Page 35 of Duty Compromised
“Federal agent. She’s under my protection.” I flashed my badge—the Citadel Solutions contractor ID that looked official enough if you didn’t examine it too closely. The lie rolled off my tongue smooth as whiskey, and I prayed she wouldn’t call my bluff. I added just enough authority to my voice, the kind of tone that said I wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. “I need to know where she is. Now.”
The nurse’s fingers clicked on her keyboard, her expression shifting from bored to alert. “Room seven, down the hall, second left. But?—”
I was already moving, not waiting for whatever caveat she wanted to add. The hallway stretched ahead, too bright under the fluorescent lights. I mapped the route automatically—two exits visible, one probably leading to radiology, based on the signs, another to the main hospital. Three corridors branching off, too many blind spots, too many places someone could approach from. My hand drifted toward my weapon as I moved through the hallway, hyperaware of every person I passed.
Room seven’s door stood partially open. I knocked once, pushed through.
Charlotte sat on the exam bed, her legs dangling over the side like a child’s. The sight of her stopped me cold. A bruise darkened her left cheekbone, the purple swelling distorting the delicate line of her face. Blood had dried at the corner of her temple, a dark rust stain that stood out like a beacon against her pale skin. She held her lunch box against her chest with both arms, knuckles white from the grip, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
She looked up when I entered, and color flooded her face despite the bruising. She turned away, but not before I caught the tears she’d been fighting. One escaped anyway, tracking down through the dried blood on her cheek.
“Hey.” I kept my voice soft, moving slowly to the chair beside her bed. No sudden movements. She looked ready to shatter. “You okay?”
She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. Another tear escaped, rolling down her bruised cheek, and she swiped at it angrily.
“Is it the pain? I can get the nurse?—”
“No.” The word came out thick. “No, I’m just…” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “I’m overwhelmed.”
I found a tissue box on the side table, pulled one free, and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes, wincing with each touch. Her hands shook slightly, whether from shock or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I couldn’t concentrate at the lab.” Her voice stayed barely above a whisper, rough like she’d been crying before I arrived. “Too many people. Too many distractions. Too many questions. Every time I’d get close to fixing a problem, someone would need something or there’d be noise or…” She clutched the lunch box tighter, her knuckles somehow getting even whiter. “I needed quiet. Real quiet. So I took everything home with me.”
Oh fuck. “Charlotte?—”
“I know I’m not supposed to. I know it’s against protocol. That’s why I didn’t tell you or Alex.” The words tumbled out faster now, desperate. “Some vehicle came from nowhere, hit my car. And then when I was trying to get out, trying to breathe, this man appeared. He seemed like he wanted to help, but then he just… He took my computer bag and just left.”
Jesus Fucking Christ. If someone had Charlotte’s work, if they had the stabilizer code… The implications spun through my mind—security breaches, Charlotte’s career destroyed, the Cascade Protocol deployed with no countermeasure.
“Charlotte.” I kept my voice steady, even as my mind raced through contingencies. I needed to work the huge goddamn problem. “What exactly was on that computer? Is the countermeasure lost?”
She shifted, loosening her death grip on the lunch box just enough to pop it open. Inside, with some papers and pens, sat a computer drive. Dull, black, unremarkable. The kind of thing you’d find in any office supply store.
“No, the actual stabilizer code is here. I got frantic at work and accidentally put my work in my lunch box and my sandwich container in my computer bag.” She touched the drive with one finger, like she needed to make sure it was real. “What they took… My laptop is useless without this drive.”
Relief hit hard enough that I had to take a breath. But relief shifted quickly back to concern. The sabotage last week. Now this. Someone definitely wanted Charlotte to fail, and they were escalating. Getting desperate, maybe. Which made them dangerous.
A knock interrupted my thoughts. Two uniformed officers entered, their expressions professionally neutral. The older one had the weathered look of someone who’d seen too much, the younger one still had that eager rookie energy.
“Ms. Gifford?” the younger one said. “I’m Officer Morris. This is Officer Santos. We’re here to take your statement about the accident.”
Santos looked at me with the kind of assessment that came from years on the job. “Sir, we’ll need to speak with Ms. Gifford privately.”
“No.” I didn’t move from my position. “She’s under federal protection. I’m not leaving.”
“Sir, it’s standard procedure?—”
“She’s my responsibility.” I let steel enter my voice, the kind that had backed down bigger men than Santos. “I stay.”
Charlotte’s hand found my arm, her fingers barely touching my sleeve. When I looked at her, gratitude flickered across her face, mixed with something else. Relief, maybe. Like she’d been dreading facing this alone. The touch was so light I barely felt it through my jacket, but somehow it anchored me in place.
“It’s okay,” she told the officers. “I want him here.”
Santos exchanged a look with his partner, then pulled out his notebook with the resignation of someone who knew when to pick his battles. “All right. Can you walk us through what happened?”
Charlotte straightened, pulling in a breath that shuddered slightly. “I was driving home from work. I was driving down Maple, approaching the four-way stop at Third, when a vehicle appeared out of nowhere and hit me. I think it was a truck or maybe an SUV. Definitely bigger than a car. It must have run the stop sign.”
