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 and been hurt. I couldn’t think of anything to say to fix this. I’m sorry. But I wasn’t. It had been the right thing to do. Even if it hadn’t resulted in any direct information, it was good to cover our bases. And Mia had given me insight into our enemy. So what was the goddamn harm? Except I couldn’t ask that question either.
Hennessey broke the ice, but his words chilled me even further. “She stays in the van.”
Brody nodded, as if it was decided.
I whirled on my so-called partner. “What the hell? She? Why are you talking about me like I’m not here?”
“Fine,” he bit out. “You. You stay in the van. For deliberately going against my orders. For sneaking around—”
I made a dismissive sound, cutting him off. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off further, but he’d already taken away what I most wanted: a real spot on his team. A true position as his partner. But that was never going to happen, and it had nothing to do with Mia Martinez. It was about Hennessey not trusting me. If we’d truly been partners, he wouldn’t have forbidden me to see her in the first place. What would it take to earn his trust? It didn’t matter. I didn’t have it now, when it counted most.
“It was the right thing to talk to her, and you know it. I did it on my own time, so as not to interfere with anything you wanted to do. And regardless, talking to her has nothing to do with my ability to execute this bust with you. I know the plan better than any other agent out there.”
Hennessey’s gray eyes were cool. “Then you’ll be an asset directing from the van.”
Fuck. Fuck. There was no way to win this argument. My first game, and I’d been benched before it started. Worst of all, I’d let Hennessey down. Lance wouldn’t look at me, which was probably a good thing since my glare could cut glass. Only Brody looked pleased. He hadn’t wanted me out there, I realized.
Strange, considering.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I had to run to catch up with Hennessey. His long legs carried him faster than I could really walk in my low-heeled pumps, but I didn’t care how I looked to nosy eyes.
“Hennessey. Wait.”
His broad back retreated farther down the hall, farther away from me.
“Please, Ian.”
He slowed. He had once called after me the same way. Using my first name like a hook, reeling me in. He stopped and turned to face me, giving me that much at least.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and as I said the words, they became true. They had always been; I’d just refused to acknowledge how shitty I felt—even to myself. Sure, I’d justified my actions under the umbrella of professional duty, but I owed an even deeper allegiance to the man who had given me his trust. Not even Brody, who most likely had his own agenda. Hennessey was the one who had treated me as though I had value, asking for my opinions and really listening. Ian Hennessey, the man behind the commendations.
I lowered my eyes. Not avoidance. Shame. I lowered my voice too. “I’m really sorry I disobeyed you.”
“Disobeyed me?” he snapped. “I’m not the fucking master of you.”
He blew out a breath, his frustration obvious. With a tilt of his head, he led me into the supply closet. The same place we’d spoken before. The place we had kissed. Though it was clear kissing wouldn’t be on the agenda today based on the rigid way he held himself.
“Look,” he continued more evenly, “what happened in there, benching you, it’s not about punishment. I just… I can’t deal with the implications right now, right before an op. Whether I can trust you or if something bigger is going on. I can’t be wondering about that while I’m there or someone will get hurt. We’ll work it out after this. I promise.”
Jesus. Him being reasonable was like salt on the wound. My voice came out small. “We’ll still be partners.”