Taking Sides (ARC Operatives Book 2) (4 page)

“Alright, you’re not fighting,” Russi said, then leaned back on his elbows, still watching her profile. She groaned and buried her head in her hands.

“I really don’t want to have this conversation with you. It’s awkward, and weird, and I’ve known you less than a week. Definitely not talking about my guy-troubles with someone who could be like, my friend’s younger cousin’s dad or something.”

Russi barked out a laugh at that.

“I’m not that old,” he complained, but his voice lilted with amusement. “You’re what, in your mid-twenties, barely outta college when ARC snapped you up? Your friend’s younger cousin would have to be pretty damn young to be my kid.”

She looked over at him with her brows pulled together, her disbelief plain on her face.

“Okay so, my friend’s fifteen year old cousin’s dad,” she amended. He grinned, the stubble on his cheeks dark against the white of his teeth. Nico often had a sheen of light stubble over his cheeks on longer training missions when he didn’t have a chance to shave, and she missed the feel of it rubbing against her neck as he kissed her. Her stomach gave an odd little flutter as Russi continued to smile at her. She looked away quickly to douse the feeling.

“I’ll give you that. I could be the fifteen year old cousin’s dad. If I was stupid and reckless in my college years and didn’t use rubbers, which I did, if you’re wondering.” He added the last bit on as he looked up at the sky, squinting.

“I wasn’t. Wondering, that is,” Daria muttered into her knees as she tugged her sweater down over them, stretching the knit out. It was an old, comfortable sweater, perfect for a recon mission where she had nothing to do all day but basic housekeeping chores and sitting on her ass in front of the monitor station.

Suddenly he clapped a hand on her shoulder, warmth biting right through the fabric of her sweater, and his fingers curled around her bicep to squeeze.

“I won’t push you. If you wanna talk, I’m not amazing at matters of the heart, but I can give you the straight up goods on what a man might be thinking,” he said gently, and she couldn’t help but look up at him. He was smiling again, this time it was softer, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit like Balfour’s did, and she had to fight the urge to bury her head in his shoulder and just cry it out.

Things would be fine with Nico, they had to be fine. They’d both finish up the mission and he’d hug her hard and she’d inhale the scent of his cologne and it would all sort itself out, right?

Russi’s hand slipped around her shoulders and he tugged her in against his chest. She let him, relaxing against his bulk with a sigh. He wasn’t Balfour, and he certainly wasn’t Nico, but he’d do for now. She needed the comfort his warmth was providing.

They sat in the quiet, enjoying the heat of the sun as it poured over them, until her phone beeped. She pulled away from Russi and checked it.

Mila, I have a few minutes, do you want to speak?

Her heart surged and she stood up without a word, immediately dialing Nicolai.

“Want me to go inside?” Russi murmured beside her and she flicked a glance at him before shaking her head. If she needed to talk privately she could always walk down the driveway that lead to the cabin. Putting some miles on her legs would be good, because she was pretty sure she’d gained a few pounds over the mission already. Besides, it was likely she and Nico wouldn’t be having a private Conversation on his end anyway, what with the two senior agents being close by.

He picked up right away, and she held her breath as his voice warmed her from the inside-out.

“Daria-“

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out suddenly, “I’m sorry for everything.” She wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing, after all it’d been him who’d iced her out the morning they’d been assigned this mission, but she wanted the stilted conversation between them to stop. Beside her Russi let out a low, almost inaudible whistle. It was all she could do to keep from throwing up her middle finger at him for judging her.

There was silence on the other end and then she head Nico sigh in a way that did nothing to comfort her.

“I was not expecting an apology,” he said after too many heartbeats of quiet had stretched out between her words and his. She couldn’t help the frown that crossed her face and she twisted away further from Russi so he wouldn’t see it. The agent was leaning out from her anyway, and she could just see him in her peripheral vision as his gaze tracked along the trees and he pretended to be somewhere else.

“Well I wanted to give one?” her words bent upwards hopefully at the end. “I just miss you so much, and I don’t even know why we were fighting in the first place, not really.”

“We weren’t fighting,” Nico said, and there was an annoyed layer in his voice, a hint of frustration. “Daria, I was not mad at you, but it feels as if the entire situation has been… you have blown it out of proportion.”

Her stomach iced over and she swallowed, a fresh wave of helplessness welling up inside her. The whole damn thing was confusing.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about this, I just wanted to apologize, that’s all, I didn’t mean to make it a big deal,” she said, trying to salvage the conversation and guide it somewhere away from where it was heading. “I guess I’d just never had you shut down on me like that before, and I didn’t know how to take it. Now, I know… just leave you alone until you’re ready to talk.”

Her words were apparently the right ones, for once, because Nico’s voice was warm again when he spoke,

“I did not mean to keep you out,
Mila
,” he said softly.

Russi’s arm brushed the side of hers as he sighed and got to his feet.

“When you’re done deferring to your boyfriend there, kid, come inside so we can get some work done,” the man said brusquely as he walked inside, the screen door slamming hard after him. She heard Nico’s breath, a sharp inhale, at the other end of the line.

“Sorry about that, that was just-“

“Was he with you when you called me?” Nico cut her off, his voice deadly soft. She’d not forgotten how private he was about certain things, but they were thrown in so much with the other trainees, as well as they spent so much time with Rykov and Balfour she hadn’t thought much of it. Especially because everyone, apparently, knew about them by now.

“I guess? Yes? I mean, he knows we’ve been not… great…” she trailed off as guilt and resentment cooked together in her gut simultaneously. “But then anyone could have figured that out the way you were with me when we split off,” she added the last bit, not meaning to needle him but he hadn’t made any effort to hide his bad mood towards her in front of Russi when the two teams had parted ways on the first day.

“That was not because of you,” Nico said curtly and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Why the hell was he being so… contrary and stubborn? He wasn’t acting anything like the man she thought she’d come to know.

“Can we just… stop?” she asked. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t even really know why we’re fighting. This is like the shittiest, stupidest non-argument I’ve ever had. Can’t you just tell me how your end of the mission is going and if you’re doing okay?” She couldn’t help the wistful tone in her voice, and he went quiet for a few moments. Her heart hung out in her throat, making it hard to swallow, hard to breathe.

“I am doing well,” he said, voice stiff and uncomfortable. She closed her eyes and rubbed at one temple, staving off the stress-headache that was growing there. Where the hell was her sweet, romantic Nico? It wasn’t like their mission was particularly strenuous. He’d had to do some on-site recon, of course, but he moved so quickly and quietly… and to be honest, he loved that kind of work best.

“Well that’s good,” her words were flat and dull despite her best efforts to keep them cheerful. She could hear a murmuring in the background where he was, a feminine voice, Rykov.

“I must go,” he was being short with her still, and it made her heart clench painfully in her chest. “Daria I think… I think it is best if we stop, for now.”

“We are stopped,” she said, feeling confused at why he was repeating her earlier words. “We’re not fighting right now, we don’t have to talk about this until we’re back in the city.”

“No,” he drew out the word slowly, and the breath ran out of her lungs and didn’t return. “We should stop.”

Cold fingers wrapped around her spine and she couldn’t quite believe it, that he was-

“Are you breaking up with me?” The world was tilting, it seemed so surreal,
 
and she felt like she was floating uncomfortably.

“I must go,” his final words were short, and then the line disconnected. She inhaled, a sharp noise that whistled down the back of her throat as she let the phone and the hand holding it, fall into her lap in disbelief.

Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and she stared at the blank screen, not sure how everything had pitched sideways so quickly, how they’d gone from stilted to severed in a few seconds. Her thumb moved against her own will, swiping and dialing up his number again.

It went right to voicemail, a mailbox that wasn’t set up. A tremble ran through her and her throat closed over.
No, he couldn’t
… she dialed again. Voicemail. Maybe something had happened to them. She scrambled to her feet and raced inside the cabin.

Her sharp movements had Russi out of his seat in an instant, the headphones wrapped around his neck as he observed her, obviously expecting an attack given the way she’d burst inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frown creasing his eyebrows together.

“Are they fine?” Daria gulped out, blinking back wetness as her eyes sought out the monitors. The terrorist camp was deserted, quiet, no movement, and then she looked at the video feed of where the three recon agents were stationed. All of them were sat quietly, either going over a paper map or flipping through their booklets. Nico had his head down, was making notes even, looking relaxed and nonchalant.

She stared blankly at the screens before a burning feeling crawled up the back of her throat.

“I gotta go for a walk,” she said suddenly, and didn’t wait for Russi to okay it. She just turned on her heel and pushed out of the cabin, walking quickly down the gravel driveway and then bursting into a flat out run.

CHAPTER FIVE

She returned back to the cabin as the woods were getting dark, birds heralding the coming night all around her. Nico hadn’t picked up any of her calls, hadn’t returned any of her text messages, and after an hour she realized it was pointless to even try. Whatever had happened between them, as confusing as his anger over it was, she’d have to deal with it when the mission was over.

If he’d even talk to her at that point. She trudged over the gravel and up the porch steps only to find Russi opening the door for her. His expression was neutral as she stepped inside, and he thankfully didn’t ask her any questions. She could tell by the way he looked over her that he noticed her slightly red eyes, and the flush in her cheeks from the few angry tears she’d shed out in the woods.

“I made dinner,” he said gruffly, pointing at a pot on the stove, and the loaf of bread beside it. Daria murmured her thanks and stepped up to the counter.

“Want me to fix you a bowl?” she asked as she opened up the cupboards.

“Already ate,” he said, and that’s when she noticed the bowl and spoon in the sink waiting to be washed up. Mission rule #1: whoever cooked didn’t clean. She sighed, feeling hollow and hoped the soup would put a dent in the empty feeling currently making itself at home in her gut.

“Thanks,” she said to the pot of soup as she spooned herself up. It looked like rich, creamy corn chowder, and she ripped off a hunk of bread to sop up the remnants. No need to worry about carbs or her figure, she thought, given that what she’d hoped would be a long-term relationship had maybe-probably just gone up in flames. That thought gnawed at her, sending sharp fingers of pain through her chest again.

Daria sat down heavily at the kitchen table and began to plow her way through the soup. Russi watched her out of the corner of his eye before he finally sighed and pulled off his headphones.

“I’m only gonna ask once more. Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

“You’re my mission partner, not my girlfriend,” Daria couldn’t help the dead quality to her voice as she dipped a piece of bread in the soup.

“Yeah well, say you get distracted and it ends up with me getting hit or worse, killed. Better you talk now and get your feelings out so you can watch my back out here later.” Russi’s reasoning was sound enough, but all she could do was shrug her shoulders.

“I think he dumped me. I dunno.” She shoved a large piece of bread into her mouth and tried not to concentrated on it too hard. Russi was quiet and when she looked up at him both of his eyebrows were raised in surprise. She felt immediately defensive. “What?”

“Just not used to uh, a partner that’s so…” he paused and seemed to mull over his word choice before continuing, “forthcoming.”

He meant
young
, she could tell. She shrugged one shoulder.

“Sorry,” she didn’t bother even trying to sound apologetic and he sighed.

“Men come and go-“ he started, and she made a noise of derision in the back of her throat, stopping him short.