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Slash’s tight voice caught Simone’s ear. “I’m here.”
“Be there shortly.” The line went dead.
Simone closed her laptop, made her way to the front door. She stepped into the chilly October morning. A black SUV drove down the street and parked in front of her house. Every ALPHA Op drove a bullet-proof vehicle.
They made their way up the driveway.
As they got closer, she said to Carrera, “You work for the Bureau. How’d you wrangle an SUV?”
Slash’s smile was tight. “It’s my SUV.”
Simone slid her gaze from her to Carrera.
He mustered a rueful smile. “Thanks for letting us swing by.”
Simone retreated inside, held the door open for them. “I just made a pot of coffee.”
Silence as she poured the coffee, handed them each a mug. When they sat at her kitchen table, she couldn’t miss the angst in Slash’s eyes.
“I was just reviewing the new accounts you gave me, Carrera.”
“Those’ll keep you plenty busy,” he said.
“There was a mission this morning,” Slash began.
Simone’s stomach dropped. Though she wasn’t supposed to know, she did. “Ohgod, Frederica.”
Slash shuddered in a breath. “There was an explosion.”
Everything went into slow motion. Deafening silence thundered in Simone’s ears. The pit in her stomach turned into a boulder, the tightness in her chest made breathing impossible.
“Please, no,” she whimpered.
“I’m sorry,” Carrera said.
Excruciating agony ripped through her soul. A wail exploded out of her, then a searing pain sliced through her heart. She collapsed on the table, like a ton of bricks, unable to move. Her arms and legs nothing more than dead weights.
“Breathe,” Slash said as she grabbed Simone.
Then, she heard Slash and Carrera talking, but she couldn’t understand them. Little yellow stars were closing in. They guided her into the family room, helped her lay down on the carpet. A numbness came over her, yet she’d broken into a cold sweat. And she couldn’t stop shaking.
She had so many questions, yet she couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed with shock.
Carrera left the room, returning with a glass of water and an icepack. On auto-pilot, she took a few sips. Slash pressed the frozen block against her forehead for a few seconds. The tiny yellow stars faded away, leaving only the harshest of realities.
Fred was gone.
“How many?” she whispered.
“All six,” Carrera replied.
The fury and loss powered into her like a freight train. Heat and freezing cold whipped through her bones. She thought she was going to pass out again. Sucking down a breath, she pressed the ice pack to her chest. The cold chilled her skin until it started hurting. She set the pack on the carpet, then forced herself to sit up.
Slash left, returning a few seconds later with a paper towel. She wrapped the cold pack and offered it to Simone. Simone took it, pressed it to her cheek.
“Was it The Bomb Maker?” Simone asked, the feeling returning to her limbs.
“We don’t know,” Carrera said.
