We're in the Endgame Now | Endgame [2]

Chapter 3

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  "Irene." She stopped gnawing on her lip. "This it?" Steve held up Irina's cracked phone, and she nodded.

"Yeah, thanks." She closed the distance between them —stuffing Fanny's collar in her back pocket— and pocketed the phone in the other. Irene examined Steve's attire, "Nice beard, Stars n' Stripes."

The defeat on his facial features slipped for a moment. "Thank you. I'm sorry we have to meet like this."

  "Shit happens, right? Expect the unexpected."

  "Yeah," Steve agreed, and Irene's brow lifted.

  "No comment on the language, language police?" His lips turned up, and Irene wrapped an arm around him, then another, and his arms came around her, too. She could feel the exhaustion, defeat and sadness that poured out of Steve's embrace, and behind it all strength —strength for them both, and Irene squeezed him tighter.

  After the warm, silent embrace that spoke more than words, Steve excused himself and disappeared into the Compound. Minutes rolled by like seconds, and Irina remained in the same place, looking up at the stars. She held onto the hope that one of the twinkling stars would be her father coming home —but none of them were.

  "Steve found me already," Irina said.

  "Since when are you cool enough to know when someone's coming without looking?" Natasha joked, and stopped beside the dark-haired woman. "You've never been aware of your surroundings."

  Irene met Nat's gaze in the dark, crickets chirping quietly as background noise to an otherwise still, summer night, "Being around ex-members of the Red Room for the last two years has definitely heightened my senses."

  "Well, it worked." Natasha searched her eyes —for what, Irina did not know. "You're not the same 20-year-old that left that field in Russia." Irina frowned; she couldn't pin-point the emotions Natasha expressed. "Now you're all grown up, really grown up. Can you believe it's been almost 10 years? All I remember is this awkward teenager that could never keep her damn thumbs tucked during her training."

  "I was not awkward. More like .  .  . unsociable."

  "Uh-huh."

  Irina rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Making fun of me runs in your family, you know."

  "It's called 'tough love'." Irina narrowed her eyes, "But, love nonetheless. From awkward teen to teen pilot, to Black Widow level badass .  .  ."

  "Hah. My skills are not that extravagant. I'm an okay fighter on an 'okay' level that would much rather be in the cockpit of some kind of aviated thing than 'up close and personal' on the field. Unless the mats are available, then the occasional sparring—"

  "And not tucking your thumbs in."

  "I got lazy one time. One time, and it's the joke of the month," Irina deadpanned. "Until Alexei forgets to latch the gate on the pig-pin and Melina's pigs are running around the property."

  Natasha chuckled. "That sounds like him."

  Irina joined in on the chuckle, and soon, it died. "I miss them. I miss her."