Forgetting Josephine

Chapter 7:

Previously:

"This is Michael. He's a new addition to the on-site security team."

Nikita's heart stopped, and it took all her strength not to react. Her eyes slowly – oh so slowly – peered up at the second guard, who stared off into space, trying to contain his jealousy, his burning fury.

It was Michael. Her Michael.

…

"Fly another agent out here. Replace me."

"No can do, Mikey." Birkhoff responded on the other end of the phone. "Tristen's meeting with his superiors at tonight's party. Division can't get out another agent before tonight."

Michael took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had gotten out of the estate so he wouldn't kill anybody off-limits. Like, for instance, the target Division was trying to in order to take down the Russian drug trafficking ring. But even within the surveillance van, he couldn't stop his trigger finger from twitching, thinking about what he would do to Tristen...

"Besides," Birkhoff added, "Percy wants you on this mission."

Michael's heart caught in his throat, and he stopped cold. "Percy?"

"Yeah. So no disappointing the boss man! Get back in there and prepare for tonight."

…

Nikita was an expert at old-style reconnaissance, and as the caterers and party planners distracted the household with the preparations, she was able to slip into the study, where Tristen conducted his business.

The room was styled like all the others: grand and scholarly, with hefty oak furnishings. And at the desk sat the most beautiful object she'd seen all day: a laptop. Probably packed with names of associates, banking accounts, and enough intel for them to take down the entire trafficking ring.

She couldn't call Birkhoff for fear of her call being intercepted, but she had learned enough from him that she was able to bypass most security systems that came her way.

"Amateur hour," she murmured as the screen prompted her for a password. Keystrokes, backdoor hacks- and she was in.

She clicked on a file and hundreds of photos of Russian girls, sold into the sex trade, appeared on the screen. The files made her skin crawl. These girls were children, and her heart went out to all of them. Their names and photos burned into her mind: Nina. Laura. Alexandra. Innocent ones she hoped she would someday be able to protect.

Suddenly, the study door opened.

Nikita jumped to her feet, prepared to run-

Only to see Michael, quietly close the door behind him.

"Michael?"

"Log out, he's on his way."

She pressed a few buttons, and Michael ushered her out of the room, a hand on the small of her back, guiding her down a hallway and out the nearest door to the garden.

She wouldn't meet his gaze as they walked through the maze. He picked up on this, and his tone softened.

"Are you doing alright?"

She finally looked up, seeing compassion reflected there, in his deep blue eyes. She didn't answer at first, and she was touched by this gesture from a man usually so reserved.

"I will be," she said, and it was only partly a lie.

"I need you to be," he said.

"I didn't think you needed anyone, Michael," she teased.

"Good thing you're not just anyone." His fingers brushed hers, and he took her hand in his, fumbling a little, as if he was out of practice or worried about whether or not she would pull away.

She did, but only to place his arm around her so she could be closer in his embrace.

"Did Birkhoff call? Is it almost over?"

"After tonight, we confirm and take out all the targets at the party, and you're done. And next time? The hell with Amanda. They can find someone else to do these missions."

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against Michael's shoulder. "Thank you."

…

Everyone was drunk. Everyone. Including the bartenders and the caterers, who only proved that doing their job well required sobriety.

Well, everyone except for Nikita and Michael, sober sore thumbs at this raucous garden party.

"Everything ready?" Nikita whispered as he passed. He nodded, intense and focused as ever. God he looked good in a suit, she thought, and couldn't help stealing a glance.

A glance he noticed, and acknowledged with a smirk. "You're not so bad yourself," he growled into her ear before slipping into the shadows, getting into place for their plan. She couldn't help but smile, and stood a little taller in the shimmering little white Grecian number she wore.

Tristen, who was slightly less hammered than everyone else at his party, was waiting by a fountain at the far end of the lawn, just by the entrance to the hedge maze. Two more men greeted him, and they disappeared within the dark garden together. The meeting, just as Michael and her had suspected. Now all was left was a two man ambush, and she'd be free and clear, with the deaths of the heads of the trafficking ring under her belt. Everything could be wrapped up, neat and tight, and she could rest soundly knowing that at least this mission was one that actually did good for the world.

Nikita opened a forgotten silver tray hidden behind a stack of dishes, snatching the shiny HK handgun Michael hid for her. She kicked off her silver heels and darted down a dark row of hedges, and saw a figure strobing through the shadows parallel to her as the looming walls of the garden swallowed her up. Her silent guardian. Her Michael.

She darted down another row, following the route Michael and her had planned out yesterday, the safety off on her gun, her finger poised on the trigger-

She turned the corner.

And that's when everything went to hell.

A/N: Once again, thank you everyone! Your reviews make my day :)