Don't Let Go by Skye Warren Page B

in this moment, a little petty and a lot human.
    He glanced at me, his lips twitching. “What are you laughing at?”
    I shook my head, my smile fading. “Is it going to be bad? The bust?”
    His sigh gave me the answer. “There’s always a chance that shit goes wrong. Sometimes we lose an agent. It happens.”
    Only then did I remember his other rookie partner…who had died.
    In the conference room, he began rifling through the papers. We’d need to reevaluate our blind spots without the snipers in place—and we’d have to do it fast.
    He spoke without looking up. “Call everyone on the team. And screen them. If someone has taken so much as a Benadryl, they’re out. Everyone comes in clearheaded or not at all. If I have to walk in there by myself, that’s what I’ll do.”
    “With me.”
    “What?” he asked absently.
    “I’ll be there with you.”
    When he looked up, his eyes were smoky. Something was there, just behind the mist, but I couldn’t read him. “Right,” he said finally.
    I tried to ignore the unease that pooled in my stomach as I left to make the calls. Thankfully, with the time still early evening, most of the team was available to come in immediately. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reach Lance at all. His number went straight to voicemail, as if his phone were off. Frankly, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t play a pivotal role in the original plan, and considering his rookie status, that likely wouldn’t have changed in the rushed new plan.
    So what the hell are you doing here? But I didn’t have an answer for that.
    It took me most of the hour we had left to organize everyone’s new assignments. The cubicles and conference room, which had been empty, now bustled with agents. Some prepared to work from the office or in the van to help coordinate. The ones going in suited up in bulletproof gear.
    I hadn’t donned my gear yet, not wanting the encumbrance before I had to. There was no time to change clothes, so I was stuck in a blue dress shirt beneath my standard suit jacket and skirt. A black T-shirt and black cargo pants were laid out on my bed at home, useless now. I wasn’t sure what to do about that, but I was too busy to worry about it. At one point, literally running to get schematics from one end of the office to the other. It hurt on my two-inch heels, even with the fancy insoles I used. Everyone was running around. All our carefully laid plans were out the window, left only with this. Hennessey had been spot on when he’d predicted this would be a clusterfuck. We hadn’t even left the building and it already was.
    I had glimpsed Hennessey throughout the frenetic planning, but he was always talking to someone. Occasionally he barked out orders to me, and I’d scurry off. More his personal assistant than a partner, but I didn’t mind. I believed in what we were doing. I believed in him. If anyone could pull this off, he could.
    But when he found me, with only thirty minutes before we had to move out, he looked more pissed off than ever. “I need to speak with you.”
    I glanced down at the armful of portable radios I held, ready to be passed out. “Sure. Can I find you in a few minutes?”
    “No. Right now.”
    Something like dread settled in my stomach. I dumped the equipment on the nearest desk and followed him back to Brody’s office. My dread increased.
    Sitting inside was Lance. He didn’t meet my eyes.
    “Is it true?” Brody asked. “Never mind. I already know it’s true.” He let out a string of profanities a sailor would be proud of.
    I stared at Lance in shock. He’d told? I knew I’d have to tell Hennessey eventually, but I’d have broken the news carefully—certainly not right before a huge bust. And going to Brody directly was a dick move. At least Hennessey had asked for a replacement to my face. Lance wouldn’t even meet my eyes. The moment stretched out.
    Betrayed.
    I’d been betrayed by my friend. While I had betrayed my partner. I’d hurt