Excerpts

Untitled Novel 2

Chapter One: Breaking Point

It was too bright in Bruce’s office.

Nila watched him usher the agents out of the room, her angular face framed by the thin winter sunshine filtering through the nondescript blinds. The light made the backs of her eyes hurt. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, the fabric of her shirt brushed against the first and second degree burns on her back that were only just starting to heal. She almost winced, but fought to maintain a neutral expression. It had been years since she had felt so much pain. Burns were her least favorite kind of injury. She preferred to break a bone rather than endure burns, but this time, she had the pleasure of having both.

Bruce closed the door and sat back down in his chair, gazing intently at Nila. She stared back, careful to keep the pain out of her face as much as possible.

“I’d ask how you’re doing, but I know you’d lie.”

Nila remained impassive and held his gaze, waiting. After a tense few moments, she cracked a wan smile.

“I’m fine. See? Still have all my fingers and toes.”

She wiggled her black and blue fingers gingerly through the sling the nurses forced her to wear. She briefly flirted with the idea of taking it off to show Bruce how fine she was, but moving her fingers hurt more than she expected and she decided not to risk showing him how much pain she was really in. He raised an eyebrow, sighed deeply, and looked away, lost in thought.

Nila felt sick; she had been expecting anger from her boss. This silent treatment was unnerving. He was one of the few men she had encountered that could actually scare her on occasion. She knew he cared about her, and for that, she was grateful.

In reality, Nila didn’t have any idea how much Bruce cared about her. When he heard that she was missing after the explosion at the compound, he had flown into a rage, breaking every object within reach. He didn’t sleep more than a half hour at a time until he saw her in person a week and a half later, wrapped in miles of gauze, at Germany’s Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. Once he was certain that she was going to live, he slept for nineteen hours straight in a shitty hotel room near the air base. Of course, he didn’t tell Nila that. That would have been far too easy.

Bruce turned to Nila, looking at her carefully. Her beautiful dark eyes glittered, cold and sharp. She was hiding how much she was in pain, and though he could tell, he decided to ignore that for the time being.

“So. About Yemen.”

Her eyes narrowed and turned even colder.

“What about it?”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, loosening his outrageously expensive navy silk tie and running a hand through his hair, almost at a loss for words. Pursing his lips, he spoke carefully.

“Nila, what happened was…unfortunate. With the intelligence we had at the time, you made the best decisions you could, but here we are. Four people dead, and you barely escaped with your life. I had to pull in a metric shit ton of favors to get you out of there. I owe Washington, now.”

Nila felt her eyes start to burn, her throat tightening. She felt so ashamed; he deserved a better job from her than what he got. The ringing in her ears got louder, and her vision went hazy for a moment. White hot waves of anger and self doubt crashed over her.

He continued, much gentler now.

“But it’s worth it, if it means I get to keep you.”

He crossed his arms, waiting for a response. Nila couldn’t move; everything hurt too much, both inside and outside. After a few moments, he gave up.

“Look, I know you’re disappointed in yourself. I’m not angry with you. You will always be the most valuable part of the company. You’re my star, Nila. But, you need a break.”

Nila gaped at Bruce, open-mouthed.

“What? A break? What do you mean?”

“You need to take a leave of absence. You need to heal. You’re covered in burns, your arm is busted all to hell, and your kidneys still haven’t recovered fully. You’re not ready to go back out in the field.”

Nila gritted her teeth, her battered hands aching to form a fist and punch something, anything.

“Who can cover for me? Who can do what I do, Bruce? Nobody.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she felt a hot tear escape from the corner of her eye. She brushed it away roughly and looked away, deeply embarrassed. Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly emotional despite himself. They both knew she was right.

“Look, take a month or two off – as much time as you need. Stay in my condo in Chicago – the Palm Beach one is still being renovated. You can relax, be safe, and heal. You’ll bounce back in no time. I’ll be here when you get back.”

They were quiet for a few long moments. Nila felt overwhelmed, not knowing if she was embarrassed or sad. The past three weeks had been a surreal blur, and this display of unreasonable affection was the icing on a very strange and stressful cake.

Bruce slid an envelope across the desk to Nila; she picked it up mechanically. It was stuffed with cash and a black credit card emblazoned with the Drake International logo on it. In any other situation, that kind of generosity would be shocking, but Nila had learned years ago to stop questioning it. She also knew that using the credit card would be a way for Bruce to discreetly track her. Generally, this rankled her to no end, but Nila didn’t have enough energy to express her irritation.

Bruce stood up, motioning for Nila to stand. She got to her feet a bit slowly, her legs still shaky from being immobile for so long in the hospital. Bruce stopped himself from giving her a steadying hand; he knew that she would likely break it if he offered it. Nila pursed her lips, choosing her words carefully:

“Thank you. I will be back soon. I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me.”

Bruce smiled and touched her good arm gently. That was as close as he let himself get, partly due to her burns and partly because he knew that, even in her current state, Nila could kill him before he knew what was happening.

“Take care of yourself. Call me once a week, let me know how you’re doing. When you think you’re ready to come back, let me know and I’ll come see you in Chicago. We’ll have dinner.”

She nodded, stuffing the envelope into her bag. Bruce showed her out of the office, his hand skimming ever so lightly over the small of her back…

© Jessica Taylor Drew and jessicataylordrew.com, 2016 – 2020. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jessica Taylor Drew and jessicataylordrew.com, with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.