Cloak and Dagger (The IMA Book 1) (37 page)

“
And killed off Agent Richardson to seize power.”

What kinds of propaganda had Callaghan been spreading about me in my absence? And why did they believe it? No. That was a stupid question. A better one was, What had he done to make it so they couldn't afford
not
to?

I glanced at Christina and kept my mouth shut.

“
Oh, but I intend to keep him on a tight leash.” Callaghan sauntered over, reknotting his tie. I imagined strangling him with it, until his eyes popped. “If I even
suspect
he's planning on betraying us, his spirited little friend will take up permanent residence in my office and I will see to it personally that her stay is not a pleasant one.” A cold smile. “For her, that is.”

A few guards had the balls to laugh and jeer at that.

I wanted to kill him. All of them. Shatter the teeth in those smiles, tear out their eyes, and then rip them up and scatter the pieces to the wind. My hands formed fists at my sides.
Not now
.

“
Besides,” Callaghan continued, “The boy has many enemies. It would be all to easy to make them see my side of things. You may be strong, Michael, but you're human through and through. And humans are subject to certain weaknesses” — I did not look up, staring straight ahead and locking my jaw as he approached — “like death, and pain. I'm sure you remember what happened the last time you decided to get uppity with me.”

“
I'm not afraid of you.”

“
Oh no?” He leaned into my face, so close that I could taste his breath. I heard the guards shuffle uncomfortably, looking away. He placed his knife against my throat, over my jugular. There was blood on the blade.
Hers
. “Then maybe I
should
kill you.”

“
You won't. Not now.”

“
Overconfidence is a deadly trait.”

“
This isn't messy enough for you.”

That made the bastard laugh; he was sick enough to find that funny. “You've a good poker face, Michael Boutilier.” He folded the knife. “But a poor hand.”

“
Your men are right, though. I'll be watching and waiting.”

“
Spoken like a true mercenary. How very self-preserving.”

“
Not at all,” I growled. “I'd sacrifice my life to end yours.”

“
Well. That makes it all the more interesting.” He glanced at Christina. “I must admit, I rather had my heart set on you saying no. This compliance of yours comes as a disappointment.”

I lunged towards him and was promptly restrained. The barrel of a gun dug into the back of my neck. One blast would obliterate my brain stem, causing instantaneous death. I didn't care. “If you touch her again, I'll rip your face off.”

“
No. What you're going to do now is get out of my sight, before my guards get careless with their aim and I decide to keep the lass.” His eyes flicked towards the guards. “One of you escort them out,” he said, as he strolled out of the room. “I don't care who. Everyone else is dismissed.”

The guards loosened their grip. I pulled free with a shove and scooped Christina into my arms. She was conscious, but dazed. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh,
God
.” I opened my mouth to say something comforting in response, but nothing came to mind. I sucked at this making-people-feel-better shit and the whole situation had been caused by my lapse in judgment.

Shannon had better fucking behave
.

“
Come on,” one of the guards said.

We walked to the parking lot in silence. I could see Shannon's shadow shifting around in the car, lit up by the guard's flashlight. If he noticed the extra passenger, he chose not to comment. “This your car?” I nodded. He looked at the plate, memorizing the number. “Get in the vehicle. Nice and slow. No funny business. I'll watch you drive away.”

I nodded again.
It's time to buy a new car
.

Shannon jumped as I pulled open the back door. “Michael? Is that you? Who's…who's that?”

“
The girl you almost killed,” I said, taking a savage pleasure in seeing her flinch. “Take a good long look.”

“
Is she all right?”

“
No.” I grunted. I couldn't tell the extent of the damage without removing what remained of her clothes. I wasn't about to do that with Shannon watching.

“
What's wrong with her?” she persisted, as I got behind the wheel.

“
Assault and battery, physical and sexual. Hope you're proud of yourself.”

“
You mean those men…” she trailed off. “Oh my God. What have I done?”

She said nothing more after that. It was preferable to her brand of conversation, anyway. I sped back towards the city, pulling up in front of Shannon's apartment with a screech less than forty minutes later. All of the windows were dark — I intended to keep them that way.

“
I'm going to let you out,” I informed her. “But only on the condition that you
never
breathe a word about what happened tonight. To anyone. You've never seen me, you've never heard of me. I don't care if it's your mother, or your best friend, or even your fucking dog — if you tell anyone, I'll find out. And I'll come after you, and show you exactly how I earned my reputation. Are we clear?”

She nodded mutely, frantically, with such fervor that it was a wonder her head didn't snap off like a broken bobble-toy. I untied the cables. She made to get away. I caught her arm before she could quite succeed. “I mean it,” I said softly. “Remember that.”

Shannon swallowed hard, and nodded. I watched her go back to her apartment. She nearly ran up the steps in her haste. When the lights flicked off again, I pulled away from the curb.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Wreckage

Michael:

Change of plans
.
Far more pressed for time than I thought
.
How fast can you work? -M

I read over the e-mail. When I was satisfied, I began to translate it into a numerical encryption Kent and I had developed together several years ago. Kent had been a programmer in his time, back when computers still used punch cards, proving that old adage wrong: sometimes old dogs can
teach
new tricks.

I was finding it difficult to concentrate, though, and couldn't keep my mind on the code. Abstract reasoning had never been my strong suit and adrenaline was still surging through my body, rendering my thoughts frenetic and disconnected. After several more fruitless attempts, I came to the conclusion that I was being masochistic and shut my laptop.

A phone call might be safer, anyway. Now that I had been reinstated, the IMA would be monitoring me closely. Callaghan had made it quite clear that his regime was not going to be challenged. My cell phone and laptop were probably already bugged, as well as other devices I hadn't stopped to consider yet. I'd have to get a new phone, a new laptop, a new car. Keep tabs on them at all times. Warn my contacts about the step-up in security so their positions wouldn't be compromised — if they hadn't been already.

It had been a while since I had last spoken to Kent. Anything might have happened between then and now. I made a note to touch base with him as soon as possible. It was 10am now. Was the girl still asleep? I could run out and purchase a new phone. There was a Radio Shack within walking distance and a Fry's just a bit further down the block. If I took the car, I could be there and back within minutes.

I opened the bedroom door slowly. Christina lay motionless on the bed. In addition to my coat, she was swaddled in several sheets. As I entered the room, she stirred but did not wake. I wasn't sure if Callaghan was making empty promises; he knew I had the girl with me. If his men saw me leaving alone, he might take it upon himself to seize her to ensure my compliance.
To hurt her more than he already has
.

I turned to leave and ran into the desk chair, which toppled with a clatter.
Damn klutz
. Christina made a small sound. “Michael?”

I heard the wariness in her voice. I cleared my throat. “How do you feel?”

“
Cold.”

I reached up to switch off my ceiling fan and turned on the light for better visibility. The rope had left her with a bracelet rash. “How are your other injuries?” When she didn't respond right away, I added, “I can probably treat them — if you'll let me. Or I could call a doctor.”

“
No. You can, um, do it.” She looked away.

I opened the nightstand drawer and tried not to speculate on what her initial hesitation and taciturnity meant. I gathered a handful of salves — antibiotics, topical analgesics, lotion — and a handful of gauze. I tasted blood when I sat on the bed and realized I'd bitten through the skin of my lip upon seeing the cuts and bruises that mottled her olive skin.
I'll kill him
. I squeezed the tube I was holding too tightly, getting antibiotic cream on my hand. I barely noticed.
I'll fucking kill him
. Christina winced when I touched her, prompting me to ask, haltingly, “Did Adrian Callaghan rape you?”

She stared at me in horror. I gritted my teeth at her intake of breath, trying to hold onto my slipping composure — but it was tumbling like a rock slide.
He better not have touched you
.
Answer me
.

I wanted to shake her from her silence. I wanted to pull her to me and have her in my arms. I wanted to stab that son of a bitch over and over in non-lethal places. The squeeze bottle fell to the floor with a clatter. Jesus. I was losing it. The only thing left to do was get out before the fallout.

As I stood, I caught a glimpse of how her face had changed. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears coursing down her face. As if she thought
I
was going to hit
her
. The sight of that — her fearing
me
, even now — slammed into my chest like a bullet. Knowing such fears weren't entirely unwarranted made the pain unendurable. I started for the door, not trusting myself to speak.

“
Wait.”

I paused in the doorway without turning around. I was breathing hard, winded almost. My facial muscles felt spasmodic. “What?” That sounded too abrasive. I tried again, “What is it?”

“
Adrian didn't…he didn't rape me.”

I whirled around. “Do you expect me to believe that? With what he did to your face, and your neck, and your body, and your —
fuck
.”

“
He wanted to make you angry. He wanted you to think that.”

I tugged at the taut skin of my cheeks. “That sounds too convenient. You're lying.”

“
No! I'm not! He tried to bargain with me first. He had a drug — like a date rape drug — that he wanted me to slip into your drink…and seduce you. That's what it sounded like.”

“
Really.” I went cold. Because we both knew I would have drunk it.

“
It's not like that, what you're thinking!”

“
And what am I thinking, darlin?”

“
I don't know! But I'm telling the truth!” She looked at me then, with unhappy eyes. “He hurt me only because I refused to hurt you! He hurts me
because
it hurts you! Don't you get that? Don't you understand what that means?”

I stormed into the darkened kitchen, slamming the bottle of calamine against the varnished counter top. It bounced unsatisfactorily. I searched for something else, ended up settling for my fist. The pain was exquisite, but did nothing to balance out the turmoil I felt inside. I cursed, cradling my head and wishing I could squeeze out my headache with my bare hands.

He hurt me because I refused to hurt you.

He hurts me
because
it hurts you
.

Was I that transparent? A soft shuffling sound from behind made me tense.
Yes
. I knew who it was. I could recognize her footfalls out of a crowd of fifty.

“
He gave you the perfect out,” I said. “Freedom and vengeance, all in one swing. Why didn't you take it?”

“
That would be evil.”

“
Darlin, from what you've been saying all this time, so am I.”

Christina shook her head. “No, you're not evil. Confused and damaged — and maybe even corrupted — but not evil. Not heartless.” She paused. “You told me you loved me.”

I shook my head. “I said emotions make people weak, too. Fucking look at me now. Look at
you
. Look what
love
gave us. You're worth ten of me.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. When I saw the expression on her face — pity, for
me —
I would have done anything in the world to take them back.

Christina:

I thought for a moment he was going to get angry again, but his face smoothed out and became blank.
You're worth ten of me
. His words made me uncomfortable. I wasn't so great. I'd considered taking Adrian up on his offer. Even now, seeing Michael sad and repentant made a small, dark part of me feel vindicated. “It was the right thing to do,” I said uncertainly.

“
Are you sure?” He sounded skeptical, as well.

“
No…”

“
Well, it's too late now.”

“
I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About…loving me.” The way his eyes regarded me made me uncomfortable. With effort, I pressed on. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to reciprocate your feelings. But I don't want to betray you, either. If you've found love…” I hesitated, about to say something about God, and how good it was that he had let Him into his heart, but decided against it. “Then that's good. It's like riding a bicycle; once you start, it's impossible to forget. It shows there's some good in you.”

He shrugged. “You'd be the first to say so.”

“
There's a first time for everything.”

“
Hallmark sentiments.” Michael raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair provocatively. “Does that mean you're not at all attracted to my body?”

I went red. “E-excuse me?”

“
It's a reasonable enough thing to ask. We both know I won't be winning any Miss Congeniality contests — and you don't need to be in love with me for me to show you a good time.”

Tears jumped to my eyes. “What the hell are you — ”

“
Joke. It was a joke, darlin. Even I have my limits.” His face was torn. “First things first, though. You still have injuries you've been keeping from me.” He leaned down and picked up the bottle of calamine lotion, gesturing with his hand for me to sit on his lap. “Strip to the waist.”

Michael:

Her words had filled me with a warmth I didn't know I was capable of; a warmth I had been quick to suppress, because of the absent chill that would follow in its wake. I didn't think I had the capacity for affection — not the kind she wanted. I didn't say this, though. I wasn't a complete bastard. If she liked to think she saw good in me, if she wanted to take credit for it, I'd let her. She deserved that much.

I tried to remain clinical and distanced, but when she took off the remains of her shirt I got a raging hard-on, mobbed by recollections of the one night we'd had together. Callaghan wasn't the only sick fuck around here. There was a thin line between rough-and-tumble sex and outright sadism. If I'd had my way with her at the beginning, I might have done something similar to her. The thought filled me with regret and disgust.

Christina made a sound of pain, pulling away. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in my throat. I froze, startled, as the heat of her tears soaked into my wife beater. She was shaking with sobs. I ran my hand down her spine, as if she were a cat. This made her cry harder, and I yanked my arm back as if I'd been burned.

After a long silence broken only by whimpers, she said raggedly, “He was just like how you
used
to be.”

“
I'm sorry,” I said. “So fucking sorry.”

“
That won't make me forget.” She hid her face again. “It won't change how I feel. God,
why —
” Christina broke off, adding tautly, “You've changed. We've both changed.”

I had certainly changed. For the worse. She probably wouldn't agree, but she'd have been safer with the old me. At least then I'd have been able to do what it took to keep her alive.

But she wouldn't have been happy. She would have been miserable, broken down until she was a mere shadow of herself.

She slept in my bed that evening anyway, curled into me, in my bed, wearing my shirt: the only thing in my bedroom that didn't belong to me. There was too much damage; Adrian had burned that bridge between us. She would forevermore associate my forcing myself on her with his sadistic abuse. And I couldn't let myself soften anymore for her sake, either, or we both would die. I was fucked, and not in the way I wanted to be.

Early the next morning I slipped out of bed, tugged on my shirt, and punched a familiar string of digits. Kent picked up in the middle of the first ring. “Hello?”

“
It's me.”

“
Michael? I'm glad you're OK. I managed to locate the girl's parents. It wasn't easy, but since it was for you…”

“
Thanks, but that's not why I called.”

“
Is something wrong?”

“
Not exactly. I need a favor.”

“
I'll see what I can do. What kind of favor?”

So I told him.

I told him everything.

Christina:

I woke up alone.

His side of the bed was ice cold, which hurt me to the quick, until I remembered that this was his apartment; he had to take me home. He wouldn't just leave me alone. I wrapped myself in the blanket and got out of bed, where I promptly tripped over something. It was a bottle. I gasped, hoping I hadn't spilled any on the pristine, white carpet, but the bottle was completely dry. Had that been there the night before? I hadn't seen him drinking, and would have noticed the smell of alcohol his breath. Seeing the bottle gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I sat down in his armchair to watch the rain as I waited for him to come back. The black leather didn't smell like him, and now that I thought about it, neither had the sheets.

What did I really want? I didn't know the answer to that. I wasn't sure I wanted to. Thinking that all of the things I had done for him had been on a solely physical basis made me feel cruel and vain. Because when it came down to it, I was a teenage girl, impressionable and easily impressed by a pretty face and abs. Michael, the bastard, just happened to have both.