“A hitman, you say?” Beckman mumbled, as he slid his spectacles back up along the bridge of his nose.

  “Not just a hitman,” Jack spoke up, “it's him, I'm sure of it.”

  Beckman paused, engaged in a grave stare with Jack. “And you got a good look at this man?” Beckman said, swiveling in his chair to face my dejected expression seated before him, eyes drifting into the pristine glass space of his office beneath the Pantheon.

  I nodded, slipping back into my memory of a narrow escape at the library earlier. “Bald and well dressed.”

  Beckman glanced back out of the corner of his eye to Jack beside me. A pensive indication. He whetted his lips. “You're safe now. No need to worry further.”

  “Who is this guy?” I went to speak up, bouncing gazes between Jack and Beckman.

  Jack's lips broke, as he ventured a word.

  “None of your concern,” Beckman cut in. “We have a lead on the non-profit."

  “Her safety is our concern,” Jack powered through.

  “Perhaps, Agent Welker,” Beckman's tone grew cold, “this is the best chance at procuring a safe ending for Ms. Hart, along with many other innocents. Or do you disagree?”

  Jack's eyes fluttered with indeterminate thought, while he remained silent.

  “Very good, I'm glad we're in agreement then,” Beckman's voice returned to normal. “CHARADES is operating a benefit at the Teatro dell'Opera di Roma to be exact.”

  “Just a bus stop away, how convenient,” I piped up.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “No problem, I'll go in, and make it quick,” Jack said, not acknowledging me at all.

  “Not alone,” Beckman affirmed.

  I couldn't bear to hide my grin. I was excited to be with Jack and get another mission under my belt. Danger felt a little more safe with him around...and fun. Not to mention, a trip to the Opera would certainly be romantic.

  “Perhaps this would be more suitable for an actual agent,” Jack coughed, still not daring to look my way. “One with experience.”

  A mouth dropped to the floor. I couldn't say whose it was, but she was fabulous, and angry.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Beckman agreed, adding another to my list. His hand openly motioned to the door behind us.

  In walked Europe's top model and my worst nightmare.

  “Agent Dubrovka,” Beckman said, “perfect timing as always.”

  Maybe for men and women aged 16-95, but no one else! My mind raced bitterly.

  Jack's gaze inadvertently turned to me, unsure of what his eyes were even saying, though his brow waved nervously.

  Natalya brushed up against Jack's shoulder, her long black hair tickling the side of his neck as she stepped by, her hands planting firmly on her well formed hips. An annoyed head tipped in expectation. “What's the mission?” A thick and enveloping accent dripped out.

  “Hold up,” Jack pushed past Natalya. “I didn't say her!” he pointed back abruptly.

  “You asked for someone qualified, and there's no one else available that suits the task.”

  “What about McCullogh?”

  “On assignment in Belgrade.”

  Jack clenched his fists and turned away.

  “I can muster up Elliott if you'd prefer,” Beckman plowed forth with an unusual joke for him.

  Jack swore under his breath, while Natalya shot daggers at him.

  “You two will enter the benefit as a couple of wealthy socialites and find out what you can. Yanni Svensson is the fundraiser for the gathering, and works mid to upper level Charades events. Find him and see if you can--”

  “What about me?” I broke in.

  “You'll stay here, of course, where it's safe,” Beckman answered. “There's sleeping quarters down the hall.”

  “It's the smart move, Ari?” Jack said. “Especially after earlier.”

  “But...” I pouted, my wide eyes shifting to Jack.

  “He's right,” Natalya said. “A little thing like you...'s not qualified for this.” She smirked.

  Rage welled up inside of me.

  “Sorry Ari,” Jack said, his face drooping with disappointment. “But it's for the best.”

  I stood up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on my way.

  “Argh!” I hissed, motoring to one of the sleeping quarters where my bags were left. I plopped down on a firm cot in the tiny room, sending one of my bags toppling over at my feet. It was unzipped slightly. A gown length black dress peaking out of it. A mischievous smile pursed my lips.

  Qualified...we'll see who's qualified!