Prank Wars (48 page)

“Old lady perfume,” I explained in a numb voice. Tory nodded with a smile. Of course she knew. I remembered all the times Tory had come at just the right time—usually when Eric was involved. I glanced over at Byron. “I think I’d be dead without her.”

Byron rested his cheek back against the hard gravel. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Wait? Did you know?”

“No, they probably thought I was the mole.”

Tory smiled. “My suspicions leaned more toward Sandra. Then when Eric came into the picture, I knew for sure. But you know how girls are. Thanh couldn’t see the guy for a jerk. Fortunately, she still had her doubts about him…until someone
else
kidnapped her.” She gave Sandra a hard look. “That’s how Byron ended up with the keys to the device and not Eric—good old-fashioned female intuition. At least Thanh knew
you
could be trusted, Byron.”

Sandra snorted.

“Well, Tory, congratulations,” Byron said. He smiled through the pain. “I’ve never seen a cover like that. I had no idea.”

“Are you kidding?” I muttered. “I did.”

She laughed. The darkness came alive behind us. Flashing lights from patrol cars flooded out the shadows. Officers in all sorts of uniforms swept in. They led Sandra away, followed by the landing helicopter that held our paramedics. A group of them worked on us. My whole body hurt, and there were parts of me that couldn’t move without pain, but I was alive. It would be interesting to see Lizzie’s face when she found out I had been right all along. Of course, I’d be kidding myself to think I wouldn’t get slapped with a gag order, not that anyone would believe me anyway.

Tory knelt down beside me. The gravel crunched under her feet as she supervised the wrapping of my ankle. She sighed and I glanced up at her freckled face. She watched me somberly. “Well, it’s been fun.”

I laughed then grimaced when the paramedics found another sore spot on my right arm. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”

“Nah, we have a few things to wrap up. I imagine I’ll be seeing you soon,
Captain
.” Her hazel eyes danced. “
You’d be an invaluable asset to the field.
You know you belong to us, right?” I smiled through the pain, tears welling in my eyes. Tory was in character again. She had been—and would always be—my best soldier. “We
’re recruiting you whether you like it or not,” she said.

Byron hid a smirk and I caught it. “Oh, I couldn’t do that to Byron,” I said. “How could he possibly put up with me on another mission?”

“Easily.” His eyes found my watering ones. “It’s not a bad idea, cuz. I’ll pull a few strings and put you on my team. If
Hölle’s still alive, we’ll sic you on him
.”

Tory shot him a stern look. “I think everyone would be better off if
you
went rogue, New Zealand.” She handed me my war journal then stretched to her feet, spreading her arms out like wings. “Watch your back, Mad Dog. You never know when I might spring out at you.” She reserved a wink for me, and I grinned sadly. There was still a little Tory in there, which made me feel better. I couldn’t lose her completely. She laughed, and I watched her leave with a decided
spring
to her step.

“Hey,
Suzy Q
…” Byron glanced over at me, using my most shameful cover. The paramedics worked on his leg, making it impossible to move. It wouldn’t be long before they took him away and he left me too. He found my hand and squeezed it. “Where did we leave off?”

I felt myself go red. I couldn’t quite take in all the things that I had done to a government official. “You’re not going to rub that in my face, are you?”

“Of course not. I promise to be a perfect gentleman from now on.”

That wouldn’t last long...unless they transferred him. I bit my lip, but mostly to keep the pain back because my arm really hurt. “Byron…” I hesitated. “Speaking of covers, what’s your real nam—?”

“Yeah, you got it, right. Lord Byron.”

I laughed. He licked his bruised lips, but before he could tell me, I stopped him. “You know what? I don’t care.” He looked surprised, but to be honest, I wouldn’t be able to take it if his name really was
Joe-Joe Rocky Joe Jr
. “Nothing else fits,” I said. “I’m going with Byron. Lord Byron.”

A dangerous smile curved his lips. “Fair enough.” The paramedics finished working on his leg and lifted him onto a stretcher. His blue eyes didn’t leave mine. And that’s when I realized he still had my hand, the one without the bandage. He hadn’t let me go yet. “So,” he said, “I guess this is—”

“—goodbye.” I felt the pain of it keenly. It hurt to lose Tory, but this one felt even worse. I wasn’t sure when I would ever see him again. I would miss tormenting him. No. I’d miss more than that. We might never see each other again and I had to be honest with myself. I liked him. More than that. I loved everything about him. It had just been another cover for him, but it had been real to me. I studied his face, trying to memorize every detail before they took him away and erased his identity. That’s when I saw he was laughing. I jerked in indignation.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” he said. He lost his American accent altogether and went completely New Zealand on me, “
—this is going somewhere good, I believe
.”

I felt myself melt. With that accent, there was no way a thousand paramedics could stand between us. My hand tightened over his. “You shouldn’t talk like that. It’s dangerous.”

“Good. I’ll use whatever unfair advantage I can get.”

The paramedics piled me onto a stretcher and our hands broke apart. They felt empty without his. What a June 6th. A year ago, I thought I was getting married to Cameron. A half a year ago, I thought I’d spend it with a box of tissues. A month ago, I assumed I would be terrorizing the men in my life with meaningless pranks. Yesterday, I thought for sure I’d be dead. And now? Well, now I just wondered if I would ever see Byron again...and if the way he looked at me had ever been real. I stared up at the sky, seeing the blackened towers cover it—they were just a little charred—nothing that couldn’t be explained away. Would that be Byron’s fate? I’d have to explain away his whole existence to everyone we knew?

Byron and I reunited in the helicopter moments later. “By the way,” he said as if we hadn’t been interrupted. “I saw that bumper sticker you put on my car.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Of course you don’t. You know the one that said
I do what I want to do
. It’s pretty suspicious, but now it says
I do what Mad Dog wants me to do.
”

I stifled a laugh, but it kind of hurt. I hoped they’d give me some painkillers pretty soon, though nothing could stop this sudden loss that ached in my throat. I felt it choking me. I wiped at my eyes. “Think of the bumper sticker as a parting gift, okay?”

He sat up, much to the EMT’s irritation. They were trying to get fluids into him. “Well, don’t be surprised if I burn it in front of your apartment with the rest of your gifts,” he said a bit too rudely for my taste.

I frowned. “Excuse me?” I met his angry eyes and got angry myself. “You don’t like my gifts?” I asked. His eyes narrowed, and I felt my heart speed up at his assessing look. “What about this?” I handed him a sterilized needle that I filched from the technician at my side. “Take it. That comes straight from my heart, you player!” The EMT stole it back with an efficient move.

“Nope.” The look Byron gave me spoke volumes. “I don’t want
that
.”

“Stop moving around,” the EMT told him sternly. “Or I’ll strap you down, sir.”

Now I had a goal. I’d get him strapped down in no time. I’d at least give him something to remember me by. I realized it was a bad habit. I had always hoped to give him so much of me that he’d never forget me, though now, none of it seemed enough. Now I wanted something real. “What about this?” I handed Byron a rolled up bandage. “It’ll mean a lot if you take it.”

That was promptly confiscated from me too. Before I could steal something else, Byron took my good hand with a proprietary air. “Give me this, cuz. That’s all I want. Is this alright with you?”

My fingers wrapped reflexively around his. “I’m not sure.” The tears I had been fighting threatened to take a hold of me again. Now that I could tell him what was on my mind, it almost hurt too much to say. I took a deep breath and tried anyway. “You told me what you felt for me wasn’t fake.” Embarrassment filled me. I was about to completely let go. There wasn’t enough trust in the world that could shield me from his possible rejection, but it didn’t matter anymore. “What did you feel, Byron? Before, I mean?” I searched his eyes, trying to find something that would give me the truth. “What’s real, New Zealand?”

Byron knew I had trust issues, but this was a legitimate concern. Would he think so too? If he didn’t, then all of this had been his cover. I couldn’t shield myself from that anymore. “What’s real?” he asked. He let go of my hand, his eyes trailing around the ambulance; they found my broken arm. “Does that feel real?”

“Yeah?”

“Then it’s real. Believe me,
this
is real. You don’t want me to prove it, do you?” I smiled in response. Byron must have taken that as an affirmative because he leaned towards me like he was going to kiss me then jerked to a sudden halt. I beamed when I realized that he couldn’t get any closer. The paramedic held him down. “Can you free my hand, ma’am?” he asked the EMT. She twisted her lips in irritation, but she was possibly a romantic because I saw the amusement behind the stern face.

She unstrapped Byron and he grinned before his lips met mine.

Day 216

1025 hours

“
War. It almost did me in. Though it seems to me that the biggest war is the one waged inside your heart. I mean, it might rank pretty high up there with the war waged inside your head—you know the one where you want to tell Lizzie what happened to your crazy idea that bad guys wanted you dead, and especially when she wonders why your roommate Sandra abandoned the apartment in a rage in the middle of the night, or why you came home the next day with a broken arm, a bandaged hand, and a sprained ankle. And then when she sees you exchanging secret glances whenever you talk to Tory, and why you and Lord Byron spend so much time at the study lab with Thanh or why you actually agreed to do the boyfriend-for-a-week program with him and it’s going on a lot longer than anyone ever expected. And even most mysteriously of all, why you’re taking world affairs and humanitarian classes because now you know what you want to be when you grow up and it isn’t what you ever imagined it would be. So yeah, I guess that would be a pretty big battle to fight...and win. Oh, and if you’re reading this right now, Lizzie, don’t worry about it. Just chalk it up to my vivid imagination”

—Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Monday, September 15
^th
)

As always, I have a HUGE list of friends who have helped me in the making of this book. I'm sure many of you on this list don't even remember helping me because it's been so long since this book transformed from that twinkle in my eye to the book it now is (you grew up so fast, little “Prank Wars”). But, if you read your name and it's a complete surprise to you, just know; yes, you DID help me. Therefore, thanks to my fantastic and splendidly fanatic editors: Nancy Wakefield and Lucinda Fowers. You made my tedious ramblings sound somewhat educated.

Many thanks to my intrepid readers of my first, second, and third drafts, who helped me rip out the boring parts and smooth out
most
of the confusion: Ashley Fowers Elliott, Danyelle Ferguson, Daryl Gessel, Debbie Gessel, Hilary Hornberger, Melanie Jacobsen, Rachel Burt Fowers, Rebecca Jorgenson, Samantha Scogin, Sandra Barton, Tina Dean and Tricia Smith (if I missed anyone, feel free to give me a swift kick in the pants).

To my Science Consultants: Brent Young, Dan Yates, David Young, Eric Sweden, Jason Young, Phil Brown, Robert Palmer, and Rob Wells. Please know that your contributions were the backbone of my story. I never could have any moments of suspense without you.

Much appreciation goes to Alex Nitz and Hilary Hornberger for being my legs on this book cover; Kristi Linton for your photography; Jacqueline Fowers for your graphic design; and Heather Justesen for your interior layout expertise. Thank you for your talents and making this book look exactly how I dreamed it would be (for I don't know how many years). I truly appreciate the sacrifice and time you spent on this.

And of course, a special round of applause goes to all you pranksters out there who have touched my life: Andrea Goates Thomson, Andy Mott, Bart Seeley, Breanne White, Brian Hansen, Cassie Burgi, Eric Russell, Erica Fowers Okere, Erika Childs, Justin Fowers and the V for Vendettas, Katie Hansen, Larissa Villers, LeAnn Bowan Wach, Lisa Hess Keillor, Lucinda Fowers Lahn, Marcus Green, Marie Young, Quinn Peterson and the rest of B5, Rachel Fowers and the Unicorns, Stacy Young Larson, Spencer Matsuura, Vanessa Swenson and the rest of the Pinegar rascals, and to the many many more who
blessed
my life with their pranks.