I didn’t plan on telling her that part. Ever. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t gone through with it. If I’d been given the order once, I could be given the order again. No matter what I told her, she’d never trust me. And I needed her to trust me.
“Was I the one who took you to the hospital when you escaped?” I asked her.
She nodded. “Yeah. You found me in the woods that night.”
“Had you been shot?”
She drew her hands into her lap and rubbed at the knuckles on her right hand, over and over again.
She was fidgeting. That I could read.
“No,” she answered. “I didn’t have any injuries.”
She was lying.
Son of a bitch.
“I could have sworn—” I started, but she cut me off.
“There was a lot of blood on me, but it wasn’t mine.”
“Oh.” I nodded, like that made sense. “I thought I was the one who shot you.”
“No,” she said quickly. “You didn’t hurt me. Ever. At all.”
I ran a hand through my hair. She had no idea how relieved I was to hear that. I’d been ordered to kill her, and I’d gone against the order. Maybe there was some humanity left in me after all.
“You still haven’t answered my first question,” she said as she pulled her hand away. “Why are you suffering from amnesia?”
“The Branch. They altered my memories. I’m trying to fill in the blanks.” Default answer. Might as well stick to it.
“They can do that?” she asked, frowning with disbelief.
“They can do a lot of things that seem improbable.”
She sat upright and angled her body toward mine. I couldn’t help but eye her, and not her face. I hadn’t considered how different she’d be from my memories. How much older she’d be.
My body was reacting in the way it always reacted when I was talking to a pretty girl. And right now I considered it a fucking traitor.
“So you came here,” she started, looking over at me, “to find me?”
I nodded.
“And now that you’ve found me?”
“I don’t know,” I told her. And that was the truth.
“Are you staying?”
That wasn’t what she wanted to ask. What she wanted to know was if I was leaving. But what I couldn’t tell was if she wanted me to.
“There are still a lot of missing pieces,” I admitted. “I don’t know why I was here in the first place. Back then.”
Partial truth. I knew the why, but why her? What threat had she posed to the Branch?
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
“Nowhere yet.”
She stood up quickly. “You’ll stay with us.”
I stood up, too, unable to hide the shock spreading across my face. “What? No. I’ll be fine.”
A woman walked past on the sidewalk, two kids trailing behind her. She was buried in her cell phone, ignoring the kids. But when she caught sight of me, she slowed and pulled the phone away from her face.
My shoulders tensed. I couldn’t get through the day without suspecting everyone I passed of being part of the Branch.
But then I figured a Branch operative would not go undercover with two kids. Too many variables. And too much risk.
“You’re staying with us,” Elizabeth said again. “Because whatever answers you’re looking for, they involve me, too. We can help each other.”
I couldn’t tell if this was a good idea or not. Sam would say not. But if I wanted to know who Elizabeth was, then I needed to keep her close. That seemed like a good enough reason to accept.
“All right,” I finally said. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
16
ELIZABETH
WHAT WAS I DOING?
Every part of my brain said I was being reckless, that Nick’s good looks had me seeing stars.
But that wasn’t it. Was it?
I’d only been with him less than an hour, and already I was acutely aware of how often women, girls, even older women, checked him out. Something I’d forgotten about him in the years that had passed—he was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that was hard to ignore, that almost seemed unnatural.
You’re doing the right thing, I told myself. Nick has answers that you need. It’s a good idea for both of you.
A totally crazy, completely risky, good idea.
Or maybe a bad idea masquerading as a good idea.
Aggie’s house was a fifteen-minute walk from downtown. Close enough to reach everything by foot, but far enough away that it was quiet. She lived in an authentic Victorian decorated in the traditional “painted lady” style. I loved her house. It was large and old and well preserved. Aggie had taken great pains to keep up with the house as it aged right along with her.
And even better, especially now, she’d kept the apartment above the carriage house (as she called it) functional. I hoped she would agree to let Nick stay with us.
When we reached the house, he kept two paces between us as I led him up the front steps, across the large porch, through the double front door, and down the hallway to the kitchen. That was where I could always find Aggie.
And she didn’t let me down today.
I came through the doorway first. She looked up and over her glasses at me, and smiled. She was making something—she always was—and had a cup of flour in her hands.
“Hello, dear,” she said, and then Nick walked in.
Aggie moved to set the cup of flour down, and as she did she rammed it against the bag of sugar, knocking it over. Sugar spilled across the counter and poured to the floor.
“I’ll get the broom,” I said, and moved toward the closet.
“No.” Aggie waved me away. “I’ll take care of it.” She wiped her hands on the towel tied to her apron. “Who’s this?”
In Aggie’s house, in the bright white kitchen, among the cat paintings and the vintage rolling pins hanging on the wall, Nick looked extremely out of place. Like a brand-new truck trying to blend in on a used-car lot.
He was large and pretty and overwhelming.
“This is my friend Nick,” I told her. “He needs a place to stay and I was wondering if he could sleep in the carriage house for a few days.”
Aggie set her hands on her wide hips and looked from me to Nick. “Hmm,” she said. “I haven’t heard you talk about a Nick.”
“That’s because—”
“I used to go to school with Elizabeth,” he cut in. “I transferred out in the ninth grade, but I’m back in town for a bit. Just visiting.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders. He seemed to shrink by five inches. Had he done that on purpose?
“I told Elizabeth I could stay in a hotel,” he went on. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
I held my breath as I waited for Aggie to respond. I really wanted her to say yes. I was afraid that if I let Nick out of my sight again, he’d disappear. I couldn’t go another six years wondering where he was, who he was, what answers he might have.
Please, Aggie, I thought.
“All right,” she said, and nodded once. “We have plenty of room around here. No sense keeping it all to ourselves.” She came around the counter and sized Nick up. “You related to the Vermont family? You look like Old Man Vermont.”
The Vermont family? I didn’t know anyone by the name of Vermont.
Nick shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Hmm,” she said again, and turned to me. “Can you get him settled in? I need to finish this batch of cookies for the fair this weekend.”
“Yes.” I went over to her and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Aggie.”
She smiled, and a bit of tension left her shoulders. “No need to thank me, dear. Now go on so I can get back to work.”
Nick called good-bye to Aggie as I led him out the back door to the carriage house.
The stairs to the apartment started at the front of the building and twisted around
to the back, where a small deck overlooked the garden and storage shed beyond. I grabbed the spare key from under the mat and unlocked the door.
It’d been a while since I’d been inside the apartment. Dust swirled in the sunlight pouring through the large windows. It was a studio, one big open space. A queen-sized bed sat between the two biggest windows, across from the entrance. In one corner was a kitchenette, with a rickety laminate-topped table and matching chairs.
To the far left was the living-room area, with a couch and an old traveling trunk used as a coffee table. The bathroom was tucked between the kitchenette and the “living room.”
If I didn’t love my room so much, and being near Aggie, I would have taken the apartment in a heartbeat. It had a good vibe.
“There are extra blankets in the closet,” I said, and pointed at the closed door to our right. “I can get you shampoo and stuff if you need it.”
“No,” he answered. “I have everything I need.”
I frowned. He didn’t have anything with him. “Where?”
“In my truck. It’s still in town.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you say something while we were there? We could have grabbed it before coming here.”
He walked farther into the room, keeping his back to me. “I have to go into town anyway. I’ll grab it then.”
“Okay.”
I thought about offering to go with him, but more than anything, I wanted him to want me to come with.
He didn’t ask.
“If you need me, I’ll be in the main house. I’m making dinner tonight.” I fidgeted with the hem of my Merv’s Bar & Grill polo, wanting to say more. Not knowing what to say. Why had I mentioned making dinner? “Is there anything in particular you’d like? I was going to make a casserole but—”
He turned to me. “I can get something in town.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll see you later, then?”
He nodded, and I started for the door.
“Elizabeth?”
I turned. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I left him, immediately wishing I could stay.
17
NICK
I WATCHED ELIZABETH RETURN TO THE main house, and as soon as the door shut behind her, I dug out the cell and called home.
Sam answered.
“Where’s the dog?” First thing he said to me.
That was our code for, Are you okay? If the dog was in the house, I was good. If the dog was in the shed, the shit had hit the fan. Which meant, Get the fuck over here.
“It’s in the house,” I answered.
We all wore GPS tracking devices when we were separated, but I wasn’t good about remembering mine. I’d left it—a necklace—in the truck since last night.
“You’ve been in the same place for over twelve hours,” Sam said. “Or did you forget to put it on again?”
I groaned. “What do you think?”
“Put the damn thing on, Nicholas.” Sam always used my full name when he was pissed.
“Let me talk to Anna.”
A pause. Then, “Hold on.” There was a rustle, a whisper, then Sam again. “Put on the tracking device, Nick.”
Anna came on the phone a second after, as if she’d ripped it away from Sam. “Hey,” she said. “How are you?”
I dropped onto the couch in the back corner of the apartment and all the tension left my body. I wasn’t at home, but in this place I felt as safe as I’d ever felt. I couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was the little old lady who owned it. Maybe it was Elizabeth.
Maybe it was Anna on the other end of the line.
“I’m okay,” I answered.
“So what have you found?”
I went to the kitchen, pulled open the fridge. Nothing inside. Not a goddamn thing. I needed a bottle of something strong.
“Nick?” Anna said.
I returned to the couch. “I found the girl. The one from the flashback.”
“Go on.”
“And I’m staying in the apartment above her garage.”
A long exhale.
My eyes burned as I waited for Anna to say something. She was processing, most likely. I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like hell. I checked the cabinet—actually, the old pie cupboard pretending to be a cabinet—looking for eyedrops. Nothing.
“That was fast,” Anna finally said. “What’s she like? Does she remember you? How did you convince her to trust you? Wait,” she cut in. “I already know the answer to that.”
“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She laughed. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. But really, what’s she like?”
I went to the windows again and glanced at the main house. I scanned the second-story windows, hoping for a glimpse of her.
“She’s… nice.”
“Nice?” Another laugh. “That’s all you can give me?”
“She’s pretty,” I added. “And quiet.” I recalled all the shit the librarian had told me. That Elizabeth had had several public meltdowns since she’d been rescued. I didn’t tell Anna that part. It wasn’t my story to tell. Hell, it wasn’t the librarian’s, either.
“So,” Anna said, “anything else?”
I debated telling her my doubts about Elizabeth, that I’d caught her in a lie about the injuries she’d had the night I’d taken her to the ER, but I knew what those suspicions implied, and I wasn’t ready to put them out there yet.
“That’s all I got,” I said. “Stop pumping me for information.”
Anna laughed again. “Glad to see you’re still yourself.”
“Yeah, me, too.” I turned away from the main house and let the curtains fall back over the windows. “I need to ask you a favor and I need you to swear you won’t tell Sam yet.”
I could hear the shuffling of feet on the other end as Anna walked into another room. “I think that depends on what the favor is.”
“I need to call Trev.”
“What?” she screeched.
“Shh!” I said, knowing that the second she sounded alarmed, Sam would come running.
“Why would you”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“call Trev? You hate him.”
“He knows things about the Branch that we don’t. And trust me, if I had another option, I’d take it, but he’s the best I’ve got. Just give me his number.”
Anna thought for a second. “Fine. But when Sam finds out about this, I’m going to be in so much trouble. You better back me up.”
I snorted. “Sam’s going to be more pissed at me than at you. You better back me up.”
She rattled off the number, and I wrote it down on a piece of scrap paper I found shoved in a kitchen drawer.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah. I know. Just be careful, okay?”
“Aren’t I always?”
“No.” She sighed. “Anyway, in the meantime, I’ll keep digging through your files and let you know if I find anything useful.”
We hung up. I considered catching some sleep before going back into town, but I was still feeling restless, and being without the truck made it worse. I needed to have a quick escape, just in case.
When I left the apartment, I felt eyes on me as I walked down the driveway. I looked up at the house and saw a shadow pass across the front window. I thought about asking Elizabeth if she wanted to come with me, but decided maybe it was too soon.
I didn’t want to run into Evan again at Merv’s Bar & Grill, so I kept walking down Washington until I ran into another bar. Inside, the place was still and dark.
As much as I wanted another drink, I hadn’t eaten in a while, and I still had to drive back to Elizabeth’s. I ordered a sandwich along with a beer and picked at the food while I thought.
Anna was right. I hated Trev, but he was the only one of us who still had a line to the Branch. He’d helped us wipe them out, including leveling several of their
buildings, but was he still a part of it? Whatever part remained of it, that was.
Maybe he knew about the place nearby that the Branch used to operate out of.
I bristled at the thought of calling him.
Every time I saw the guy, I wanted to punch him.
I drained my beer and ordered another. By the bottom of the second, I was feeling a lot better. And more than that, I was feeling a little looser with the forgiveness.
I pulled the cell from my pocket, punched in Trev’s number, and waited for it to ring.
“Anna?”
That was the first thing Trev said when he picked up.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I replied.
Trev cursed. “What the hell do you want? Where’s Anna?”
“She’s home.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yes. Is there anything else you want to know about her? You want to know what she was wearing yesterday? You want to know what she had for breakfast? You want to know how often I stumble on her and Sam going at it?”
The last one was a lie, but twisting the knife always felt good. Anna would smack me for it if she ever found out. A little sliver of guilt wedged in my chest.
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait,” I said. “I’m sorry. Mostly for Anna’s sake. Not yours.”
“What do you want, Nick?”
“I need your help.”
“And I’m just supposed to jump?”
“There’s a girl,” I started, looking over my shoulder. It was always good to know who was within earshot. A couple sat at a table a good ten feet away. No one on either side of me at the bar.
“‘There’s a girl,’” Trev echoed. “Oh no! Not a girl.”
“You’re such an asshole,” I said, and started again. “There’s a girl that I was sent here to… you know, before the farmhouse lab. And I need to know what the mission was, and why she was part of it.”
“Where’s ‘here’?”
“Trademarr, Illinois.”
Trev cursed.
“What?” I said.
“I can be there in less than an hour.”
That was close. Closer than he should have been.
“Where can I meet you?” he asked.
I told him the name of the bar and where he could find it.
Reborn Page 8