Page 4 of The Player

“Out!” Her tone was bordering on hysterical, but she didn’t care. She needed him gone.

The door opened, and Robert Fitzwallace stepped into the room. Had he set this up? Probably. It was just the kind of interfering bullshit the man was known for.

“And I don’t want you in here either, Fitz.”

“That’s enough, Hope,” growled Fitzwallace.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” she said, grabbing her clothes and putting them on, stuffing her bra and panties into her purse. She leaned over to pull on her boots. “I’m warning you, Fitz, I’m leaving. Anyone gets in my way, and I will kick their balls so far up into their body cavity they’ll never come down again.”

There was a mild standoff between her and Fitzwallace. Realizing the best outcome he might achieve would be accomplished by getting out of her way, Fitz nodded. “Stand down, Seth. Ms. Pearson would prefer to leave. I don’t think you should leave the club. I’m not convinced you’re in the right state of mind to do so.”

“Bullshit. I’m out of here,” she said, pushing past Fitz and Seth.

“If you leave, you will be revoking your membership here,” warned Fitz.

Hope paused in the doorway. “That’s your decision, but it’s moot. I will never play at any of your clubs again. Apparently, I was wrong to put my trust in any of you.”

She stormed down the stairs and out of Baker Street, her footsteps quick and furious, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Once outside on the street, the cool London air did little to soothe the fiery rage within her. She pulled her coat tighter around her, not so much against the chill of the evening but as a futile attempt to contain the anger that simmered inside her. How could she have been so blind? How could she not have known?

The realization that Seth Newcomb had been the one to bind her, to push her to the edge of pleasure, and then over it, sent waves of humiliation crashing through her. She’d given herself over to him so completely, thinking she was in the capable hands of some anonymous Shibari master—someone who could unlock the part of her that craved the release only the ropes could bring. She felt a bitter taste rise in her throat at the memory of how easily she’d let go, how effortlessly she’d surrendered to the sensations he’d coaxed from her body.

And it had been Seth—the bastard. And Fitzwallace had set it up—the double bastard.

Her fists clenched as she remembered the way Seth had touched her, the way his fingers had moved over her skin with a familiarity that now felt like betrayal. All this time, she had kept her professional distance from him, knowing that the attraction simmering between them was dangerous, knowing that giving in could lead to complications neither of them could afford. Yet here she was, indulging in the one thing she had sworn she would never allow herself to do with him.

She hailed a cab, needing to put as much distance between herself and Baker Street as possible. As the vehicle pulled away, her thoughts drifted back to the job that had brought her here in the first place—the position of legal attaché at the U.S. Embassy in London. She had hoped the role would be a fresh start, an opportunity to put her skills to use in a new environment, but it had quickly become clear that the position was more about political maneuvering than hands-on crime-solving. It was all cocktail parties and diplomatic dinners, not the gritty, more intense work she was accustomed to.

It hadn’t taken long for the disillusionment to set in. Within months, she had started to feel like a caged animal, confined to the polished halls of the embassy, her instincts dulled by the constant need to play nice with people whose motivations she neither trusted nor respected. The final straw came when she realized she was being used as a pawn in some larger political game, her skills being wasted on tasks that anyone could have done. It had felt like a set-up, the same kind of thing that had landed a Russian traitor in her care. One that Royce had found her with and immediately assumed the worst.

She was done. She would demand to be returned to the States and reinstated at Quantico, back to the FBI where she could be of actual use. If the Bureau wouldn’t comply, she might finally take that meeting with the CIA. Hope missed the thrill of the hunt, the rush of adrenaline that came with cracking a case wide open, the satisfaction of knowing that her work was making a tangible difference.

There was no way for her to know that the reality of what awaited her was more complex than she had ever imagined.

FBI Headquarters

Quantico, Virginia

Present Day

Quantico’s imposing structure loomed ahead as she pulled into the lot, its brutalist architecture as stern and unyielding as the people within. Hope stepped out, her heels clicking on the pavement as she made her way through the entrance, flashing her badge at the security checkpoint. First up this morning was a meeting with her boss, Special Agent in Charge Paul Dailey, who had hinted at a new assignment for her. Something big, he had said. Something that would need her specific set of skills.

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

The elevator ride to Dailey’s office was agonizingly slow, giving her too much time to think. Her sleep had been restless the night before, filled with images best forgotten. She tried to push away thoughts of Seth, of the way he had looked at her when the blindfold had come off, a mix of triumph and something else—something she didn’t want to acknowledge. He was the last person she wanted to think about right now.

The doors slid open, and she stepped out into the hallway, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Dailey was waiting for her in his office, his expression unreadable as always. He gestured for her to sit as she entered, but she remained standing, too restless to sit still.

“Hope,” Dailey began, his voice gruff, “We haven’t had a lot of time to chat since you’ve been back. We’ve got a situation; one that requires your expertise.

“What kind of situation?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, her tone sharper than she intended. She was still on edge, and she needed to rein it in before it affected her judgment.

“A delicate one,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done some excellent work in your codebreaker capacity. Your uncovering of the criminal organization operating here and abroad with ties to various individuals in the American government—military and possibly the CIA—have led us to where we are today. But we’re missing a component—one connection we haven’t been able to pinpoint. Someone within Cerberus.”

Shit. The last thing she wanted or needed was to work with Cerberus. The shadowy organization that operated in the murkiest of waters, where black ops, national security, espionage, and criminal enterprises overlapped. If there was someone within Cerberus working against them, the implications were massive.

“I’ve hit a wall with the security and encryption levels,” Hope admitted. “Whoever this Cerberus agent is, they’re good. They’ve covered their tracks well.”

“That’s where you come in,” Dailey said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We need you to get inside. Get us what we need to unmask this agent and take down the criminal organization before they can execute their plans. We have reason to believe they’re planning a mass terrorism event in the coming months.”

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