Spy Trouble
The late afternoon sun slanted over Midtown Manhattan, its golden rays catching the tall glass windows of the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building—one of the grandest public libraries in New York City.
Diamond stepped out of a cab just across the street. She wore a white silk shirt tucked into a short black skirt that hugged her curves, and her black stilettos clicked with authority on the pavement. A sleek pair of oversized sunglasses concealed her eyes, and her glossy lips were pressed into a determined line. She adjusted the strap of her handbag on her shoulder, then crossed the street with a confidence that turned heads.
Inside, the library was quieter than the chaos of the city outside. The cool air smelled faintly of paper and varnished wood. Diamond’s heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she entered the Rose Main Reading Room. She scanned the sea of tables and bookcases, eyes hidden behind her glasses, until—
A wave. Subtle, but distinct.
Diamond’s gaze locked on a dark-skinned woman seated at a corner table. Chelsea Brooks. In a fitted blazer and jeans, her braids pulled back, Chelsea’s natural beauty always came second to the energy she radiated—warmth, intelligence, and zero tolerance for bullshit.
Diamond’s heart softened just a little. She walked toward her friend, striding through the aisles like she owned the place.
As she reached the table, Chelsea stood to greet her.
“Oh my God, Chels,” Angela breathed, pulling her sunglasses off and grabbing her hands across the table. “Thank you for coming.”
Chelsea gave her a knowing smile. “Anything for you, Angie.”
They sat down, and for a moment, it was just smiles and familiar warmth. Angela hadn’t realized how much she missed having someone who knew the real her.
“I almost didn’t recognize you in that outfit,” Chelsea teased, glancing at the heels. “What—no thigh holster today?”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Funny.”
“So what’s going on?” Chelsea’s tone turned serious. “Your message sounded urgent. Is it about the mission?”
Angela sighed and gave a slow nod. “Yeah. It is.”
Chelsea’s entire demeanor shifted. She leaned in, her brows furrowed. “What happened? Are you in danger?”
Angela quickly held up a hand. “No. Not... not exactly. At least, not right now.”
Chelsea didn’t look convinced. “What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”
Angela glanced over her shoulder. The reading room wasn’t crowded, but her paranoia was climbing steadily.
“I think there’s a mole,” she whispered.
Chelsea blinked. “A mole?”
Angela nodded. “In the organization.”
Chelsea’s face darkened. “What? Why would you say that?”
Angela lowered her voice further, her eyes flitting around again. “Remember a couple days ago? I told you the Greco brothers were having a private dinner—on that rooftop restaurant in Midtown?”
“Yeah.” Chelsea replied, rubbing her chin.
“Well, I leaked that location to the director. I figured he’d send our people after them.”
“Okay…”
Angela swallowed. “But guess what? The Black Rose showed up instead.”
Chelsea sat back like she’d been slapped. “Wait. The Black Rose? As in, the Greco family’s rival mafia?”
Angela’s eyes locked onto hers. “Yes.”
Chelsea’s voice dropped into a whisper. “Shit! You sure it was them?”
Angela nodded solemnly. “Oh it was definitely them. They didn’t get the hit, but it was damn close.”
Chelsea shook her head in disbelief. “How the hell would they know where the Grecos were unless—?”
“Exactly,” Angela said, dragging her fingers through her hair. “I only gave that location to one person.”
Chelsea squinted, lips tight. “Angie... You’re not saying you think it was him, are you?”
“What else am I supposed to think, Chels?” Angela snapped quietly. “I feed him intel, and boom, Adriano nearly ends up with a bullet in his brain. That’s not a coincidence.”
Chelsea’s face shifted to one of wary calculation. “Girl, you know damn well he doesn’t get shit done by himself. When’s the last time he took something like this directly? He probably passed the info to a field op, someone like us.”
Angela tilted her head. “Which means someone in our ranks is working with The Black Rose.”
They both sat in silence for a beat, tension crackling between them.
“Well... what do we do?” Angela finally asked. “Do we tell him? Or maybe I’m just overthinking. Maybe it was a coincidence.”
Before Chelsea could respond, Angela’s phone buzzed on the table.
Her eyes flicked down. Her entire body stiffened.
Angela arched a brow. “Speak of the devil.”
She held up the phone. The screen lit up with Director Ackerman.
“It’s him,” she said.
“Answer it,” Chelsea whispered. “And don’t say shit about any of this.”
Angela gave a small nod and tapped the green icon, putting the phone on speaker.
“Angela,” came the director’s smooth, slightly nasal voice. “Any updates on the Serpents?”
Angela straightened in her seat, glancing at Chelsea for reassurance. “Good afternoon, sir. Nothing urgent to report at the moment, but I’ll keep you updated if anything changes.”
“Hm.” A pause. “You sure? Nothing odd? No suspicious activity?”
“No, sir,” Angela said carefully. “It’s been quiet. They’re laying low for now.”
“Very well. Keep your eyes open. This case is getting attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line disconnected.
Angela exhaled slowly and put the phone back in her bag.
Chelsea’s expression was grim. “I won’t say a word. Not because I think he’s shady, but... let’s be real. He has the loudest damn mouth in the building. If there is a mole, the second he starts digging, whoever it is will know.”
“Exactly.” Angela sighed. “I need this to stay between us.”
“I’ll take it up with our team—”
“No.” Angela’s voice was firm. “Not the team. Not yet. Just tell Asher. You and Ash can do some quiet digging, and let me know if you find anything.”
Chelsea nodded, her loyalty shining through. “Sure. You got it.”
Angela checked her phone again and tapped open the Uber app. “I gotta get going.”
Chelsea stood with her. “Be careful, okay? If anyone finds out what you’re suspecting…”
“I know.” Angela gave her a tight hug. “Thanks, Chels. For everything.”
“Always.”
They walked out together, exchanging a few last words before parting ways at the bottom of the grand stone steps. Angela’s ride pulled up moments later.
As she stepped toward the black car, a shadowy figure sat in a parked car across the street. He wore all black—hoodie, ball cap, dark glasses. His face was unreadable as he raised his phone and clicked several photos of Angela entering the vehicle.
He lingered for a moment, watching.
Then he slowly rolled up his window... and drove away.