Vicarious (22 page)

A long beat of silences passes. Then Gideon clears his throat. “Now do you understand why I don't want you to have a gun?”

“Tell him you understand,” Jesse whispers in my ear.

“No.” The same sick desperation from last night engulfs me. I need to win this, just like I needed to beat the train.

Hurt him,
a little voice in my head says.

 

CHAPTER 23

I don't
want to hurt him. Jesse is not the enemy. I refuse to let my sister's death turn me into someone who is violent and unhinged.

But I still want to win.

“Winter?” Gideon says.

I make a wheezing sound and Jesse loosens his hold a tiny bit. He's not going to hurt me. He's just trying to prove a point.

A point for Gideon.

I stop struggling and lower my eyes to the ground. “Fine. I understand.”

The instant Jesse starts to let me go, I strike backward with my fingertips, aiming for his eyes like I learned in Krav Maga. He grunts in surprise and releases me completely. I duck low and rear back with my elbow, landing a direct hit to his groin. As I spin around, he doubles over.

“Shit.” Red faced and gasping, Jesse sinks to his knees.

I wrench the gun out of his hand. “Guess who has the gun now,” I tell Gideon.

“She fights dirty,” Jesse says.

“You probably went easy on her,” Gideon replies. “She is well aware that not all men will be so kind.”

I lower my body onto the ViSE chair next to the phone, rubbing my neck with one hand. “Are we talking about Kyung? Was it one of his men? Is that why we're bringing up the past?”

“What did I tell you about using that name?” Gideon says coolly.

“I told Jesse,” I say. “He knows about Los Angeles.” I expect to get a lecture about how we're not supposed to talk about our past, how privacy is paramount, but Gideon just brushes it off.

“Fine. I do not know if Kyung or his men were involved in this,” he says. “All I know is that I'm not there to watch you, so you're going to Miami where you'll be safe. It's not up for negotiation.”

“Not up for negotiation?” I'm tired of being told what to do. If it isn't Gideon or Rose, then it's Jesse. I've been legally an adult for three months but no one seems to think I'm capable of making my own decisions about anything. “You're not my father and I'm not a child,” I blurt out. “I don't have to obey you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jesse's eyes widen.

“I may not be your father, but I am still your boss. Which means you
do
have to obey me when it comes to work-related things. I already made the reservations and emailed them to both of you.”

“You can't—”

“I can and I will. I promised your sister I would never let anything happen to you. I will honor her wish, even if it means that you hate me. Do you understand?”

I sigh deeply. I can tell he's not going to back down. “Fine. You win. I'll go to Florida.”

“Your plane leaves at seven a.m. tomorrow,” Gideon continues. “Take care of each other. I'll see you both when you get back.” He pauses. “You can take me off speaker now.”

I turn the speaker off and hold the phone to my ear. “You're off.”

“Thank you,” Gideon says.

“For what?”

“For leaving.”

“Not like you gave me a choice,” I mumble. But then after a few seconds I tack on a grudging “You're welcome.” I might not agree with everything Gideon does, but he is still my elder and the closest thing I have to family. I know that he means well.

I duck out of the ViSE room and head for Escape's exit. Jesse is right on my heels.

He follows me through the main lobby and into the stairwell. I do my best to ignore him, but when he continues past the seventh floor, I stop on the landing and turn to face him. “How could you do that?” I ask. “I might have to go to Florida with you, but I don't forgive you for that little stunt.”

“Sorry. It was kind of a dick move.”

“Especially going for the throat the day after some guy almost strangles me,” I remind him. I turn back to the stairs.

“Again, I apologize,” he says. “I lose sight of that kind of stuff when I'm fighting. I just wanted it to be over quickly.” He coughs. “But you took kind of a cheap shot yourself.”

As we head for the top floor, I think for a second about the little voice in my head that wanted me to do more than just elbow Jesse in the groin. I know what it's like to have tunnel vision in a fight. “I guess I did. Sorry,” I mutter. “But sometimes I swear it's like he has you brainwashed.” I wriggle out of my boots in the hallway outside the penthouse.

“You don't get it,” Jesse says. “He has all of us brainwashed, except for you. You're his family. You'll never get fired. I need this job, Winter. Gideon basically owns me. It kills me to say that, but recording pays a lot more than anything else I can do. And Gid's not normally a bad boss. I'm sorry he made me jump you like that.”

“So then how about you make it up to me?” The words fly out of my mouth, almost flirty sounding, before I can even think about what I'm saying.

Jesse touches me on the arm. “How would I do that?”

His touch combined with the cadence of his question sends a tremor through me and I quickly avert my eyes. “I have an idea.”

Jesse follows me into the penthouse. As I close the door behind us and lock it, I try my best pleading look. “Can you find some other girl and go? Tell Gideon I'm with you?”

“He already got us plane tickets. We can't send someone else in our places because our IDs won't match and there's not enough time to get fakes made,” Jesse says. “And you know Gid. He'll check up on us when we're expected to arrive, or maybe even before then. He'll pay someone to hack the passenger manifest to make sure we boarded the plane if he suspects we're playing him.”

“Damn it. You're right.” Gideon doesn't leave anything to chance. He trusts no one.

Jesse flops down on the sofa. “What if we do the ViSE as quickly as we can and change our tickets so we can come home early? Gid won't check every flight to make sure we're
not
on it. We'll just have to avoid him for a couple of days once we get back. You can crash with me if you want.”

I slouch back against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. Normally I would love to go to Florida. But not now. Not when I feel like each passing second means Rose's killers are slipping farther away.

“There's no other way,” Jesse says. “If we try to get out of the job, we'll spend all our time avoiding Gideon and not learn anything. Besides, we can play the rest of Rose's recordings on the plane or while we're stuck in Miami and maybe find some fresh clues to follow once we get back here.”

“Good idea,” I admit. “At least it's using our time wisely.”

“So what now?” Jesse asks. “More ViSEs?”

“Plenty of time for that. Let's try to do something we can't do in Florida.”

“Like what?”

“Like check out Phantasm.” I think about how Andy mistook me for my sister at the gym. “Maybe Rose got grabbed on accident. Maybe they wanted me. What if the guy I stabbed wasn't looking for a recording my sister made? What if he was looking for ours?”

 

CHAPTER 24

“You
want to skulk around Phantasm in the middle of the day?” Jesse asks. “How are we going to get in?”

“I'm still working on that part.”

He rubs at his scar. “Actually, I have an idea. Have you been to Miguelito's?”

“The Mexican restaurant? I've never eaten there, but I seem to remember running past it the other night. It's not too far from Phantasm, right?”

“About a half mile.”

“And this gets us into the building how?” I ask.

“Trust me.” Jesse picks up his phone and starts dialing.

*   *   *

We
pull into the parking lot of Miguelito's twenty minutes later. In the daylight, the squared-off brick building looks more like a bomb shelter than a restaurant.

“We're going to make a special delivery to Phantasm,” Jesse explains. “No one can resist free food, right?”

I wrinkle up my nose. “You think an international software company is going to welcome us in if we show up bearing burritos?”

“Oh, yes.” Jesse puts the car in park and turns off the ignition. “These aren't just any burritos.”

I slide out of the car and slam the door shut behind me. “It's worth a try, I guess.”

Two guys in baggy chef pants and black T-shirts are sitting on milk crates, smoking cigarettes, outside the loading dock door. Jesse bumps fists with one of them as we pass by. The back room is full of trash cans and empty boxes. The scent of old grease and chili peppers makes my eyes water. A set of silver shelves in the back hallway sags under the weight of cartons of paper products. Turning the corner, we pass the cooks' line, where two guys and a girl are working to rap music blaring from a flour-caked transistor radio.

Jesse ducks into a little room that seems to be doubling as a manager's office and a pantry. A dark-haired guy with the beginnings of a beard is hunched over a computer screen. He drums his fingernails on the desk as he scrolls through what looks like price lists.

“Miguel.” Jesse says it with a Spanish accent, which for some reason makes me smile. I stand back, browsing the large cans of pinto beans and boxes of brown sugar like I'm at the grocery store.

“Jesse. My man. It's been too long.” Miguel turns away from the computer, stands, and claps Jesse on the back. “What brings you here?”

“Well, it sure isn't the cooking,” Jesse jokes.

Miguel's eyes widen. “Shh. You crazy? My mama will hear you and come with her shotgun.”

“We need to make a delivery,” Jesse says. “Only it's a place that hasn't technically ordered anything. Do you still have the fishbowl full of business cards?”

“Yeah. We got it.” Miguel stands and peeks his head out into the hallway. He flags down a passing waitress and has her fetch the fishbowl from the dining room. She returns a couple minutes later and hands the bowl to Miguel.

“Can we borrow the catering truck too? We need to look legit.”

“As long as you bring it back in one piece,” Miguel says.

I take the bowl from Miguel and dump all of the business cards out onto his desk. I start going through them individually, crossing my fingers for the Phantasm logo.

A plump woman with a long black braid pokes her head inside the office door, her chocolate eyes melting at the sight of Jesse.
“Mijo,”
she says. “I thought I heard your voice.” She pinches one cheek like she's known him since he was a baby and then wraps him in an embrace. “You should call your father. He asks about you every week, and every week I have to tell him I haven't seen you.”

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbles. “I'll call him soon.”

“They worry about you. Your poor mama.” Releasing him, the woman turns to me, her eyes hardening with judgment. “And who is this?”

“Tía María, this is my friend Winter,” Jesse says.

I'm halfway through the cards, still looking for a Phantasm one. “Pleased to meet you,” I say.

“You too.” She smiles again, lines forming at the outside corners of her eyes. She touches Jesse on the back of the neck and leans in close, murmuring something in Spanish I'm fairly certain is about me. He answers her in Spanish and they both smile.

“I worked here for a few months,” Jesse tells me, “when I first got out of the army. Maria is my aunt and Miguel is my cousin.”

“And you are a brave soldier and a good man,” Maria says. “Never forget that.” She floats out of the office and I finish going through the business cards. I get lucky with one of the very last ones: Darren Ritter. Technical support specialist. Phantasm.

We order Mr. Ritter a nice variety of burritos and other food at a discount rate.

“What did your aunt say about me?” I ask while we wait for the food.

Jesse laughs under his breath. “She said, ‘Pretty, but too skinny.'” He winks. “I agree with the first part.”

My face gets hot, as much from the touch as the compliment. “Thanks. I've never heard you speak Spanish before.”

“I've never heard you speak Korean,” Jesse says.

I speak to him in Korean, the corners of my lips tugging upward in a smile.

“Whoa.” He blinks rapidly. “What did you say?”

“I said that you're pretty but too skinny.” I pat him on the stomach. His abdominal muscles tighten under my touch. I snicker. “Did you really just suck it in? You are the vainest guy I know.”

“I'm not vain,” Jesse insists. “But I was kind of a big kid and there's a lot of heart disease in my family. I'm just a little paranoid of waking up a hundred pounds overweight someday.”

“I promise I'll let you know before you're a hundred pounds overweight,” I tell him. “If you're nice, I'll even introduce you to some healthy Korean food.”

“Sweet. Are you offering to cook for me?”

“No. But I'll take you out to a really good restaurant and let you buy me dinner.” I grin.

“Deal.” Jesse gives my ponytail a gentle tug. “She also asked about the bruises on your throat. Does it hurt?”

“Not really, but I guess it looks horrible, doesn't it?” I adjust the collar of my shirt to cover up more of my neck.

“I just wish I had been there,” Jesse says. His expression is so earnest and sad, like he failed me by going home for a half an hour to shower and change clothes.

“You can't protect me from everything,” I say.

*   *   *

Once
the food is ready, Miguel helps up pack up the catering truck. Jesse and I arrive at Phantasm just in time for lunch, our headsets concealed beneath matching Miguelito's caps. I start recording as we approach the doors. There is one security guard patrolling the cavernous lobby and two more behind the counter.