She was relieved to see the smile on his face reflected in his eyes. He hadn’t taken the comment as a slight. When she studied his expression, if anything, he looked embarrassed.
“It’s not nearly as impressive as Miss Waterford makes—”
“Please, I think you’ve earned the right to call me Gertrude,” Gertrude corrected.
Cyrus smiled, perhaps a bit more awkwardly. “Thank you. Yes, it’s not nearly as impressive as Gertrude makes it seem. If anything I went with my gut and got lucky. I don’t think any of us really knows what we might do in a situation like that until it happens,” he admitted.
Ashley felt her grandmother’s eyes on her and knew she wanted her to press the issue. She didn’t realize she hadn’t been able to hear Cyrus’s thoughts, and this was a subject that her grandmother was extremely interested in.
Under normal circumstances, Ashley avoided any type of alcohol for a number of reasons. First, it interfered with her ability to filter the white noise that filled her head at any given moment. If she couldn’t manage the voices through her own practices of biofeedback, she would first develop a migraine and then her mental state would quickly deteriorate from there. Second, the few brief experiences she’d had with drinking since finding the optimal doses that constituted her daily medication regimen, had been disconcerting. Her medications had unusual interactions with each other when drinking was added to the mix.
But perhaps most of all, she hated being around people who were drinking. People say and do strange, even foolish things when they have full control of their faculties. But after a few drinks, people become capable of exceptionally foolish things. Those same people, after a few drinks, often begin to think things that, very often, made her entirely uncomfortable. It was also enough to wreck just about every friendship she’d ever had.
Still, her decision to sample her grandmother’s wine had been a calculated risk. While she couldn’t understand her inability to Read Cyrus, she thought that shifting her perspective a little might offer a new insight into the issue. Perhaps if she had a drink or two—or if he did—it would alter the variables enough for her to get a Read. Her grandmother was counting on her, after all.
It seemed like a rational enough excuse.
In truth, Ashley also found herself disappointed in her inability to enter the young man’s mind. Setting aside the fact that she’d wished the ability to leave her entirely just about every day of her life since she’d turned fourteen, this was the first time she had felt disappointment at not being able to utilize it. No, if she were honest with herself, her reasons for wanting to Read Cyrus had nothing to do with her grandmother’s needs; they were entirely selfish. She just wanted to know more about him.
So she would need to resort to doing it the old fashioned way—by asking questions. It was a unique experience for her. Typically, she asked questions only to coax someone’s conscious or subconscious mind into moving the information that she needed to the forefront. That wouldn’t work here.
“There must be more to it than that,” Ashley urged. “Based on Gram’s account, you managed to use the robbers’ weapons against them. That doesn’t happen through blind luck.”
She watched Cyrus’s eyes as they studied her for several long moments. She had the sense that he was trying to make an important decision. When he was done, his glance moved on to Gertrude and studied her in a similar fashion.
“This is personal,” Cyrus said in a quiet voice. “But you have a right to know. I did some work on a personal security detail for a high level diplomat a little while back. I picked up a few things along the way. What happened tonight was sort of a hardwired response. It was the kind of thing they drill into you until you act without thinking—which was all part of my job back then.”
Ashley realized that the surprise on her grandmother’s face easily mirrored her own. And though she was at a loss for words, her grandmother was not.
“That wasn’t in your CV. How do you go from a job like that to being the personal assistant to an elderly neuroscientist?” Gertrude asked. Concern was clear in her voice.
Cyrus shrugged. “After you get shot at a few times, it makes you reconsider your career path,” came the simple reply. “There wasn’t a very bright future in that line of work. Sooner or later, I was going to get myself killed. So I packed it in and decided I would do what I wanted. And my existing security clearance put me in a unique situation.
“There are a few high-level scientific minds in the U.S. who are making a real difference. Landing a job as an assistant isn’t prestigious, but there’s more to it. Let me ask you—if you had the chance to go back in time and ride shotgun with Albert Einstein while he did his greatest work, wouldn’t you take it? If only to have a front row seat for a show that could effect the lives of future generations?”
He smiled wide. “That’s a hell of a thing to participate in, if you ask me. Even if in some minimal, inconsequential way.”
Sitting back in her chair, Ashley folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t know what to say. She certainly hadn’t expected such an explanation.
Gertrude seemed taken aback, too. “Just like that?” she asked in a solemn voice. “You strike me as a resourceful and driven young man. Are you really content to sort my mail, and screen my calls? Surely you’re better suited for more important work.”
Cyrus stayed with the requisite shrug. “Some contributions have more weight than others,” he admitted. “Every day can’t be the Super Bowl. But, every once in a while, maybe I can contribute something. It doesn’t matter if it’s small or large. It’s just about making a difference.”
Gertrude nodded slowly. “Well, you certainly made a contribution today. And I thank you for it.”
She raised her glass in an impromptu toast, one that Ashley was quick to join. Clinking her glass against her grandmother’s, she then looked expectantly at Cyrus until he, too, raised his in tribute.
The bottle of wine went fast, split three ways. And as Ashley took the last sip from her glass she could see the complete exhaustion in her grandmother’s eyes. They all realized that it was time to call it a night. Luckily, Gertrude needed only to ride the elevator up to the 10th floor, and she would be home. Cyrus said he would walk her up and Ashley, anxious to stretch her legs, decided to join them.
Cyrus saw the two women to Gertrude’s door and waited outside while Ashley took her grandmother in and helped her to bed. The late night and the unusual events of the evening had taken a lot out of the woman.
While they were alone, Gertrude took the opportunity to question Ashley in greater detail, wanting to know exactly what she had gleaned from Cyrus during the night’s conversation. Unable to tell her anything useful, Ashley stuck to her story, saying simply that she sensed nothing deceptive from him the entire night. It was the literal truth, though not the solid vote of confidence that Gertrude believed it to be.
Chapter 12
The Templeton Tower Building
Hennings, South Carolina
2:11 a.m.
When Ashley stepped out the door of Gertrude’s apartment, Cyrus was waiting in the hall. She looked at him in surprise. “I’m sorry,” she smiled. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I would’ve moved things along a little more quickly. She’s had a long day.”
“It’s no problem,” Cyrus said with a smile. “I thought I’d walk you back to your door. I know it’s not far, but I would feel better—if you don’t mind.”
He realized she was blushing slightly at his overture and wondered if he was making her uncomfortable. The profile he’d read on the young woman suggested that she was something of a shut-in, but that description truly hadn’t matched with anything he’d witnessed over the course of the night. Still, if there was any truth to the analysis, she might not appreciate such simple sentiments—old-fashioned as they might be.
When she stepped closer and looked up into his eyes, he was once more struck by their unusual color, as well as the way they see
med to look not just at him but inside him at the same time. She offered a slight shake of her head. “I’m glad you waited. That’s sweet.”
The elevator door opened as soon as the call button was pressed. It only stood to reason since the car hadn’t been used since they’d exited. They stepped inside, not uttering a word between them, and let the doors close.
The car jolted slightly as it began to descend. Cyrus was keenly aware of Ashley standing directly in front of him. She said nothing but stood close and looked directly up into his eyes once more. He felt her soft hand slip inside his own and they shared a satisfied smile. While he’d been surprised by the gesture, it also felt strangely natural and appropriate. He realized that if she hadn’t taken his hand, he would’ve taken hers. Even after the short time they had spoken over the course of the night, he felt a connection to her that was undeniable. And, he realized, entirely unexplainable. It just seemed right, so he was content to go with it.
The bell chimed, and the doors slipped open once more, arriving on the sixth floor. They stepped from the elevator car, and walked slowly down the hall to the door of apartment 601.
“Thank you,” Cyrus said quietly. “For a great end to a very long day. I didn’t know what to expect when Gertrude floated the idea of dinner. I was a little nervous, actually. But it was exceptional. I’m glad we didn’t postpone after things went a little…sideways on the way here.”
She smiled. It was a beaming smile that ignited her eyes and lit up her face. “I was a little nervous about it, too,” she admitted. “But I had fun. And you’re too kind. It was just some reheated lasagna; nothing special at all, really.”
The comment made Cyrus laugh. “No, dinner was nice. You were the exceptional part. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like you before. There’s just something…” he stopped to search for the right word. “When I look in your eyes, there’s something…”
Her eyebrows pinched, and she looked up at him. “You’re not giving me a line—” she started. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
Cyrus took a step back and pulled away from her, offering a serious look. “No,” he said awkwardly. “I’m not giving you a line. I’m not even hitting on you. I can’t explain it. I just had this strange sense the first moment I saw you. There’s a familiarity—I don’t know, something I can’t describe.”
He looked around the empty hallway, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, as if Boone was still riding along in his ear listening to everything he said. “The last thing I want is for you to think that it’s some kind of come-on. It’s not like that at all—”
Stepping very close to him once more, Ashley put her finger on his lips and looked up into his eyes. A tight smile crossed her face. “That’s not it,” she said quietly. “I felt it. Something I’ve never experienced before. It’s been there the whole night…and you feel it, too?
“There’s more,” she started. “Some…things have happened tonight that I can’t explain. As strange as it seems, I think this is part of it.”
Cyrus was sure that he didn’t understand all that she was trying to tell him, but he knew what he needed. He wasn’t the only one to feel different when she was near. That was enough.
“I think,” Ashley began, but stopped short of finishing her thought. Her hand slipped up across his shoulder and around the back of his neck as she pulled herself to him. It seemed she had something left to say in the half second before her lips found his, but after that neither would remember the words they’d been trying to express.
Slipping his hands around her thin waist, Cyrus felt the warmth of her bare skin where her sweater had pulled away from her jeans. Drawing her in, his body and mind raced with untold possibilities as he caressed the soft flesh at the small of her back and felt the heat radiating from her skin.
While he wasn’t sure just how long they stood like that, kissing in the silent hallway, when they finally separated both were short of breath.
He looked down into her eyes and saw indecision there and knew something was wrong. “What is it?” he asked. His voice was only a whisper with her still in his arms.
She bit at the corner of her lip, a subconscious gesture as she sorted through something that had obviously given her pause. While he was concerned for whatever was suddenly on her mind, he found the way she absentmindedly nibbled at the edge of her own lip to be exceptionally sexy.
“Are you alright?” Cyrus persisted.
She nodded. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “There are just some things that stand to make this a little complicated, and I’m not sure what to do.” She seemed to be talking as much to herself as she was to him.
“I want to invite you in,” she explained further. “But I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. There’s something going on here, but I think it might be more than either of us understands.”
She looked away, her frustration clear, but didn’t pull herself from his grip. “This is hard to explain,” she relented. “Look—let me just put it bluntly, then you can make up your own mind.”
He nodded, desperate for her problem to be simple so he could ease her mind.
“I want you to come inside, but it’s not what you’re thinking.” She faltered again, unhappy with her own explanation. “Ah, okay. No. That’s not it. I want you to come inside, and it is for exactly the reason you’re thinking, but it’s more complicated than that. There’s something you need to understand—well, there’s something I need you to help me understand.”
Ashley shook her head in frustration and slid from his arms. She walked a short distance down the hall, turned, and paced back. “I’m still not getting this right,” she said vaguely.
Cyrus held up a hand and stopped her short. Taking her hand in his, he stared down into her eyes. He could see that she was concerned, and whatever it was, it was important enough that she was tripping over herself in an effort to get it out.
“Why don’t we go inside and you can explain it to me there,” Cyrus said calmly. “We’ll just go in, sit down, and talk about whatever’s on your mind. No expectations of any kind, I promise. There’s something here,” he said with confidence. “It’s something…different. I like it, but I want to understand it. Clearly, so do you. So let’s just take our time.”
She smiled, but the confusion was still clear in her eyes. Nodding, she moved closer and held him tight. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Chapter 13
Hennings, South Carolina
8:06 a.m.
The line at the coffee shop was maddening. It seemed that the entire so-called ‘civilized’ world had only ever agreed on a single fact: that morning coffee was what made the world go round. While Cyrus wasn’t sure he agreed, the line at the small corner coffee joint was a clear indication that he was in the minority. He’d started the day off like any other, picking Gertrude up at her apartment on the 10th floor of the Feedmount Building before driving her to the office. This morning, however, his boss had decided that she wanted a fresh brewed cup of coffee to begin her day. Rather than stop on the way in and risk a fiasco like their visit to the market the night before, Cyrus decided to drop Gertrude at the office before running out once more to satisfy the woman’s need for caffeine.
It took more than ten minutes for Cyrus to reach the front of the line, order a pair of overpriced beverages, and then retrieve the final product. With a thermal to-go cup in each hand, he headed for the door. But before reaching the exit, he became aware of a man off to his right who was paying him undue attention. With the events of the previous night still fresh in his mind, Cyrus adjusted his course to intercept his observer.
“Can I help you with something?” Cyrus asked, a lack of patience was clear in his tone.
The man sat on a tall stool beside a small bistro table. At first, it seemed as if he might pretend to be ignorant of having any interest in Cyrus. But that idea must have been quickly dismissed because Cyrus saw a shift in the man’s demeanor as he became instantly alert; perhaps prepar
ing to react to the confrontational approach. Either way, Cyrus got what he wanted by catching the man off guard.
The observer was of more or less average height and build. Cyrus tried to establish his age as part of his rushed analysis, but it was difficult. He had a shaggy head of brown hair that stopped just short of his eyes in the front, fell over his ears around the side, and nearly reached his shoulders in the back. It was a hair style reminiscent of the music’s grunge era. Similarly, the man’s jaw was lined with days’ worth of unkempt growth.
“I know you,” the man said simply as he returned Cyrus’s stare from behind a pair of dark wire-framed glasses.
“Then you have me at a disadvantage,” Cyrus said. Still not a trace of friendliness touched his tone. “What can I help you with?”
The longhaired man offered a weak smile for the first time, but was slow to respond. Finally he pulled the glasses from his face and laid them on the table. He examined Cyrus more carefully. The observer’s eyes were a distinctive bright shade of green that struck Cyrus as immediately familiar. They matched Ashley Waterford’s, though this man’s offered no humor and radiated absolutely no warmth. Even if the color was a spot on match, the man’s eyes lacked the vibrancy and life he had seen in Ashley’s.
“William Waterford,” Cyrus said quietly. Though the man looked nothing like the images that were included in his dossier, once he was able to pair the man’s eyes with the rest of his facial features, there was no doubt.
“Ah,” William grinned. “I see you know me, too.”
“Only by reputation. I’ve heard your name mentioned in passing, and you share your sister’s eyes.”
There was no hiding the look of surprise on William’s face. “No kidding? The old crow introduced you to Ash? Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. As I understand it, you’re her new aide. Ashley would be the best person to vet someone in your position. Still, it’s not like Gram to introduce a stranger to the family.”
Dangerous Minds: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book One Page 9