by Julie Cross
“I believe this game is called chicken,” Rider says. “You shoot him, and I shoot her.”
An elbow swings out to hit Rider, then a fist to his nose; he falls down on all fours, hollering in pain.
“Never had the patience for chicken.”
I stand there in shock while Miles’s uncle Clyde hovers over Rider, pointing his own gun at him.
CHAPTER 51
Rider looks up at Clyde, eyes wide.
“That’s right,” Clyde says. “I’m the old man you knocked out earlier. Thought I’d forget your face?”
Rider reaches for his weapon, and Clyde doesn’t even hesitate, shoots him in the other leg. And Clyde isn’t alone. Dominic and Brett hover behind him. Bret swoops down and swipes Rider’s gun. He turns it expertly on him.
“Damn,” Bret mutters. “I made that look good.”
What the hell is Bret doing here?
Okay, what the hell is Dominic doing here? His gaze sweeps the room and then lands on Rider. His eyes widen, jaw tenses. He recognizes him. From the Gilberts’ house. The night Simon was murdered.
“So all of you…” Bret swings his free hand around the room. “Are responsible for taking our boy Simon out?”
Jack shoots a glare at Bret. “We had a deal.”
“No more.” Bret shakes his head. “This is not what I signed up for. You fucking used me so you could harass Dominic into silence and frame Agent Lawrence.”
“Seriously?” Dominic asks.
Miles is working hard to conceal his shock at their arrival, but he answers Dominic with a nod.
Clyde reaches out a hand for me. “Come on, honey, let’s get you out of here.”
I scoot right around Miles and Rider, who’s still lying on the ground. Clyde pulls an arm out of his coat and then looks at Bret. “Fire at will if he moves.”
Clyde sets the gun in Dominic’s hand long enough to drape his coat over me and then he’s back in position. “All right kid, time to go.”
Miles shakes his head and grits his teeth. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you back at the road.”
“Goddammit, Miles,” Clyde snaps. “Put that fucking rifle down or so help me God I will wring your neck…”
“He killed my friend,” Miles says. “He stuffed me in a trunk, brought Ellie and me out here to die. This is my fight to finish.”
“Thomas.” Dominic holds a hand out to Bret. “Let me see that gun?”
“No, you don’t,” Clyde says, not even looking at Bret. He’s still focused on Miles. “For once in your goddamned life you’re gonna listen to me. I don’t care how angry you are or how much you need to make things right, you’re still a boy. You aren’t ready to kill someone.”
Miles’s hand shakes. He’s so angry, but Clyde is right—he’s not ready for this. “Miles…don’t,” I plead. “Please. Let’s go home.”
His eyes gloss over. He swallows and glances sideways at me for a fraction of a second.
“Come on, son,” Clyde says, quieter. “Put the gun down and get out of here.”
Miles tightens his grip on the gun. I squeeze my eyes shut, hold my breath.
But seconds later, the rifle hits the ground with a loud clank. I grab his shirt and tug him out of that dungeon. Dominic follows us and then Bret behind him, making a big show of pointing his gun at every corner. We step back outside in the rain, trudge about thirty feet through the mud, and then a gunshot rings out loud and clear from the cabin. We all freeze, turn to face the door. A few seconds later, Clyde steps out, tosses the rifle onto the muddy ground.
Miles walks toward him and sputters, “What…why—?”
“I said you weren’t ready,” Clyde tells Miles. “Not that he didn’t deserve to be shot. I’m not gonna let someone walk free who tried to murder my nephew.”
Miles stares at Clyde, and I’m waiting for him to get angry, but he instead gives Clyde a one-armed hug and I hear him say, “Thank you.”
Clyde grabs Bret’s stolen gun and tucks it into the back of his pants. “That the deal you made with the devil, boy? You take some pictures for him and he gets you a legal registered weapon? I’m not even gonna ask what you wanted to do with that gun.”
Guilt fills Bret’s face. He looks away from Clyde. “I didn’t know he was in the assassin business. Didn’t know he killed Simon. Just thought he was a dirty agent looking for more money.”
“Well, turns out you were right. That’s exactly what he is.” Clyde releases a groan of frustration. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
We move quickly through the woods, but soon it’s too much for both me and Miles. I think crashing Aidan’s car is coming back to bite me in the ass now. I press my palm against a nearby tree to steady myself, and Miles ends up leaning beside me. He’s out of breath and dangerously pale.
“His shoulder,” I explain to Clyde. “It’s messed up.”
Clyde frowns. “Think you can make it to the car?”
Miles and I both nod, neither of us wanting to admit defeat. We struggle our way out of the woods, back to the road where Dominic’s gray SUV is parked. Dominic opens the car door for me and then I hear him say, in the lowest voice possible, “I’m sorry. For earlier. I should have helped you.”
“Forget about it,” I offer, taking a note from Miles. “How did you end up here, anyway? How did you find us?”
“It’s a long damn story,” Clyde snaps. “Get in the damn car.”
Dominic starts to go back to the driver’s seat, but Clyde plucks him right out. “Oh no you don’t. You drunk idiot.”
After I climb in the back with Miles, Bret slides in beside us, Dominic in the front, and Clyde takes off down the road.
“Still want to know how you found us,” I say to Dominic. He glances into the backseat. “Bret showed up a little while after you left, asked about Miles, I told him what had happened…some chick at the party said she saw a dude stuff Miles into a trunk…”
“I had a feeling Jakowski was involved in this,” Bret says. “Dominic and I went to Beckett’s place to look for him. Señor Grouchy Ass told us we needed to quit tripping on acid, but eventually he believed us.”
“Three minutes,” Clyde corrects from the front seat. “I couldn’t understand a damn thing they were saying. I have a head injury, just chased away the paramedics, and these fools come knocking.”
“But how did you find us in the middle of nowhere?” Miles asks.
“I saw Lawrence’s car was missing, ran the plates. Got it located via GPS. Then we got here and saw the wreck, followed the muddy footprints to the cabin in the woods.”
I notice Dominic sitting still and quiet in the front seat. I tap his shoulder and wait for him to turn around. “You okay?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, Jesus…I was right there at his house. Maybe if I had fucking gone inside—”
“Jack would have killed you, too,” Miles says.
“Well, there’s a happy thought,” Bret says. “At least I don’t have to wonder if Dominic’s a killer any more.”
Bret stares at Dominic, serious all of a sudden. “You could have told me, man. Why didn’t you? After last summer, after I dragged you from that hole you dropped yourself down, you couldn’t just tell me what I already knew? Fuck, Justice knew. And Beckett. You’d only just met the guy and you told him.”
“I didn’t tell Miles about Simon,” Dominic says, then he turns to Miles. “He was your friend?”
Miles nods.
“When did you start working with Agent Jakowski?” I ask Bret. “Before or after he killed Simon?”
Bret stiffens, turns to face forward, and says nothing. Before.
Dominic looks at him like he’s a stranger. Tension fills the car, but it’s obvious we’re all setting Bret’s involvement in Simon’s death aside for now.
I lean my head against the seat and allow the day’s drama to roll over me. To replay itself. Miles said he could see me as me in that room. But now that we’re out, who am I to him?
“Like what?”
He reaches his good hand over and lays it on my cheek. “The answer to all your questions right now is, I don’t know.”
“Don’t know about me?” I prompt and lower my voice to a whisper. “Or about the guys who rescued us tonight and your plan to put them on your FBI watch list?”
“Both. All of that.” He groans and rests his head beside mine. “What are you doing to me, Ellie?”
“Nothing bad, I hope,” I tell him honestly.
He plants a kiss on my lips. It’s soft and warm and so inviting. “Things used to be so much easier.”
“And now?” I prompt.
“Now?” His mouth slides over, and he kisses my cheek lightly, then my temple. “Now I’m afraid you might be worth the complication.”
Might be?
Whatever. I’ll take it for now.
The dark street is illuminated in front of us by the dozens of red and blue police lights. Clyde slams on the brakes, and the vehicle is quickly surrounded by various law enforcement agencies.
Clyde rolls down the window to talk to the officer shining the light at him. “Got an FBI agent in that mess?”
“We’ll need to search your vehicle,” the officer says. “Amber Alert. The victim was reported within a three kilometer range. Miles Beckett, age seventeen, dark hair, medium build, five nine…”
Miles pulls himself up, his eyes wide.
“No searching without a warrant,” Bret shouts from his seat.
“Shut it,” Clyde tells him. “What are you planning to do with this Miles person if you do find him?”
I grip Miles’s arm, squeezing it tight. What if Jack’s group is bigger? There could be some in the police force blocking this road.
“We have orders to escort him to an address in D.C.”
“CIA headquarters,” Miles whispers for only me to hear, then he shouts up at Clyde. “Did you call my parents’ emergency phone?”
I shrink down in my seat. “Uh-oh.”
“The boy’s in the back, but he’s not going anywhere without me,” Clyde tells the officer. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna reach into my pocket, offer you my identification, and you’ll see that I’m authorized to transport Miles Beckett.” He yells over his shoulder at Miles. “I take it you’re gonna want to stop at the hospital before heading to D.C.?”
Miles gives a weak nod. “If you don’t mind.”
“Feel free to follow us to the local hospital and then you can get all the statements you need,” Clyde says to the officer. “God knows I won’t turn down a little sober backup tonight.”
Clyde offers his ID, and the officer takes it and returns a couple minutes later saying that Clyde has been given permission to take Miles to the hospital. “So I assume we can call off the chopper search?”
The Becketts sent a helicopter searching for Miles. Okay, so maybe that phone number isn’t just a glorified answering service.
“Sorry,” I say, my face warming when everyone turns around to look at me. “But we did almost die.”
CHAPTER 52
The late-afternoon light streams through Harper and Aidan’s bedroom. I turn on my side, and Harp is awake, watching me.
“Need more ice?” she asks. “Pain meds?”
I shake my head. “They make me too loopy. And please no more shining flashlights in my eyes every hour.”
“You have a concussion,” she argues.
A mild concussion among other scrapes and bruises. I sit upright and lean against the headboard but keep the blankets around me. I might never leave these blankets. “What’s happening with Aidan?”
Lines of worry crease her forehead. “I don’t know. I was told to sit tight, so I am.”
“Harper?” I swallow. “What were you doing yesterday? Leaving the FBI office like that, digging through the whole apartment… You were planning to take off, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” She stares at her mug of coffee. “With you.”
“You thought he did it,” I whisper. When she doesn’t respond, I add, “I did, too, at least for a little while. I mean, it was hard not to after hearing the evidence.”
She looks at me and smiles. “I knew he didn’t do it. But I had information you didn’t have.”
“What’s that?”
“That night when Aidan told us about seeing Simon’s gun?” she prompts, and I nod. “He didn’t exactly ignore the evidence like he’d said. He passed it along to the agent who clocked in after him. That person promised to put the information in the log and to handle it. Aidan covered for him.”
“Jack,” I say. “He worked that night. I dug through Aidan’s phone yesterday and saw them texting about grabbing coffee and hoagies.”
“Jack,” Harper repeats, her face tense.
“That’s why Aidan never mentioned seeing Rider at the door or Dominic down the block,” I say, clicking those final pieces into place. What a mess.
“Aidan trusted Jack unconditionally. I did, too. God, I can’t even…”
“And he knew about me.” I look down at my hands, hating the involvement my past had in all of this. “He knew about us, our family. He wanted me to help him with his for-profit assassin organization. All this time when he was around, invested in my life, helping me with school…”
“I would seriously murder him right now if I could.” Harper shakes her head. “And Simon…all because he knew too much about Jack’s side business. I can’t believe Jack killed someone—how is Aidan supposed to go back to his job and trust any of these guys if they form secret assassin societies?”
We sit in silence for a minute, and then I revert back to the earlier question. “If you knew Aidan was innocent, why were you planning to leave?”
Harper looks at me. “I love Aidan. I’d do anything for him, but you are my priority. I decided if things got bad, if the odds were truly stacked against him, then we would need to leave. In fact, Aidan and I had prepared an escape, just in case.”
She removes a large envelope from the bedside drawer and dumps the contents out on the bed between us. A stack of bound hundred-dollar bills sits between two passports. I open the first and flip through it until I land on the picture in the center. A picture of me.
“Josie Whitcolm,” I read aloud. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“I thought so, too.”
I look Harper’s false passport over. “Suzanna?”
“My stripper name,” Harp says. “Had a soft spot with Aidan.”
Last night, while Harper sat with me at the hospital to get my head X-rayed, I told her that I knew about her old job and that Clyde had destroyed the photos Simon and Miles had, but it was a brief conversation with very little info on her end. I’m about to ask more details regarding this first meeting, but the apartment door opens. Harper and I glance at each other, and then we’re tossing back the covers and racing into the living room.
Clyde holds the door open. “Look who we sprang from the joint. Right before they handed him an orange jumpsuit.”
Aidan walks in, followed by Mr. Beckett.
My sister runs right into Aidan’s arms. She’s already crying. I want to join her, but I’m not sure I deserve to. Harper never doubted Aidan, but I had. Even if for a short while, I had.
Mr. Beckett rests a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “You were the only one who called me. My brother and my son seem to think they can take on an army alone. You were the smart one.”
Clyde clears his throat. “Who busted up the little meeting of assassins and got your kid out of there alive? Not that chopper you ordered. Not the law enforcement blocking the road.”
“Who did I thank first?” Mr. Beckett says to Clyde.
“I can’t believe my call did all that. Glad it actually was an emergency.” Or I would have been really embarrassed.
Mr. Beckett nods as if I’ve brought up an intelligent question. “It wo
uldn’t have turned into the massive manhunt if you had answered the return call that followed four minutes later. But when we discovered the phone you used to call from was destroyed it became necessary to take every precaution.”
Yeah, that’s all pretty creepy, but whatever. Can’t say I didn’t ask for it.
“How’s Miles?”
“His mother’s bringing him here soon. Doctor just released him.”
Mr. Beckett and Clyde excuse themselves to go and wait for Miles at Clyde’s place. Harper finally gives Aidan a second to breathe, and he looks around the apartment, his gaze finally landing on me. “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
Last night, I wanted to fall apart so many times but I hadn’t, and now it’s impossible to stop the tears from flooding out. I wipe my face with my shirt, but more tears follow right behind. “I’m sorry.”
Aidan crosses the room and pulls me into a hug. “What are you sorry for, Ellie?”
I turn my head, hiding my face in his shirt. “For doubting you. It won’t happen again.”
He’s quiet for a moment, as if absorbing this, then he says, “Okay.”
“Also…” I step back and force the words out. “I’m sorry for wrecking your car.”
His eyes widen, but he shakes his head. “You know what? I don’t need to know everything right this second. Let’s ease into it.”
He makes his way over to sit on the couch, and Harper heads into the kitchen to get us all coffee. I sit beside Aidan and keep my voice low. “The guy the FBI photographed you with? You were working on getting Social Security cards, weren’t you? It was right after the meeting with the school counselors.”
Aidan looks at me, guilt on his face. “I shouldn’t have done that. But I wanted—”
“I get it,” I say. “You want me to go to college.”
He nods. “Absolutely.”
I glance in the kitchen making sure Harper is out of earshot, then I turn to Aidan again. “And you want to marry my sister.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Finally he nods. “Yes. I do.”