She twirled her ponytail of long box braids around her fingers, studying Nena for the first time since she’d arrived. “Are you all right? Real talk.”
Nena shrugged. It was the only answer she could give at the moment because she didn’t know how she felt. She was thinking about how the attorney’s dispatch felt like a break from the Tribe’s norm. It wasn’t her job to like or dislike any dispatch. It was her job to carry it out as commanded, and doubting the organization she’d pledged her life and loyalty to was what made her uncomfortable.
“Anyway,” Elin said, “don’t think too much on it. It’s just another job. Focus on the Cuban dispatch coming up in a couple nights. I can’t make the dignitary party that night, so you need to attend that, too—as yourself.”
“Elin.” Nena felt her anxiety heighten a notch at the thought of having to attend a pretentious party as the Knights’ youngest daughter. “You know I don’t care for those people. The party plus the Cuban is double duty.” Nena paused, thinking some more. “I can go alone, right?”
Elin ignored her. “We’ll call in the rest of the local team.” She ticked off the jobs on her fingers. “You just completed the Nigerian dispatch; the Cuban is next, and then the attorney. After that, little sis, you need to lie low for a few months. Witt’s on board with it. He’s hated having to assign you these back-to-back jobs, but it’s been difficult trying to square all these different factions away.”
“And the party? I prefer to go without a date.”
Elin wouldn’t answer, but her face said it all. She clomped in her thick-heeled sandals to the front door, throwing it open just as Keigel’s fist rose to knock, his other hand bearing a container of lemon-pepper wings. It was Nena and Keigel’s thing, their shared love of this wing flavor. Nena saw the hopeful look on his face, the puppy dog way he looked at Elin, on whom he had a major crush. He’d likely seen Elin’s car and thought to use the wings as an excuse for coming over, rather than waiting for Nena to pop up at his home like she normally did.
Nena didn’t have the heart to tell him he and Elin would never happen.
“Oh, look,” Elin said wryly, “the cavalry’s here.”
Keigel was handsome—even Nena thought so—with a headful of long locs, an immaculate beard, and brown eyes that betrayed how much of a softy he was. “What I just walk in on?” he asked.
“Nothing, lovie,” Elin cooed, trailing her long nails lightly along the angle of his jaw. He visibly melted from her touch. Stuff like that tickled her.
Nena barely heard their exchange, deep in her own thoughts—about the attorney, about her two upcoming jobs, about this party she didn’t want to go to. “Do I have to take a date?” She didn’t like surprises.
Elin slid past an openmouthed Keigel, gracing him with a heart-stopping smile. She called over her shoulder, “Naturally. But better pick one out before I do.”
3
AFTER
Up until this point, dispatch jobs were no different than clocking in at a nine-to-five. Her kills didn’t get a second thought. However, tonight, when the Miami sky looked like the inside of an African diamond mine, the thought of leading another mission zapped the strength from her. For a second, she’d rather have been navigating the perils of Miami’s elite than running through the upcoming dispatch of the Cuban cartel’s second-in-command for the millionth time.
A sense of unfulfillment sneaked up on her, making her wonder where this sudden ache welling up in the middle of her chest was coming from. What was she thinking? She chastised herself, swallowing down the wretched feeling as quickly as it had come upon her. Joining Dispatch had given her purpose and a blessed reprieve from a lifetime of cursed memories. Yet as Nena looked down at the rifle in her hands, she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to life than taking lives.
Her watch read 11:00 p.m.
“It’s time,” Witt announced through their imperceptible ear comms. He was holed up with Network, their all-seeing mission control, in the undisclosed location in Europe from which all their successful missions spooled.
“Echo, you copy?”
“Copy,” Nena said, tamping down her unease and shedding the rest of who she was. It was time, as Witt said, and that meant it was time to be the other half of her, time to be Echo. Just one name from her long, sordid history of names.
“The security system?” she asked.
Nena and Alpha, second-in-command of their five-person team, watched together as the red lights on Alpha’s handheld device flashed twice, then emitted a long flash before changing to green, confirming that the mansion’s security-and-surveillance system was off line and now running on Network’s feed. Anyone watching the cameras would see only a loop of the empty house and grounds.