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They don't know for sure Mike's death wasn't an accident,
Sam assured himself. As long as the rest of their investigation led to a dead end, he would be safe. Because at this stage of the game, there was no way those guys would believe the truth. Especially when the one person besides him who
really
knew what happened was dead.

But Sam was fairly certain of one thing.
The cops weren't through with him.
He would be back here, in this stinky little room—and next time the interrogation might not end with Sam walking out.

TOM WRAPPED HIS SCARF AROUND
his face as he exited the Fourteenth Street subway station. He'd felt safe underground,
cut off from the world by the dozens of feet of concrete. It was a false sense of security, of course. George's phone call had proved that beyond a shadow of doubt. And unlike his daughter, Tom was well acquainted with fear. It was an emotion he tried to suppress as much as possible, but to no avail.

Breaking Up

Gaia was in danger. It was the worst kind, too, because she didn't know of its existence. The airports had reopened, and planes were taking off without incident. Tom had no doubt that his own pilot was at the airport and ready to start his engines at a moment's notice.
If
he could get there in time.

Tom shuffled among the throng of commuters. He envied them. He always had. These people—these
citizens,
as some of his more jaded colleagues called them—they were so blissfully ignorant of what really went on in the world. The woman next to him might be thinking about what to buy her son for his birthday. Perhaps the young man just in front of him was deciding whether or not to buy his date flowers tonight. It had been so long since Tom had the luxury of such mundane thoughts that he almost couldn't remember what it was like. Had he ever known?

Just as he'd suspected, the cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate. Again. The subway ride had provided him with
some
cover, a reasonable excuse to be out of commission—but it had bought him only a couple of minutes. In a very real way he was like a prisoner on
death row, buying hours of his life at a time with desperate excuses. He wrenched the phone from his pocket and jabbed the talk button.

“Hello!” Tom shouted. “Hello!”

“Where have you—”

“What?” he yelled. “I can't hear you!”

“Report to the airport immediately—”

“I can't hear you!” Tom repeated.

“This is an order. Repeat. This is—”

“I'm breaking up,” Tom said. “I'll wait for—” He cut the line and jammed the phone back into his pocket. It would take them a while to find him and kill him. But as he continued down the crowded street, he saw a woman moving slowly but surely in his direction—staring straight into his eyes. She was tall, plain, maybe 130 pounds, nondescript clothing . . . the kind of woman nobody would suspect. She blended perfectly into any crowd. She was invisible. And in an instant Tom knew that he'd been made. They'd been trailing him the whole time.

She stuck her hand deep inside her coat pocket.

Tom forced herself to tear his eyes from hers. He stopped short, pivoted, and sprinted across the street. He wasn't ready to face the Agency. Not yet. He had to stall—no matter what the cost.

 

GAIA

Top-Ten Things I'll Miss
about New York

1. Buying the Sunday
New York Times
late Saturday night.

2. Saving the masses from pick-pockets, rapists, murders, etc.

3. Spending a whole day walking from Wall Street to Harlem and then back again.

4. Winning money from unsuspecting assholes at the chess tables in Washington Square Park.

5. Buying used (read: stolen) books from guys on the corner.

6. Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Especially the chocolate glazed and the crullers.

7. Going for dim sum in Chinatown.

8. Ed Fargo's lame jokes. Okay,
everything
about Ed.

9. Kissing Sam Moon.

10. Everything else about Sam Moon. This includes but is not limited to holding hands,
talking, eating greasy diner food, going to movies, riding the subway, making snow angels, running my fingers through his hair, having sex (this last is in anticipation of the event, which I'm positive will take place before I leave).

The implication of what they were about to do dawned on him. Gaia had never had sex. She was going to give him her virginity with an open heart.

 

“GAIA, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MADE
that move!” Sam exclaimed. “You're leaving your queen wide open.”

Auto Insurance

Gaia looked down at the chess set Sam had given her and studied the board. He was right. It was the kind of amateur mistake she hadn't made in years.

“I guess I'm not in the mood for chess,” she admitted.

Sam knit his brow. “You? Not in the mood for
chess?”
He carefully set the board on his nightstand, leaving all of the pieces in place. “Wow. I never would have thought it possible.”

She tried to smile. But it was impossible, especially since she could tell Sam's cheeriness was forced.
He was like an actor who had been onstage one too many nights in a row.
His costume was wearing thin. And he didn't have to pretend for her. She knew he was hurting. One of his friends had just
died.
Of all the people in the world, Gaia could probably relate to that better than most. She heaved herself off the bed and walked over to the tiny dorm-room window.

“What's wrong?” he murmured.

“I'm going to tell you something I shouldn't,” she started—but instantly regretted what she'd said,
realizing how ominous she sounded. “You have to swear to me that you won't tell a single soul.”

He laughed. “You actually want me to
swear?
What, are we in second grade?”

“I'm serious.” She fixed him with a hard stare. She was sick of maintaining this stupid charade. Both of them were hurting. They needed to show it. They needed to
share.
Yes.
Sharing
was her new favorite word, it seemed—the way
chocolate
had once been. She needed sharing in the same way she needed chocolate.
It had taken her five long years of torture and pain and bullshit, but she knew that now.
She was ready.

Unfortunately, she would have to break her promise to Oliver that she wouldn't tell anyone about their plan. But here in the room with Sam, she realized how misguided that promise had been. Oliver didn't
know
Sam. There was no way it could get back to him. He never needed to know the truth.

“What is it, Gaia?” Sam pressed. The cheeriness was gone from his voice.

She took a deep breath, turning to him. “I saw my uncle Oliver this afternoon. We're leaving for Germany in two days.”

Sam's eyes widened.
“What?
That soon? But I—”

“He's sick, Sam.”

His face sagged, like a tire that was slowly losing its air. “Sick?”

“Yeah . . . look, he'll be fine, though.”

Sam was silent. But then he smiled again—only this time it was a
real
smile. “Maybe he won't be, Gaia,” Sam whispered. “But I hope he is. And no matter what happens, I'll wait. I'll . . . always wait.” He laughed sadly. “Besides, I'll call you so often that your uncle will be afraid you've got a stalker back in America.”

She grinned. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Amazingly, for the first time since Uncle Oliver had told her about his condition, Gaia felt calm. Knowing that there was a future with Sam was like . . . well, like auto insurance. Maybe the car would crash, but the victims would be compensated.

She only hoped that there would be no victims.

“THANK GOD YOU'RE HERE,” GEORGE
hissed. His breath made a sickly cloud in the night air.

A Good Meeting Place

Tom nodded, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. He didn't like Alphabet City. He never had. But he understood its uses. Down here, in the heart of a high-crime neighborhood, riddled with
drugs and prostitutes and abandoned buildings, people would leave them alone.

“You may have saved Gaia's life,” Tom whispered, instinctively scanning the area. Any good meeting place was only
relatively
safe. That was one of the very first lessons an agent learned. Or a terrorist, for that matter.

George coughed. “I think we should go to the higher-ups,” he croaked, doubling over and holding his hand over his mouth. “They could step in . . . maybe call in a team—”

“No,” Tom whispered violently. He paced the sidewalk, breathing hard. For the very first time in his life he could feel the stress beginning to wear at his frayed nerves. “I don't trust them. For God's sake—I was almost taken out today, George. Some woman on Fourteenth Street.”

George stared at him. “You were almost . . .”

“Yes.” Tom managed a weary grin for his friend. “Which means that I owe you more than you even know for your information. Just meeting with me can put your life in jeopardy.”

“So what do you want—” George's voice broke off as he began to cough.

Tom patted his friend's shoulder. “You're sick. You need to take care of yourself, George. Running around in this condition wouldn't be a help; it would be a hindrance. Stay way from me. Get well.”

George shook his head. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't seem to catch my breath. . . . ”

“It's okay.” Tom hesitated, knowing that this might be the only chance he would ever have to thank George for all he'd done. “Look, George, I just want you to know . . . I'll never forget what you did for me and for Gaia. You're . . . you're the kind of friend people in our business rarely make.”

George nodded, but he was coughing too hard to respond.

Tom cast one last glance at him, then hurried from the corner and vanished into the night. There was nothing left to say. It was time to take action.

SAM OPENED HIS MOUTH, BUT NO
words would come. The fact that she was leaving New York was finally sinking in. Gaia was
going.
He wouldn't see her in the park. He wouldn't see her waiting for him outside his dorm. He found that he was almost angry. How could she leave him—
now,
when he needed her most?

No More Thinking

But her uncle needed her, too. More than Sam. He
knew
that. He couldn't add to her worries. And that meant that he couldn't tell her about his interrogation
this afternoon. And he definitely couldn't reveal the truth about what Ella had done. He had committed plenty of selfish, thoughtless acts in the past. But this time he was going to stay his course.
Gaia's happiness was what mattered most.
If he were in any way responsible for keeping her from her uncle, he would never forgive himself.

So until she was gone from his sight, he would simply put the Mike situation out of his mind. There was no point in thinking about it, anyway. All he could do was wait. Wait until those detectives came knocking on his door again . . .

“I want to spend every single second I can with you until you're gone,” he murmured. “I'll be chasing after your plane, waving good-bye.”

Gaia smirked. “You can't chase the plane, remember? You're not supposed to know I'm taking off.”

“Okay, then, I'll chase
another
plane as a symbolic gesture.”

Before he knew it, Gaia lunged forward and kissed him. He almost felt like she was attacking
him
—the same way she had attacked those guys on the bridge. He was powerless against her.
Not that he minded, of course.
It was kind of a turn-on. She wrestled him down on top of his bed.

“I've waited for this for a long time,” she whispered in his ear. “My whole life.”

The implication of what they were about to do
dawned on him. Gaia had never had sex. She was going to give him her virginity with an open heart. Sam knew Gaia well enough to know that if she did something, she did it all the way, no regrets. So this would probably be the most mind-blowing, mind-boggling, mind-expanding event of his twenty years . . .

Which was why he couldn't do it.

Sam forced himself to pull away. “We should wait,” he heard himself say. It was almost impossible to believe. But he knew he meant it.

Her face fell. She looked like she'd been slapped. “What?
Why?”

He took her hand. “Gaia, if we make ourselves hold off, then think about how incredible it'll be when we do it when you come back. Or when I come see you in Germany. Waiting will give us both something to look forward to.”

She laughed miserably. “Hey, Sam, let me tell you something, all right? I'm
tired
of looking forward to it.”

“Just trust me, okay? For now.”

“Do I have a choice?” Gaia groaned. She rolled over on top of him. “All right. I'll trust you. But that doesn't mean you're getting off of this bed.”

He kissed her. “I hadn't planned to.”

Sam smiled up into her eyes. But part of him felt sick. He didn't tell Gaia the real reason he didn't want to have sex.
The real reason was because he was afraid.
Once they had crossed that boundary,
he wouldn't be able to let her go. He wouldn't
allow
her to take care of her sick uncle. And that would make him an asshole. Again.

HEATHER SLIPPED ON THE RED
wool gloves that Phoebe had knitted for her. It didn't matter that the right hand was twice as big as the left one. It didn't matter that the gloves were so ugly that Heather would never be caught dead in them. What mattered was that Phoebe had the strength to make them.