Code Name - Revenge (Jameson Force Security 9)

After Thor, we put on Dozer’s favorite, Independence Day. The last thing I remember was Will Smith walking out of his house and looking up into the sky to see the alien spacecraft, and then I was sound asleep.

I have a vague recollection of Dozer lifting me from the couch and carrying me into the bedroom. I was groggy as he helped me out of my clothes and let me slip under the covers. I think my last dim memory of the evening was of him sliding in behind me and pulling me close as I fell back asleep.

I didn’t dream.

No nightmares of my worst fears coming to fruition. I slept soundly and deeply until Dozer woke me early with his fingers between my legs and his mouth on my neck. He made love to me ever so slowly, causing me to soar high with him, and then we fell down to earth again, wrapped in each other’s arms.

And then… he was gone.

To Miami.

To get kidnapped. Possibly tortured. Maybe killed.

I curse in frustration as I continue pacing, periodically chewing on one of my nails, a habit I fall into when stressed.

Dozer promised me frequent updates. He said he would call as often as he’d be able to. Both Kynan and Griff also promised they would keep me in the loop and that I would be aware of every situation as it unfolded.

It wasn’t good enough for me when they offered those assurances.

An hour after they’ve gone, it’s still not good enough.

In fact, I’m feeling distinctly left out, which is silly, of course. I can’t help them. I would only be in the way if I was in Miami. Dozer said I would be a distraction, but I took that as a compliment of sorts, and I don’t want to be a hindrance.

Still… I can’t let go of the fact that I’m in the wrong place right now.

I can’t stop thinking that I should be more proactive.

Without any real thought, I leave the apartment and trot down the floating staircase to the second floor. A few of the Jameson agents look at me curiously from their desks as I make my way to the elevator that will take me down to the R&D lab where I know Bebe is working.

I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the elevator. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish—just running on instinct here.

At the sub-basement level, I exit the elevator and walk to the glass door where I can see Bebe at her desk. I knock sharply, and she turns to glance at me over her shoulder. A second later, the door unlocks and I’m walking in.

“You look like hell,” Bebe says as she gives me a once-over.

“I feel like hell,” I admit. “My nerves are a mess, my stomach feels like it’s going to turn inside out, and it would not take much for me to start crying right now.”

Bebe gasps dramatically. “Please don’t cry. I am ill-equipped to handle tears.”

I smile grimly. “I can’t stay here.”

She settles into her chair and points at the empty one where Dozer normally sits. I take it and bounce my knee from sheer nervousness. “I have to go to Miami. No, not have to. I’m going to Miami.”

Bebe shakes her head. “You most certainly are not.”

“You could come with me.” I look at her expectantly. I know she doesn’t want to be here any more than I do, but Kynan insisted she stay. He felt that her close bond with Dozer would be a hindrance, that her head would be cooler and her heart more detached if she assisted the mission remotely. “Dozer needs us.”

Something flickers in her eyes, even though her jaw remains stubbornly set. “Dozer would kill me if I took you to Miami. Kynan would fire me.”

“I’ll go with or without you,” I threaten.

“I’ll tie you to that chair,” she counters.

“I bet I could kick your ass,” I say because I’ve got her by a few inches. “You’re scrawny.”

I get nothing but an eye roll. “I’m not afraid of you. But again, Dozer would kill me.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Dozer would not kill you because I wouldn’t let him kill you. And Kynan is not about to fire his most brilliant, valued, and cherished employee. You’re the heartbeat of this company, and Kynan would be foolish if he—”

“Stop trying to flatter me,” Bebe grouses. “Not saying I don’t like it, but it’s really not needed.”

“So, you’ll help me?” I ask hopefully.

“Putting everything aside, all the valid reasons you want to go,” Bebe says gently, “I don’t think it would be good for you to be there. I think the stress on you would be too much. You’re going to be sequestered in a hotel room without the ability to be near any of us because we’ll be set up at the FBI field office. Not to mention, going to Miami could put you in grave danger. We don’t know the Russians’ capabilities, and they may have people at the airports looking for you.”