Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me

look on my face must have shocked him. He didn’t reply. He looked like he wanted to stop the doors from closing but he didn’t. I could have reached out for him, and he might have offered me help, but what could he do? What could I do?
    I was frozen, staring at the doors and the distorted face of the girl in the brushed-metal door. My breath had frozen somewhere in my chest, trapped by the pounding heartbeat and terror of the unknown.
    My legs and arms started to feel numb.
    The phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me. I jumped and turned. Pulling the phone out, I looked at the number calling but didn’t know it.
    I tapped the green button and held it to my ear, “Hello?”
    "I put some money in the meter for you, before I realized it's nighttime and the parking was free," the voice of the young man rang into the phone.
    I clicked the phone off and walked down the corridor.
    He was at my vehicle. He could tamper with the brakes or steering. He could plant a bomb. Is that what happened to James? Did they damage his rental car, killing him? Or did they just kill him, and send those poor men dressed in uniform to my door, to lie to me about how it happened?
    When had I become so trusting, that I never even suspected it was a job and not a regular death.
    Feelings mixed with fears inside of me, leaving me with sensations even James' death hadn't made me feel. The sickening feeling of being trapped and lost overwhelmed me. It was almost kindred to the feeling of finding out he was fucking everything that moved, on the PTA. Well—at least the two I knew about.
    The suite number was directly ahead of me. I took deep breaths to stop the feeling that I would be sick any second. Maybe it would be nothing, just some intel on something I could get quickly. I nodded to myself, but laughed inside. Nothing was ever easy with them and besides, what Intel experience did I have left? It had been ten years since I had worked at all, and James had been very good at keeping the top-secret security clearance information to himself.
    I licked my lips, nodding to myself. The least I could do, was hear them out.
    But no matter what they had to say, I had to protect my children. They could still be little hacker shits who wanted to steal my identity. I would finish the funeral arrangements and let them have it. Evie Evans was never a great identity anyway.
    I knocked once, softly. I didn't have the strength for anything else.
    The door opened, swinging slowly. My breath was lodged in my throat. I held it as I stepped into the dimly-lit suite. The back of a man in a dress shirt and slacks walked away from me. He opened the door and turned his back on me? Bizarre? Maybe I knew him.
    He had short, dark hair that was styled in a military cut, only slightly longer. That didn’t sit well with me. His broad shoulders and thick arms looked the part.
    Seeing him made me wish it were just hackers.
    "Close the door,” his deep voice commanded, not in a bark but more of an arrogant tone. It struck a nerve with me.
    He was military.
    He could whisper it and my old, long-buried, soldier self would obey.
    I closed the door and pressed my back against it. From the darkness of the long corridor I could see a fair amount of the suite. It had a view of the dark night and the city lights. He disappeared around a corner.
    "Come in here, Evie," he spoke my first name like I was a child, confirming my fears that he was military. I would bet a limb on it. I gripped the handle of the door and wondered how long it would take him to catch me. His long, strong body would be able to beat me in a foot race, but if I had the advantage of a head start… maybe… no. I was a distance runner not a sprinter. His thick legs said sprinter.
    I swallowed and let go of the cold, metal handle, letting the door close and seal my fate. My steps felt thick and hindered by the nerves and fear dumping hormones into my body. Adrenaline, then cortisol, and finally noradrenalin. I was walking with concrete boots, by the time I got moving.
    I crept along, unprepared for what I would find, when his deep voice spoke again from around the corner, "I guess we should get right to it then. Your grades in high school were quite good. Your first four years of service were exemplary, getting you into Fort Huachuca easily, after BT and the mandatory four years. You went through the paces and ended up in CI. Your higher-ups had no issues with you in Counter Intelligence, and even recommended