Page 9 of Blind Trust
She spun around, caught off guard that Jack had nearly read her mind. “What’s there to talk about?”
Jack shifted as Kekoa began taking slow steps backward like he was trying to escape. Normally his humor would’ve made her laugh, would’ve defused the aggravation she could feel rising to the surface, but today it was just plain annoying.
“We got the job done.” She folded her arms. “I can’t help if Nicolás disagrees with how I do the job, but since it gets done, I don’t see what the problem is.”
“We’re a team. If there’s a trust issue—”
“That’s just it, Jack.” Lyla pulled a mug from the cabinet and slammed the door shut. “I’m not the one with a trust issue. For whatever reason, Nicolás doesn’t trustme.”
“Next time it could end differently.”Nicolás’s words echoed loudly in her head. No, it wasn’t just words, it was a warning. Like he knew—or expected—she would screw up at some point.And that hurt, more than she wanted to reveal to him or anyone else on the team.
“It would be nice if I didn’t have to face his Spanish inquisition every single time I’m on assignment.”
“You know he’s only trying to keep you safe.”
“AndIam trained to know what I’m doing.” After setting down the mug, she pressed her palms flat against the quartz island countertop and faced Jack, tired of this conversation and of having to explain and defend her actions. “Redirect. Control. Attack. Take Away. The hours I spent getting whupped by the Krav Maga instructors at Quantico weren’t fun. No one was in that doctor’s office but me. I was keeping Gretchen and Claude safe. You didn’t see the crazed look in Castillo’s eyes. I had to make a split-second decision, and if anyone in this agency thinks I’d run out and leave two innocent people to face a psychopath...” She gathered her breath, her gaze moving between Jack and Kekoa. “If it had been either of you or Nicolás making the decision, would we still be talking about this?”
Jack’s gaze held steady on her. “I’m not saying your decision was wrong or that any of us wouldn’t have done the same thing, but we must trust that if one of us gives an order, it’s for our own good. Just like you said, we couldn’t see what was happening in that office with Castillo, and you may not see what’s happening outside, in Garcia’s perspective. He was running the assignment, and that carries a huge responsibility to ensure the safety of all involved—even if it costs us the mission.”
Lyla slid a sideways glance to Kekoa, who was nodding in agreement, and then dropped her gaze to the empty mug in front of her. Jack was mostly right. Nicolás and Kekoa had been her eyes outside of Castillo’s office, but her perspective inside mattered too. Trust went both ways. She didn’t have military experience or training under the CIA like they did, but she wasn’t some inexperienced newbie either. She had defensive training and enough experience to know how to assess a situation. Running out of that office hadn’t been an option.
And Nicolás should understand that. Like the rest of his life, he kept the details of his time in the Army close to the chest, guarded, but as an EOD officer, he ran into situations involving explosives. She couldn’t imagine him hightailing it out of there when innocent lives were at risk.
The lock on the door sounded once more, and Lyla swung her gaze around and found Nicolás walking in. A few seconds of silence ticked off, leaving him to shift on his feet like he knew they were just talking about him.
“Brah, your timing...”
Lyla shook her head at Kekoa’s whispered warning. She walked around the island to the closet and pulled out her coat and purse. “I have an appointment this morning. I already let Walsh know that I’ll miss the briefing.”
Edging past Nicolás, she tried to avoid eye contact, but there was something magnetic in his gaze and she couldn’t resist the temptation to meet it. Big mistake. The second her eyes met his, the frustration from the past week and the conversation she just had with Jack curdled the hazelnut mocha she drank earlier.
She quickly slipped out of the SNAP Agency office, unable to take her first deep breath of air until she got to the parking garage. Mistake number two. She coughed on the lingering fumes of gas and oil. Served her right. She had no business letting Jack or Kekoa or Nicolás get to her.
Climbing into her car, she blew out a frustrated breath. She’d been a part of this agency before Nicolás or Kekoa joined, when it was just her, Jack, and Walsh. Neither of them had an issue trusting her to do her job. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t always voice it, but there were times when she sensed Jack and Walsh wished she’d be a little more conservative in her actions. Still, they let her do her job. Nicolás was the only one who seemed to question her every decision.
Why? She hadn’t messed up any missions. In fact, over the last year she thought she’d been pivotal in the bigger assignments,working with Brynn and helping Kekoa keep Elinor safe. She even took down a major cryptocurrency criminal with the FBI. So why was Nicolás so set against her? And why did that hurt so much?
Pulling out of the parking garage of the Acacia Building, Lyla accelerated, wanting to leave that question behind with the man it belonged to. Except it continued to nag her, and she realized that at some point she’d given Nicolás more room in her head than was safe. In the years they’d worked together, she’d come to admire what he brought to the team. But little by little, that admiration had transformed into a craving for his approval. She craved it like Kekoa craved his island favorite, loco moco.
At least Kekoa’s craving could be satisfied with a short drive to the Hawaiian restaurant. It didn’t seem like she could do anything to prove herself to Nicolás. Even when the assignment ended well, it never seemed to be enough. She wasn’t enough.
Lyla shoved the insecurity out of her head. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Walsh had helped her find her place in the agency, and sheknewshe was good at her job—whether Nicolás agreed or not.
Twenty minutes later, the self-doubt Lyla had been carrying all her life was humbled silent by her current surroundings.
Lyla watched Dr. Loughridge and her nurse from the comfort of her car, thankful for the blast of heat from the vents. Outside the temps were hovering in the low forties, but the windchill made it feel closer to the low thirties. An unwelcome burst of winter weather had most of DC’s residents raising the thermostat or throwing more logs on the fire to warm their homes. But not here. Not in this section of the capital.
No, for the residents living southeast of the Anacostia River, a few extra degrees or a couple logs of firewood were considered a luxury, right along with three square meals a day. These were things those residing in the string of run-down row houses in front of her couldn’t afford.
Her attention moved back to the home of Jameson Cooper.Lyla had no doubt he would be facing a similar decision—pay for heat to avoid hypothermia or pay for his insulin.
Jameson Cooper was fifty-seven and currently worked as a line chef at the local burger joint two blocks away. As a child he’d dreamed of being a pilot for the Army, but a vision problem had ruled that out...or at least that’s what she’d been told. Poor eyesight didn’t stop Jameson from enlisting in the Army and serving through the Korean War and Vietnam. It didn’t stop him from working in the shipyard after a grenade ended his military career. And it didn’t end Jameson’s resolute determination to provide for his family—his children—despite his own medical needs.
Despite Castillo’s neglect.
Mr. Cooper’s door opened to Dr. Loughridge and her nurse, and the poor man was wearing a coat and beanie cap. Lyla grabbed a pen from her car’s console and made a note next to his name on a piece of paper. She’d have an HVAC person come out to make sure Mr. Cooper’s heater was working properly.
She watched Dr. Loughridge, a friend and family practice doctor, hold out a piece of paper. Mr. Cooper read it and then frowned, no doubt confused. A few more seconds of discussion and he stepped back, allowing the nurse to enter his home. Dr. Loughridge looked back, her gaze connecting with Lyla’s. She nodded before she walked into Mr. Cooper’s home and closed the door behind her.
