Dedicated to this amazing girl for being such an awesome friend. :)

Chapter 10

Right now I was having many firsts: it was the first time I'd been off the island since my whole life in the agency started. First time being in an airport, first time going on a plane.

I know what you're thinking, who has never been on a plane flight before? Well that's what happens when your parents can't afford vacations and end up spending their holidays running holiday drama clubs. You just don't go anywhere.

It's also the first time I'm going on a mission. Three is currently five people behind me in the queue. Although we're not even in Mexico yet, we can't assume we won't be seen by others who could give our cover away. Who knows who else is getting on this plane also wanting to race in the Daga Negro too.

So we have to be thorough with our cover, hence why we're flying commercial instead of taking the helicopter. Personally, I would prefer the helicopter: less chance of being hijacked and all and I actually knew the pilot, due to it being Carter.

All this plane's pilot would ever be to me was a voice over the speaker system telling us what weather to expect when we landed wherever we're going.

I was too nervous to even take note of what city or town we were heading to. All that I could register was that it is where the Daga Negro is to take place. Or at least where it's based. The whole thing is very secretive with the map of the race only being released to the riders on the day of the race. So at the moment, no-one knew where the actual event was to take place.

Drew and I had managed to organise a great dirt bike in record time, thanks to all the connections the agency had. I chose one built to thrive in the Mexican terrain. It was small and light enough for someone my size to be able to handle comfortably yet big enough to hold enough fuel to last between check points and strong enough to actually do well in the race.

Not that I actually have to do well in the race, the race is simply an excuse to get close to the mark. I only have to do well in the heats to actually make it to the real race as only the top 20 end up making it through.

The mark, I had learnt, was a 20 year old good looking Mexican. Why all the bad guys always had to be good looking, I would never know. Not like I was complaining though. It is definitely much easier to get close to or flirt with someone who actually is attractive. At least that's what I found when I had to practise on Alex- not that I'd ever actually tell him I thought he was attractive. He'd never let me live that down if I did.

It's good to know, though, that I probably won't have too much trouble getting close with the mark. Even his name sounded exotic and enticing. Miguel.

"Ticket please," a lady dressed in a blue and white uniform asked me in a bored voice, interrupting any thoughts that had been running through my head.

I handed her my ticket and my fake ID, naming me as a Jessie O' Brien. She looked at the ID, then up at me, then back at the ID before grunting and handing them back, motioning for me to go through. I took a deep breath and walked down the tunnel walkway and onto the plane.

A flight attendant pointed me to where my seat was just as I saw Three entering the plane too and head towards his seat a couple rows down. I quickly stuffed my hand luggage into the small compartment above the seats and sat down on the aisle seat.

I had originally wanted the window seat but after a long debate with Alex that ended with Carter telling us to shut it, I eventually came to terms with the simple fact that in the event of anything happening it would be easier for me to jump to action if I was already sitting by the aisle instead of having to climb over some random stranger.

So I sucked it up and agreed to take an aisle seat. I might as well get used to making do with situations I'm uncomfortable in and Alex always seemed very eager to make such situations for me.

Personally I had wondered why exactly it was Alex that was the agent I was stuck with as my partner. I mean, if our family only worked with top agents and One was my brother, shouldn't I be partnered with Two? Drew had said that they were numbered according to their ability so wouldn't Two be better than Three?

When I had confronted Alex about this it was easy for me to see in his eyes that he was debating whether or not to tell me the truth. That, obviously, had made me very suspicious.

'Alex, where is Two?' I asked, being more specific and hoping for a more clear answer than the look he was busy giving me.

He hesitated a little while longer before finally responding with a sigh, 'No one actually knows.'

Those few simple words had shocked me to the core and before I could ask him what had happened to Two, he turned away and left me with all my unanswered questions.

I sighed, closed my eyes and stuck in my earphones, listening to the songs I remember liking before everything in my life changed. The familiarity of the lyrics and unforgotten tunes helped take me back to a time when I had little to worry about and I soon found myself drifting off into a light, yet much needed sleep.

***

"Nikky, do Mexicans even know what ice is?" I asked my ear piece, feeling very frustrated. "Because it looks like there is not a single cube of it in this whole fikken run down hotel and if I don't get a drink of something that is lower than room temperature soon I'm going to shrivel up into a- a- a raisin."

I pulled a face in disgust at merely the thought of those wrinkly, dried up, unworthy of being called a food, waste of good grapes so called snacks. I was currently searching through my overly stuffed bag that was lying on the creaky and probably insect ridden bed.

"And let me tell you something, Nikky, I hate raisins," I added.

Nikky waited a few moments to make sure my little rant was over, knowing she would not be able to get any comment in otherwise.

"The temperature of the substance you drink won't change your level of dehydration, only the fact that you drink the substance will," Nikky replied. "Having ice makes no difference."

"Well you've never had to drink a warm coke before, now have you? So let me tell you that it's not an enjoyable experience. Not at all. So shut it Nikky," I said, ignoring the fact that her point was blatantly more valid than mine. But seriously, a warm coke? Who would ever make you suffer such a horror?

"Well at least take comfort in knowing the fact that you will pass out from the dehydration before you'll be able to see yourself turn into an actual raisin, effectively saving yourself from seeing that nightmare. Thank goodness that crisis is adverted," she commented.

Cheeky. I thought.

I was starting to regret having taught her what sarcasm was. Never in a million years would I have ever thought I would ever actually be calling a supercomputer cheeky. Those two words don't even sound right together yet it somehow managed to describe Nikky perfectly.

"Just find me a local convenient store or something," I snapped. "And make it quick." The heat was getting to me.

"Bossy," she tsked.

I didn't comment back, but rather just smiled to myself- I finally had found my money that Drew had converted into the local currency for me. Therefore I was one step closer to getting my ice.

"There is a local store that stocks ice three blocks down from your current position," I heard in my ear and that was motivation enough for me to take off out of my room, down the stairs, past the sleeping receptionist and out onto the street.

"Left," was all Nikky had to say for me to start running again, this time only for three blocks before stopping at a store that looked no better than the hotel I was staying at.

Once inside I started roaming around the half empty shelves looking for where the ice could be.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" I asked, eyeing the dodgy guy standing behind the counter.

"Positive," was Nikky's reassuring answer.

"Well I'm not seeing ice anywhere so either your database needs updating pronto or you're being very mean and playing around with a very irritated me," I stated firmly, not in the mood for games.

"Maybe ask someone who works there," she oh-so-helpfully suggested.

I took a quick gulp, glancing at the guy behind the counter once more. He was the only other person in the store so I suppose he is the only one I could ask for help. Weighing up the risk of approaching a character such as him, with my dire need for ice, I decided becoming a raisin was much scarier than any human could look. So I walked on up to the counter.

"Umm...." I started. He just gave me a deadly glare.

Gees, if he treats all his customers like this, it's a wonder this place is still even open. I thought.

I gulped once more. Come on, Melissa- no, Zero. You're Zero now. You're a secret agent- a super spy. One dodgy guy with no hair and more tattoos than you could wish to count is no match for The Agent Zero. Man up. Or like what someone had said in one of the set work books I had to read when I still was at school, Cowboy up, Cupcake.

More like in my case: Agent up, Butterfly.

I smiled at my little inner motivation and suddenly found my voice again.

"Do you happen to stock any ice at all?" I asked, very politely might I add.

He started to rant at me, speaking terribly fast in what I'm assuming was a version of Spanish unknown to me, totally overwhelming me and my very limited knowledge of the language. This was definitely making me regret not making Drew do a Spanish crash course or something with me quickly before I left.

"Uhhhh..." I started again, having absolutely no clue as to how to handle the situation.

"Let me help you with that," a deep voice sounded from behind me and next thing I knew, a man who looked just as heavenly as I'm sure an ice cold coke would be for me right now stepped up next to me, closer to the counter, and started to talk to the tattoo guy in a calmer version of the language that was just being ranted at me.

Miguel.

Oh crap. Crappity crap crap. Crap with some crap on top, covered in crap and all stuffed inside a bag made of crap. Crap.

It's him. What do I do?

Crap.

I kept repeating that delightful little word over and over in my head and it was only after there was a few moments of silence did I notice that the two guys had been staring at me expectantly with Miguel holding a small bag of ice.

"Oh, here," I said, digging in my pocket for the money and effectively shaking myself out of my dazed state. "How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it, I've already paid," Miguel smiled such an overly charming smile at me that I almost melted right there. Almost.

Because thinking about melting reminded me about the ice now sitting in his hands and that reminded me of the very reason as to why I was here in the first place.

"No, I'd much rather pay, if you don't mind," I said, pulling out the few notes I had in my pocket.

Glancing at the little money I had in my hand, Miguel laughed a silky smooth laugh. "Trust me, it was nothing."

After a moment's hesitation I gave a small nod and then made a slight move as if to take the ice off his hands, but he merely moved it even further out of my reach.

"Let me walk you to where you need to go, I insist," he smirked.

His English, I noted, was surprisingly good for someone who grew up in this region. English was a language I knew that was rarely spoken here.

"If you insist," I replied, shooting him what I hoped like hell was a sexy little smirk of my own.

Game on, boy.

His smirk grew to a full blown smile and he quickly held open the door for me.

"So what's a girl like you doing down in this area of town?" he asked as we headed down the street towards the hotel.

"A girl like me?" I asked, hoping for an elaboration.

He just nodded, "What brings you here?"

I looked at him.

"You'll change your idea of what a girl like me is if I tell you," I informed him with a small smile playing on my lips.

"Oh, now I'm interested," he grinned back.

"And you weren't interested before?" I teased.

"I'm even more interested," he corrected himself. "Come on."

I playfully rolled my eyes at him. "I'm here for the Daga Negro."

He stopped walking, we were only one block away from the hotel now.

"The race?" he asked, looking slightly surprized. After a moment his expression changed to one that I could only assume one would get when they had finally figured out where that annoying piece of the puzzle actually goes. "Oh, you supporting a boyfriend or something?"

I laughed, did I really look that weak?

"No, I'm racing. That's kind of what happens at a race," I explained slowly as if talking to a ten year old kid.

Miguel quickly recovered from his shock at the idea of me racing in such a deadly race.

"So no boyfriend then?" his flirty attitude swiftly returning.

"Nope, just here for the prize," I stated.

"You'll never get it."

"Because I'm a girl?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you'll be racing against me," he told me, a cocky smirk forming on his lips.

"Really?" I asked, faking the surprise in my voice. We stopped walking as we were now standing right in front of the hotel's entrance. Miguel grimaced when he noticed the state of the hotel I would be staying at.

"Well I guess this means I'll be seeing you at the heats tomorrow..." he trailed off looking at me expectantly.

"Jessie," I told him, hoping he didn't notice that I had hesitated slightly when quickly trying to remember which cover I had been given for this mission. "Jessie O' Brien."

"Well, Jessie, it was nice meeting you. I'm Miguel," he threw me a charming smile. "And like I said, I hope to see you after the heats tomorrow."

I gave him a quizzical look as to why I would only be seeing him AFTER the heats, but he merely reached out, placing a small kiss on the back of my hand.

"We can't have a pretty face like yours distracting me just before the race now can we?" he winked.

And with that he turned away, whistling an unfamiliar tune.

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