Up a Creek Without a Paddle

Mango was done.

She was done with the lies. Done with the chaos. Done with the constant pressure boiling beneath her skin.

A few short months ago, her life had been fine. Perfect, even. Not ideal, maybe, but manageable. She was a thief by trade. Skilled. Independent. She took what she wanted and vanished into the night. That was her life. Simple. Clean. Controlled.

Then came this job. An assassination contract so high-paying it blurred her better judgment.

She should have walked away, but she couldn’t resist. And now, because of her own greed, she wasn’t just on the wrong side of the law. She was about to be on the CIA’s most-wanted list.

Worse, her hesitation, her failure to steal the information in time, made her partially responsible for hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives being snuffed out.

The irony stung. Stealing was her profession. Her identity. And somehow, this time, she failed to do the one thing she was best at.

Add to that the ultimate betrayal of falling in love with a CIA agent.

John. The man who twisted her heart inside out and made her believe in something unrealistic.

And now Laz was gone, too. Another ghost. Another loose end. Another failure.

She needed to breathe. She needed air. She needed out. She felt like she was about to have a panic attack. Mango wandered into a secluded garden behind a church. Vines curled up trellises. Lavender bushes dotted the paths, and overgrown benches hid beneath the late afternoon shadows.

She paced back and forth, fists clenched at her sides. Moments later, John found her and approached her slowly.

He approached cautiously. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Mango turned slowly. Her expression was confused and offended.

“What am I doing?” she copied. “I’m flipping out! ”

She went back to pacing. “I want to leave. I want to disappear. I want to wake up from this never-ending nightmare, but I can’t!”

John scratched his head. “Look… it’s not as bad as it seems. We’ll figure it out.”

“We?” she scoffed. “There is no more we. Let me make that very clear right fucking now.”

She looked away from him. “You lied to me, John. About being a spy. About everything. And now my entire world is collapsing beneath me.”

John sighed. “I told you... I didn’t lie about being in love with you.”

“I don’t care.” Mango turned away, acting like something else, but tears were in her eyes. “I thought you were different.”

“Different? Mango, you knew I was the son of an international mafia boss. Did you really expect someone like me not to have secrets?”

She shrugged slowly. “Not to me.”

There was silence. Birds chirped distantly. A dove in the tree sat in a half-made nest. Another soon appeared and gave it a stick. The two lovebirds rubbed against each other before the bird took off again.

“We were supposed to do this together,” she said. “You could lie to everyone else. That’s fine. That’s survival. But not to me. That was the one rule.”

“Maybe you should’ve explained your rules from the beginning,” he said bitterly.

“I shouldn’t have to explain them! Not to someone who claimed to love me.”

John stared at her, his face scrunched with frustration now too.

“I wish I never met you,” she said quietly.

He didn’t respond. He just stood there, the words hanging in the air between them like a thick fog. The silence told her everything she needed to hear.

She could see his chest rising and falling. He rubbed one of his ribs and winced when he touched it. Mango didn’t know what he was going to say. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered. “Get in line. I’m not a perfect person. You’re right. I’m a liar. I’m a killer. And I’m an all-around wildcard.”

He walked over to a bench and sat down. “I even lied to myself. I tell myself I’m normal, that I’m nothing like my family. That I can live a regular life.”

His eyes became glassy. “But the truth is... it’s in the genes. If you hate me, so be it. But I can’t do this without you… I need you, Mango. Even if no one else in the world does... I do. And that’s not a lie.”

Mango felt a tightness forming in her throat. A welt, hot and hollow.

She knew he meant what he said. But that didn’t mean she could let herself be fooled again. Not by him. Not again. She shook her head slowly, trying to wipe the emotion away.

“Even if we were going to keep chasing him,” she said, “we’ve got no way to track him. Laz is gone. We have no leads.”

“I know where he’s going,” John said. “Ireland.”

Mango let out a dry laugh and crossed her arms. “Do you know how big Ireland is? That could mean anywhere. It’s not like we’ve got time to go country-hopping on blind luck.”

Just then, a man rolled up next to them, pulling a cart loaded with wine bottles. He was tan, sun-kissed, with a wide, warm smile.

“Vino?” he offered, holding up a bottle.

“What?” Mango asked.

“Vino!” the man repeated with a grin.

“She doesn’t speak Italian,” John explained to him. “He’s asking if you want wine.”

Mango’s eyes lit up. “Oh, hell yes!”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a brown leather wallet. A Texas longhorn embroidered on the outside of it.

John’s brow shot up. “Since when do you carry a wallet? Especially one with a Longhorn on it?”

Mango shrugged, flipping it open. “Oh, it’s not mine.”

She started pulling out cards and held one up. “Ask him if he takes card!”

John rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s not yours.”

He turned to the vendor and asked in fluent Italian. The man nodded, pulling out a small card reader. Mango casually swiped a platinum card. The vendor smiled wide and handed her a chilled bottle of Cabernet.

Mango tapped the top of the cork, frowned, and extended it toward John. “Ask him if he can uncork it.”

John sighed. “Seriously?” But he relayed the request.

The man obligingly opened the wine for her with a practiced twist. As soon as the cork popped, Mango brought the bottle to her lips and took a deep, satisfying swig.

The vendor, satisfied with the sale, tipped his hat and wheeled off.

John stared at her with a deadpan look. “Are you having fun? It’s not like we’re here on vacation.”

“Well, one of us needs to be,” Mango said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “I’ve almost died twenty times since I met you. And if I’m going to almost die again…”

She took another long gulp.

“I’d rather be drunk.”

“Let me see that,” John said.

Mango hugged the wine bottle against her chest like a spoiled kid hoarding candy, shaking her head with dramatic defiance.

“This wine is mine,” she said, pouting. “I stole that money fair and square. I can spend it however I want.”

“Not the wine, the wallet.”

She raised an eyebrow, took another swig of cabernet, then shrugged. “Sure. Looking for something?”

With exaggerated effort, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the wallet.

John took it, flipping it open casually until his gaze caught on a card.

He stopped. Shook his head and did a double take.

A blue Visa card gleamed under the sunlight. The name written in silver at the bottom:

Larry McKinley.

John squinted. “Larry McKinley? Who the hell is Larry McKinley?”

“I don’t know,” Mango said, still sipping the wine like nothing was out of the ordinary. “I guess it’s one of Laz’s alter egos.”

“When did you get this from him?” John asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well,” she started, the wine hitting just enough to tint her cheeks with a flush that wasn’t just from the sun. “It’s... kind of weird. And a little awkward.”

She glanced away. She didn’t want to admit how bad her kleptomania could get. But honestly, what did it matter now? She wasn’t trying to impress him anymore. She wasn’t planning on seeing him after this mission.

“There was a moment,” she said slowly, “when we were fighting together on Peter’s boat. That’s when I got him.”

“You pocketed his stuff while you were fighting with him?” John asked, flabbergasted.

“It was an accident,” Mango huffed, stomping her foot like a sulking child. “It’s not like I meant to. I’ve just been doing it for so long, it kind of... just happens.”

She lifted her hand and waved it dismissively. “It’s like a reflex. I walk by something, or someone, and next thing I know... it’s mine.”

“That’s a terrible habit,” John said.

He paused, then looked up to the left as if something had just occurred to him. Slowly, his eyes narrowed. He turned to her.

“Did you ever steal something from me?” he asked.

Mango froze. He knew. She knew exactly what he was asking about.

She considered playing dumb. That would be the smart move. But... what was the point anymore? Besides, when you get caught, the best strategy is to never admit exactly what for. Let them fill in the blanks. For all he knew, she could’ve swiped a sock. Not the watch she’d quietly taken after they hooked up in that closet back in Japan.

She tilted her head, eyes wide and innocent. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked in her sweetest voice.

“My watch has been missing,” he said plainly.

“Ooooooh,” she said. “That.”

“I may or may not have acquired it,” she said with a guilty wince.

“What?” John snapped. “When did you steal my watch?”

“Uh...” she bit her lip. “The closet. In Tokyo.”

“You stole from me while we were having sex?!”

John stood and stared at her in disbelief. “And you’re worried about me being a liar?”

“That was different! It was an accident,” she protested, hands up in defense. “It just... happened.”

John wiped his face in frustration.

“Besides,” Mango added with a smirk, “that makes us even. I stole your watch. You lied to me. Balanced out, right?”

“I need that watch back,” John said firmly.

“How about this? You get my name erased from the CIA database, and I’ll give it back. Deal?”

John groaned and rubbed his temples. “I’m so tired of making deals with people.”

“Yeah, well... me too,” Mango said, leaning back on one foot and finishing the rest of the wine.

Suddenly, John’s brow furrowed. “Wait. If you have Laz’s credit card... was this the only wallet he had?”

“Nope,” Mango replied casually. “He had three wallets on him. Guess he likes to compartmentalize his life…or rather his fake ones.”

“That’s it,” John said, snapping his fingers. “We can use those cards to track his movements. If he used any of them, even once, his location might be on record. By now he’s probably made it to Rome and hopped on a plane. All we need to do is figure out where he went.”

“Okay,” Mango said, cocking her head. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

John pulled out his phone and gave her a smirk.

“See, this is when being an agent comes in handy.”

He stepped away, phone pressed to his ear. Mango instinctively stepped forward, watching him carefully.

She caught it immediately. His posture shifted. His hand adjusted his neckline. He cleared his throat. He tried to angle his mouth away. Mango narrowed her eyes. She knew that move. He didn’t want her to hear this conversation. Not who he was talking to, and definitely not what he was saying, which only made her more interested.

Tipsy, suspicious, and half-watching from the side, Mango’s ears sharpened when she heard him speak:

“Hey, Lea.”

Lea? That name again.

Lea…the woman from the party. The one John swore he wasn’t involved with. And yet, this was their third phone call since everything started. Mango didn’t know Lea well, aside from that brief interaction. But she knew enough to raise red flags.

Because if John was in this deep with the CIA... and Lea was still willing to help him? Knowing the risks? Knowing what he was running from?

That meant one thing: He wasn’t just using her for help. He trusted her. Maybe too much.

There was clearly more going on between John and Lea than just “good friends.” Mango could feel it in the way his voice softened when he said her name.

And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Yeah, I know,” said John into the phone, his voice low. “Yeah, I know,” he repeated. “No, I’m fine… but we have a problem.”

He paused again, eyes narrowing. He glanced at Mango and then looked away. “Yeah, I understand that we’re rogue now—and that they’ll be looking for me.”

Mango stiffened. Rogue?

That word echoed inside her head like a bouncing ball.

If John was operating outside the CIA’s authority, it meant two things: he was either completely unhinged or he was willing to not follow orders.

She leaned in slightly, listening closer.

Being rogue was dangerous… but intriguing. It also added some weight to what he’d been telling her all along. Maybe he wasn’t just hiding behind protocol. Maybe he literally couldn’t tell her the truth without blowing his cover. He was young, like her. No way he was some hardened veteran. Still, falling in love with a mafia prince turned CIA operative wasn’t on her list of smart choices. And she didn’t plan on making the same mistake twice.

“Listen,” John continued into the phone, “we have a wallet here. It’s got some of Laz’s records. Is there any way KJ can track them to see where he landed?”

He went quiet for a moment. Mango was glued to every word.

“Perfect,” he said finally.

He paused, then read off the numbers from the card. “They pinged Dublin in Ireland? We’re in Italy. Is there anywhere here where there might be a cover hole?” he said.

He turned to Mango. “You got a pen?”

She scrunched her face. “Why would I have a pen?”

“Damn it,” John said. “Just write this down.”

Mango pulled out her phone and opened her notes app. John dictated a string of GPS coordinates, and she quickly typed them in.

“Thank you,” John said into the phone. “You don’t know how much this means.”

He paused again. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Then his tone shifted and tightened.

“No… I can’t afford to do that.” His voice rose. “I have to stop the CIA from getting it.”

Another pause. His face suddenly became angry.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “I think you, of all people, should believe that I’m still trying to do the right thing.”

He went quiet again, listening.

“Yes. I still believe that you believe in me,” John added quietly. “And I get it. You’re worried. But if you trust me, then trust that I’ll be back safe. I’m doing everything I can to make this right.”

“Also… ask KJ to prep a stash of new equipment for me in Ireland. The stuff he’s made so far? It’s been saving my ass… Okay. Talk soon. Hopefully.”

He ended the call and lowered the phone slowly.

“I know where Laz is headed,” John said. He grabbed Mango without waiting for agreement. “Come on.”

She opened her mouth to protest but then closed it. She let him pull her along. There was something about his assertiveness that didn’t annoy her. Not like it would have with someone else. He didn’t flex it unnecessarily. He wasn’t a peacock. He took control only when it actually mattered. That, and the fact that he had access to high-level resources, gear, and possibly enough money to buy a private island…

“Where are we going?” she asked. “There’s no way we can fly commercially now. Not with the CIA hunting me and you being considered rogue.”

“Yeah, I might be rogue,” John said with a half-smile. “But there’s more than one way out of a country.”

Mango raised an eyebrow. “Like where?”

John’s smile deepened. “Since I’m technically off the CIA’s leash, I might as well use what I do know before I became a CIA lapdog.”

He looked over his shoulder as they turned a corner.

“I’ve flown in and out of Italy a dozen times,” he continued. “And not once did I buy a commercial ticket.”