Page 55 of Avenging Jessie
Tessa drummed her fingers on the top of the table, nodding as she caught on to what Jessie was thinking. “We have to stop being loyal soldiers. We have to be willing to break the rules to stop him.”
Jessie sat back, relieved that they were on the same track. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
Tessa leaned forward and smiled. It was the smile of a predator who knew her next meal was only around the corner. “I think you’re brilliant.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Flynn going off-grid and telling me before he did so to do whatever it takesto stop Brewer. It’s like, he was giving me permission to turn everything on its head in order to bring down this madman.”
“And you’re worried the rest of the team won’t back you up. Because they’re still playing by the rules.”
Jessie shrugged, her gaze flicking to Spence once more. “It’s what we do. Sure, we skirt a few of the rules from time to time, but we are all loyal to the Agency and our country to a fault. And Brewer is counting on that.”
Tessa’s gaze sharpened, the predator-smile gone now, replaced with something colder. More calculating. “Then maybe we stop playing by the rules altogether. He’s playing chess while we’ve been playing checkers. If we’re going to win, we take the board away entirely.”
Jessie’s pulse picked up. She’d been turning over the same idea since Berlin had first hit the radar. “We set our own trap.”
“Exactly,” Tessa said. “One he can’t resist walking into.”
They both glanced—instinctively—at Spence and Tommy, both still sleeping, oblivious to the fact that the two women across the aisle were quietly plotting a side op. Jessie’s chest tightened at the thought of what either would say, but she forced her attention back to Tessa.
“It would have to be something Brewer can’t delegate,” Jessie murmured. “Something personal. Something that hits him where he’s weakest, so he has to show up in person.”
Tessa tapped the table again in thought. “And involve his ego.”
Jessie’s mouth curved in a humorless smile. “Yes. He has to prove he’s the smartest one in the room.”
They leaned in, voices dropping even lower as they sketched the rough outline—fake intel about a CIA breach only he could pull off, planted where they knew his people would find it. Layer it with just enough authenticity to make it irresistible. Dangle it like bait in front of a starving wolf.
“Codename?” Tessa asked.
Jessie didn’t hesitate. “‘Rat Trap.’ Because when he steps into it…” She closed Spence’s laptop with a soft click. “…we slam it shut and make damn sure he never gets out.”
Tessa’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper. “Now that’s the Jessie I remember.”
Jessie smiled back, but it was measured. “Let’s just hope she’s still good enough to pull it off.”
In the back of her mind—where the doubts she didn’t voice lived—she wondered what Spence would say when he found out. Would he see this as resourcefulness? Or proof she couldn’t follow his lead? That thin thread of worry stayed there, coiled tight, even as she kept her gaze locked on Tessa and nodded like she was all in.
Twenty-Two
Spence
The safe housewas standard-issue two-story brick with blackout curtains drawn and a high-end security system. The place smelled of coffee and gun oil and was wired for secure communications.
It was close enough to Langley for a quick run if things went sideways, but far enough that the neighbors wouldn’t notice the parade of “out-of-towners” coming and going at odd hours.
Spence sat at the dining table they’d converted into a war desk, his injured right hand braced on a gel pack while his left pecked at the keyboard. The others were scattered through the house—Jessie on the couch with another laptop from the supply chest of tech, Tessa cross-legged in an armchair scrolling through secure messages, Tommy leaning against the kitchen counter sipping cold coffee.
His brain kept going through the same loop—Pentagon breach, drone warehouse, data center, Hastings, Brewer. Always back to the Pentagon. Always back to where this nightmare started.
Why?
The cursor blinked on a black terminal screen as Spence tunneled into a forgotten subdirectory on a Pentagon test server. He ended up on a Department of Defense server next, tracking remnants of Brewer’s hack.
Maybe it was his insatiable need to follow every lead, or perhaps it was one of the tiny ways Brewer couldn’t cover his tracks completely. But as he glanced down a list of files, one caught his eye.
CYCLONE: Test Log 546.
One folder. Locked.
