"I don't like that you think I'm that easy to win over," he said.
"You're a guy," I said. "No offense. Guys tend to think with one thing when they first meet a girl. If she's his type, they stay for her personality. But it's all looks first and foremost."
"How did you even get that sort of information?" Jon asked with a laugh. "That's terribly depressing."
I shrugged. "There's a reason why I don't date," I said.
"What about that computer guy?" Jon asked.
"What about him?" I was surprised Jon even remembered Robbie and I had dated in the first place.
"I'm sure he wasn't like that." He glanced at his mug as though he was debating whether or not to risk another sip. Ultimately, he decided against it and focused his gaze on me. "Seems like a smart guy."
"This isn't about me," I said. "We're talking about you."
"We're always talking about me." He flared his nostrils. "I'm sick of it."
I laughed despite myself, my coffee forgotten.
"You need to get back," Jon said after another moment. "Robbie will be worried about you."
I clenched my jaw and looked down at my lap. He wasn't wrong. I knew Robbie would be worried, and yet, I found myself dreading going back there, anywhere that wasn't right here, in this moment, with Jon.
"Keep your head down, Red," Jon said as he stood up. "I can't…I can't function if I think something has happened to you. The past couple of weeks…" He let his voice trail off. "I wanted you to go to Robbie for a reason. It took a lot out of me to ask you that. Don't ignore that."
I stood up to argue with him, to ask for a few more minutes, but he was already making his way out the door.
He didn't close the door because he knew I would follow him out, even if he was already gone.
I hated that he was right.
Chapter 16
I went back to Robbie's and gave myself a new focus: Sonya Crawford.
"Remember that file you gave me a couple of weeks ago on Sonya Crawford?" I asked as I stepped into the penthouse, removing my coat and hanging it up on the coat rack in the corner of the room. "Do you have a copy of it?"
Robbie looked away from his computer and his Perry Lightning to meet my eyes. There was a glass of red wine in his hand, still half-full, and a bottle placed on the glass coffee table just in case he needed to top himself off.
"What's that?" Robbie asked. "Hey, Robbie, how was your day? I'm not going to be home for a few hours so don't stay up, getting drunk and imagining all of the terrible things that could have happened to me especially since I just embarrassed the mayor publicly? Is that what you said? I just couldn't hear you over all of your goddamn bullshit."
"Robbie," I said, furrowing my brow.
"No." He set his glass on a coaster as he stood up. "You don't get to look at me like that. Like I'm an asshole for caring about you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Cut the shit, Lara. This whole stupidity act doesn't look good on you."
"Robbie—"
"I'm not done," he said. "Where have you been?"
I opened my mouth, ready to argue with him again about how rude he was being but decided against it. I would probably have better luck letting him get his frustration out of his system than to keep interrupting him with arguments. We were both stubborn and our arguments tended to last for hours. Not because we needed space to regroup and gather our thoughts, but because we had countless points that needed to be made and we couldn't think about space when so much needed to be said.
"I went back to my old place," I admitted. I didn't feel bad about it, even with Robbie giving me a look that said I did something wrong.
"Why?"
"Why?" I repeated. "I don't know. To gather my thoughts."
"After the shitstorm from last night, I could understand why you would want to hide away," Robbie said. His voice was tight, controlled. Maybe he was trying to be patient with me the same way I was trying to be patient with him.
"I got fired, Robbie," I continued. I didn't know why I told him. It was the last thing I wanted to tell him because I didn't want to hear how he was right. "I don't work for the paper anymore. Are you happy?"
"No." He scrunched his face up. "Why would I be happy about something like that?" He brought his hands to his chest. "Lara, I'm worried about you. You were supposed to be home two hours ago. And no, I'm not trying to be that controlling boyfriend who wants to know every minute of every second of your day. But you've almost died twice now, and I need to know you're okay. I need you to care about me enough to let me in and help you. Can you do that?"
I looked away. Shame started to pile inside of me but I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want him to know that I felt bad about what I did.
Because the truth of the matter was, I hadn't been thinking about Robbie when I went back to my old place. I hadn't been thinking about him worrying about me or stressing out if something bad had happened to me. My mind was so wrapped up in this Guzman thing that it was hard to see anything else. It was hard to see anyone else.
I wondered if that was how my uncle felt about me. He was so focused on figuring out what happened to his dad that he lost sight of the family he did have.
Me.
"I'm sorry," I told him, picking up my eyes from the floor so I could look at him when I said it. Even though it was hard to do so.
"No."
Robbie shook his head and stood up, surprising me. Robbie never said no to me. And not because I was some pretentious brat who couldn't handle it, but Robbie always let me tell my side of the story. It was one of the things I loved about him when we were together. He respected me enough to listen to what I said, even if he didn't agree with it. He would always hear me out.
"I'm tired of this." He put his hand out. "Not of you. Not of your incessant need to do everything for the truth. It's one of those things that I lo—that I admire about you. I'm tired of you shutting me out. I'm tired of you needing help but not letting anyone help you. You're fucking stubborn and I'm tired of it. Because you're going to get yourself killed. You need help, Lara. And you don't want it."
"I don't want to put you at risk," I tried.
"That's bullshit," Robbie said, moving his hand in tandem with his head as he shook it. "Because you did ask for help."
"I asked for help on behalf of Jon," I clarified.
"Oh, right, Jon, your best friend." Robbie rolled his eyes, dropping his hand to his side. "Don't even get me started on that asshole." He pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted his weight. "Look, we're getting off-track here."
"What do you want me to say, Robbie?" I placed one hand on my hip but I still felt this energy I needed to burn off, so I began to pace up and down the foyer. "My uncle died trying to find the truth about my grandfather. Now I need to find the truth about Richard. I just don't want to involve you because if anything happened to you, then I really would be alone, okay?"
My voice cracked on the “okay” and tears pooled into my eyes before I could stop them. I blinked them away. I refused to let them. I would not cry.
"Lara…"
"My uncle died for my grandfather," I said. I turned around only when I felt safe enough to do so. "He forgot that I was his family too. That I was here and alive. He was so consumed in everything that he forgot about me. If I involved you, if I asked you for help, and something happened…"
"And what if you don't ask me for help and something happens to you?" Robbie said. "How do you think I would feel? Please, Lara. We can be a great team. I can find you any information you want. Name it. Give me a chance to help."
"I want proof that Guzman is a corrupt bitch who's screwing over the city," I said.
"Don't you think I've been looking?" Robbie took another step closer to me.
I almost pushed him away. I needed air. I was suffocating and it was his fault. Him helping me would only overwhelm me. This was a bad idea. Something for sure was going to happen—
"The minute yo
u started discovering these things about Guzman, I've been doing what I can to look into it," he continued, interrupting me of my increasingly maniacal thoughts. "I don't have anything yet. They have a firewall I'm working on breaking through, but I have to keep rerouting my IP address or they're going to be able to track me. It takes time. You should know this."
"I don't have time," I said. I pushed past him and was able to swallow some air.
"Sure you do. You were just fired. You have all the time in the world."
I plopped down on the leather couch, resting my elbows on my thighs and letting my hands dangle between the open space between my legs. My shoulders hunched forward. I could barely keep my head up.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Can you research a person for me? Yvonne Stratford?"
Robbie nodded, shoving his hands in his pocket. "Yvonne Stratford?" he asked. "Sure, that's not an issue. Can I ask why?" He began to walk over toward his office overlooking the Perry skyline.
Robbie worked in the space just outside his living room. There were no enclosed walls boxing him away from any visitors. He had four screens, all with different things on it. I couldn't read the text. Not because of poor eyesight but because it was in a computer language consisting of zeroes and ones. Robbie knew three languages—English, Hebrew, and computer, and he still claims Hebrew was the most difficult to learn.
"If I tell you, you aren't going to like it," I warned.
"Yeah, I don't like three-fourths of what you tell me, but I can't help that, can I?" He took a seat in his fancy office chair. I remembered sitting in it one time; it felt like a cloud. After complimenting it, Robbie sent me my own at my office so I could have one while I worked. After we broke up, I returned it to him—regretfully. "Yvonne Stratford. Yvonne Stratford." I saw his reflection on the screen. His face scrunched up. "Why do I know that name?"
"It was Jon's girlfriend," I said.
"Why do you sound so bitter when you explain?" Robbie asked, pausing his typing to look over his shoulder.
"I just, I don't like her." My fingers were extended and tense. I wanted to wrap these fingers around her throat, but I controlled myself. I took a breath and cleared my throat. "Anyway, I ran into Jon at my place—"
"Surprise, motherfucking surprise," Robbie snarked. This time, he kept his focus on the computer screens in front of him. "Why didn't that come up when you told me where you were, Lara? Why didn't you tell me that some serial killing maniac was at your place?"
"He said he was keeping an eye on it," I insisted. "And don't start manipulating the situating. Jon told me to come here. He got in contact with you about me, okay? I thought we were both on the same page about Jon Hawkins."
"Where in that thick skull of yours did you get that idea?" Robbie asked. "No disrespect, but Jon Hawkins is a fucking psycho and I would prefer if you didn't, I don't know, have any sort of contact with him altogether. Just because he did something I actually agree with doesn't mean I like the guy. I'm sure lots of murderers cried at Dumbo and like black coffee. Doesn't mean I need to sympathize with them."
"Practically everything you said was problematic, but I'll ignore it for the time being," I said.
"An honor."
I seriously wanted to dump his precious coffee all over those precious computers and see how he liked it but I tightened my fingers into tight balls in order to remind myself to focus.
"Anyway," I forced myself to say. "He seems to think their entire relationship was a set-up."
This caused Robbie to pause. "A set up?" he said slowly. "Why does he think that?"
"He discovered she works for the government," I said. "He always thought she was some accountant and never thought to question her about it. But somehow, he found out she works for some agency within the government. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty positive it's the same agency that turned him into a were-weapon."
"I thought he killed everyone in that agency," Robbie said.
I walked over so I rested a hand on the leather chair, leaning over Robbie's shoulder to see if anything familiar popped up.
"I thought so too," I said. "And so did he. Until he found out about Sonya Crawford."
"The woman I looked into for you."
"For Jon." I couldn't find anything but Robbie was typing so fast, I couldn't figure out which screen he was actually using. "Now, he figured there was a special team that recruited people for this experiment before they were even sent to war."
"Wait." Robby stopped typing to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I thought that the were-weapon technology was only ingested after a fatal injury."
"That part is true."
"Then how can someone like Jon Hawkins be recruited?"
"I think Jon got hit with friendly fire," I said in a low voice. I didn't know why I was whispering. There was no place in Perry guarded like Robbie's penthouse. "I think the military was instructed by Crawford and her team to kill specific soldiers so they could inject them with the technology."
Robbie opened his mouth, shut it again, tilted his head to the side, and opened his mouth. Then, he turned around and started typing.
"What?" I asked.
"I think if you're right…" He let his voice trail off and shook his head. "I don't even want to put into words what it would mean if you're right."
"But you admit it makes sense," I said.
"Of course it makes sense," he said. His eyes were glued to the screen. His fingers continued to fly across his keyboard so quickly I didn't even bother trying to figure out what it was he was typing up. "I knew the government could be low, I just didn't think they would stoop this low."
"People think they're doing God's work when they make terrible choices," I pointed out in a soft voice. "What's not to say people wouldn't do the same thing in the name of science?"
"More like greed." Robbie paused his typing to click a couple of things. "Think about it: if they can create a human weapon, there would be no stopping the United States military. It's already the best of the best, but send in an animal with heightened senses, with little fear who follows the command of an alpha…" He shook his head again. "Selling that technology…I don't think I can even wrap my head around the type of money that would bring a private entity."
"So Jon said that Yvonne worked in the government," I said, leaning over to read the bottom left screen. "He said that dog tags let him into the facility. I'm assuming they're still testing, especially with what happened to Jon."
"Because he's not obeying his alpha," Robbie stated.
"Right." I tapped my finger against my chin. "I wouldn't be surprised if that's why Jon is still alive. They want him to see the mistakes they've made and eradicate them—if they can."
"Jon's alive because the government can't come out and claim that this is theirs," Robbie said. "Doing so would betray the country. They would sympathize with Jon. Instead, they're letting him make himself a monster. With no claim on him, they can do whatever they want to him and the people won't care." He stopped and then looked up at me. "So what's the plan?"
I didn't know. There was no plan. Not really. At least, Jon and I hadn't discussed anything.
"I think I need to focus on this," I said, "and leave the mayor alone. For now. If I can help take down the government, if I can get evidence, Michelle might give me my job back. Maybe I'll uncover stuff along the way."
"Lara, absolutely not. Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you know how dangerous that is?"
"Robbie, I wasn't asking you for permission," I told him. "Now, you can either help me or not. But I'm asking you for help. I'm asking you to help me figure out how this is significant and what I can do to find out more information on this government agency and how Sonya Crawford and Yvonne Stratford are involved."
Robbie heaved a sigh. "You're not fair," he said, typing again. "You know that?"
"So I've been told," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Can you figure out where Yvonne works. I guess, can you find out if she for-sure works with the governm
ent under Sonya Crawford?"
Robbie continued to type. "I think I can," he said. "The problem with Sonya Crawford—did you read that file by the way?"
I shook my head. "I didn't think it was any of my business," I admitted. "Jon asked for it. I decided if he wanted to tell me, he would. And if he didn't want to tell me, he had his reasons."
Robbie paused his typing to glance up at him. "You know," he said, "that's something I don't expect from you. You constantly ask questions."
"I know," I said. "I just didn't think he'd want to answer them all. If I'm his friend, I'm not going to push him on it."
"I don't understand," Robbie muttered to himself as he continued to his typing.
I bit back a smile and tried to keep focus on the task at hand. I started pacing behind Robbie's chair. Every time I turned to look at the computer screens, my head would pinch together because the writing was so tiny and I didn't understand what I was seeing at all. I wanted to ask Robbie if he found anything, but I knew he would say something if he had. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Robbie finished his typing and looked up at me.
"I have good news and bad news," he said.
"Okay." I stopped pacing and crossed my arms tightly over my chest, trying not to squirm.
"The good news is I found the location of the building where Yvonne Stratford works," he said. He hit a key and I heard the nearby printer go off. "At least this means that we know for sure Yvonne does work for the government. It's also the same location I mentioned in the file. This is where Sonya Crawford works as well, so your friend was right about Crawford and Stratford working together."
I nodded. My heart beat increased but I wasn't quite sure why.
"And the bad news?" I asked slowly.
"The bad news is any information on Jon or the were-weapon technology is on a hard drive or on actual paper at the actual office," he said. "I've breached every single one of their pathetic government security systems and there's no trace of it at all."
"How do you know this is the facility that created Jon?" I asked.
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