It started on a cruise ship.

         Amber lights cascaded down onto the walls and floors of the busiest deck on the ship, giving the casino a rich, golden glow. I marveled at the promotion the designer had certainly received in return for this magnificence, but it was not for the crystal chandelier that hung like a myriad of melting ice that caught my eye; it was the royal impression the aura of the room injected into the veins of eager gamblers.

         To someone unaware of its true purpose, the casino would have given the face of a palace. It made the gamblers feel important – full of themselves, maybe – and only one group of people sprung to mind when thinking of importance: the rich. Those gamblers felt rich and regal as royals! So much that money slipped from their fingers as though coated in butter. Combining that feeling with a couple glasses of wine, champagne or whiskey and the cabin crew's pockets were full for the next month in generous tips. Make the rich feel richer! Let them live in that illusion of power.

         My back was pressed against a golden column as I sipped my champagne, the sweet liquid fizzing in my mouth like tiny fireworks. Eyes cutting through the crowd, I sighed. The target was out there – somewhere among the masses – while I was struggling to breathe in the sequined second-skin Scotty had forced me into. 'You look great' he insisted. 'You'll be fine,' he had said. Ha! 'Fine' indeed. I could hardly make my way up the staircase on the way in without flashing the skin of my upper thigh to fellow gamblers; who knew what would happen if things went south and I had to restrain the target by force? By appearances, I was better suited as a shard of the Emerald City rather than a woman here on professional business.

         Scotty's accent boomed through the intercom. He had been quiet for a while. "Amber."
"Scotty." I spoke into my half-empty glass, eyes combing the room: so far, nothing.
"I've got a hold of the cameras. Agent Barnes is at the roulette table closest to the door on the right-hand side of the room."
I took another sip. "On it."
"You're on the table? Isn't that a bit conspicuous?"
"Very funny."
"Just doing my job of being the funny one in this relationship."
I held back a smirk. "Being the funny one is the only thing you do in our partnership, so I'll let that one slide."
He scoffed. "What do you mean by 'the only thing' I do? I do so much for us!"
I hushed my voice. "Yes, because sitting in a helicopter and chatting to me is so exhausting."
"As a matter of fact, Miss Knight, it is."
"Just admit it: I do all the legwork between us. Literally."
"All of the—! Oh, this will be discussed when you return, missy!"

         I bit into my cheek as I held back a smile. When I neared the roulette table, I shook off all remnants of my talk with Scotty; I had a job to do.

         "There's a camera to the right of you, above the archway," said Scotty. "I'll be your eyes if he makes a run for it."

         I remained silent as I stepped up to the table, gently pushing through the crowd to stand between a white-haired old man... and the target.

         All field agents were given a code number and microchip on completion of their training. Despite only being used from a decade earlier, they had proven particularly useful in tracking agents that needed aid or protection... or if they went rogue. In that case, they could be reprimanded swiftly.

         Most agents forgot about their microchips – Scotty had even asked me about them upon starting our most recent mission – which made rogue agents simple to track. If I were Agent Barnes, my tracker would have been dismantled the second I left London but, as most did, he seemed to have forgotten about it and Alistair was able to easily give Scotty his code to track him on the cruise on route to France. According to the Director, Barnes was a traitor: twenty-five years of age – an agent for seven – and a master manipulator. When asked about why he was to be restrained, Alistair would not care to give us a full answer. He told us he killed a pair of agents while escaping justice, then turned away and continued with his paperwork. It was not my place to ask, anyway. All I needed to know was to return him to Alistair alive. I trusted the explanations to come when the time was right.

         He was standing barely three feet away, staring intently at the spinning wheel of the roulette with dark brown eyes that matched his hair, mesmerised by the revolutions. One hand was left comfortably slotted in his blazer pocket, while the other clutched half a glass of bourbon on the rocks. He raised the glass to his lips, gulping down the gold liquor, eyes fixated on the silver ball with his neck flaring in the light as he swallowed. I angled my elbow to gently brush the midnight fibres of his suit. He felt it. His gaze broke from the spinning ball to glance back at me for a brief moment until his eyes darted back. A grin tugged at his lips, eyes smiling with him as he caught my own locked onto his cheekbones highlighted in gold from the dancing light.

         "Amber Knight, quit ogling the target and knock him out!" Scotty yelled. I held my gaze with the target, imagining a thousand curses towards him as he giggled through the earpiece.

         Barnes turned away from the table. "Evening."
I nodded slightly and turned my attention back to the roulette. "Evening," I echoed.

         He took a step closer and stretched an arm out in front of me, leaning against the oak. "You betting tonight?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. Though, I'm not very lucky with these things."
"Yet you're at a casino. Why?"
I smiled. "It's an interesting place. Maybe I'll meet someone I like."
He smirked. "Maybe it's your lucky day."
"Maybe I'll vomit," said Scotty. I angled my chin upwards, heart maintaining a steady rhythm as I tried not to laugh. I counted in my head: one... two... three. I was calm. If Alistair heard the commentary Scotty gave throughout our missions together, he surely would have fired him by now.

         Barnes leaned in towards me. "However, if you end up betting, don't go for red."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Red never wins. At least not while I'm playing. It's like some sort of bad luck charm whenever I play, and I wouldn't want you to waste your money."
I nodded. "How thoughtful."

         My gaze fell to his neck and I almost laughed. Surrounded by the pomposity of the upper-class gamblers, Agent Barnes had chosen to wear a clip-on tie – an insult to those around him. I would have applauded him if not for the circumstances! The top button of his likely-stolen shirt was undone, and the cotton fabric appeared tight around his tensing shoulders. Derek Barnes did not enter the casino to make an impression, but he certainly was making one.

         "Maybe you just have bad luck," I added.
Amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. "How can I have bad luck if I'm talking to you?"
I tilted my head, almost mirroring his expression. "What makes you think I'm good luck?"
"I don't know. Would it be to forward to say it's... fate?"
He raised an eyebrow. I assumed he was joking but it was impossible to be sure. This man was labelled as an office flirt at the agency, yet his pick-up lines had me dying inside. "Yes, it would be."
"As forward as your staring earlier?"
Damn. "How would you know I was staring unless you were staring back?"

         His countenance froze and, for a split second, I thought I may have had to revive the conversation. He was not smiling. Was he offended?

         No. His smile grew and his head tilted back in surprise. "Fair enough, miss. Fair enough."      

         There was a chorus of 'oos' from the table as the silver ball landed. "Red pays out," said the worker. Barnes frowned.
"Wow," he said. "Maybe you are a lucky charm, after all."

         "Amber!"

I flinched at Scotty's voice.

         "There are two security guards on the way for Barnes. As they passed one of the doors, their badges were declined – they're fakes but they busted through. You have to get Barnes NOW!"

         Now? I couldn't knock someone unconscious in the middle of a casino! It was Scotty, after all, who told me how socially unacceptable it was to do that. It would have drawn too much attention to the two of us and some gambling vigilante could have gotten in the way of me seizing hold of Barnes.

         "Amber." His tone dropped; I wasn't reacting to him. "You have about a minute before they arrive. If we don't bring him back, Alistair will hang us from the top of Big Ben by our socks. You have to get him now."

         I frowned at the roulette table, the silver orb sending me into some kind of trance as it spun once again. Do I attack him there and risk interference? Or lure him away and risk the guards catching up?

         "Hey," he said softly. I blinked myself back to reality and stared at him. His brows had knitted together in apparent concern as his hand crept towards the skin of my wrist. "Are you alright?"
I placed the empty glass of champagne on the table. As his frown deepened, I pulled my lips into a tight smile, making a decision. "Of course."
"If you're sure," he said. His fingers curled around my wrist, the tips touching his palms. "You had this faraway look about you. As though your mind was... somewhere else."

         I had no weapons. My entrance into the casino had to be quick to catch up with Barnes; I had to avoid the extensive security as swiftly as possible. As my eyes flitted to the side while I thought of a response, I spied a long ebony cane in the hands of the old man standing beside the target, its handle topped with cold silver.

         "Miss," said Barnes. His grip tightened. "Are you sure you're alright?"

         My grin widened. Before he could react, I had snatched the cane from the old man's hand and swung it viscously towards Barnes. He lurched forward and grunted as the cane struck him in the gut. The surrounding gamblers gasped – some of them screamed – but they backed away as I braced Barnes by his shoulders to knee him in the crotch. I grabbed him by the neck and swung him on the table with a thud, poker chips and cards scattering all over the place.

         He laughed as my grip tightened, eyes scanning my hair, face and eyes as though he recognised me. "You're Alistair's bitch?"
I pushed him further into the table and snarled, "I'm no-one's bitch."
He only laughed further. "I beg to differ."

         He kicked me hard in the chest, knocking me with a force that threw me to the floor. I landed on my back, winded, and rolled onto my side to catch my breath.

         "Amber! He's getting away!" Scotty exclaimed.
"I'm on it," I groaned.

         I dragged myself to my feet and kicked off the incessant heels as I ran through the casino, pushing and shoving gamblers out of the way to follow Barnes's head of dark hair. He was getting lost in the sea of figures and I had to call out to Scotty for help from the cameras.

         "Take a left now," he said. I took a left. "There should be a door on your right."
He was correct. I looked to the security camera. "This one?"
"Yes," he replied. "Be careful."

         I took a breath as I gripped the handle. When I exhaled, I opened the door barely two centimetres wide, checking to see if Barnes was armed. Shockingly, the room was empty. I entered and closed the door behind me.

         I was standing in a billiard room. The walls were slightly darker than those in the main hall, its yellow resembling that of sand caught in a high tide. Despite the darkness of the unlit room, I could still spot the balls of the pool table sat in the centre. Each hole was blocked by a yellow ball; there was no win for the one playing red without assisting the other player. An easy win was impossible. Every time the red player thought they had won, the yellow would be one step ahead, right until the final shot.

         I paused in front of the table. Something was off. Very off. My eyes darted across the room. It was dark, yet I was sure there was nothing there.

         "Scotty..."
"I'm checking the cameras in the room now. Just... wait a— aye ya bugger!"
"What's wrong?" I checked behind my shoulder. Still nothing there.
"He's disconnected the cameras. I'm blind up here!"
"It's fine," I said. "I can do this alone."
"Watch your back, Ambi."

         Silence filled the room. Silence and... nothing else.

         I sighed. Barnes had already left the room, counting on me following him there. He was one step ahead, hiding somewhere else while his security made their way towards me.

         I turned around and met the bottom of a pair of shoes that kicked me hard in the face. I let out a grunt as my back hit the pool table and a sharp burst of pain ran up my nose.

         Barnes hopped down from one of the rafters as I sat up. I touched my nose and winced, pulling my hand away to find my fingers crimson with blood.

         Dizzy from the blow to the head, I went to stand but Barnes gripped my shoulders and pushed me back, climbing on the table to pin me down with both his arms and legs. He clicked his tongue. "This is not how I planned our night to go."

I scoffed and struggled. I knew exactly how he wanted our night to go. Barely an hour after our conversation at the roulette table I would have been heavily drunk and frolicking down the corridors to whatever residency he was staying at, only to be forgotten the next morning and wondering why, despite him not even asking for my name once.

         I tried to hit him but, as reluctant as I was to admit it, he was far stronger than I was, and managed to pin down my arms with resilience.

         "No matter." He sighed. He removed one of his hands from my wrist to take something out from the inside pocket of his blazer: a gun. I clawed at his face with my free hand. He groaned and shut his eyes, covering his cheek with the hand that held the gun. I snatched for it but he resisted, pulling back his arm as I tugged. He tried to hit me over the head again with his free hand; he no longer had the advantage. I blocked him. He tried again, pushing down on my defensive arm while the other still fought for the gun. I then, with a devilish smirk, conducted the sly move that brought all men to their knees.

         With every ounce of my strength, I kicked him in the crotch.

         He fell back off the table and keeled over. I grabbed the gun and aimed for his leg – I still needed to bring him back alive. He reached for my wrist and lifted it in the air, firing a shot at the ceiling that brought dust among our heads. Then, while momentarily blinded, he stabbed my lower abdomen with another weapon that shot a bolt of electricity through my nerves.

         A taser. A bloody taser.

         My legs buckled and I fell to the floor with a gasp. Barnes made a dash for the door, but not before glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk.

         "You look ridiculous."

         Arrogant ass. I pushed up from the ground, prepared to dive on his back and drag him to the floor. I charged and, as I reached the door... Barnes slammed it shut. He ran away. Laughing.

         Fueled by pain, or maybe rage, I almost screamed. I gritted my teeth and let out a shrill growl before throwing the door open and darting after him down the hall and up the stairs to the top of the deck. Scotty giggled over the radio, but I had no time to ask questions. It was probably something I had done that he found funny. I'd interrogate him later, I decided. For now, I had a mission to complete.

         I looked down at my hands: I was still in possession of the gun. If needed, I could have taken him out. Alistair wanted him alive, but he never mentioned anything about keeping him unharmed.

         I threw open the door to the roof of the deck.

         Propellers battered the sky as Barnes ran towards a landing helicopter. My chest tightened. Warning Scotty, I ran for the aircraft.

         Barnes looked behind, spotting me. A taunting grin spread across his lips and he lazily saluted me he stepped onto the helicopter.
"It's been fun, my darling, but I have to run."

         His wave was arrogant. So arrogant. So self-assured and damn confident that I couldn't help it. I fired round after round at the helicopter in a desperate frenzy. He couldn't leave. He couldn't escape. I could not fail this mission.

         He put a hand on his heart. "Aw, do you want me to stay, sweetheart?"

         All of a sudden, he took a step back. With wide eyes, he stared at the dent one of my bullets had put in his helicopter. "That was close!" he yelled over the beating propellers. The smile returned. "I'll get your name next time!"

         He closed the door of the helicopter and, just like that, he was gone, vanishing into the night.

         I clenched my jaw and balled my fists. With an angry huff, I slammed the empty gun on the ground.

"Dammit!" I cursed.

         The fury drifted away with the drumming of the propellers as I cooled down, an emptiness washing over me. I... failed. The mission would always be one crossed off as incomplete on my record for the remainder of my career. It was an outlier – an insult – and I needed to fix it.

         I leaned forward with a sigh, my hands – shaking with adrenaline – resting on my knees as I panted.

         Barnes knew we were after him prior to that encounter; the microchip may have come as a surprise, however. It would have been cut out, otherwise. Whether he knew or not, he did now. The chip would be destroyed in a matter of hours and our means of tracking him would be eradicated. Or maybe he would keep it, use it to set a trap for us. One could only speculate on the mind of a traitor.

         "Agent Knight."
The formality surprised me. Perhaps it was a reminder of our place; that we were due consequences for this failure. "Scotty."
"I've contacted Collins. We have a meeting at nine tomorrow morning to discuss tonight's outcome."

         I almost sighed in relief. A meeting with Collins was little more than a formal conversation; appraisal and analysis of our mission, while asking how we were personally. Alistair was far different with Scotty and I. We only ever met with him if dire consequences were to be met and the so-called meetings were more like character critiques or personality dissections. At least we didn't have to face that.

         "Okay." I let out a breath. "I'm on the roof."
"Stacey and I are coming." I smiled. Still, after three years of owning that thing, he showed more attachment to it than any girl he had ever been with. Maybe that was why he could never keep one – none of them could compete with his 'baby' Stacey and her attractive Star Trek posters and Marvel bobble-heads.

            Scotty made a few snarky quips as I boarded the helicopter, this time ranging from the 'I do all the legwork' comment to my conversations with Barnes. "He's an arrogant sod, isn't he?" he said. I smiled and nodded for almost the whole journey, staring out the window by the passenger seat with my head in my hands. I failed. I actually... failed.