Blamed (14 page)

His expression was momentarily sympathetic before hardening again with determination. “I get that, but it’s important. Kedrov—”

She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me a goddamn thing.” Anger mounting, she permitted herself to poke a pissed-off finger into Gavin’s unyielding chest. “No matter what’s going on upstairs, or whether or not I can ever come back here again, I am out of
that
life for good.” She might ache to hold her weapon where fear assailed her, or when she needed a touch of the familiar, but never again would she be a killer. “There’s no point in reading me in with intel I’ll never need.”

More than that, Beth wasn’t sure she could take knowing details of the political aftermath of that day. She’d managed to keep her ears closed to international news outlets reporting on the incident, not wanting to see the snapshots of either the smiling girls before their deaths or the gruesome rubble that snuffed out their lives.

If only she’d taken out Rawad al-Fariq before he’d entered the building, before the children had congregated beneath the first-floor awning. If only.

He studied her speculatively before nodding. “All right.” But his next words, leaving his lips in a rush, wiped all thought of anything but the here and now from her mind. “It was never babysitting, you know. We were partners.”

“Partners,” she repeated warily, hating that she feared this was a final goodbye for them yet hoping she would never see him again. Looking at him hurt in ways looking at her family never would, because he’d been there that day. Gavin had been there, in her ear, as her world fell apart.

His world, too, it seemed. She would do well to remember that.

“Best I ever had, B.” His throat worked, breath fogging the air as he glanced away from her. “Best friend I ever had, too, come to think of it.” He coughed lightly. “I can’t call or text because...you know...
undercover
and shit...but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “So try not to get yourself offed, okay? At least not while I’m dark, because I’d hate to miss the funeral.”

Surrendering to impulse, she wrapped her arms around him in a ferocious hug, and this time, in her flat shoes, he had a couple of inches on her. “Copy that.”

“Attagirl.” A quick squeeze and he released her, and they climbed the stairs to her apartment in comfortable, comforting silence. It felt good having her friend back in her life, no matter for how brief a moment. It felt right.

As they reached the door, the detectives emerged, obviously having finished their discussion with Tobias. Harding merely nodded to her, but Rossi gave her a warm smile as he produced his card, handing it to her as they passed. “If you ever want a closer look at my tattoos,
corazón.
”

Shaking her head at his sass, she glanced at the card—
Diego Rossi
,
Detective
,
Counterterrorism and Intelligence
,
Chicago Police Department
—before pocketing it. “Diego, huh?”

Rossi grinned. “For what it’s worth, my name sounds even better when you scream it.”

Grinning helplessly, she shook her head as the flirtatious detective vanished around the corner. She could hear Tobias and Vick talking from the other side of the door, their words indistinct, but her attention was caught on Gavin.

He lingered on the landing. “I’ve got to go.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “So soon?”

“I can fill Tobias in later. We were going to meet for coffee this morning so I could give a status report in person, but we’d just sat down at Starbucks when Adam called to tell him the police were en route to your place. And now...well, it can wait, can’t it?” He fixed her with a stern look, dark blue eyes revealing only a shadow of the ready humor he’d once had. “Remember our agreement, B. No dying.”

“If I do, you’re giving the eulogy, right?”

One corner of his wide mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile, but he said nothing as he retreated down the stairs once more, disappearing from sight long before she heard the front door close behind him.

The pair of men leaning against her kitchen counter stopped talking when she entered the apartment. “So.” Her voice came out hoarse, scratchy, but her chin was lifted and her shoulders straight. “Now what?”

Chapter Twelve

Vick and Tobias exchanged a look, before appearing to come to a unanimous decision. “We have two choices.”

“Technically three,” Tobias amended with his usual attention to detail, “depending on what Beth decides.”

“Three, then.” Vick’s gaze battered her senses as she hung her coat on its hook and joined them at the counter. “Option number one, we arrange a meeting with MI6 and attempt negotiation. Tobias believes—and I agree—that we can come to an amicable resolution in time.”

“In time,” she parroted, tension gathering at her nape. “But we’re pretty much out of time, aren’t we? What if negotiation isn’t possible?”

“That leaves options two and three.” Tobias glanced down at his phone resting on the countertop, checking it for...something. “You get out of town. The ‘option’ part of this is in where you go. I think the safest locale is home to Boston.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he lifted a hand. “It’s a fortress. Monitored property lines, secure buildings, plus Adam’s there. You know Mom would love to have you.”

Her jaw clenched. “And Dad?”

“He loves you, Beth.”

Each of them had a complicated relationship with their father. Frank Faraday wasn’t the man he’d once been, his illness changing him not only physically but mentally, as well. When Beth and her siblings had risen to the occasion a little over ten years ago, essentially taking charge of Faraday Industries in various respects while Frank adjusted to his change in circumstance, he had not reacted well.

Beth thought she understood. Seemingly overnight—though they all knew now that their father had masked his symptoms for much, much longer—one of the world’s most powerful men had disappeared, leaving in his place an angry, broken facsimile who resented his children even as he professed his pride in their capabilities. “I’m not going home.”

“That leaves option three.” Tobias glanced at his phone again, but the screen remained dark. “You disappear, until this is over.”
Or forever
, was the subtext of his statement.

Forever didn’t sound so bad. Beth lunged internally. “Then I disappear.” It was the obvious choice, as far as she was concerned. As much faith as she placed in her brother’s ability to broker any outcome he desired, she wasn’t willing to risk being sucked back into the Faraday vortex and, three months from now, find herself belly-down on a rooftop watching a .50-caliber bullet turn some bad guy’s brains to jelly.

Every inch of her went numb at the idea. She gave her brother a beseeching look. “I have to run. I miss home—” it was true, she
did
miss her childhood home, though only in her most fragile moments, “—but I can’t go back there.”

“You can’t go alone.” Vick crossed his arms over his chest, the fine knit of his sweater molding to the curves of his heavy biceps. “If you run, I run with you.”

Beth tore her gaze from Vick’s impressive physique to meet his eyes. “You didn’t sign on for that.” He’d said he would protect her, but forever? They hadn’t talked about forever. They hadn’t even talked about next week.

“I decide what I do and do not sign on for, love, not you.”

Nervous aggravation knotted her belly. “But—”

“Good luck stopping the man if he wants to go with you, Beth. You already trust him to guard your six, and so do we.” Tobias raised a cool brow at Vick. “Though at some point, Vick, you and I will need to have a conversation.”

Vick mirrored Tobias’s arched eyebrow with ease. “About?”

“About just how far your intentions toward my sister go. I think Casey might want in on that chat, as well, come to think of it.” At that moment, Tobias’s phone screen glowed to life. “This is it.”

Confused, and slightly embarrassed at her brother’s high-handed behavior—
intentions?
Really?
—she gave Tobias her full attention. “What’s it?”

“The call from MI6 to arrange a meet.” A gleam lit her brother’s bright irises. “I had Adam hack the T-16 section chief’s desktop and display an invitation to talk, along with my number. We’re on speaker in three, two, one.” Tobias answered the incoming call with a tap of a finger. “Colleen Yang. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but...”

“There’s no need to compromise my computer, Mr. Faraday,” came the crisp, bell-like voice of T-16’s section chief, her accent so primly British it made Beth’s teeth ache. “Next time, an email will suffice.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Won’t there?”

Beth heard the steel in Yang’s response, as did Tobias. His expression hardened. “You’ve placed a hit on my sister. Why?”

“Hasn’t our agent explained it?” As though she could see him in the room, Yang spoke to Vick. “Poor form, Raleigh.”

The muscles in Vick’s jaw worked. “Not your agent anymore, Colleen.”

“I’d heard as much.” Amusement colored his former boss’s tone. “Elisabeth Faraday is directly linked to the Kabul Girls’ School Bombing tragedy.”

Beth flinched, all color draining from her face. Oh, God, it had a
name.
A real, capital-letters, reported-in-the-news name, with the codicil of “tragedy” on its heels.

A soothing weight came to rest at the base of her spine. Vick’s hand, his thumb stroking the line of vertebra through her sweater.

Yang continued. “The incident cost MI6, and T-16 specifically, a valuable asset in Karlin Kedrov. As an indirect result of Kedrov’s death, the security of our undercover agents in Russia has been compromised.” Her consonants grew more precise. “You know as well as I do that, in our business, information is currency, Mr. Faraday. My operatives recently had to decide what information was worth their lives. It will come as no surprise to you that there’s been a scrabble to fill the hole left by Kedrov at the top of the
Polnoch’ Pulya
arms ring, with factions out for blood.”

There was a pause on Yang’s end of the line. “One of the undercover agents gave up a name to save her colleague’s life. The name of the person who is, ultimately, responsible for Karlin Kedrov’s demise.”

Me.
Beth bit back a gasp. They blamed her for the death of one of Russia’s most dangerous—and therefore most powerful—businessmen, the leader of
Polnoch’ Pulya
, outing her to not only the high-ranking criminals within the organization, but also to the Russian FSB agents everyone knew had a foot on either side of the legal line.

Besides, Beth
wasn’t
ultimately responsible, or whatever, for Kedrov kicking the bucket. Rawad al-Fariq’s fancy bomb belt took the blame there. Had all gone according to plan, the only dead guy in Kabul that day would have been al-Fariq.

The little girls, though...Beth would take the blame for them.
The Kabul Girls’ School Bombing tragedy.
Yes, Beth would shoulder that burden, because no one else was going to.

Tobias came to a similar conclusion about just whose name the British undercover agent had given the Russians and glared at Vick across the counter. “I thought you said the hit was in-house MI6 only.”

“I thought it was,” Vick responded tightly. “Colleen?”

“Technically, it is. Our agents have been given a two-week window to produce proof of death for Beth Faraday, or not only will they lose their lives, the remaining leaders in Kedrov’s organization intend to execute a global manhunt. I shouldn’t have to warn you what will happen to your sister if this comes to pass.”

“How confident are you in the veracity of your agents’ intel?” And Beth knew what Tobias meant; Gavin, deeply embedded in the
Polnoch’ Pulya
, hadn’t so much as hinted at this level of danger, and if he hadn’t known, what was the likelihood that Yang’s ultimatum represented the truth? Gavin would never have walked away today, leaving them unaware of the situation at hand. Which meant something was rotten in Denmark, or England, or whatever.

“Very confident.” A cool, clipped response from a woman who obviously wasn’t used to being questioned.

“Then we need to discuss options, because Beth will not be dying anytime soon.” Tobias propped both hands against the counter and leaned in, an aggressive stance at odds with his usual calm demeanor. “Faraday Industries has never had cause to take action against the British government in modern times, but you’ve threatened one of our own. Not only that, you’ve already shot her and destroyed her home.” Each word was a blow. “You don’t want us as your enemy, Ms. Yang.”

“No, I don’t.” A considering pause filled the section chief’s end of the line. “A solution will have to be discussed in person, of course. This isn’t the sort of conversation one can have via teleconference.”

Strangely, Tobias appeared to relax at her response. “When?”

“Can you be in London tomorrow evening—say, nine o’clock?”

Rubbing his hands together in apparent glee, Tobias rocked back on his heels. “Absolutely.”

“I will be polite and have my assistant email you the details.” Yang abruptly ended the call.

Immediately, Tobias snatched the phone and began typing away. Beth caught a glimpse of an airline app, realized he was booking a ticket to London. Her head spun with the speed at which everything was moving. “What just happened?”

“What just happened,” Tobias explained patiently, gaze flicking between her and the phone, “was Colleen Yang showing her hand too soon. Vick, can you get her out of here for the time being?”

Vick nodded. “I’ve got a car and gear in long-term parking at Norwegian American Hospital. Everything we’ll need to get us started.”

Tobias nodded, thumbs tapping away at the screen of his phone. “Excellent. I’m ordering a cab, and then we head out. Beth, you’ve got...” Another tap. “Eight minutes to pack what you need.”

More tapping ensued, and Beth was essentially dismissed, with eight minutes to pack the necessities and the full knowledge she would likely never return to this apartment again.
Act now
,
process later.

She’d learned long ago to keep a go-bag at the ready, and she found it safely stashed in the back of her closet, untouched by the jerk who’d invaded her home. After pulling on warm socks, followed by knee-high boots with a flat heel and worn-in leather—good for running, if need be—she grabbed her e-reader from inside the nightstand, a few extra clothing items and the Louboutins from the mattress.

Hey. A girl had to have priorities.

She and Vick entered the hall at the same time, him having collected his own bag from the guest room. His eyes were intent on hers. “You have what you need?”

Shrugging, she broke eye contact, hurrying down the hall to snag her purse off the table. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to leave this place behind, helplessness a hammer thudding rhythmically against her temples. “I have what I have.” It would need to be enough.

Outside, the taxi honked, and Tobias disappeared down the stairs, dark coat flowing out behind him, his leather bag from the morning over his shoulder. After helping her into her coat and donning his own, Vick followed more slowly, glancing at her as he descended.

No time for a goodbye to the apartment she loved, the kitchen she avoided, the dog she would never own. Possessions are replaceable, she reminded herself sternly as she took a last sweeping look at her home before locking the door and hustling to the street below.

But she clung to Vick’s hand anyway, and struggled not to mourn the loss during the cab ride out of Lincoln Park.

Several silent minutes later, the taxi pulled to stop at the mouth of the hospital’s long-term parking ramp. Vick moved to grab their bags from the trunk, while Tobias exited the passenger side, waiting for her to emerge. “I’m going to hug you now,” he announced brusquely, and, for the first time in recent memory, he enfolded her in his lean arms, tucking her head against his shoulder.

As she had offered comfort to Gavin, so Beth used this embrace to shore up her strength. Her brother’s hand cupped the back of her skull, his other arm tight across her shoulder blades, and she wrapped her arms firmly around his rib cage. He smelled faintly of the cologne he must have applied hours ago, maybe even before boarding the plane in Switzerland. She took the scent into her lungs and felt the tension she’d carried all day slowly but surely leach from her shoulders. “We should hug more often.” Her eyes stung as she spoke, so she squeezed them shut. “Do you really think this will work? Just...talking to them?” It seemed like a long shot to simply ask MI6 to stand down.

“Everyone has a price,” Tobias murmured, pressing a light kiss to her hair as he released her. “If they weren’t willing to be bought, they never would have suggested we speak face-to-face—they don’t
want
to say no to us, so I’ll find their price and meet it.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as afternoon snow began to swirl around them. “But there has to be a limit to how much we can offer. Dad—”

“If you think for one second that there is something we would balk at in order to save your life, think again.” His glare seared her. “We’re family, Beth. We will not fail you.” Glancing beyond her to where Vick stood, their bags slung over his broad shoulders, Tobias nodded. “I suspect he won’t fail you, either.” As if he just couldn’t help himself, Tobias reached out to fasten the topmost coat button near her throat, like a parent checking a child before sending her out to play with the neighbor kids. Except Beth had never played with neighbor kids, and Tobias, before today, had never shown such care, and to see it now destroyed her on a molecular level.

Gavin was right. She’d run from her past and in doing so run from her family. So many years had been spent secretly wondering how they could condone turning their teenage daughter into a killer, even as she dug a deeper grave, entrenching herself in the life and treating her passions for art and education like hobbies. Everyone had hobbies, right? Even murderers.

So she had begun to look at every job as a working vacation—she’d see a new corner of the world, explore if she had the opportunity, and then get down to business with her partner or her brother or an op team by her side. The older she grew, the more difficult it became to bury the toll, but she knew now she would have cracked under the strain sooner rather than later. Kabul had simply been the most convenient catalyst.