by Nico Rosso
“So how much do I cost?” She grew angry. “How much are they getting paid?”
He calculated the job: travel, the two locals who had to be eliminated, a target on the run. His hands twitched, and he wished it was something stronger than water in the bottle. “Fifty thousand dollars, minimum.”
“Fuck.” She stood and moved away from the window. The shadows scattered from her, revealing fear and anger in her eyes. Her look hardened when she stared at him. Had all these details helped her piece together his past? “How much are you getting paid?”
Money wasn’t going to save him anymore. “A living wage. Nothing extravagant.”
“Automatik can’t compete with those kinds of prices?” She remained wary.
“Whatever extra money we come by gets donated.” His last operation had been a rush job into a town of hostiles in Illinois that had resulted in a high school getting a few anonymous contributions.
“No chance of you getting tempted by a bigger paycheck?” Her posture tightened.
That enticement had turned rotten years ago. “No chance.” He realized he was between her and the front door and stepped back to the other side of the bed. If she wanted to leave, she could.
“I guess I haven’t said it enough.” She moved toward him. “Thank you.” She stopped. The intimacy grew too much at eight feet away. But she still trusted him enough to stay in the same room with him.
Chapter Seven
She fell deeper into the blood-black world that had arrived with the hack. The attack in the parking lot yesterday had set her on an entirely new course. God, one day. Only a handful of hours had sent her into a completely new orbit. James was her guide. Even with the sunlight that came in through the motel curtains, he had a way of finding the deepest shadows. Talking about the contract killers had illuminated how terrifying her situation was, but it didn’t shine any light on James. He’d informed her of the details and remained opaque, unreadable.
His defenses had seemed to rise when she’d thanked him and approached. Her own voices warned her not to get closer. She and James had grown close enough by necessity. Thrown together on the chase and on the run. Entangling further would only complicate the situation.
“You’re welcome,” he answered, voice hollow.
“You don’t want me to thank you?” He wasn’t doing it for the money, or her gratitude. He didn’t come off as a thrill seeker. So why was he helping her?
“It means...” The light caught his eyes, reflecting the emotion there. “Everything to me.”
But there was still a piece missing. Like anything she could say wouldn’t be enough. Not that he expected physical compensation. He’d been much too respectful of her space for that.
“I can’t say enough for what you’ve done for me.” Maybe that truth would give him what he was looking for.
He shifted his weight, restless. “I haven’t done enough.” His hands flexed into fists, then stretched out again.
She wanted to reach out to him but didn’t know if she could do anything to calm him. Her own nervous energy might amp both of them up. That would be too much for the cramped motel room to contain. She struggled with jolts of the flight instinct in her legs throughout the day and kept reminding herself to breathe.
“What’s left today?” she asked, trying to soothe with her voice.
He tilted his head back and forth, loosening his neck. “Nothing but waiting.” His body slowed. An easy sway took over his shoulders and hips, as if he was dancing for a moment. He smiled and his restlessness waned. Her nerves rose as he approached. What did he intend? The charge between them thickened. The flashes in her body grew hotter and collected low in her belly.
The electricity flickered in his eyes for a moment, then he blinked it away before veering around her and sitting on the bed. He piled pillows against the headboard and stretched out. After adjusting the knife on his belt and gun in his shoulder holster for comfort, he sighed with an attempt at relaxation. He gestured toward the front of the room. “I always sleep between you and the door.”
It was a queen bed. The other side was hers. The heat that had diffused to warm comfort at the thought of his protectiveness turned back to a white-hot sear. “I couldn’t sleep right now.”
“Me neither.” He settled into the mattress, highlighting how long his body was and how he rumpled the sheets and blanket. “Just recharging the batteries.”
“Cool.” She sat back at the computer. “I’ll try to keep it down.”
“You can throw the telly on if you want.” He took the remote from the bedside table and held it to her.
The man was a vision in temptation. Reclining on the bed. Reaching out. If she took his hand, followed him there, how far would that take them? Nowhere. She doused the fantasy with the cold reality of the situation. She shuddered as a wave of guilt threatened to drag her under.
“I’ll find something for us.” He drew the remote back. Had he seen the turmoil she’d just lived through? “But I can’t guarantee it won’t be a documentary about an old man making guitars.” The TV clicked on, too loud, and he immediately lowered the volume.
“Luthier.” She regained her footing.
“What’s that?”
“A guitar maker is called a luthier.”
“Brilliant.” He smiled. “Let’s see if we can find one.” She settled into the familiar stream of content from the television as he changed channels. For moments, her interest would be completely captured by whatever was on the screen, then she’d snap back to realizing just where she was and who she was with. The danger hadn’t gone away, but James’s easy demeanor helped normalize it.
The tension rose to her throat and threatened to squeeze her breath. She stood and paced to the other side of the bed. James watched her instead of the TV.
“I don’t want to get used to this.” She shook out her hands and her body continued to tighten.
He reassured, “It’s not always going to be like this.”
“Is it for you?” She was missing the release of her morning run.
He spoke calmly. “You’re doing excellent. Holding up your side of the op. Letting yourself idle for a few minutes doesn’t mean you’ve transformed into a stone-cold war machine.”
That wasn’t how she’d describe him. Or her father or Mark. She was learning what the soldiers knew. “I’m just pissed they did this to me.” Her life and routine had been demolished without a thought.
“You’ll get them back.” The steel returned to his voice. “You’ve got some bad motherfuckers on your side of this fight. SAS, Green Beret, SEALs. A woman I know who’s like a surgeon with a sniper rifle. We’re not going to quit.”
“I’m not trained like that.” All those names he listed were indestructible. Her skin felt very fragile.
He sat up and waved his hand at her laptop. “But you’re better equipped than any of us to handle the computer side. You said you needed to be in on this and you were right.” But had she talked her way into something she couldn’t handle? He continued, “Have you set the email up to alert you if it comes in?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “It’ll be loud.”
“Then you’re behaving like an operator, covering your angles.” He sat back onto the bed and tapped a pillow on her side. “Now the best thing to do is get your chill on so you have the energy to kick those bastards’ asses as soon as they fuck up.” His accent roughened as he swore. His commitment felt like more than just an assignment and vibrated into her chest.
She went to her computer and double-checked the refresh rate and notification for the email before returning to her side of the bed. His body remained neutral as she climbed on. He resumed flicking through the channels and she settled in.
He chuckled. “Now there’s something I’d like to drive.” The television showed a hug
e construction truck with tires at least twenty feet tall. “No worries about traffic.”
“You want to parallel park that?” The video showed the machine hauling tons of rocks from a gigantic quarry.
“Who needs to park when you can remake the map?” A commercial came on, forcing James to change the channel a few times, finally landing on a home renovation show. “Let’s see what these wankers are up to.”
“I’ve seen this show before. They do okay stuff.” The designer was walking a couple through their house, discussing the remodel in progress.
“Blind spot.” James pointed at the TV with his discovery. “Right at the front door. They’re putting a wall in that you can’t see around when you enter the room.”
“Maybe a mirror in the room to reveal that spot?” The show had moved on, but she tried to imagine the layout of the entry.
“Aces.” He extended a fist out to her, and she bumped it with her knuckles.
Onscreen, the couple inspected their half-completed bathroom. “I tiled a shower once.”
“Tile?” He blew out an impressed breath. “That’s some patience.”
“I needed the task.”
James stilled, understanding.
She picked up her momentum. “I was delving deeper into coding and encryption. My body was locking up at the computer. Then the plumbing gave out in the shower. They had to break everything up to fix it.” Her shoulders tightened with the memory of the intrusion. “It wasn’t the best time for me to have people in my space. I couldn’t do the plumbing or the walls, but I figured I could learn the tiles.”
“How’d it turn out?”
“I’m sure I made rookie mistakes, but everything worked. Little flaws didn’t matter.” The defined order of steps and the defined grid of tiles and spacers had given her just the structure she’d needed. “I did it.”
“That’s sweet work. Real craftsman stuff.” He rubbed his hands together, as if dusting them off. “Never did tile work.” He stared at the TV as he continued, “I was slinging plasterboard after secondary school. Joined the army for the pay and travel.”
His life picture became clearer in her mind. “But the SAS isn’t just about a paycheck.” Special Air Service was so legendary among elite units that they’d even made an impression on her. Mark had talked about their origins in counter-terrorism and their revered status in the armed forces.
James turned and stared at her. The bed felt too small. “At first I did it for the action. Then I learned I liked helping people.” His eyes collected shadows. “Then I burned out from running too hot.”
How deep were his shadows? They weren’t always there. “Now you’re helping people again.” She understood the struggle to lift herself out. She understood a piece of him. He knew her as well, more than just the file he’d read.
The world reduced to the space between them. A few feet. A pull toward him. A distance she couldn’t cross.
He straightened his posture and turned away from her. “That I am.”
The world grew again, large enough to contain the hackers, the hired killers and Mark’s memory. James must’ve felt the connection that had grown, but hadn’t challenged her space. The one person who’d learned her was the one she couldn’t let too near.
They resumed watching the TV without comment. Shows came and went. News and sports fled by. None of it mattered. None of it could help their operation. His phone remained silent, without new intel. Her computer didn’t alert any new emails. She tried to allow herself to rest and prepare for the next step.
But there was so much unknown. Including herself.
She got up from the bed. The rest must’ve helped, because her legs felt more lively as she crossed the room to her computer. A swipe across the trackpad eliminated the screen saver and revealed the email.
James killed the TV and tossed the remote on the bed. “All these bloody channels and no luthier.” He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and leaned to look over her shoulder. “No bites?”
“Nothing.” She almost slammed the laptop shut in frustration. “Afraid I’m not holding up my end.”
“Don’t think like that. We all do our part.” He scooted closer. “You got us the CPAs, you got us this link.”
“I wish I could just reach through the screen and punch someone until they told us what we need.” She made a fist and remembered that she’d almost needed it against the man in the parking lot. She’d nearly used it on James.
“You find them.” He tapped his finger on the table. “I’ll punch them.”
She immersed herself back in the familiar territory of her computer and the internet. As James watched, she mapped the Phoenix address within the city, then she tracked the best route from their location. “Should be about seven hours.”
He groaned and massaged around his knees. “Aces.”
“Can’t you just call in a helicopter?” she joked.
“Ferretti doesn’t dust us off unless it’s a tactical situation.” He lay back on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed.
“Seriously?” How could a tactical team operate within the U.S. without anyone knowing?
“We’re stealthy and quick.” As if he knew what she was thinking.
“And scary.” He’d been invisible when he was following her and had appeared out of nowhere when trouble had erupted.
He smiled without opening his eyes. “That, too.”
And she was glad he was on her side.
“Forty, seventeen, ten,” James murmured. Some kind of code? “Hollister exit. Eighteenth street to Willow. High school on the southwest corner.” He’d barely glanced at the map and had memorized every move they needed to make.
“It’s like they grew you in a lab.”
He laughed. “My pops takes credit for my memory. He was a tailor, remembered all the measurements.”
But if James had been created in a government lab, he wouldn’t reveal such human details. And he wouldn’t draw her deeper self out, despite her trying to rein in the connection that grew stronger.
She looked back at the computer and all the territory they had to cover. Maybe the hackers were in Phoenix. That server she wanted could be anywhere. How far would she have to go to get her life back? Somewhere out there were the hired killers. James was her best chance at staying alive. But the two of them in the motel room was starting to feel perilous for entirely different reasons.
* * *
They didn’t share the bed. After the handful of hours they’d spent watching TV, only one of them was on the mattress at a time. April kept feeling the draw toward James whenever she moved too closely. Too much silence. Too much waiting. She turned into a raw nerve that sizzled with awareness, sensitive to every shift in the air pressure between them.
James was in the chair by the computer and she sat on the bed, trying to stretch some of the tension from her neck. The late sun pushed against the curtains, rimming them with orange. Then it disappeared and the room was dark.
“Light?” James asked, hand on the lamp on his side of the bed.
“Sure.” She looked away so her eyes weren’t shocked. “News?”
The light cast up his face, making him look more like a demon than a rescuer. “Nothing new.” He stepped away and back into the shadows she knew him for. “Automatik’s working on the hitters and the IP info you captured, but no leads beyond what we already have.”
“Why are they called Automatic?” And was it safe for them to remain unchecked?
“With a ‘k,’” he added. Then he shrugged. “Don’t know. They named it before I got there. But it makes sense. We all work together. Coordinated. No wasted movement.”
The answer illuminated little, except that he didn’t divulge much. “And you trust everyone there?”
“If they tr
ust me, I trust them.” Something deeper echoed in him, but she couldn’t get any closer to find out.
“Dinner?” She stood from the bed and approached the snacks spread across the table. The rumpled bags didn’t appeal. Hot food would’ve been welcome, but she understood the necessity of their situation.
James pulled his jacket on over his weapons. “Another trip to the vending machine for more variety.”
“Can I come?” She couldn’t calculate how long she’d been in the room.
“Of course.” He moved the chair away from the front door. “I know the maître d’.”
The door opened with a blast of icy air. She took her coat from the top of the dresser and hurried it on, but it was too late and the cold was trapped around her skin. At least the stagnant fatigue from being cooped up in the room was gone.
The two of them went briskly up the catwalk to the vending machines. She hopped from foot to foot, happy to have blood flowing and waiting for it to warm her. James remained stoic, only squinting in the chill wind as he surveyed the area.
“Are we good?” She kept her words quiet through the collar of her coat.
“We’re invisible.” He turned his attention to the first vending machine.
“Chocolate-covered pretzels.” She pointed to her choices. “Peanut butter cookies. Corn nuts and dark chocolate.”
“Excellent selections, mademoiselle.” He fed the machine cash and punched the buttons for her food as well as more options. “What the blazes is a corn nut?”
“I hope you have strong teeth.”
“Enticing.” He stepped to the next machine. “And for the lady’s drink selection?”
“Water.” Her body was completely off balance.
He nodded enthusiastically and bought four bottles. The two of them hurried back to the room and closed the door against the razor-sharp desert cold. They took off their jackets and reassembled themselves to eat, him at the table and her on the bed.
She flipped through the TV until they landed on yet another home makeover show they could complain about. The night settled in. The danger continued, somewhere on the other side of the heavy door. The romance in bad television and junk food warmed her too much, made her feel like she laughed too loud at times and stared too long at James when he wasn’t looking. He questioned the validity of corn nuts, she put up a mock defense and the two of them were all too comfortable.