All visions of dressing up and dancing trickle out of my mind. A chunky layer slices off my excitement. “That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun.”
“Oh, it’s going to be fun all right.” He signals behind me.
Spinning around, I spot a colorful array of makeup, contacts, wigs, prosthetics, other accessories, and a few bundles of black and white clothing draped over the coffee table. I rub my hands with glee. “We’re going incognito?”
“You’re game?”
“Hell yeah. It’ll be fun to be properly invisible.” Jarod stares at me funny. “Don’t mind me,” I mumble, not wanting to get into a serious conversation about the many ways a person can be invisible, or how practiced I am at wearing a façade.
Jarod thrusts some clothing into my hands, and I slip into the bathroom to change. When I return, I sit on the floor and rifle through the assortment of disguise paraphernalia on the table. “We want to blend in so don’t pick anything too garish or anything that would draw attention,” Jarod warns.
Scraping my hair back off my face, I secure a long dark wig over my head. While it’s only synthetic, the sensation of hair brushing against my shoulders fascinates me to no end as I’ve always kept mine short. “Where’d you get all this stuff?” I ask as my fingers search through the items on display.
“A spy never reveals his sources.” He smirks like a big know-it all.
Curious and curiouser.
I gravitate toward a pair of startling blue contacts. My mind registers the connection and a blush stains my cheeks. Putting them back down, I select a pair of emerald colored contacts instead.
“Here, I’ll show you,” Jarod says, watching me fumbling to position them in my eye. Kneeling down, he pauses, drawing a steadying breath. He removes his navy colored contacts, revealing his warm chocolate brown eyes underneath. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat as he watches me anxiously.
A steady thrumming picks up pace in my veins as unspoken tension laces the air. He stares at me expectantly and a truth rests on the outer edges of my mind, just beyond reach. “You don’t remember me?” he asks.
A tiny dart of amber glints in his eye and it sparks the memory alive. “Oh my God. I remember. You’re Watson Manley? The guy who escaped from the penitentiary?” Now his reaction the first time we met in the Mock-Up Facility makes total sense.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Yes. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure it was safe for you to know the truth.”
“You can trust me.”
“I already know that, dummy,” he teases, mock punching me in the arm. “There’s some serious shit going down, Sadie. I could be putting you at risk by telling you what I know.”
“I want to know,” I rasp, without hesitation, memories of my tarot session and hidden agendas still fresh in my mind. I can’t wrap my head around the fact he’s here. I remember the thought I’d had as we parted that day: that it would be nice to enter Thalassic City semi-knowing another person. Perhaps I should be mad at him for concealing his true identity, but given his status as a wanted criminal, I can understand his reluctance to divulge his real persona. Something else occurs to me. “Why were you imprisoned?”
“I’d been using my IT expertise to spy on the government and they caught me.” He sounds relaxed but his muscles are rigid with tension, and I don’t have to be Einstein to deduce it’s something he doesn’t wish to discuss.
“I’d hoped that day we met that we’d see each other again.” I deliberately switch the subject.
He takes my hands in his. “Me, too. I couldn’t believe it when Vin introduced you to me. It felt like it was meant to be, like I already had a friend.”
I timidly hug him. “I’m glad you told me, and I promise I won’t tell a soul.”
“You’re not scared of me?” The look of vulnerability on his face guts me.
I smile reassuringly. “Of course not. You’re about as dangerous as a fly.”
He hugs me again. “Thank you. And for the record, I trust you. I wouldn’t have told you otherwise.”
“Good. Now, no more shirking, time to tell me what you know.” I sit down.
He rests his cheek against mine. “I’m not exactly sure what the government is up to, but there’s an unusual flurry of activity at the power plant and the space station, and there’s other construction on the outskirts of Thalassic City. I’ve been sneaking around the computer systems, trying to discover more, but it’s slow and tedious work, and there’s only limited snooping time. I figured tonight might be a good chance to identify up close what’s going on. If we get caught, we’ll be in a butt load of trouble. Are you sure you want to take the risk?”
His warm brown eyes stare earnestly into mine.
“I’m sure. Nothing is more important than the truth.”
“Well, let’s get this show on the road then.” He grins as he stands, extending a hand to help me up.
After he’s demonstrated how to insert the contacts, he hides his blond hair with a black wig and trades his usual navy blue-eyed look for a hazel hue instead. I slap a load of makeup on my face and position a pair of glasses with cool black-rimmed frames over my ears.
We inspect our reflections in the mirror and collapse in a fit of giggles. It’s both strange and comforting to look nothing like my normal self. Anyone we know would be hard pushed to identify either one of us in a lineup.
Assured that we’re both suitably disguised, we set out.
***
We try to look inconspicuous as we draw near a brightly lit City Hall. A steady line of luxurious vehicles approaches the building depositing glamorous couples and VIPs at the entrance. A long velvety red carpet covers the steps and walkway to the glistening glass entry point. Waiters, stiff in posture and attire, distribute elegant flutes of sparkling amber-colored liquid to guests as they arrive.
I follow Jarod around the back of the building to the service entrance and allow him do all the talking. Once we’re processed and tagged, we are directed toward Ms. Mountbatten, a tall, thin, formidable-looking older lady wearing an unflattering black skirt suit. Assigning us both to the main dining hall, she barks out orders like a sergeant major.
We silently line up with our colleagues at the back wall of the elegant dining hall as guests start to filter into the room. Massive twinkling crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling over the long mahogany table lavishly decorated in shades of cream, beige, and gold. Numerous tall golden candelabras line the middle of the table, interspersed between vast centerpieces of cream and red roses. A delicate floral scent lingers in the air as guests start to take their seats. No fake crap for the VIPs, I muse.
A tingling sensation furls in the pit of my stomach quickly spreading to all parts of my body. I freeze on the spot. Afraid to draw any attention to myself, I stare straight ahead and try to ignore the familiar feeling.
The tall dark-haired man catches my attention first. What is Vin’s supervisor doing here? And why is he talking to the president? Holy crap. Our president is standing less than ten feet away from me. If we’re caught, I’ll be booted out of the city for sure. My concern blasts into outer space. Jarod’s fingers brush mine on the sly, and I focus on quelling my racing heart and frantic breathing.
That holds for all of thirty seconds.
The minute Logan steps into the room, my heart starts skidding around, demanding an outlet. Blood rushes to my brain, dulling my senses and rendering me a silent quivering mess. Handsome as hell in his fitted black tuxedo, he covertly scans the room, a slight frown creasing his brow. Jarod’s hand clamps down on mine and he pinches me. Hard. The roaring in my ears subsides as I concentrate on the feel of his fingers digging into mine.
A tall red-haired older lady clings to Logan’s arm. With her hair swept off her face in a graceful chignon, her pale face openly displays naked terror. Logan pats her arm and pulls out a chair. He sits down beside her, immediately taking her hand in his.
What is he doing here? And
why? Neve said his father was an important bullion with direct ties to the president. So, is he here too? And who is the lady at his side?
A subtle dig in my ribs pulls me back into the moment. Straightening up, I studiously avoid looking in Logan’s direction and focus on inhaling and exhaling until my composure reappears.
Acute awareness keeps me on edge while I attend to my duties. Grateful that I’m on the other side of the table from Logan, I serve the various courses to my assigned guests as unobtrusively as possible.
My nerves are totally frayed by the time the main course has been served. I’m clearing plates at the top of the table when the tail end of a conversation snares my interest. “What of the experiments in Sector Twenty?” the president asks quietly.
“The latest round failed; however, we’ve made a significant breakthrough,” Vin’s supervisor replies.
The president grimaces. “The longer this goes on, the more uncomfortable I feel. Perhaps we should revert to the initial plan.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw.
The dark-haired man coughs and tips his chin down. “We will stay the course, and it will work. This is the best plan for both our people.” His heavily accented timbre confirms he’s not from around here.
“Yes,” the president says, a smile gracing his thin lips. “This is the best plan. Yes, yes. We will stay the course.”
“Move along,” a curt voice says as a hand applies not-so subtle pressure to my lower back. I look up at Ms. Mountbatten. “Into the kitchen. Now.” Her clipped tenor brokers no argument. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Logan staring at me as I walk the length of the table. His eyes follow my movements, and little sweat beads dot my brow. The battle-axe discreetly prods me toward the kitchen.
She lambasts me the minute we are behind closed doors. Up pop my shields and out flies my concern. After she’s gotten it all out of her system—including the requisite threats to have me thrown off her service—I mutter the usual platitudes, and she lets me off with a final warning.
I step back into the room, and two pairs of eyes find mine. Jarod visibly relaxes. Logan’s eyes narrow suspiciously.
Jarod is oblivious.
Logan is anything but.
He can’t know it’s me! It’s impossible!
An invisible cord ignites the space between Logan and me, buzzing and sparking, as if it was a tangible thing. Keen to create distance, I move to the far end of the table and begin clearing more plates.
The next couple of hours pass by in torturous slow motion. I stay as far away from Logan as possible, but the weird electric charge hovers in the background like a lingering stench. Each incline of his head strikes fear into my heart, and I intercept a bunch of sly looks directed my way.
It’s inconceivable, but somehow he knows it’s me.
I can’t get out of here quick enough. I’m debating my options when I spot Horace Tonnard, the vice president, sidling out the service passageway. My senses flare perceptively.
Without pausing to think, I walk swiftly to the corridor and push through the swinging double doors. I pass by the kitchen, the bathroom, and staff room, until the sound of hushed conversation tickles my eardrums and I slow down. Flattening against the wall, I cross myself and pop my head around the corner. I retract immediately, pulse pounding. The VP and the dark-haired foreigner are deep in discussion mere feet away. Straining my ears, I try to latch onto the words.
“We need more girls,” the dark-haired man says, in his strange accent.
“That’s becoming problematic,” the VP replies.
“I don’t care how you fix it, just fix it.”
I’m so engrossed in my eavesdropping that I don’t heed the approaching timid footsteps.
A hand clamps firmly over my mouth, and an arm wraps securely around my waist. Manic fluttering pummels my chest, and I’m close to hyperventilating. A mad rush of blood to my head blurs my vision, and my body slumps, feeling weightless, boneless.
Incapable of mounting any defense, I’m helpless as my captor drags me backward along the corridor.
CHAPTER 18
I’m hauled into a dark side room. A switch is flicked and the room floods with light. We’re in some type of storage closet. The restraints around my mouth and waist are removed as I’m spun around to face my captor. Logan’s mouth is set in a hard, firm line. “What the hell are you doing?” he hisses.
I invoke an old reliable strategy. When in doubt, deny, deny, deny. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”
“Cut the crap, Sadie. I know it’s you.”
I can be stubborn when I need to be. “You are clearly mistaking me for someone else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my job.” My hand curls around the door handle, and I pull the door open.
Logan slams it shut again with the palm of his hand, and he spins me around, forcing my back into the door. Reaching up, he whips the wig off my head in one fast, fluid motion.
Oh, crap.
“I was right!” He grits his teeth and his jaw flexes.
“How did you know it was me?”
“You don’t get to ask the questions.”
He’s livid. I see it in his eyes, and I hear it in his voice.
“And you don’t get to hold me against my will.” I yank the wig out of his hands and stuff it on my head.
“Goddammit, Sadie.” He presses his forehead to mine, his powerful body crushing against me.
The image of Ria wrapped around him rises to the forefront of my mind, effectively deflecting the bolt of desire igniting my insides. It’s like being doused in icy cold water. “Get. Off. Me.”
He jerks back, stunned by my tone. A noise in the outside corridor distracts us both. Raising a finger to his lips, he cautions me to stay quiet. As if I hadn’t figured that out myself. I glare at him. When the footsteps recede, he refocuses on me. “We don’t have time to debate this. You need to get out of here before he makes the connection. Come on.” Sliding me to the side, he takes my hand as he tentatively opens the door and peeks out.
“Before who makes what connection?” I hiss.
He ignores me on purpose and I’m instantly mad. I attempt to wriggle my hand from his, but he tightens his grip. “Don’t fight me.”
“There’s no need to go all Neanderthal man on me.” I pout.
“Logan? Logan?” Someone calls out anxiously in front of us. Logan curses as the red-haired lady rounds the bend. “There you are.” She looks relieved.
Up close, I notice the smattering of gray hairs dotting her hairline and tiny fine lines that crease the skin at her eyes. Her gaze is shrewd as she rakes over our conjoined hands. “This is her?”
Logan nods tersely, and her eyes soften.
“What about me?” I shoot Logan a sidelong glance.
“My dear,” the lady says, taking my free hand in hers. “It’s so lovely to meet you. Logan has told me all about—”
“Meme,” Logan interrupts, peering worriedly over her shoulder. “Now isn’t the time. I need to get Sadie out of here, and you need to go back to the hall. I’ll return as quickly as I can.”
“I understand.” She releases my hand. Her kind eyes glisten. “Thank you.”
“I, ah … for what?”
“For hope.”
“Evana, please.” Logan speaks in a calm controlled manner. Dropping my hand, he pulls her into a gentle hug. “Go back and wait for me. I won’t be long. When I return, we’ll leave, okay?”
She kisses his cheek before exiting. Logan relaxes a smidgeon. He quickly scans the corridor. “We’ll have to go through the kitchen. Come on.” He threads his fingers through mine and bundles me through the doors.
Ms. Mountbatten charges forward the minute she notices me. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll have her removed immediately.”
I sling my most venomous look her way. She’s all too ready to point the finger of blame when she doesn’t actually know if I’ve done anything wrong!
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll
be escorting the young lady home myself.” Logan stares into her eyes.
“But, sir …” Her eyes glaze over. “Delightful.” She beams at me. “As you are.”
Logan moves me to the service elevator and pushes the button.
“What did you do to her?” I ask the minute we step inside.
“What?” He feigns ignorance. “Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.” I plant my hands on my hips.
“I don’t care.” Drawing his wrist to his mouth, he talks quietly into the thick black and silver watch.
“What is that?” I ask, wondering where I’ve seen it before.
“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
His deliberate vagueness and casual dismissal infuriates me. “How dare you speak to me like that!? Who do you think you are?”
“Someone who’s trying to save your ass, yet again.” He emphasizes the last word.
“I didn’t ask for your help, nor do I want it. Why do you even care?”
He sighs in frustration. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
“Why are you such a douche?” I throw back at him.
His lips curl up as the elevator door opens. He propels me out into the dark alleyway. Haydn steps out of the shadows. “Take her home, and make sure she stays there.”
“Stop manhandling me.” I twist out of Logan’s grip. “I am not your property.”
“Stars! Why are you making this so difficult?” Although his voice has risen, he’s not quite yelling at me. Yet. A fire burns behind his eyes. Spinning around, he slams his clenched fist repeatedly into the concrete wall. Ouch. That has got to hurt.
“Logan?” Haydn says, concern lacing his tone.
“Get her out of here before I do something I’ll regret.” He storms inside as Haydn takes my arm and steers me away. The black and silver watch strapped to his wrist reflects under the lamplight, and I realize it’s the same watch Logan wears. And Neve too, I acknowledge, finally remembering where I’d seen it before. Weird. But on the scale of recent weirdness, it barely registers.
***
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