Access Denied

18. 1800 hours

His eyes were blue steel not the transparent glass they used to be. Jackson wasn't telling her something, he had said so himself. She would leave if Jackson really thought it was for the best, but she couldn't just leave. He had to tell her something.

"Just tell me this, Jackson," she said making sure she had his attention. "Who are these people I'm going to be running from? Who are they supposed to be?"

"Redstone."

A cold sweat coated Genevieve's forehead when she woke up. She had dreams all the time. Being on the run brought dreams about authorities catching her or criminals she had made enemies out of handing her over. Most of her nightmares were occupied with Vincent Redstone and his gang, but never had she dreamed—or replayed a memory—of her brother.

Her head fell to the side and came face to face with Nicole's sleeping figure. She didn't know how someone with so much energy by day, slept so deeply by night. But she guessed she really couldn't say anything when Nicole had been busy helping her all day.

Nicole had been searching old and new designs for any similarities between the weapons and the box from Jackson's bunker. But they had no success and that only drove Nicole to work harder. She deserved to get some sleep.

Genevieve had tried to sleep all night. She had twisted and turned on her side of the bed, but it was hopeless. When she had finally relaxed, that dream took away any sleep she had left.

But she knew why she was restless—the meet with Kajnos was tomorrow and it had her losing her sanity.

Flynn had given her an earpiece and a list of questions she should ask Kajnos inconspicuously. She was told that Deaton and Carlos were going to be somewhere around her during the whole 'operation' as Flynn called it.

Nicole would be manning the surveillance and making sure they knew of anything unusual happening. Genevieve didn't care much for the meeting—she only wanted to know who Kajnos was and why he had contacted her—but these agents saw him as a lead. A lead they needed to follow up.

Deciding that trying to sleep again wasn't such a good idea, Genevieve quietly crept out of the room. She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could but she doubted Nicole would even notice. She made her way over to the stairs, wanting to get a glass of water and sit by an open window. But halfway down the staircase, she stopped when she heard the voices.

"I've heard a lot of things about Special Agent Kiara Deaton," Carlos's voice came over the sound of pouring liquid—knowing Carlos De' Gracias, he was probably making himself an early morning drink. "But I never would have guessed that you approved of alcohol. You seem like someone who would like their body working much more than wasted."

Genevieve heard glasses clink, probably a cheers. "I don't approve," Deaton told him. "But on my husband's death anniversary, I make lots of exceptions."

She could hear the atmosphere tense and she knew Carlos felt it too. Kiara Deaton was talking about her personal life—and more accurately, her dead husband. Carlos seemed like a person who was uncomfortable with personal stories. Then again, he did seem the most comfortable around alcohol.

"Was he an agent?"

A silent second passed. "He was on my team. Died on duty."

"I'm sorry."

Genevieve wasn't thirsty anymore and certainly not after knowing that Deaton and Carlos—both reserved agents—were down in the kitchen. But she also didn't really want to go back to bed. So she slumped down on the stairs, put her head against the wall and listened.