Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1) (11 page)

“Who?”

“A new agent—Agent Sims—will be accompanying you. Everything has been arranged. You’ll receive a package with no return address today at fifteen hundred hours. You will need to sign for it. All of the information you need will be inside.”

A faint sense of uncertainty pricks her gut at the idea that a new agent—someone she has never met or worked with before—will be assisting her on this mission. But Sloan just nods her head in understanding, forcing herself to get past the doubt. Chief Dubois has never steered her wrong or put her at risk. If anything, he’s only been overprotective of her over the past ten years.

“Good luck, Fifty-Five,” he encourages as she gets out of the vehicle.

“Thanks, Chief,” is her only response before closing the passenger’s side door.

She checks her watch as the SUV pulls away and realizes that there is about an hour to spare before she will have to be back to her apartment to receive the package. An extra-long run seems like the best plan of action. She needs some time to process all of the information about her upcoming assignment. She is due to fly back to Guadalajara in a little over a week. That doesn’t give much time to prepare, but this is the norm. Generally, seventy-two hours of notice is the most time agents receive before shipping out on assignments.

Today must be my lucky today.

Sloan wishes she had the freedom to run with her earbuds blasting the sultry voice of Jesse Rutherford from The Neighbourhood into her brain, but that’s not an option. She can’t risk putting herself in a situation where she would be unaware of her surroundings.

She’s always on guard, always prepared, always ready for anything.

Her shoes pound the pavement in perfect synchronization with her pulse as she makes her way down Seaport Drive towards Fisherman’s Wharf. Sloan is intrinsically aware of her physical condition at all times.
Twenty-four respirations and one hundred and ten heartbeats per minute
. She’s running at a comfortable pace—not pushing—enjoying the peaceful sounds of sea gulls and the usual hustle and bustle coming from Seaport Village.

Her eyes assess the residents and tourists who move about one of the most popular places within San Diego’s city limits—a waterfront shopping-and-dining complex adjacent to the bay. It holds numerous shops, galleries, and restaurants that overlook the stunning ocean-blue water. Residents call it The Village. This area is breathtakingly beautiful, with architectural styles that range from Victorian to traditional Mexican. It was planned to be a car-free environment, and she savors the ability to hear every precious sound that’s not interrupted by the noise of honking horns or car stereos.

Sloan stops along the water’s edge and stretches out her tight muscles. In the distance, a family of four throws a Frisbee in the open grass. The young girl giggles as her father picks her up and throws her into the air. Her blond curls bounce up and down as a warm, refreshing breeze flows from the water.

The lovely display makes Sloan’s heart ache.

As long as she’s Agent L-55, she will never be able to have a family. She will never get to experience carrying a child inside her womb or holding her baby in her arms. She won’t get to walk hand in hand with her husband or come home to house full laughter and love. None of those beautiful things are an option.

She shakes off the depressing thought and forces herself to head back towards the barren studio apartment, taking a different path than the way she came. This is what she always does. Never follow the same schedule, run the same routes, or do anything that could place her at risk for being noticed.

Just by calculating the distance in her head, she knows she ran a little over six miles—six point two to be exact. She’s been conditioned by some of the toughest military personnel in the country and continues to keep her fitness level in tiptop shape. There is no option for weakness. Weakness only opens her up for putting her life in jeopardy.

A LOUD BUZZ RESONATES IN her apartment.

The package is here.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she responds into the intercom.

She heads for the lobby of her apartment building, and a young delivery boy who looks to be in his early twenties stands at the front desk. He’s wearing a bright-blue polo shirt with FedEx embroidered in white lettering. A white ball cap covers his head, slightly shielding his young face.

“Package for Felicia Santora?” he inquires.

“That’s me,” she answers with a small, friendly smile.

She signs the document he places in front of her with quick finesse. The package is concealed in a nondescript, brown cardboard box. The item isn’t very large, measuring around eight inches by eight inches, and has to weight under five pounds considering the ease with which the delivery boy holds it in one arm.

He promptly takes the clipboard and places the package in her hands.

“Have a good day, Ms. Santora,” he adds as he turns for the door.

“Thanks. You too.”

As she heads back up towards her apartment, she notices that Mr. Webster, her seventy-year-old neighbor, drops his keys while trying to open his front door. “I got them,” Sloan says as she hurriedly rushes over to him, picking them up off the ground. “How are you doing today, Mr. Webster?” She unlocks the deadbolt and holds the door open for him. Then she takes his small bag of groceries in her free hand and carries it into his apartment.

“Oh, honey, I’m doing okay. My back is still hurting me pretty bad these days,” he updates as he follows her into his kitchen. “I haven’t seen you around lately. You been burning the candles at both ends again?”

“I’m good. Just busy with work.” Sloan sets the package down on the kitchen island and proceeds to empty his bag of groceries, putting everything away in the pantry. This is a normal routine for them. She’s known Mr. Webster since she moved out to San Diego several years ago, and she always makes a point to help him out whenever she can. “We’re going to need to have another lunch date soon…” She pauses and her train of thought stops once she realizes that he’s not wearing his brace. “Where is your back brace, Mr. Webster?” she asks, concerned.

“Oh, honey, you know I hate wearing that thing while I run my errands,” he responds grumpily.

“You know you’re supposed to be wearing that brace for at least another three weeks. Your back is still healing from surgery,” she retorts.

His only response is an irritated wave of his hand as he walks into his living room.

Sloan hides her laughter. She always gets a kick out of him and his obstinate nature. Mr. Webster is as stubborn as a mule and has been extra cranky since having back surgery three weeks ago.

The pitter-patter of paws lets her know that Mr. Webster’s miniature schnauzer will be racing towards her any minute. An eager black-and-gray ball of fur comes barreling across the hardwood floor.

“Hey there, Wally.” She kneels down, petting the dog affectionately between his ears.

His tail wags back and forth excitedly. After playing around with Wally on the floor for a few minutes, Sloan stands back up and grabs the package off the island countertop.

“Mr. Webster, I’ll come by later this week and take Wally for a walk, okay? I’m sure your back could use the break.”

“I’m sure he’d love that, Felicia,” he answers from his favorite recliner in the living room. “He hasn’t been getting as many walks as he’d like since I had surgery.”

“Get some rest! And put your brace back on!” she calls him to from the doorway.

After ensuring that Wally is still safe inside Mr. Webster’s apartment and his door is locked, Sloan heads towards her door. Once she’s securely inside, she proceeds to open the box and pull out the small thumb drive that contains everything she needs to know.

She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and sits down in front of her CIA-issued laptop. Her eyes start to review everything on the thumb drive. Her mind consciously takes each and every piece of information and commits it to memory. This assignment isn’t going to be like the last time she was in Guadalajara. This time will be a hell of a lot more difficult and undoubtedly more dangerous.

The goal of Dr. Felicia Santora is to find a way to get inside the Arturo compound with the guise of giving immunizations to the women and children who reside there. Agent Sims will be working indirectly with her in Guadalajara. She knows very little about this agent. He’s young, late twenties, and has only been with the CIA for six months. This is unsettling, but she reminds herself that they shouldn’t have any up-close-and-personal contact while in Mexico.

Sims’s job is to tap the perimeter of the Arturo compound so the CIA can record every conversation that happens inside. He will set up in a small villa just outside Guadalajara and get as much intel on La Familia Arturo through pictures, videos, and the discreet tracking of members who live within the compound full time.

His main target will be Nico Delgado, Hector Arturo’s right-hand man.

Sloan’s main target will be Hector himself, and this will definitely create a challenge. She has to find a way to get into the so-called good graces of the leader of one of the biggest drug cartels in Central America. This will not be easy, but it’s doable. Sloan has never turned down an assignment out of fear, and she’s not about to start now. No doubt, things could get risky, but she thrives off risk. She works well under pressure and in the most hazardous of situations.

She continues to read through everything, saving only the most pertinent information in code. Once she’s finished with the thumb drive, she destroys it—promptly disposing of everything so there is no trace. This is a protocol that Sloan has gotten very good at. She’s extremely creative when it comes to storing information in places where no one will be able to retrieve it. This is just another part of her job. As a CIA agent, she’s bound to the United States government to handle her assignments in the most covert way. Her biggest priority is to protect her cover and never give international criminals an opportunity to obtain intel on the United States.

AFTER SPENDING AN ENTIRE AFTERNOON, researching her next mission, she is dressed to impress and ready for her big speech tonight. The dinner is a black-tie affair, and Sloan is enjoying the opportunity to wear something that makes her feel pretty. Her long, brunette locks flow down her back in soft curls. Her makeup has hints of sultriness—red lipstick, dramatic eyes, and thick, black lashes—to accentuate her elegant attire.