Angels, Pop Stars, and...More Spies? Oh My!

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Okay, so, let's go over your schedule for tomorrow. At nine thirty, you have a photo shoot with Seventeen magazine. Make sure you show up to that on time. Then, at noon, you're scheduled to have an interview with Ryan Seacrest on his radio station. That is even more important than the Seventeen shoot. Then at two forty, you have to attend a sound check for the Jimmy Fallon episode tonight. Then-hold on a second, honey-"

Ariana breathed a sigh of relief as her agent, twenty nine year old former model Cassandra White, answered a phone call on her Bluetooth. She glanced over her shoulder at me, mouthing the words, "Kill me now. Please." I smiled, shaking my head. Giving me a look, she turned around. I silently laughed, my shoulders bobbing from my contained laughter. Oh, poor Ariana. An hour and a half ago, her and Cassandra had come out onto the balcony to go over Ariana's schedule for the next three days. Facing each other and sitting in lounge chairs, Cassandra went over each event in great detail, stressing how important it was that Ariana go to them. I don't blame her for wanting me to throw her off the balcony (which she asked earlier when Cassandra skipped off to the bathroom for five minutes) or to shoot her in the head (which she also asked when Cassandra was searching for a file in her gigantic briefcase bursting with paperwork. Cassandra ended her call with a curt, "Listen, I'm busy right now," and turned back to Ariana with a seven thousand dollar smile on her face.

Cassandra was a pretty woman, I'll give that to her. With razor straight chestnut brown hair and light brown eyes, I wasn't surprised when she told Ariana she'd been a former model for Victoria's Secret and Ralph Lauren. She was petite, almost birdlike. Her face was oval shaped and always bore what looked like professionally done makeup. Her attire never changed. Business wear every time. Her briefcase only completed the ensemble. I once got a glimpse at her briefcase's designer. Ralph Lauren. Of course.

"Now, where were we...ah, yes-"

"Cassie, could we take a break? I'm starving and I bet you're killing Ember here." Ariana asked politely, jerking her thumb in my direction.

After I came home from breakfast, I'd changed out of my casual clothes into my black-top-black-bottom uniform. When I was rescued from the dark angel terrorist group in Russia (something I don't like to talk about or even think about), everything that was taken from my was replaced. My handgun, resting in the holster strapped to my thigh. My comms unit, stuck in my right ear. My cellphone, now an iPhone 5. My CIA ID was easy to replace. They had to change my agent ID number, due to the fact that my ID number is connected to all my files. They had to change all my ID numbers. My license. Everything.

"I'm used to it." I said, smiling wickedly.

Ariana gave me a look that clearly said I-hate-you as Cassandra started talking about the schedule again. Ten minutes later, the sliding glass door opened and Skylar stood in the doorway, looking utterly annoyed. Placing my fists on my hips, I turned to face him. He motioned for me to walk over. I walked over to him, raising an eyebrow. What does he want? He never calls me for anything.

"Your boss is calling. It's a real inconvenience, Ember." he muttered bitterly, turning on his heel and stalking away.

Well. I excused myself from Ariana and Cassandra's little meeting as, indeed, the phone started ringing. I checked the Caller ID. Restricted. I pressed the green TALK button.

"This is Ember." I answered.

"Ah, Ember, good. I was starting to think you were out with that boyfriend of yours and I'd have to try reaching you on your mobile."

I shoved my right hand into the front pocket of my black skinny jeans and leaned back against the granite topped island counter in the kitchen. I pressed the receiver to my ear. Yup, that's Jonathan all right.

"I was with Ariana and her agent, Cassandra. What's going on?"

There was a pause before Jonathan answered.

"We have some information for you. Top secret. It's not safe to talk about over the phone, actually. I've sent out an informant to meet you. Directions will be sent to your mobile phone. He should arrive in about an hour."

Information? About what? I was completely puzzled. I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me. The CIA decide that the terrorist group of dark angels was a cold case and stored it away in the archives four months ago. What else could there be....?

"Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away."

"Good."

The line went dead as he hung up. I pulled the revived slowly away from my ear, clicking the red END button. Placing the receiver on the countertop, I bounded up the spiral staircase to retrieve my phone in my bedroom. Indeed, after unlocking it, I saw one new message from Jonathan Wells. Opening the message, I memorized the directions and erased it out of pure habit. They're easy enough. Grabbing my car keys, I left the house in the care of the few Secret Service agents who had come along to protect the McGallens as well. Soon enough, I was once again speeding down the Los Angeles freeway to my destination. Next stop, LAX.