Betrayals (Black Cipher Files series Book 2) (25 page)

Her gaze slid to the window. “Uh, no. I destroyed everything once Lucas gave me the go-ahead.” She was lying. She still had that data. I had to wonder why she kept it.

I knew why she didn't tell us, but still it made me wonder what other secrets Barb was keeping.

While Jordan transferred the data on the flash key to Barb’s laptop, I picked up the USA Today sitting on the coffee table.

The press conference must have been after the paper was put to bed, because thankfully there was no mention of my ‘wanted’ status. I only partially listened as Jordan and Barb worked out particulars regarding the timing of the results. It was all stuff I didn’t care about since I wasn’t going to be around.

Idly, I flipped to the Marketplace section.

Jordan and Barb exchanged cell phone numbers. “I’ll be in touch.” Their conversation muted to a murmur as I zeroed in on a new problem.

There, in black and white, was the message I’d been waiting for since I returned. A short advertisement about a castle for sale in Virginia.

A powerful cold whooshed through me, my fingers clutched the newsprint so tightly the paper crinkled in the suddenly quiet room. I tried to take in air but as if the cold had frozen my ability to breathe, nothing came in.

“What’s wrong?”

Jordan had leaned closer, placed his hand on my elbow. The simple impact of his touch flared through me, and finally I could gasp in air.

“I need to go.”

We needed damage control, to make sure Barb didn’t talk, if we were going to get out of here.

I stood, leaned into her personal space. My heart bumped against my breastbone and flooded my body with adrenaline, as fear coursed through me.

The ad in the paper was nothing but trouble.

“If anyone asks you about this meeting, he wasn’t here. Are we clear?”

“Ignore her.” Jordan tried to tug on my arm.

Barb pulled her chin back, gave me a penetrating stare, then propped her hands on her hips. “I’m getting damned tired of being threatened by you women.”

You women?

“First, her. Now, you.” Barb wagged her finger in my face. “I’m doing this as a favor to
Lucas
.”

“Then protect him and his friend.” I jabbed back. “Otherwise you’re an accessory.”

“Accessory?” Her voice rose in alarm.

“Shit.” Jordan sighed. “Way to win friends and influence people.”

My heart still bumped in my chest.
Get out. Get out. Get out,
the rhythm warned.

I warned Barb. “Leave your cell on the table and go in the bathroom. Count to fifty.” I folded the paper carefully, leaving it open to the classified section.

She threw her hands up in the air as if throwing confetti. “Who am I going to tell? I don’t even know your name.”

I thought about the press conference. I thought about the ad in the paper tucked under my arm. They were closing in. “You will.”

Eyeing me cautiously, she spoke to Jordan. “One last thing, do you know what subject number she is?”

“According to,” Jordan paused, “our friends...she is subject three.”

Barb nodded, slightly distracted as I continued to glare at her. “Wait. Three?”

What now? Could we absolutely not catch a fucking break? “Yeah.”

“You’re sure it’s three?” she asked.

Jordan shifted closer to me as if to shield me from whatever was coming next. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, if she is three.” Barb twisted her hands together. “I may not have been completely truthful about destroying the data.”

“And?”

“I studied it exhaustively.” She blinked, her arms crossed defensively across her stomach.

We didn’t have time for this. “And what?”

“Three was given a placebo.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

A placebo. A fake. No drug.

Susan Chen had lied to them. Or she hadn't known that I had gotten a placebo.

“Good news, huh?” I could cross one worry off my list.

Jordan grabbed me by the shoulders. “You’re going to leave.” He was asking, demanding the answer.

“Yeah.”

“Just give up? Let whoever is doing this win?”

I hated to put it in win-lose terms but.... “Yeah.”

“What about us? What about the baby?”

I couldn’t answer, couldn’t even think about that right now.

“If you were really going to leave, you’d be gone already. You’re a super agent. It’s not like I’ve had you handcuffed to me.”

He was right. I’d been putting it off, delaying in the inevitable, because in truth, I didn’t want to leave. Not here. Not him.

Not...us.

If there was such a thing. I wanted that chance to find out.

“Stay. Fight for yourself. Fight for us. Fight for the baby.”

Barb’s eyes were wide with alarm and fascination.

Jordan had me by the biceps, holding on. Not so tightly I couldn’t break his hold if I really wanted to, but tight enough I knew he was serious.

I didn’t say anything. My throat was too taut with all the things whipping through my head, clamoring to get out, to get said.

I wanted to stay with him. I really did. But I didn’t want him hurt. In any way. I shook my head, unable to express my thoughts.

Jordan moved his fingers to my shoulders, squeezed to the point of pain. “If you try to leave, I’ll turn you in myself.”

What? If he’d wanted to stab me physically he couldn’t done a better job of cleaving my heart in two.

My hands gripped his wrists. My knees buckled and my heart literally stopped beating. “You’re going to turn me in?”

“Only if you try to leave.”

What kind of sense did that make?

“If I turn you in, I can do it under my terms, where I know you’ll be safe, with someone I know will protect you. Otherwise you risk being hunted down and shot like a rabid animal,” he hissed.

“You’d turn me in.”

“For your own safety.”

“You want me in prison.”

“No! I want you safe.” Jordan shook me gently. “I need you. We need you.”

But at what cost?

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” The words finally burst out of me in a rush.

“And I don’t want you to get any more hurt than you already are but I can’t guarantee that. I can’t guarantee anything. Except you have more of a chance, we have more of a chance--together.”

He was right. I knew he was right.

I wanted to believe with everything in me we really did have a chance.

First we had to find out who was out to get me. Because if they got me, they might get him. And I couldn’t allow that to happen.

We hung suspended in this moment, an unbelievably personal significant decision, witnessed by a stranger.

The stranger was still watching with a growing sense of alarm. I growled at Barb. “Don’t talk.”

Jordan took my answer as a yes. “Give her a break.”

I didn’t know if he was addressing me or Barb.

Jordan grabbed me around the ribcage, forcing my arms around his shoulders, cradling me against him in the sweetest hug on the planet.

“Thank you for helping us,” he said to Barb.

She nodded, blinked once, her whole body stock still as her gaze took us in.

“Please don’t turn us in,” Jordan said. “Or if you have to turn us in, wait a few hours.”

“I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of...that.” Barb finally broke out of her trance, her smile luminescent and just a little bit melancholy. “Good luck.”

***

“What upset you?”

He’d waited to ask until we were outside on our way to the parking garage.

My messenger bag, slung across my chest bandolier-style, thumped against my hip with every long stride.

I tried to ignore Jordan. Perspiration slimed the back of my neck and my forehead. The day was middling cool, but the heat building inside me came flowing out of my pores.

I tried to ignore the message in the USA Today Marketplace. Wanted: Buyer for 10,000 sq. ft. castle in Virginia. Be your own queen. ph. 800-555-2708.

I knew that ad.

If I’d seen it three weeks ago, I’d have called right away. Now, the timing was suspicious. Could they be setting me up?

And just to up the cluster factor, suddenly, I had to eat. Had to.

I grabbed him by his black Polo shirt and gestured. “Food.”

We were in front of Bread Line on Pennsylvania between 17
th
and 18
th
. The place was so busy no matter what time of day, we would be just another customer in the throng.

No one had followed us.

“I’m starving.”

Jordan curved his arm around my waist, pulling me close. For a moment, I savored the strength of his body, supporting me, sheltering me. I subtly inhaled the familiarity of his scent. The temptation to just hold on tantalized.

“You’re going to tell me.”

“After I eat.” Suddenly seriously starving, I yanked open the door, interrupting the conversation.

He stopped me, his hand around my bicep, his words a breath in my ear. “You’re going to tell me all of it.”

We stood half-in, half-out of the restaurant. If we didn’t move, we’d start to draw attention. I nodded. And the tension broke.

“Okay.” He surveyed the packed restaurant, but everyone was minding their own business intent only on getting their food and getting out.

“Pulled pork sandwich and coleslaw.” Sounded fantastic. My stomach growled loudly, and my mouth watered.

I hadn’t thrown up in over twelve hours. A freaking world record for me lately.

“You sit, I’ll order.” He gave me one more quick look, as if double checking to make sure I wasn’t going to bolt.

I jammed into a miraculously empty seat in a corner while Jordan headed for the counter. After interminable minutes, he was back with everything in a to-go bag.

He said quietly, “Let’s get going. Someplace where if you have to throw up it won’t be so noticeable.”

Lovely. He’s worrying about whether I’ll blow chow in the restaurant.

He was right. Yet in that moment, I would have gladly surrendered for one freaking bite. One bite of that soft, chewy white bread, with the flavors of simmered pork and sauce exploding in my mouth.

“You can eat while we walk.”

I unwrapped the sandwich and took a huge mouthful, feeling like an alcoholic taking that first hit of vodka. I closed my eyes, my mouth curved.

I knew exactly what he was thinking. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Been awhile.”

It was likely to be a lot longer.

I thought about what I looked like right now. In a word, terrible.

My body hadn’t recovered from the abuse of the past few months, and the morning sickness had ravaged my already stressed skin and bones until I looked more like a refugee than a debutante.

“You have a thing for emaciated, scarred women?” I asked through a mouthful of food, chewing as I walked and talked. I’m sure that was attractive.

He leaned over and whispered, “I have a thing for you.”

I’d had a thing for him too. Somehow it had all gone so wrong.

We both suddenly realized we’d fallen into the old habit of teasing each other, that sort of verbal foreplay that we’d engaged in...before.

I may have agreed to stay and fight, but we were still a long way from our previous relationship.

I eased slightly away from him.

“Tell me why you turned white as a sheet in that hotel room.”

I chewed slowly, debating how to structure the truth.

“You promised.”

Actually I hadn’t quite promised.

“Tell me what was in the paper.”

“If I ever need to reach my contact through unofficial means, I put an ad in the paper.”

“The ad was there?”

“We have a reciprocal agreement in case he’s been unable to contact me through normal channels.”

“Why isn’t this a good thing?”

“Because the agency didn’t get me out of that prison.” He still didn’t say anything. “Think about it. The timing is suspicious.”

“I suppose.” Jordan walked alongside me. “The ad would have been placed before the press conference was scheduled.”

“I’ve been checking this paper every day since I got back to the States and nothing.” I finished inhaling my sandwich and popped open the top on the coleslaw. With a plastic spork, I shoveled the cabbage and dressing into my mouth as if I hadn’t eaten in months.

Oh wait, I hadn’t.

“I can’t take the chance they aren’t somehow trying to bring me in.”

Jordan walked silently beside me. “I think we should set up a meet.”

I slurped down some cool ice tea. “We’d need to work out logistics.” And just because I set up the meeting with my contact didn’t mean I needed to show.

I could feel the blood pulsing through my body, as if I’d woken from a long sleep and were suddenly experiencing life again. The air smelled crisp and clean with a hint of traffic exhaust. Birds chirped along with the honking horns, cell phones trilled, scattered conversations jumbled around us.

“I’m not risking your safety,” he said adamantly.

I wouldn’t risk his either.

Walking back to the car, we haggled over details until we came up with a plan that suited us both. My biggest concern was keeping Jordan safe.

He said, “Technically I’m off the grid right now. My boss thinks I’m in upstate New York for a little break. And I turned off the transponder in my phone.”

“So you should be safe.”

“Yeah.”

“The Franklin Group.” Those mugs still nagged at me, and I had to resolve this once and for all. “There were logo mugs in the prison.”

“Franklin Group mugs?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” He didn’t prevaricate, didn’t make excuses. “Apparently we consulted on that region, so I guess it’s possible they would have mugs.”

“Could they have had something to do with my capture?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“What about our email transmissions?”

“I always used my personal email from home.”

Okay. At some point I had to trust him. I still hadn’t forgotten the CIA could be tracking him...all because I filed that damn form. I refused to feel guilty. We’d been together. So maybe I should have told him about the CIA sooner. But as soon as I’d revealed my true profession to him, I exposed him to danger and to scrutiny. “Unless somehow the CIA got ahold of those emails.”