Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(63)

“Because I am. What’s going on?” Sarah had so many questions, about Rand, what was happening, what had happened, why. She didn’t know where to start in the least.

“Take a deep breath. Maybe drink some water?”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” Sarah glared. She’d heard that enough from Rand.

“I’m not. It makes sense for you to be stressed. In your shoes, I’d probably be a lot worse.” Irene glanced toward the door, her gaze skipping over the patrons.

“Can we just destroy the case? Why isn’t that an option? Why can’t, I don’t know, the FBI take it back?”

“The contact protocols in that case are not written down or saved anywhere else. If we lose those, there are assets we will never get back. Some of these people? We don’t even know their real identities, how to contact them, where they are. If we lose the protocols, they’re gone. Permanently. We have to get that case back, not only to protect the lives of our employees, but the people they’re working with.”

“Okay, so, can’t you send someone better equipped in to get it? Why us?”

Irene pressed her lips together and stared off toward the front of the shop.

Rand didn’t trust Irene, but she was the one person Sarah believed in. She couldn’t fathom Irene putting her in danger.

“If it didn’t have to be you, I’d have pulled you out by now. Hector…he has a bad track record and I don’t want you to end up as a statistic for his yearly review.”

“What are you saying? Can someone please just say what they mean?”

“Hector gets his people killed.”

That one sentence knocked the wind out of Sarah’s sails. Rand. He was one of Hector’s so-called people.

Was he at risk?

“Where were you? Why was there a tracking device in my arm? How did all of this happen?”

Irene studied Sarah’s face. It was always hard to figure out what Irene was thinking. Sarah had always liked her, though, for the straight talk, no second-guessing. Just business as usual.

“I believe we have more than just a mole. I think there are people within the company working against us, leaking information here and there. Seemingly insignificant pieces of intel that lead to catastrophic results. I think you’re the piece this time.”

“Oh, God.” Sarah cradled her face in her hands.

“That tracker? We have no record of it.”

“Then when? How?” If it wasn’t someone at the company, if it wasn’t Irene, who? She’d felt violated before, now…she was very close to being ill.

“I don’t know, but I’m working on it. There are those of us who are in your corner, but we have to be careful with who we can trust. I think—and this is just my suspicion—whoever is behind this wants the case destroyed. They don’t want us to have those contacts.”

“I’m no one, Irene. I’m nothing. I can’t do this. I’m not anyone special. I’m a delivery girl.”

“You’re brave, Sarah.” Irene sat forward, hands braced on the table. “You can do this.”

“How do I know who I can trust? How do I know if I can trust you? Where have you been?” The knot of fear in Sarah’s throat made it hard to breathe, hard to speak. She wanted to crawl under the table and cry herself to sleep. Maybe never wake up.

Irene opened and closed her mouth. The brightness behind her eyes dimmed a little and she stared at the table top.

Had Sarah just caught her in a lie? Could Irene explain where the hell she’d been? Why no one had been able to contact her?

“Give me a reason to trust you,” Sarah pleaded.

Irene glanced around, her brow lined, unfamiliar emotions crossing her face. She was always so…serene. So business-like. But under all of that was a real person, wasn’t there? Or was she like Rand said?

“It’s a funny thing, doing what we do. Being women in a men’s club.” Irene exhaled and slid her fingers over the table, tracing scratches some other patron had left. “My sister is all that I have left in this world. She’s very sick. There’s a new experimental treatment in Switzerland that might help her. After I met with you, I went home, put us both on a plane, and that’s where I’ve been. With Anna. Hoping for a miracle.”

“Oh, Irene…” Sarah’s heart ached. That was so sad, and so perfect. How did Sarah know Irene was telling her the truth?

“This is Anna.” Irene laid her phone on the table. “In the background, you can see the date.”

The whiteboard in the background and the digital clock placed Irene a continent away from the terror that had been Sarah’s Seoul experience. It could be fake, but it was an elaborate story.

“My biggest regret when my son died was not taking more time to grieve. To be with him at the end. When Anna’s sickness progressed, I told myself I would take all the time I could. I have lied about it. It’s personal, and in my job, as a woman, I can’t tend to my personal life the same way my male coworkers can.”

“How is she? Anna?” Sarah nodded. That she got. It was one reason why she loved working for Wishing Well.

“She had her first surgery and is in recovery. Time will tell.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sarah knew what it was like to sit vigil by someone’s bedside, praying they’d survive. She couldn’t imagine holding it together half as well as Irene was. “I hope she gets better.”