairly lethal combination.”

  Zoe’s face lights up. “Show me.”

  “What?” I’m surprised by her question.

  “Show me.” She’s determined.

  “I can’t. I’m on duty.”

  She rises from the couch without another word, stalking down the hallway and back into the spare room.

  Within a few minutes I hear her working out again, but I don’t see her for the rest of the morning, or until Agent Smith returns mid-afternoon to relieve me for the night watch.

  Karyn Smith is a genuine old school badass - a true legend in the Bureau. Stories of her undercover work as a rookie agent in the months leading up to the end of the Cold War are still whispered throughout the clandestine services.

  “Agent Smith,” I greet her at the door.

  “Agent Garrison.” She’s all business, dropping her bag and checking the place as she heads for the kitchen. “How’s our girl doing?”