23. Diego

Last night was really something. I spent half the night bouncing between trying to talk myself out of pursuing Roni and wanting to fuck her brains out again. I shouldn't be interested in Roni. We had such a complicated past, even if we now knew where the tension stemmed from. It didn't change the fact that we did and said some pretty mean things to each other in the heat of teenage competition. Jones and Jasmine had been able to put aside their issues and work through them; now they were one of the best couples I knew. If they could do it, Roni and I should be able to.

If we did, Roni's father certainly wasn't going to be pleased with me, and that was an uphill battle with the most powerful man on the planet. According to my friends, I was a tough son-of-a-bitch, but was I tough enough to take that on?

If I could get past those barriers, the assignment dragging on for a long time didn't seem so bad. We had a warm roof over our heads, necessities in town a day's hike away, and clean drinking water. I'd stayed in conditions a lot worse than the cabin. Uncle Sam didn't give a shit about where we laid our heads down at night when we were nose deep in a mission in hostile territory. Hell, they didn't care if we slept at all—as long as they got their guy at the end. If they got to stamp the mission page with complete, then that was all they cared about. It took me a while to see that after I got out, after talking with others who had served. I'd spent so much time agonizing over my decision on whether or not to leave the army, and I regretted the wasted time and emotions. It took me even longer to not feel bitter about it. I'd done plenty in service for my country; there was no reason to feel bad about doing something for myself for a change. The work I did with my friends helped pull me from the emotions and regrets and gave me a new focus—a cause to get my hands dirty for.

Speaking of my friends, I needed to speak with them, without Roni. It was hard to get some one-on-one time without her hanging around. I couldn't blame her, though. If I had little survival skills, I'd make sure to keep my lifeline pretty close by.

I quietly slithered out of the sleeping bag and left Roni to quietly snore in the warmth still radiating from the woodstove. The fire had almost gone out, but I added a new log and stoked it. She'd be fine for a few minutes on her own; after all, I'd be sitting behind the house on the rocks that overlooked the forest. It was the perfect vantage point to spot anyone who attempted to sneak up on us.

I pulled on my coat, laced up my boots, and quietly snuck out of the house. I pulled my burner phone from my pocket and dialed Wells.

"Man, I'm glad to hear from you," he greeted me with a healthy dose of enthusiasm, which was unlike him. He was a pretty mellow guy, except for around his wife, Christine. I suspected I wasn't going to particularly enjoy what he was going to tell me.

I did my best to mask my worry from my tone. "What's going on? We just talked yesterday."

"We both know a lot can happen in just one hour. Multiply that by twenty-four and you get the idea." He paused. "There's been a complete and total breakdown in Washington. Stocks are down. A news article published that your girl is missing and suspected dead. Someone in California said they saw her get on a boat with an unknown man and then its remains were reported to have washed ashore yesterday in Alaska."

I took a second to absorb this. That news could be beneficial in providing us cover and helping us maintain a low profile. "Couldn't that be a good thing? Do you think the Geneva Project would buy it?"

He cleared his throat. "No, man, I don't think so. There were survivors from the boat that attacked yours. Guy quietly hacked into a Geneva Project server on the dark web and has been watching their chat feeds. One of them reported he saw you two floating away with life vests. So they know you survived the initial sinking of the boat. They just aren't sure if you survived the night in frigid waters. They aren't prepared to give up on the search. They're coordinating search efforts now."

So they didn't know for certain we made it; they were just going to search hoping for the best.

"And is there any good news?" They'd come knocking eventually, and I'd have to be ready, but how much time did I have to get Roni ready? She'd been sheltered her whole life, but she proved she was capable of learning the skills she needed. A few hours of reality TV had saved her life, so maybe a few days with me would give her the skills she needed to survive what was coming for her.

"Yeah, there is some good news. Part of the breakdown in Washington came from a memo that was released. It detailed the Geneva Project's organization and officially placed them on the known terror agency list. Not one but two high-ranking officials in the Secret Service were linked to them, and now they are tracing connections. They expect to identify dozens more in the coming days, and they've mandated everyone employed within the government security sector must report in to work daily or they are immediately investigated. Shit got real."

Well, it was amazing what could happen when the government got their shit together. In twenty-four hours, they'd begun to flush out the biggest infiltration in their ranks since the Cold War.

"Guy's assisting with tracking down involved individuals and anonymously sending tips to the proper authorities. He's already vetted the leadership of the group in the DOJ and Secret Service handling this, so hopefully they'll have the Geneva Project's leaders on their knees within a week."

It was still too early to celebrate, because cutting off the head didn't always kill the snake; sometimes it grew a new head—a much worse one. "So what does this mean for us? Not everyone in this group is Secret Service or a federal employee, right? They hired mercenaries, and others will continue the mission…"

"It means you continue your mission. You keep her safe." There was a hesitant pause before he added, "I'm flying into Washington and going to stay with Yates and Natalia. Natalia has some connections and is going to get me and Guy an audience with someone who may get us straight to the president. If all goes well, we're looking to get official access and resources that might make it easier to burn everyone involved with the Geneva Project."

Something didn't feel right. If they were close to flushing out the Geneva Project members within the government, what was the need for Wells and Guy to become officially involved and fly to Washington? For the first time, I questioned what Wells was up to. I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I'd be left in the position to wonder what one of my best friends was up to. Instead, I played it cool.

"And if they find us?"

There was another pause. "Why are you asking me for orders? Don't you have a contract for that shit? You're Diego fucking Garcia. Your head is always on a swivel, and you always have a backup plan for your backup plan. Don't you start questioning yourself now." He paused, and it sounded like he took a sip of something. "You're in Alaska. It's like the Wild Wild West. Don't you have the right to self-defense and shit?" He was right; I shouldn't have bothered to ask. I would do what I needed to, plain and simple.

I needed to smooth things over. I didn't want him to know I'd ever questioned his intentions for a moment. If he knew that for a moment I suspected that he was hiding something from me, it could splinter the tight bond we have with our friends, our brothers. Everyone would pick sides, and that would be the end of us and all the things we'd done right since we left the army. "You're right, man. I think I'm so used to having orders to operate within. It's different calling all the shots. How did you do it?"

There was a moment of silence. It was so long that I thought maybe he'd hung up. "Sometimes I ask myself the same question. I put one foot in front of the other, acted confident even when I felt the opposite, and I never stopped caring about the end goal. The rest worked itself out eventually. Trust yourself, Garcia. I'll only ask this once: do you need me to send reinforcements?"

Our friends. Did I need him to send them in? I shook my head before I had my verbal answer in place, even though he couldn't see it. "No. I've got it, and too many visitors might draw too much notice."

"Very well, I've got to run—my flight's in two hours, and I haven't packed shit. Christine's freaking out, and if I'm not walking out that door in fifteen minutes, she's going to make problems for me. I'll keep you posted. Stay safe."

With that the call dropped, and I was on my own to stare out at the forest and digest what Wells shared. The conversation was even more enlightening than he realized. My friend was up to something, and I didn't know what. Was it possible he had been wrapped up with the Geneva Project somehow? I felt bad for even considering it, but Wells was always a straight shooter, and he had too many long pauses during that conversation. He was choosing his words carefully, and I had no idea why.

On top of questioning Wells' intentions, I was in a time crunch of multiple levels. There wasn't much time before someone from the Geneva Project came to Anchorage, if they weren't already there—especially since it wasn't far from where the boat wrecked. Anchorage would have seemed like our obvious choice. How many places were there to scope out from here to there, and what resources did the group have? I didn't have the answer to that, but one thing became blatantly obvious: out here in the woods, we didn't have the cover of a large city to blend into. If anyone came out to this part of the woods looking for us, they'd find us. I looked down at the forest below me and swallowed hard. I could defend this spot. I could defend her.

My only regret was choosing the wrong boat captain, I should have picked a more reputable one. Cheaping out and picking a guy who I thought wouldn't ask questions certainly seemed to be this mission's downfall. If the captain hadn't contacted the Geneva Project, Roni and I would have had a much easier time remaining off the radar and would have been a smaller needle in a much bigger haystack. Fuck the president and his NDA. If I hadn't agreed to that, I'd have been able to get Guy to make Roni a legit fake ID, not the one her dad provided.

If I survived this, I'd make sure he knew that much. His ability to only half trust me pinned me into a box of legalities, and it compromised his mission—my mission. It put his daughter at risk.

One thing was certain: soon enough, all of this was going to come to a head. Either I'd fail my mission and Roni and I'd both be dead, or it would all be over. Roni's father would send Marine One to fly her home. I'd be out of time to decide if I wanted to be Roni's real boyfriend.

Sometimes it felt hard to separate what was real between us and what wasn't. While me being her boyfriend was fake, I was her bodyguard for real. Somewhere down the line my motivation changed. At first it was about the money, another job, and its prestige—a secret assignment from the president, too good to be true. Now, I actually truly cared about Roni. If the president tore up his contract tomorrow and took back his money, I'd still see this job through. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

I was beginning to understand what a teenage version of me couldn't. Roni had the ability to get under my skin like no one else because she was the real deal. Our competitiveness was the catalyst that always drove me to be better. Her soft beauty and intelligence were something I admired. I wanted her, all of her.

I wasn't sure if she felt the same, but I suspected she might. It felt like maybe we should have been this way all along. Like finding my favorite uniform tucked into the back of my closet and putting it on to see that it fit like a glove.

It was a poor comparison, but a simple one. I needed to make sure that the uniform, or Roni in this situation, truly fit—and if she did, then I needed to convince her to put our past behind us and be with me for real. Nothing dictated by a contract drawn up by her father—something real. I wanted her to be mine for real, president or terrorist group be damned.

But first, I needed to make sure she stayed safe.