Blowback (The Black Cipher Files Book 1) (22 page)

“You think you don’t, but you’re wrong. We all need someone,” Lucas said. “I learned that the hard way.”

“I’ll wait here while you go pick up the van.” I made my voice as even as plate glass. “The hotel at the airport is our best bet. Even if they discover the rental, they’ll expect us to go far away from the scene not stay on top of it.”

“The skirt to go with that top is in my duffel in the back.”

I nodded.

He pushed the keys under the front mat. “Are you going to be here when I get back?” His stark eyes were haunted.

“Yeah.” Because he was right. I had no one.

Before, that knowledge had comforted me, filling up all the lonely crevasses inside of me, because if I had no one I could keep my sister safe. I watched Lucas drive away, and I realized I wasn’t alone.

I had Lucas. At least for now. Maybe, just maybe I should accept his presence for the gift that it represented.

TWENTY-FOUR

Show time.

I flipped open the two pages I’d taken from my psychiatric file. One had a list of unanswered questions. The other was the general information page. Quickly I skimmed looking for the critical data.

Family: deceased. No mention of Bella. Thank God.

I pulled out the cell phone and punched in Carson’s number, keeping in mind if they were tracing me I wouldn’t have much time before they could get a lock.

He answered on the first ring.

“Is this line secure?” I snapped out without saying hello.

“You can talk.” He hadn’t answered the question. “What happened?”

I tossed the pages on the driver’s seat. Then I crawled into the back seat of the Toyota and unbuttoned my pants. “There were people waiting for me at the doctor’s office.”

“You got away.”

“Yeah.” While holding the cell, I shimmied awkwardly out of my pants, shoved them in the bag, and snatched up the only skirt in the duffel. Spandex.

“Good work.”

A plane took off overhead–giving Carson a bead on my location. If I sat in the rental car long enough, would I see a black Suburban cruising the parking lot?

“Where are you?”

Not a chance. “I’ll call in later.”

“But Jamie--”

“Someone in the NSA has to be involved.”

“In what though?” He sounded as frustrated as I felt.

“You need to bring the good doctor in, ask her who called during our session.”

“Fitzhugh?” I heard the surprise in his voice. “I can’t imagine....”

“Yes.” Too much similarity existed between her questions and those asked by the white-coated man in the warehouse.

“I need to know your location.” Urgency threaded his voice.

I couldn’t trust Carson. Not after today. Not after now.

I’d called him hoping to be reassured. Hoping the vibe I’d felt this morning was just post-mission jitters. Hoping he really hadn’t lied to me. But he wasn’t reassuring me. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you out there without some kind of backup.”

Lucas
was my backup. I had Lucas. I couldn’t tell Carson I was still hooked up with him, not after the way he’d threatened me this morning.

I must have hesitated too long.

“Jamie.” He said in a stern tone, “Turn your ring on so I can track you.”

The ring. Nope.

Lucas’s van rolled to a stop three lanes over. He sat inside. Waiting. Time to go. “I’ll be fine.”

“But--” Carson sputtered as I cut the connection. I checked my surroundings, looking all ways before sliding out of the car.

With the duffel bag slung over my shoulder and my other hand resting firmly on the grip of the 9mm I’d found inside, I scooted over to the van.

Lucas pushed the door open. His eyes gave him away. He thought I’d be gone.

Another plane roared overhead. An Indian Summer breeze gusted warm air and swirled through the rows of cars in the parking lot. The van idled, the engine pinging. I trembled at the brink of this crossroads.

I needed to make a decision right now about what was going to happen next. I’d lived my life alone since I was fifteen years old. Depended on no one. Relied on no one. Except Carson.

And I couldn’t trust Carson anymore.

I hopped inside and hoped like hell I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life. “We need to make a stop.”

Lucas didn’t argue. “Where?”

“Bus station.”

He smiled, showing plenty of teeth and no warmth. “Careful. You’re getting predictable.”

We cruised through the parking lot toward the payment booths and freedom. Dr. Fitzhugh’squestions about my family circled in my head like vultures waiting to attack. The need to check on Bella burned a hole in my gut. However, I wouldn’t do Bella any good if I got caught.

“You want to get in back?”

“Yeah.” Just in case the airport was being watched.

***

When we got to the bus station, I adjusted my skirt and climbed back up front.

“What changed your mind?” He wanted to know why I hadn’t run. Yet.

“Question number three?”

He shrugged. “Why not?” He didn’t think I’d be around for four and five.

“You did.” After his speech about me needing someone. He understood me well enough to know his words, his beliefs would cause me to run fast and far in the other direction. Instead of making it difficult to leave, he’d given me the opportunity and the means to go. I could have taken the rental car, the 9 mm, and been long gone.

Lucas parked the van.

“Is it temporary?” He wanted to know if I was ditching him here.

“No.” I opened the van door. “I’ll be right back.”

Lucas opened his door and hopped out, pressing the remote key lock after I’d jumped down.

I rounded the hood of the van. “You don’t honestly think I’d take off now, do you?”

He gave me a steady look. When he spoke, his voice was even, unwavering. “I’ll tag along.”

“Lucas.” I lay my hand on his wrist, the tendons and muscles rippled and tensed beneath my fingers. “You made your case.”

He jerked to a stop. His gaze dropped down to my hand on him. “Really?”

I flushed, snatched my hand away.
Great move, Hunt.
“Let’s get this over with.”

“Are we leaving?”

“Nope. Just retrieving a little care package.” One the NSA had no record of.

We walked through the doors together. The Greyhound station was the same as always. Even the renovations, additions of plusher seats and high tech lights, couldn’t disguise the sense of hopefulness and hopelessness of the occupants.

Tired mothers with little babies, teenagers whose clothes looked lived in not just slept in, men with holes in their shoes more troublesome than the holes in their lives paraded through the wide hallways towards new places. A pall coated the air, not visible like the grime on the floors, but just as pervasive.

As I noted the updates, I sent a little prayer of hope their budget hadn’t extended to the bathrooms.

I gestured to a bank of seats. “Wait here.”

Lucas slumped in the already worn seat.

In the women’s bathroom, I waited patiently until the third stall from the left was open. I locked the door, wrapped some toilet paper around my fingers and opened the receptacle for used tampons. I eased out the liner bag. And at the bottom, in a little magnet key case, was my prize. I retrieved the case, flipped the lid open.

The key was still there.

I slipped the key into my pocket, tossed the magnetic holder in the garbage, and hustled out of the bathroom.

Lucas was waiting outside the door. It stung.

He looked me up and down. “Itchy feeling.”

Huh. Usually his itchy coincided with mine, but I wasn’t buzzed. Had to point it out. “I’m okay.”

“Humor me.”

We watched the lockers for a few minutes, looking for anyone who looked out of place, but everything seemed fine. The locker contents were personal, not company owned. No one at the NSA would know about this locker. No one.

The identifications and credit cards were purchased illegally and paid for in cash. There was not one link to Jamie Hunt or the NSA.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

I stuck the key in locker 105 and removed a duffel.

We both looked around. I still felt fine. “Back to the airport?”

“A woman who can read my mind.” He grinned, his mouth curving in amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Not hardly.

***

As I sashayed through the hotel lobby, I tugged on the black spandex mini skirt. “What is your deal with spandex?”

Lucas ambled one pace behind me, both our duffel bags in one hand. “Condenses well and doesn’t show wrinkles.”

I tugged on the skirt again.

His arm curved around my waist, hot and strong. “And looking at your ass is a perk.”

“Pervert.”

“I am not.”

“That’s how it starts.”

“My sex drive is perfectly normal.” Lucas raised his brows and played along. He muttered under his breath, “Just frustrated.”

Our banter carried us through the lobby and up to the standard room with two double beds. Lucas ordered dinner, while I went into the bathroom and ripped open the duffel from the bus station to review the contents.

Lucas hung up the phone and turned on the television to a music station to cover our conversation. He sauntered into the bathroom, rubbing his hands together like a madman anticipating mayhem. “What have you got? High tech scanners, listening devices, tracking equipment?”

“No toys,” I said drily. I held up four driver’s licenses. Three women, one man. Hair dye, hair pieces, facial modifiers, colored contacts, various fashion accessories, an instant camera, and credit cards.

He took the driver’s licenses and studied them. “They made a mistake on two of the women. There’s no way you could pass for five foot five.”

Two for me, two for Bella.

“This guy’s statistics will work for you,” I said and tossed him a box of L’Oreal Ash hair color that would come off looking gray.

“So you go for older guys?”

“No one.” Even when I wanted to.

“That one time only rule.” Lucas fingered the glasses case. “So what’s the deal with that?”

I selected an i.d. for a five foot five inch girl with black hair and bright blue eyes. “We can color our hair after dinner.”

“It’ll be just like a slumber party,” Lucas mocked.

What the hell was he talking about? My face must have shown an absolute blankness.

He explained, “Stay up late and do each other’s hair.”

I carefully laid out the items we’d need on the bathroom counter, refusing to remember I hadn’t ever been to a slumber party.

He touched my shoulder but I shrugged off his hand. I didn’t need his comfort or his touch. He curved a hand around my waist, swinging me around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His lips brushed mine ever so softly. I gave in to the need to touch him and let myself curve into the hard planes of his chest.

His hand cupped my jaw with infinite gentleness, a tender intimacy that shook me.

The soft assault on my lips, the gentle lave of his tongue against mine, the feather light stroke of his fingertips along my collarbone, the sensations that tumbled through me were foreign.

I held onto his shoulders gripping tightly, wanting our original urgent passion back, because that I understood. That I knew how to reject.

Temptation shimmered as possibility within me. I wanted to reach out and hold onto the illusion of this intimacy, this connection he was so sure we had.

A knock on our hotel room door saved me. I drew away, sliding my weapon from the thigh holster.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

The knock came again. “Room service.”

Lucas mouthed. “Stay here.”

I slid behind the bathroom door, peering through the slit of space between the almost closed door and the frame, weapon at the ready, but the delivery woman never even looked.

The scent of grilled beef and garlic wafted to my nose. My traitorous stomach growled. The swish of the cart’s wheels and the clatter of metal lids disguised the noise, hopefully.

“Boy, was I hungry,” Lucas said in a Texas drawl and handed the server a tip. “Thank you kindly.”

As the spring loaded door slammed shut, I eased out of the bathroom.

“Good thing she wasn’t paying any attention. A little bit hungry, are we?” he teased.

I needed my toughness back. I couldn’t let the insanity of the last few minutes overtake my good sense. I couldn’t afford to have these feelings. Or this connection. I kept my mouth flat, my gaze hard. “Let’s eat.”

“Oh goody. Ms. Bad Ass is back.”

I ignored him. If he knew how much I wanted to relax, wanted to enjoy his company, him, he’d never let up. “We’ve got work to do.”

Lucas sighed. “Let’s work while we eat.”

He pushed aside the magazines on the desk and set up his laptop and we were ready to access Staci’s files.

The password protect came up. “Let’s see if this is it.”

Lucas typed in MARA.

A message popped up on the screen. “Welcome Dr. Grant.”

TWENTY-FIVE

“We’re in.”

Lucas leaned forward in the chair, hunched over the desk, his gaze intent on the screen. I perched on the bed across from him. He angled the laptop so we could both see the screen and searched Staci’s files, looking for Wishbone. The computer whirred as it cycled through all of the folders.

In my duffel from the locker, I had also kept a laptop. I set it up across from Lucas. The software on this one was a little bit out of date, but it would still work.

Lucas said heavily, “The computer search found a file on Johnny.”

“That’s great.” I glanced across the wood desk.

He wasn’t moving. He’d shifted his gaze to mine. “Let me help you.”

I leaned across the space and pressed a button on his laptop to open Johnny’s file and close our conversation. “Quit stalling.”

He knew full well I was the one stalling. He reached out, covered my clenched fingers with his. “Let me help you.”

“Looks like his mother was right to be worried.” I deliberately opened my fist. “That’s what it looks like on the surface anyway.”