The End of Games (The Single Lady Spy 2)

I looked down at my filth-covered fatigues and the dried throw up on my boots, sighing, “I’m never going to pass basic—ever. I’m dying. Doc says I have an ulcer. How awesome is that? I'm too old for all this stress and running and jumping and people shooting at me and lighting my shit on fire. I'm tired, Coop. I want to go back to my house with my new Breville coffee maker.”

The shit-eating grin crossing his lips was too much, “What’s that on your boot?”

I shuddered, “I threw up during a CrossFit session.”

He laughed and his blue eyes sparkled, “I sort of assumed you were going to throw up at least once first week. It’s week three, Evie. Come on. You can’t be throwing up week three.” He sat on the bed and rubbed my calf, "You're making the rest of us look bad to the newbies."

I shook my head, “Screw you, Coop.”

He laughed, “Can’t. We only have about seven minutes before the nurse gets back.”

I grinned, through the nausea, “That’s probably plenty of time for you. You’re what—sixteen?”

His hand slipped up my thigh, “I already told you, I got your stamina for you, baby.”

I laughed and burped, killing the laugh off as I shuddered from the taste.

He squeezed my leg, “I went and saw the kids yesterday.”

My head shot up, “Mine?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, the orphans I volunteer with every week. ‘Course your kids. Jesus.”

A smile broke across my lips, nausea be damned, “How were they?” My insides melted.

“Healthy, happy, strong, safe, but missing you. Your mom looks good. She rocks the hot older lady too, huh?” He winked.

I swung my puke-covered boot at him, “I’m not old.”

He laughed again, “Tell that to your aching back, baby.”

I sighed, “I’m never gonna be allowed to leave here. I’m never gonna see my kids. I hate this.” I felt like crying.

He climbed up the bed, lying beside me, “When I was in basic, I heard about a girl who ran the course faster than the boys in her troop. One guy tried to sabotage her and wrecked a rope in the climbs. She fell and broke her wrist and still ran it faster than the boys. You don’t remember what her name was, do you—I mean she was famous for it?”

I snuggled into the warmth, “The moments I hate you and want to stab you in the eye, are always the moments you redeem yourself.”

He put his arm out and wrapped it around me, “I’m a master at getting girls to love me.” He sighed, “Evie, you gotta be strong and get past this. You need to remember what it was like to be fearless.”

“Easy to say at fifteen. Common sense is the wisdom you get as you age. One day, sonny, you’ll be wise like me and you’ll know jumping from a pole you climbed, to a rope and swinging to a platform, is reckless. It’s something I would tell my kids not to do.”

His body shook as he chuckled at me, “Trust yourself. You coulda made the jump up that fence the other day. You coulda done it, but you didn’t trust your body.”

I looked up into his blue eyes. He was watching my training?

I didn’t trust my body so near to his. He was trouble and I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. I cleared my throat, “I don’t get why the commander wanted me to come back to basic for three weeks. I’m dying.”

He stroked my head, “Yeah, I think that was why. You ran a lot and did yoga. Not exactly what the military recommends for its agents.”

Still staring into his eyes, I noted they’d changed. They were dark and moody. I frowned, “What?”

He swallowed, “So that list…”

I nodded, “The one Roxy gave Servario on the plane?”

He looked sick, “We know some people on it.”

I waited. He looked nervous as he spoke, “Rather, you know someone on it.”

His eyes were filled with something—Jesus—was it sympathy? He felt sad for me? Was it my mom?

“Fitz is on it.”

My stomach curdled as I pulled back, “That isn’t even funny.”

He shook his head, “I’m being completely serious with you. Fitz is on the list. His real name. He's working with them, James and the bad guys.”

“What are we going to do? We can’t kill Fitz. He saved you.” My heart was beating a mile a minute, “He’s gay. He would never betray me. If you can trust anyone, it’s g*y men. I swear to God. I was a beard in high school for a guy named Jason. Most trustworthy human being I ever met. My dad trusted Fitz more than anyone, more than he did my mother. When my father ‘fake’ died, my mother didn’t have power of attorney. Fitz did.”

He put a hand up, “Shhhh. Let me talk. Jesus. You’re worse than my mom.”

I smacked him lightly in the cheek, “Don’t shush me.” I wasn’t going to touch on the mom comment, but I couldn’t help myself, “That mom comment is going in the bank with the cougar comment, for later. You know, for when some bad guy has you chained to a wall and he’s about to break both your legs. You’ll give me a look, like ‘Save me, Evie’. And there will be an angel on my shoulder, with a cheetah-print dress on, and she’s gonna be smoking and chanting ‘Cougar, cougar, mommy cougar’.”

He pursed his lips at me, “Pshhh, how was training, Evie? You manage to do one pull-up yet? Yeah, I don’t see you getting the chance to save me.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

His funny look came back fast, “I meant, Fitz is probably up to something. He didn’t seem very retired to me. That jet seemed like it was his. Now he’s dead.” He put up the air quotations he had once done for my maternity leave. “But we all know he’s not dead. The plane crash is a lame and very old-school cover up. Servario vanishing from the ME’s office, after being poisoned, is the same. Your dad being shot in Mexico is the only one that seemed legit. The rest, I’m not buying.”

I felt a sickening amount of hope my dad’s was a frame-up too.

Coop smiled, but I could see the authenticity wasn’t there, “This is the same, but I wanted to warn you. I didn’t want you to see the list and then freak out.”

I scowled, “I don’t overreact.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re a chick.”

I slapped at him again but he caught my hand, “I let you get one in.”

“What are you gonna do, hit back?”

He nodded, licking his lips, “Yeah, but I get to choose the spot I hit.”

My stomach dropped, “Whatever. I need to go back and rejoin my troop.” I pushed away from him but he pulled me in closer. His hands spanned my whole back, “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

I bit my lip, “I don’t want to talk about him again.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “He contacted you.”

I frowned, “How do you know that?”

Coop shrugged.

“Are you admitting to having surveillance shit in my house still and now Luce's?”

His lips fought the good fight but the grin won over, spreading across his face, “I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Did you put one in my bathroom?” My face flushed, thinking about the things I did in there that I definitely didn’t want recorded. I was about to rage on him but that would mean bringing up the fact he’d seen me doing my morning ablutions.

He laughed, “No. I put it in the hall outside your bedroom. It may or may not be able to see your bed if the door is open, just for safety’s sake. The cameras caught Steve in the act of entering your home with shoes and lipstick.”

I hated that it hadn’t been Servario who had come to my house. It wasn’t his handwriting I had swooned over. It had been Steve's? I moved past it, refocusing on Coop monitoring my bedroom. My eyes narrowed, “You’re a little bastard.”

His eyes matched mine, “Nothing little about me, Evie.” He got up from the bed and walked from the infirmary. "See ya in a couple days."

I watched him leaving. He stopped, of course, looking back and catching me watching his firm ass walk away, “Nice.”

I blinked, “What?”

He laughed, “You were looking at my ass.”

I shook my head, crossing my arms, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He pointed, “I’m still senior officer, Evie. It’s don’t flatter yourself, sir.”

I laughed, “Yes, sir.”

“Report to the address I texted you; it’s where the car will pick you up for transport.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

He grinned and walked out, “Check your kit bag and don’t be late.”

I sighed and left the room too. A young guy in an officer’s uniform gave me a grin as I walked back to where my troop was.

I shook my head and made my way back to the torture.

The master chief was screaming at the group of them. I stood at the side, praying he didn’t look at me.

When he did, he shouted, “What’s your deal, Marshall?” I jumped when I realized my name was Angela Marshall and he was yelling at me. “Get your ass in that lineup, girl. You think you’re better than anyone else? Well everyone, Marshall just earned you all twenty push-ups, twenty mountain climbers, and twenty burpees. Thank you, Marshall.” I hated the last name they gave me.

Everyone screamed, “THANK YOU, MARSHALL!”

I jumped and ran to my spot. I dropped and pumped them out. I had nothing left, but I remembered that day I beat every guy in the troop. I remembered the pain in my wrist as it snapped. I still finished, climbing the rope with one hand and my legs, knowing my wrist was broken.

I finished and stood at attention. Master chief winked at me and turned and left, passing the control to the officer in charge. He was the only person who knew who I really was. The new officer led us through the marching square to the trail, where we ran wind sprints for five miles with twenty burpees at every mile.