Page 39 of Found Through Fire

During my evening ritual of working with a plate of half-eaten food, Grey asks, “Why do you research every night? I think you’ve read the same files every night since we got here.” I turn my head and see that he’s peering at my computer screen.

“Going in on my own means I have to understand every moving part. I try to build a loose plan before I start a job, then adjust it as I go. Everything I learn while I’m undercover changesthe details in their profiles, because once I see things for myself, I finally understand the ‘why’ and ‘how’ behind what they do. It’s like fitting another piece into the puzzle. I want to double check that I have all the moving parts right before I go in and get her tomorrow. What you can’t see in this image is that there’s a camera here.” I point to the screen. “And that the security’s more tight here. My goal is to only take out as many people as I absolutely have to: less blood on the ground, less opportunities for someone to sound the alarm. And in turn, results in less panic, and an easier way to get her out without having to fight my way out. Fighting my way out with a defenseless girl could result in a dead target.” I continue to ramble on between taking bites of food and adding some notes to the profiles.

He doesn’t say anything, and I’m a little worried that we’re heading back to the grunt replies that we started the week with. But when I turn my head to look over at him, he stares at me like he’s never seen me before.

I can feel my eyebrows slowly moving toward my hairline in concern. He never passes up a chance to criticize something that I say. He could be having a stroke or something. “Grey? You okay?”

That snaps him out of it, and he shifts his eyes back to the screen of my computer. “Yup, that’s a good idea. The more you know, and all that shit.” Grey clears his throat, stands up, and does his nightly routine of washing his dishes, walking to his room, and thanking me for dinner. Only this time, he stops and turns around when he gets to his door. “You surprise me,” is all he says cryptically before he steps into his room and shuts the door.

I’m left sitting on the couch in the living room, feeling confused, and I probably look like it. I take a second, then shake my head. Chewing on my bottom lip, I pull up Google and type in “signs of a stroke.” Can’t be too careful at his age.

The next day, I’m all suited up with my .22s, favorite knives, body cam, and earpiece. I pull my hair into the tightest bun possible with my curls and pull on a sports bra and shorts. My brothers tease me for not wearing an actual shirt, but I’ve learned the hard way that the more fabric you wear, the more likely it is to get snagged on random shit. That is especially true when you’re trying to sneak and crawl through spaces that fully grown people can’t fit into.

I walk out of my room, checking my phone to make sure Gig’s ready for me to sign on. I can have any of the people working the command center log in for me, but if my idiots are home, I’d rather have one of them. They know how my mind works when I’m in different situations.

A deep cough breaks my focus. Grey’s doubled over trying to hack up a lung. I run up and smack his back trying to dislodge whatever he’s choking on. “Are you okay? Do you need something to drink?” I ask.

He finally stops coughing and he glares at me accusingly, like it’s my fault he was choking. “What the fuck are you wearing? I’m not taking you anywhere in a slutty Laura Croft Halloween costume!”

I stand back and cross my arms over my chest. “I know that you aren’t with the times, with the being old as fuck thing, but we don’t slut shame anymore. I have to go, so how ‘bout you sit down, Grandpa? When I come back, we can order some turtleneck swimsuits, so you can do the job you’re not here for and protect my modesty,” I retort as I stomp towards the door, looking back down at my phone. Jackson’s been texting me pretty much every day to check in. It turns out he’s easy to text. When I get back home, we’re even planning a family dinner so we can all go over the trip.

Talking to him is starting to feel like talking to my idiots; he just fell into the brother-sister relationship. I hope that withme as a buffer, he can get along with the rest of my family. I understand if he doesn’t want to be close with them, too, but it would make my life a lot easier, considering when I’m not working, I’m with them. At some point,I willget a life, once everything finally calms down.

“If you want to go half-naked to distract the men, you go ahead, but I’m coming with you,” Grey says while he snatches the car keys from me again. You’d think I would expect it now. Damn my short attention span!

“I’ll start out with clothes before I go in, thank you very much! I have the house staff’s uniform in the car. And I’ll be going in by myself. Remember, your job is to bring back the body if I go down.” He gives me a glare. I don’t think I’ll ever get that joke to stick, but on second thought, he has no sense of humor, so he can’t appreciate my comedic genius. Ben gets my jokes.

“Nope, the word ‘spotter’ means that I keep my eyes on you and make sure that you don’t get yourself killed,” he replies while crossing his arms. He needs to start wearing bigger shirts; this one looks like the arm holes are going to rip to shreds trying to stretch around his huge biceps. I’m just happy he hasn’t walked around shirtless; I forgot my BOB at home.

I pull my eyes up from his tattoo-covered arms, wanting to just stay and try to make out exactly what each tattoo is, but I think he’d get that I was checking him out if I did that.

“Nope, you’re a first timer at this job, so clearly, you’re confused. I go and do what I have to do, you stay here and come find me if you get a call from the command center,” I say, crossing my own arms at him. I swear, I’m supposed to be the moody one here! He keeps trying to steal my things!

“I’m going,” is all I get as he glares at me for another second, then turns around and stomps to the car. I’m pretty sure the glare is just the natural state of his face at this point. Maybe it really did get stuck like that. This is the deciding factor, though;if Kaiser isn’t available for the next out-of-the-country job, I’ll take John. Will he tell me stories about how he did things in Vietnam back in the day? Yes, but it would be better than this pain in the ass.

I walk out to the car with Grey sitting in the driver’s seat, strapped in with the engine running. “I already have a plan set, so I am going to need you to stay in the car and out of my way,” I clarify as I get in the car and put my seatbelt on.

“You know I did these kinds of missions for almost two decades, right?” he says as the car jolts forward, not looking over at me.

“Good for you. I’m sure you did a great job with yourteamof beefy, trained soldiers, spraying bullets until you got the job done. I’ve been doing thissolofor over ten years, and you have to be delicate when it is just you in a place full of people that would love to kill you. I don’t want you stomping through and drawing more attention than I need.”

“I can get in that house, too,” he says like he’s offended.

“I’m planning on scaling up a laundry chute for about three floors. You still want to come?” I look at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

He hesitates and shakes his head. “Nah, you can have this one. But Iwillstay close in case shit goes south. I won’t go in, but if you need a distraction or anything, let me know,” he says as we pull down the side street close to the house, stopping where I tell him, and I get out.

I text Gig and tell him to go live, turn on the earpiece for Grey, and grant access to the footage. He sends a thumbs up, and I get one of my backup earpieces out of my pocket. I started carrying extras after losing one on a job and my dad couldn’t reach me. Luckily, my body cam was still on, or else he would’ve caused an international incident by storming into Cuba to come get me.

I hand the earpiece to Grey, and he looks surprised, but takes it from me. “This way, you can know what is going on instead of waiting for someone to call you since you are here anyway. I even had Gig add you to the body cam if you want to log in with the laptop in the back,” I say as I gesture to the back seat where my “Fox” laptop’s in my bag.

He nods and gives me a “thanks” grunt—great, we are back to that again. I grab the house staff’s uniform that I’ve been wearing all week leading up to this and put it on over my gear. When I’m ready, I don’t say anything and start walking towards the house.

Over the past few days, I’ve been walking around this block, keeping an eye on who comes and goes. The area’s not very busy, but it has small coffee shops and markets along the streets. I was able to find different vantage points, as long as I changed my appearance. Shout out to my extensive—and real—wig collection.

By the fifth day of surveillance, I’m able to confirm where and when the house staff enter and leave for the day.

On the sixth day, I’m able to get a uniform like theirs, find a place to alter it, and make it look like I’m an employee.