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Bree sat with the rest of them in the conference room and watched video of the escalating riots in D.C. Officers with giant shields and heavy-duty helmets pushed back against the violent crowds.
She dwelled on the image of the mangled hand of the man she’d shot. Knowing he was about to use a weapon against a crowd of people justified her actions, but it didn’t entirely wash away the guilt of having crippled someone.
The detective went in and out of the room several times, making calls to officers he knew in Washington. He had every acquaintance of his in the city keeping an eye out for his missing friend. Bree thought they were all full of shit about the whole telepathy thing, but she could clearly see how distraught Lloyd was at losing his friend.
And regardless of whether the psychic nonsense was true or not, the men they’d gone up against in the apartment building were real. They’d handled themselves like pros and had inflicted some serious damage.
Nelson had disappeared twenty minutes ago to take a call and hadn’t come back.
Bree couldn’t help but consider the repercussions of what they’d done this morning. The news thought a bunch of terrorists had run around the city with guns, even though that obviously wasn’t the case. If they were terrorists, they would have emptied their weapons into the crowds of protestors.
But what would the final narrative be? Who would take the fall for their failure that morning? If Bree knew anything about the government, it was that shit always rolled downhill. The higher-ups rarely took the fall for anything.
People like Bree were hung out to dry.
Tate lounged in a chair on the other side of the room, his feet propped up on the conference table. He had ignored her outright since they’d returned. That was fine with Bree—she couldn’t stand the asshole and didn’t want to deal with him unless absolutely necessary.
Particularly at a time like that when the man was obviously pissed off over their failed mission. Everyone else was in a sour mood over the debacle. Tate was furious.
“Yo, Manning.” Briggs sat on her side of the table, at the far end. He got up and slid his chair toward her. “What happened when those guys ran out of the apartment building? We heard the shot and saw the cowboy with the busted hand. Why didn’t you put him down?”
“Because she’s soft,” Tate said without looking over. He kept watching television, his scowl as deep as always. Even though he was pissed off, he seemed relatively relaxed in his chair. To Bree, it looked as if he’d just returned from a few rounds of golf rather than a massive shootout. “The girlie doesn’t want to kill anyone. Even pieces of trash like those men today.”
Huxx sat in front of the television, watching the events in Washington unfold. He remained quiet, absorbing everything coming across the screen.
Shea sat behind Bree, eating a slice of pizza. He’d picked up a couple of pies for everyone after they got back. All of them ate greedily except Bree. She kept seeing the man’s destroyed hand. It was hard to work up an appetite after experiencing something so grotesque.
“I ain’t buying that.” Briggs sat down beside her and leaned forward. “I ain’t buying that for a second.”
Bree had only known him for half a day or so, but she respected Briggs immensely. Though he was physically hard, just like the rest of them, he didn’t carry the same gruff manner as Huxx or the asshole mentality of Tate.
“He was about to use the same device they had at the subway this morning. If a crowd as big as the one in front of the apartments went insane, then we all would have died. I was afraid that a shot to the chest might not kill him instantly and that he would still initiate the weapon.” Bree inspected her hands, lowered her voice. “So I took his hand and destroyed the device. There wasn’t time for a second shot.”
“Well done, Manning.” Briggs nodded in approval. “Well done.”
Coming from a seasoned vet like Briggs, that meant a lot to Bree. He extended a meaty paw toward her. She took it in hers, feeling his thick fingers wrap around the back of her hand and squeeze. The gesture of respect raised her spirits.
Tate merely grunted.
“You don’t agree?” Briggs asked, releasing Bree’s hand. “You would have done something differently?”
“Yeah.” Tate finally peeled his eyes from the television and glanced at Bree. “I would have brought a real soldier into the fold, not some glorified target shooter. She didn’t do a damn thing to help us out there today. If she’d been inside with us, they never would have escaped in the first place.”
“You know what, dickless?” Bree exploded to her feet, knocking the chair over behind her. “I’m getting really sick of your shit. Just because I didn’t spend any time overseas doesn’t mean I have nothing to offer. I kept your ass from turning into a psychotic murderer today, didn’t I?”
Tate raised his eyebrows, didn’t stand.
Shea dropped a pizza crust to his plate and grabbed another slice. He watched them with a slight smirk on his face.
“Sit down, Manning.” Detective Lloyd walked in behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “We have enough to worry about without more fistfights between you two.”
Bree opened her mouth to argue before deciding it wasn’t worth it. That prick Tate was just trying to get under her skin. And he’d succeeded. Again.
“What’s the word?” Huxx asked over his shoulder. “Any sign of Benson?”
“No. The whole goddamn city is in chaos. And I’m hearing that a few protests are starting in Philadelphia soon.” Drew put his hands on the table and leaned over. “Smith is going to start a civil war in this country if we don’t catch him soon.”
Bree wanted to walk away from everything. She wished she’d never climbed into that damned helicopter at the range. She could have been lifting weights at the gym right now rather than being caught in the middle of the insanity unfolding around them. If not for what she’d witnessed on the subway surveillance footage, she would have.
There were still terrorists out there capable of driving an entire city mad in an instant. If there was even a remote chance that she could help put a stop to them, then she had to hang in there. Even if it meant dealing with Tate’s constant jabs.
She picked her chair up and sat down. Her stomach grumbled as she watched the television with the rest of them. She turned to Shea. “Got a slice for me?”
“On the house.” Shea slid a half-full pizza box in her direction.
As she reached for it, Nelson shuffled into the conference room. His shoulders were hunched, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t look at anyone as he came in and moved to the head of the table.
“We’re shut down.”
“What?” Drew spun toward him. “We’re what?”
“I just got a call from President Thomas. He wanted to personally inform me of how screwed I am. He’s shutting us down, effective immediately.”
Huxx muted the television. Everyone gaped at Nelson.
“You’re telling us that we went on one insane op and now we’re all toast?” Tate asked. “Just like that?”
“I’m afraid so. Some high-ranking intelligence officers are on their way here now to make sure we’re handled appropriately. The Secretary of State is assuming all of our responsibilities. And she’s not someone we want to cross.”
“What does that mean?” Bree asked.
Her stomach had ascended into her throat and was lodged somewhere around her jawline. Was she going to prison for this? Guantanamo Bay? She knew those ideas were ridiculous, but... were they?
“I don’t know.” Nelson stared at the table. “I apologize for getting each of you involved. Things wouldn’t have been run this way normally, but we were in an unwinnable situation.”
“What about Ash?” Drew stood in front of Bree, his hands clenched into fists.
Nelson shook his head. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me any of their new plans, just that we aren’t a part of them. Knowing Smith might have Lieutenant Benson sent President Thomas into a rage. If I had to guess, they’re going to burn all of this down and pretend it never happened.”
“I can’t accept that,” Drew growled. “We can’t just walk away.”
“We don’t have a choice. If we do anything but sit here and wait to be relieved of duty, we’re committing an act of treason. They might hit us with a treason charge anyway.”
Bree wanted to vomit.
Speakers crackled in the ceiling.
Nami cleared her throat from an intercom system that Manning didn’t even know was there. “Anyone in the conference room?”
“All of us are,” Nelson said. “You need to come up here too.”
“The queen is a bit busy, my minions. I have something you might be interested in, however.”
“Ms. Williams, I’m not in the mood for—”
“Who is the queen?”
“Just tell us what it is.” Nelson glared up at the ceiling.
“Who is the queen?”
Drew sighed. “She won’t stop until you say it. You’re the queen, Nami. What do you have? We’re busy here.”
“That’s better, baldie. I thought you might like to know that I managed to get a little something off the super-fucked laptop you brought me. And it just might help us find Gigantor. Because I’m the queen.”
Drew gaped at the ceiling for a moment.
Then he sprinted out of the room.
“Did you hear that? The queen, bitches!”