Page 46 of Code Name: Reaper
“I would’ve liked to be in on the conversation Nemesis plans to have with Irish.”
“You could have your own meeting with him,” I suggested. “Get his take on it.”
“Good idea.” She covered her mouth when she yawned.
“Getting tired enough to try sleeping again?”
“Are you?”
“My brain won’t shut off, either.”
“Maybe…”
I waited for her to continue, but after several seconds of silence, I grew impatient. “Maybe what?”
“We could try sleeping together. And, to clarify, I do meansleeping.”
“Worth a try.” I only hoped that being in bed, next to her, wouldn’t make it harder. Me harder.
11
AMARYLLIS
“Time to get up,” I heard Reaper say.
I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to remember where I was and how I’d gotten here.
“The pilot said we’re about to begin our descent. We need to return to our seats,” he added.
“How long did I sleep?” It was a stupid question, given if we were getting ready to land, the answer was obvious. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Still a bit out of it.” I glanced over my shoulder to see if he’d heard me and noticed the hard set of his jaw. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” he responded, walking over to the door. What I didn’t anticipate was him leaving the stateroom. Not that there was any good reason for him to stay. Still, it was as if I’d fallen asleep with one man and woken up with someone very different.
Rather than press him on it, I returned to my original seat and pulled my tablet from my bag, thinking that maybe an email had gone out that would explain his about-face. I scrolled through but didn’t see anything that seemed relevant. On the other hand, it was after midnight in England, so unlesssomething urgent had transpired, I wouldn’t expect there to be any updates.
I looked over at Reaper when he sat in the seat directly across the aisle. He’d folded his arms, and his eyes were shut. Maybe I’d kept him awake. Honestly, I couldn’t remember much after I lay down. I must’ve fallen asleep within seconds.
Rather than pester him, I searched through the dossiers until I found Jekyll’s. Something had been nagging at me. The man was British. Not only had he been with MI6, but he was a member of Unit 23, the most elite and deadly of the UK’s intelligence teams. So why had he attended high school in the States? I scrolled through the brief, groaning when there was very little beyond the most basic information.
“What are you doing?” Reaper snapped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. What are you doing?” he repeated.
“Looking for more detail on Jekyll’s early years.”
“Why?”
His tone annoyed me enough that I almost told him it was none of his concern. But given that would result in more tension between us, I stopped myself. “I was curious why he attended school in the US.”
“He went to Bethel-Rhodes.”
“As I’m aware.” This time, I did snap at him.
“Children of diplomats, upper administration, even presidents attend the academy.”
“Are you saying his parents fell into one of those categories?”
