aside the trash can, his fingers flew over the keyboard as he sent Natalie’s location to Mitchell.
“I really must go, Clinton.”
Clearing his throat, he worked to keep his voice calm. “Get some rest.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice distracted, before she hung up.
Leaning back his head, he shut his eyes and rubbed his hands down his face.
“Robinson.”
Mitchell’s voice propelled him up in his chair. He hit a button on his keyboard and his boss’s face appeared. He wore a camo t-shirt, a matching cap on his head. Bent over at the waist, he stuffed something into a black, lace-up boot, several guns at his waist.
His boss looked ready for battle.
“It’s her,” he told Mitchell. “My mother’s tied to this somehow.” He couldn’t keep the foul curse words in his mouth.
“Yes,” Mitchell said, as he threw a back pack on the desk. He stuffed combat paraphernalia inside.
“Yes?” Clint threw a pen across the room, his voice laced with incredulity. “You knew?”
“I’ve done some research since we last spoke.” He zipped up the pack.
“It’s the farm.” Austin came up behind Clint, staring at the screens. “They took them to the farm.”
“What else did your mother say?” Mitchell checked the armband strapped to his arm, his face a mask of dominant determination.
“Nothing. She didn’t want to talk. She said she was busy.”
Breaking a man out of prison, kidnapping a group of women and trying to change the world would put a person a little on the hectic side.
“Mitchell, where are you going?” Austin stood beside Clint, his brows folded into a deep groove.
His eyes met theirs for the first time. “I’m going to Texas. I’m sending Angela to HQ.” His voice lowered. “Take care of her, will you?”
An ominous sense of panic settled over the room like a thundercloud, heavy and black. He and Austin exchanged a glance before Clint looked back at the screen. “Mitchell, what do you plan to do?”
“I’m going down there alone. I need to see what we’re up against before I send in the team. I just can’t risk them all.”
That wasn’t all there was to it. Mitchell had seen something in that video of Jim’s clone. Clint knew better than to expect an explanation.
“We can’t risk you, either.”
Mitchell’s sharp tone brooked no argument. “We don’t have a choice.”
They were talking about the agency itself, the agents, their girls—their entire existence. Nothing was expendable.
“What do you want me to do?” Clint said.
“Record my feed. Whatever you do, do not lose contact. I’ll let you know when you can notify the others. But, not before. Is that clear?” Mitchell glanced at Austin.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Mitchell’s somber gaze settled on Clint. “Under no circumstances are you to relinquish Keegan or Monica to them.”
With a firm shake of his head, Clint said, “Understood.”
“No way in hell,” Austin said, in a raised tone of obstinacy.
“Good.” Picking up the backpack, Mitchell threw it over his shoulder. With one last glance at the screen, he spoke in a soft voice. “For what it’s worth, Robinson, I’ve never doubted you for a moment. I’m damned proud of our decision to hire you, and I’m damned impressed with all you’ve accomplished.” He gave him a half grin before turning to walk away. “Hoorah.”
Watching his boss walk away, Clint tried to swallow over the globe lodged in his throat. The words were like a massage to his blood pressure levels, a weight off his mind. He’d probably never know what had prompted it, but he’d take it.
Chapter 7
Keegan went to stand on Clint’s right, while Monica made her way to Austin on his left. Clint stared at the blank screen where Mitchell had been seconds before, his eyes narrowed in thought. He still wore tuxedo trousers, his throat exposed at the top of his white, button-down shirt. His blond hair was mussed, his jaw showing thick stubble. A mix