Free Hard to Trust by Wendy Byrne

that kind of eventuality, but a woman running with fear as a motivator didn't consider those kinds of things.
    More confused than ever, he separated from the crowd and watched the notification on his phone that told him she hadn't moved in the last five minutes or so. He followed the signal to a twenty-four-hour café.
    He peered inside and almost missed her. She had a hijab covering her hair and was sitting at one of the overstuffed chairs in the very back, typing something into her laptop. Even through the glass he could sense the anxiousness in her fidgety demeanor. He supposed that could be a reflection of the murder she might have committed moments ago, but he didn't think so. Then again, his reliability score had tanked recently.
    Why was he giving her the benefit of the doubt when he should be calling Jennings?
    Still, he couldn't help but be fascinated. Her fingers seemed to tremble as she worked through the keystrokes. Her legs bounced up and down like a nervous teenager on a first date. It didn't seem to be the body language of someone who'd just committed murder.
    But she'd been well trained, as he'd been. Lack of emotion was a trademark of Petrovich indoctrination, and it had probably been drummed out of her as well. But her fear seemed to be palpable even through glass and distance.
    Her eyes drew wide. For a second or two he thought she might have spotted him lingering outside. He prepared himself to walk inside and confront her about what he suspected. Before he could do that, three men surrounded her table, each one with a phony plastic smile on his face that was more about control than pleasantries.
    Things had just gone to hell right before his eyes.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Tessa settled into the large chair in back and sipped her extra-large coffee. She needed some time to think through her options—if she had any, especially as she could still hear the trail of police sirens in the distance. From the looks of things, any choice she might have had was no longer available. Part of her wanted to give in to the emotion of losing Nick, but knew she didn't have the time to indulge herself right now. Maybe never.
    Second-guessing her decision to cut Jake loose wasn't going to do her any good now either. She had to plan and decide what to do next. They went after Nick. She would be next.
    She opened her laptop and tried to search for signs of anything connecting the three of them, besides their recent trip to Afghanistan. Lingering thoughts of Alex flitted through her, as persistent and unclear as ever.
    The idea she'd been responsible for Nick being targeted made the pain of his death even more real. Why wouldn't she have thought about her home phone being bugged? Maybe because she had been so hollowed out and washed up that she didn't have time to think with her usual amount of acumen.
    She burrowed further into her hijab and hoped she'd have a few moments to decide what to do next. With a target on her back, she needed to plan her moves more wisely from now on.
    After watching the video of Alex being killed one more time, she plugged in the names of the operatives she knew were present, Amir and Behrang. What was she missing?
    "You must come with us, Ms. Graham." Three men stood in front of her. One so close the gun he had in his hand was visible only to her. The thing that kept trailing around her brain was their Russian accents. Why had she somehow known about the Russian part?
    She drew in a breath and bet on the fact they wouldn't kill her in front of twenty or so people. "I'm not going anywhere with you." She settled back into the seat even when he moved next to her and pressed the gun against her ribcage.
    "Then I suggest you read this." The man handed her an envelope, which she opened with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
    The note, crudely written, included a picture behind it. It was a scene where it appeared all the people had been shot. The letter stated, You will do as we say or we start killing