I’ll never forget the horror of that day. Not for myself but for what Isabel went through. She lost a friend and finally knew what we were up against. Two cold, hard truths wrapped up in the same tragedy. I’d give anything to save her from the memory. Maybe if we’d done things differently, Brienne would still be alive, but that way of thinking is a dark spiral that leads nowhere good.
I drive out of Arlington and get on the highway to go north. Isabel and Simon and the package fill up my thoughts, a nonstop whir of what-ifs and unresolved pieces of this never-ending nightmare.
An hour later, I’m traveling past warehouses that curve along the Patapsco River. I turn before the bridge. Rick’s Fish House is just ahead. A few cars are parked outside. I kill the engine, grab the package, and walk toward the restaurant, ignoring my nerves. The deck is empty of diners. String lights swing in the wind, and I recognize the place, but none of the magic I felt here remains.
I walk toward the dock. The rickety little fish feeder is still there. I pass it, stopping at the end of the pier. If Isabel were here, we could toss pellets into the water and dream about our future—a future that’s never felt so out of reach simply because she is.
It’s strange standing inside a memory that doesn’t feel like it fully belongs to me.
Cars drone by on the bridge over the river. Water sloshes up against the pilings. No kids are running and laughing. There’s no music. The dream I had of this place was warmer. The people in it had hope even though the future was uncertain, even if the things we felt were new and overwhelming. It’s not the only memory I have of us, but it’s a good one. I’ll never let myself forget it.
I lift the package and study the messy block lettering on it. No return address. I rip open one side. There’s a small piece of paper inside with a message written in the same handwriting.
The second vial is a strong sedative. Our mutual friend thought it would help the antidote run its course without interruption. I did my best, but this comes with no promises.
Inside are two vials protected by layers of bubble wrap and elastic bands. A wave of nausea hits me. I don’t bother unwrapping them to study them further. I shove the note back inside and stare across the river to the horizon of structures on the other side.
Unlike here, the opposite riverbank is lined with trees and greenery. A park and some nice condominium buildings. I wonder if the view is better from over there. Probably not. They get to look at the ugly gray warehouses and Rick’s shack with its cheap Christmas lights.
I don’t know where I’d rather be. Standing on this splintering dock where I fell in love with Isabel a little more than six years ago or somewhere that looks better from here but maybe isn’t better at all. Maybe all this wanting my memories back is like that. One little piece of endless longing for more than I should.
I’ve killed people. I’ve done terrible, unforgivable things. My only purpose in life appeared in the form of a death wish. I could have killed her, but somehow she’s the one who saved me. The day I found Isabel was the first time I ever let myself care about my shadowy past. She lit everything up. I didn’t believe in miracles or even luck, but she made me want to. Then I fell in love with her all over again. I believe she fell in love with me too. Not just the old me. Me.
If I put Mushenko’s antidote into my bloodstream, I don’t know who I’ll be.
CHAPTER THREE
Isabel
I check my phone when it buzzes with a text from my father. Rivero pops a peanut into his mouth and casts a bored stare up at the televisions above the bar. It’s our second day here. We’ve spent hours sifting through Knight’s laptop documents, aligning them with the parts of the Felix plan we know. I fill in the blanks where I can. Carefully. Strategically. Especially after my father leaves to take his meeting with his DEA contact, leaving me with Rivero and Parish.
“My dad is running late. Do you think you could take me home?”
“Sure. We can hang out for a drink if you want,” Rivero offers casually.
My instinct is to say no. But we’ve settled into slightly better rapport after another day of chasing the same enemies. He seems more interested in the baseball game than me anyway, and the prospect of being home alone doesn’t thrill me. I’ve also had about six Diet Cokes, and my nerves are akin to live wires.
Parish clicks his computer shut and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. “I’m heading home.”
“Long day at the office?” Rivero smirks.
Parish laughs and shakes his head. “Something like that.”
He packs up and gives me a little wave goodbye on his way out of the pub. The patrons are livelier at this hour, yelling at the television and swapping stories animatedly. I’m in shock that after a day of drinking, some of them are still able to form sentences.
Rivero saunters to the bar. His arrogance doesn’t seem put on but rather stitched into his inherent makeup. Perhaps if we’d met under different circumstances, I could appreciate it more. He’s an attractive guy. Strong, dark, and handsome. And smart. Abrasive at times but driven. And when we’re driving toward the same thing, I almost think I could like him. After a few minutes, he returns with two pints of beer.
“Pale ale okay?”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
“How are things going at home?” Rivero lobs the question casually, like we’re friends now. We’re not.
“My mom left a couple of days ago. Dad says she just needs time, so I suppose all we can do is give it to her.”
He looks me over briefly, a discriminating kind of stare like he’s trying to figure out a riddle. Maybe to him I am.
“What?”
“I just keep looking at you and wondering how a pretty suburban girl like you could get mixed up in all this. I mean, I don’t know you very well, but Morgan doesn’t strike me as someone who’d raise an unruly kid.”
I wince. “I’m not unruly.”
Although maybe lately I am. In fact, if Tristan were here, he’d probably chime in on that. Rivero knows about my situation but not enough to see the full picture. I don’t know if it’ll encourage him to ease up on me, but I decide to speak up in my own defense.
“I love my parents, but they smothered me. After my sister died, my mom was paranoid something would happen to me too. I didn’t understand why until all this happened.” I pick at the corner of a cocktail napkin, marveling anew at how dramatically things have changed.
“So you rebelled.”
“Striving for any degree of independence was met with strong opposition, but I kept fighting until I finally wore them down. Call that rebellion if you want.”
He pops another peanut into his mouth and chews with a sly smirk. “Now you’re blowing up buildings and trying to take down an international pharmaceutical giant.”
I roll my eyes at his persistence. He’s obsessed with what happened in Paris or at least that he managed to loosely connect it to me.
“Are you ever going to own that?” he presses.
I clench my jaw, suddenly regretting this decision to linger here with him. I take a drink and pretend like the baseball game has my interest.
“Are you?”
“No, I’m not.” My answer is clipped, hopefully closing the subject.
“If it wasn’t you, who was it? Don’t think you’re fooling me. I’ve been watching you dance around the truth for two damn days. You’re deeper in this than you let on.”
“I’m just trying to get my life back.”
“What about your boyfriend? How does he play into all of this if you just met him?”
My palms prickle with anxiety. I don’t want Rivero getting anywhere near Tristan. “You should leave him out of this, which should be easy because you’re never going to find him.”
He narrows his eyes a little. “Have you heard from him?”
“He’s too smart to seek me out. He knows it’s dangerous.”
“Funny. I’d been focused on you this whole time.”
&n
bsp; Our gazes lock. I stop breathing because there’s something in his eyes. Knowing. Discovery. Everything I was deathly terrified of when he stopped us at the airport.
“I obviously had to know who was savvy enough to slip through my fingers and make it out of the airport before we even knew he was gone.”
My heart starts racing. I keep my lips sealed shut.
“For a second there, I thought he was going to help me fill in the blanks on you, but now that I know you better, it makes sense that you’d link up with someone who operated underground. Someone who could move from place to place without being noticed.”
“All he’s ever done is try to protect me. And if you want my help to bust this thing open, you’re going to have to forget about him.” I will my voice not to shake, but I need him to back off. He’s trying to draw a line I won’t cross.
“I don’t think it’s that simple. Ethan Gallo’s fingerprints didn’t trigger anything going through border patrol, but when I ran them through the other government databases last night, I got a hit. You were both traveling under aliases, which wouldn’t be especially interesting except Tristan Stone was injured in the line of duty nearly six years ago and no one ever heard from him again. No credit cards. No bank accounts. Zero activity. You’ve been dead for two months. He’s been a ghost for a lot longer. Pretty interesting, don’t you think?”
Forget about him. I silently beg him to shift his focus to what really matters. Simon. Felix. Stopping this deadly plan from happening. But the glimmer in Rivero’s eyes tells me he’s not going to let this go. He can dig all he wants. I’ll never do anything to bring him closer to Tristan, and as long as Tristan stays away, Rivero won’t have a chance.
I rise quickly. “I’ll get a cab home.”
He follows me with his stare. He’s trying to intimidate me. Turn me inside out. Once upon a time, that may have affected me more, but I’ve faced off with worse men than him.
“Your father can’t protect both of you,” he adds, like he’s trying to bait me into saying something stupid and incriminating.
“You’re confused. Tristan doesn’t need protection.”
“Then why are you being so careful? What are you hiding?”
I place my hands on the table and bring my face closer to his. “More than you’ll ever know. More than will ever matter next to the death and deceit that Simon’s orchestrating at this very moment. You have no idea what I’ve been through, but you can trust that Tristan’s kept me alive through all of it. And if you think you can intimidate me into implicating him, you’re dead wrong.”
He regards me for a few tense seconds before draining his glass and averting his gaze.
Satisfied that I’ve won the staring contest, I turn to leave. Except I know this isn’t over.
TRISTAN
The Madera is an upscale boutique hotel. The man in the dark-gray suit fits right in, twisting his glass of red wine by the base, looking like he’s somewhere else in his mind. He barely notices me when I take the stool next to him.
“Senator Keegan.”
He straightens his posture and looks me over, suddenly seeming more composed. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I’m a friend of Devon’s.”
His composure is short-lived. He shoots a panicked look around the bar.
“She’s not here,” I say.
The blood vessel in his neck ticks rapidly. “If she’s not here, where is she?”
I turn to square my torso with his. “I’ll tell you, but we need to talk first.”
The bartender is chatting up the cocktail waitress at the other end of the bar, ignoring his only customers. Us.
“Is she all right?” he asks, his voice low.
I maintain a calm exterior. I don’t want to make him too comfortable or give him too much hope. A healthy degree of fear is helpful in trying to get information out of people.
Keegan licks his lips nervously. “Listen, whoever you are—”
I lean in. “You don’t need to know who I am. All you need to know is that Devon’s alive because of me. I don’t trust you and you don’t trust me, but if you want me to protect her, that’s going to have to change. I need some information from you.”
He takes a few seconds to absorb what I’ve said. He looks me over again, like somehow he can determine anything about me from the exterior. He can’t. He has no idea what I’m capable of.
“What do you need to know?”
“Devon’s pregnant.” I utter it with a certainty he can’t deny.
He averts his gaze and stares at the liquor bottles lined up in perfect rows across the bar. He nods. Shame.
“That’s a problem you probably wish would just go away.”
“Life is a series of problems we wish would just go away. We can’t change the choices we already made,” he says quietly.
I’m not sure what to make of his statement except that he’s definitely given Devon’s condition some thought. The finality in his words could be acceptance or regret.
“Do you wish Devon would just go away?”
He whips his gaze to mine, a wounded look in his eyes. “No. I didn’t say that.”
I study him. The defensive hurt emanating off him. The way his attention tunnels toward me suddenly, unapologetically. He’s telling the truth, even if the truth is colored with shame at what he’s done—had an extramarital affair, one that’s going to produce a child out of wedlock, which may or may not turn the rest of his world upside down.
“Someone wants her dead.”
He stills. “Why?”
“Because she’s getting in your way.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “I don’t understand. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re mixed up in something bigger than I think you realize. And the powers that be don’t want anything tripping up what you have to do.”
He winces. “The powers that be? I know who I answer to—”
“And you answer to Simon Pelletier.”
Some of the blood drains from his face.
“You’re helping him out, right?” I push into the truth I already believe.
He turns back to his glass of wine, not denying it.
“Do you know about felixedrine?”
He shows me his face again, a line forming in the space between his dark brows. “What the hell is that?”
This guy is a real chump. He has no idea why he’s pushing this act through, other than the bribes or favors Simon’s offering him.
“You probably think you’re doing a good thing and scoring some easy money too. It’s not like that.”
His jaw begins to tick. “Who are you?”
“If you care about Devon and have any interest in calling off the dogs who want her out of your life, I’m someone you’re going to help. I need you to set up a meeting with Simon.”
He doesn’t answer, but I can sense his growing concern. If Simon knows Keegan’s turned on him, Keegan will pay dearly for it. He doesn’t understand it won’t get that far.
“This doesn’t come back to you,” I say. “I don’t care what you’re doing. I care about what he’s doing. It’s a lot bigger than some legislation you’re pushing through for him.”
“You’re not with an agency?”
“I work alone. Simon came after someone I care about. This is extremely personal.”
He replies with a short nod. Acknowledgment.
“He paid you?” I ask.
He nods again.
“How soon can you set something up?”
“It depends. I don’t have any control over this guy. We both have busy schedules. I can’t promise anything.”
“Call him now. Tell him there are some complications. Some big players getting in the way. I guarantee he’ll be willing to clear a path for you in no time.”
“What if he wants names? Do I just lie?”
“Tell him you’re not comfortable talking about it over the phone. You’d rather meet in person.”
&n
bsp; He curses under his breath and looks up at the ceiling like the answers are there. “I don’t know about this. My career is on the line if this goes wrong.”
I laugh. “Really? You knocked up your mistress. News flash, your career is already on the line. Besides, this isn’t politics. This is life and death. Don’t be stupid.”
He swallows hard. I can tell he’s wondering if it’s his life or Devon’s I’m talking about.
“Set it up, and I’ll trust you to see Devon. Underestimate me, and you’ll be lucky to see her again.”
With that, he slowly pulls his phone out of his pocket. His hands are shaking as he presses it to his ear. Silently I pray he can keep his composure and not sound like he’s got a gun to his head.
Watching Devon Aguilera rush into Keegan’s arms the second she saw him should affect me differently. Everyone got what they wanted. Devon got her meeting, and I got mine.
After I waited around the Madera another hour for Keegan to get his message through to Simon and then a call back, the two men agreed to meet at Keegan’s hideaway office in the Capitol building in two days. Of course Simon would choose one of the worst possible places. Security. Cameras. Tourists and lots of innocent people.
Seeing Keegan rewarded for being a dirtbag who takes bribes and betrays his family only adds to my frustration. I leave the hotel with a sharp turn.
“Where are you heading?” Makanga is on my heels as I pass through the front doors.
“I don’t know.” I really don’t. I need time to think and plan, now that I have details to work with. I should be wholly focused on the new mission, but I’m not.
“Red. Hold up.”
I halt my journey to the car to face him. “What?”
He holds his arms wide. “You on the warpath or what? I thought things were good.”
“Everything’s fine. Make sure Aguilera disappears again after their little reunion is over.”
“That was the plan. But you look like you’re out for blood all of a sudden.”
My jaw ticks. “That surprises you?”
The Red Ledger 9 Page 3