Chapter 14

Eight hours in a car meant you had a lot of time to think. Loads of time to ponder life, regrets, all the things you wished you'd done differently. Tons of time to ruminate over the lie that was my life.

And that was the truth—my whole existence was a lie.

My once beloved mother was alive.

A-fucking-live.

There was so much to that it would take more than a scary drive to Luxor to unpack all I was feeling. Compound that bombshell with my father being a notorious Russian enforcer and I was the poster child for screwed. Since I didn't have enough time to process what all that truly meant I did what I'd been taught to do and set it aside. No, I shoved it into a mental box, padlocked that cargo container full of messiness, and buried it behind all the other messy emotions I wasn't ready to deal with.

In exchange I spent the hours fuming. As the minutes ticked by my anger at Charlie grew to an irrational state of wrath with a healthy dose of resentment and bitterness.

He knew.

He knew my mother had faked her death.

He knew why.

He knew she didn't sell insurance like I thought she did. As the story went that was how they first met; she sold a policy for an art collection he'd helped secure for a wealthy buyer. Then as the years went on, they'd become close. Brother-sister close though I always wondered if at some point during their friendship Charlie had fallen in love with her and that was the real reason he'd taken me in. Love made you do stupid shit—Charlie had pounded that into me. He'd said it so often, I'd lost count.

He knew who my father was.

He knew every-freaking-thing and allowed me to mourn a not-so-dead mother for over a decade.

He also told me stories about Pigeon. About a woman who commanded respect. A woman who could outsmart, outplay, outmaneuver anyone. He'd just failed to tell me those stories were about my mother. He failed to tell me he was molding me into her.

For some reason, that betrayal hurt the worst.

It hurt so bad, it twisted in my belly until it formed a ball of hate. And the more I thought about the life lessons, the birthday cakes he bought me, the times he'd watched movies with me, the hugs goodnight, the sadness I saw when he dropped me off at college, the daily phone calls while I was away to keep us connected, that ball grew and grew and grew some more until it was an ugly knot of loathing.

In all of Charlie's teachings he forgot to educate me on one thing—emotional maturity. I was not equipped to deal with this kind of betrayal, not from the one person I loved unconditionally. I didn't have the tools necessary to work through my pain. So I shoved all that was Charlie into a separate box and locked that up as tightly as I could, marking it—never, ever open. I mentally penned that with blood.

But it was too late. I'd spent eight hours contemplating my life so the damage was done. I hadn't compartmentalized fast enough.

When you learn how to transmute pain and fear into strength you become unstoppable, Nebraska.

Clearly, I had yet to learn how to do that.

But I was going to.

I was going to use my pain and fear and turn it into strength.

I had no choice.

Then I was going to do what I should've done when Charlie put me forward as the Mediator—run and disappear.

Fuck this life.

Fuck what Charlie wanted for me.

Fuck Maddon.

Fuck Zane Lewis.

I wasn't entirely sure why I was angry with Zane, but as I said I was irrationally irate.

So, it was seriously unfortunate my phone vibrated in my hand at the very moment Smith was unlocking the front door of what was undoubtedly one of Zane's many safehouses—I couldn't know for sure because I hadn't asked. I'd opted to wallow in self-pity rather than ask questions about where we were going, why, and what the plan was.

Unfortunate in the sense when I saw an unknown number on the screen with a Maryland area code I had a gut feeling I knew who it was so I answered.

Unfortunate in the sense I didn't guard my words.

Unfortunate in the sense, in my extreme fury, I was prepared to burn the world to the ground, consequences be damned.

I forwent pleasantries and snapped, "Just the person I wanted to talk to."

"Figured it was time for you and I to have a chat," Zane's deep voice rumbled.

Any other day, I'd take that rumbly tone for what it was—a warning.

Today was not that day.

"I quit," I told him.

"Come again?"

"I. Quit. Effective immediately."

"You can't quit. Seeing as I just found out you're on my payroll I was calling to fire you."

Later, much later, when I had my wits about me, I'd be happy he'd learned I was on his payroll during an emotional drama to end all emotional dramas. For years I'd dreaded the day Zane found out the truth.

Now?

Now I gave two shits less than the zero fucks I gave about him going nuclear at the news.

He could do his worst. There was nothing more he could take from me. I'd already lost it all.

"Great. I accept your termination. Does that mean I'll be receiving a severance package since you have no grounds to fire me since I'm the best mediator Dutch has and the best fixer and the best at going in and getting the job done when the rest of the team can't?"

"Jesus, woman, did you take a single breath—"

"Tell Dutch he can wire my last paycheck into my account and we'll part ways now. Maddon's a freebie. I don't want payment for him."

"Nebraska—"

"Did you know?"

There was a pregnant pause.

I could read the silence. Either he was formulating a response or he was planning my execution for interrupting him.

"I knew Anna was alive. I know her also as Pigeon and throughout the years I've heard Pidge is still working."

My eyes drifted closed.

I didn't startle when I felt a hand on my lower back. I didn't stop myself from being pushed into the house. I didn't open my eyes again until I heard the door close. I didn't take in my surroundings.

I was too busy using up the rest of my strength to stay upright.

"Though, I didn't know you'd been led to believe she was dead until Charlie told me and Dutch confirmed."

Red hot fury washed over me.

"So, Dutch did know?"

Another name to scratch onto my People I Hate list.

"He did," Zane confirmed. "He had his reasons for keeping that secret. Reasons I'll let him explain. I can't say he made the right call but he had his reasons, and Nebraska, those reasons were to protect you."

No they weren't.

They were to control me.

"Whatever," I snarled. "I have no interest in listening to more bullshit lies. I'm done. Out. No more. Dutch can take his reasons and shove them up his—"

"I'm not positive, I've never asked, but Dutch doesn't strike me as the kind of man who enjoys things forcefully shoved up his ass."

Even though Zane was over six-thousand miles away and couldn't see me my eyes still narrowed.

"You think this is funny?"

"No, Nebraska, there's not a damn thing funny about the way you've been treated. There's not one fucking thing funny about those who were supposed to protect and love you betraying you the way they have. I've met your mother. She's wicked smart, cunning, calculating, a master of her craft. She fucked me and Dutch, fucked our op, and landed us in jail. Yet I still cannot believe she has it in her to leave you unless she had no choice. Why no one told you when you were old enough to process and keep the secret, I don't get. Especially because you're in the life, you do the work you do and Pidge does what she does. How you haven't found out before now is a miracle. I'm not happy Dutch kept you from me, but I understand why he did. I would've cut you loose. No way in fuck would I have allowed Agency ties, even loose ones, to infiltrate Black."

He abruptly stopped speaking so I took my opportunity to remind him.

"No need to worry about those ties anymore. I'm gone."

"I don't accept your resignation."

Was he nuts?

"You fired me," I spat.

I heard an exasperated grunt come from beside me. When I glanced over, I saw Easton was much closer than I thought he was.

Damn, he was a good-looking man.

But furious… he was hot.

Another reason to hate Charlie.

He'd taken away my choices. He'd forced me to live in a world where Easton Spears wasn't an option.

Easton verbalized his grunted annoyance by growling, "What the fuck?"

Oops.

Shit.

"I can't deal with you right now, Easton Spears." I underlined this by putting my hand up in his direction. "Take your growly hotness somewhere else."

Two things happened at once. No, correction, three: Smith busted out laughing, Easton blinked—rapidly—but most confusing and frankly scary, Zane grunted.

"Not this again. Tell Easton since I sign your paychecks, I'm the boss of you."

The boss of me.

No one ever again would be the boss of me.

"I'm not telling him that and you don't sign my paychecks, your accountant wires me money. And you fired me. So really, after my separation package—which I expect to have a big, fat, hefty pain and suffering bonus included—you won't be paying me at all. And just to point out, you've never been my boss."

"I'm everyone's boss," he returned, sounding like he believed he was on the top of the pyramidal hierarchy of the world. I was proven correct when he finished with, "Think of me as the Big Boss."

I didn't get a chance to reiterate to the egomaniac he was not my boss, technically Dutch was, but he wasn't that anymore since I'd quit-fired. I quit while at the same time Zane fired me hence the quit-fired. Though, I was taking the termination and the separation package and I was moving to some small Greek island where there was no phone service or internet and living out the rest of my days in peace. That was if some unconnected island existed in this day and age. If it didn't, I would find myself a small seaside cottage and wouldn't connect either service. Neither would I purchase a car. I would buy a bicycle with a white basket on the handlebars and purple tassels hanging from the grips and pedal everywhere.

Peace.

Yes, that was what I needed. Total isolation. Maybe then I could unbox all the emotional trauma. Or maybe not. Maybe I'd just leave it all where it was and pretend I'd lived a perfect, charmed life and living the rest of my days on a Greek island was the spoils of such a life. I hadn't decided yet but I was leaning towards the latter.

My musing was cut short when I realized I was no longer holding my phone to my ear. Easton had confiscated it.

He tapped the screen a few times then announced, "You're on speaker."

Zane wasted no time—as in he launched straight to the point without preamble.

"Last night I found out that for the last three years, along with her freelance work, Nebraska has been employed by Z Corps."

Easton pinned me with a scorching look.

I pinched my lips.

"How is it possible you didn't know she was an employee?"

No, now Zane got to point, or actually to the meat of the confession I wasn't sure he was ready to reveal.

With a long-suffering sigh that wasn't so much suffering as it was highly annoyed, Zane went on.

"I've been keeping something from the team."

Since I was staring at Easton, I saw it happen in real time. The way his shoulders drew up, the way his back straightened, the tightness that suffused his body.

Shit.

This was going to be bad.

Really bad.

I didn't think. No, I didn't have to think, I knew now was not the right time to share.

"I don't think—"

"It's time, Nebraska. The truth's out, they all need to know."

Easton's gaze turned into a glare.

When I could take no more I closed my eyes.

And waited…