Cloak and Dagger (The IMA Book 1) (24 page)

“
I told you before, my parents will compensate you for your — ”

“
No, they will not. Because they can't give me what I want. Only you can.”

Her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “M-me?”

I don't know what made those words come out of my mouth. The bargain she had made was downright reasonable. Citizenship in a foreign country. A new identity. Money. Kent had received such an offer from one of his more generous friends; Kent wasn't the name he was born with, as he'd told me once in that sly way of his. I had never developed a close enough relationship with any of my contacts that I had ever hoped for the same; I'd certainly never expected to receive such an offer from a
hostage
.

Ex-hostage.

What was I doing? It was madness.

Say, “They won't listen to me
.
They'll listen to you
.
I need your word
.
It's easy to promise things you, personally, can't deliver
.
”
The words were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't bring myself to say them. “You,” I confirmed.

“
But that wasn't — ”

I heard the snap of twigs before I heard the guards and before she could finish her sentence. I covered her mouth before she could utter a startled scream, dragging her into one of the bushes. She was shaking her head, trying to dislodge my hand. I tightened my hold, pressing her into the soft ground as I tried to burrow us both deeper — and soundlessly — into the foliage. The beam of a flashlight swung by in a lazy arc, missing us both by inches.

“
Hear something?” the guard asked.

“
Probably just a wild animal. Johnson said they were headed towards the beach.”

God, I love being right
.

Christina was trembling when they left. Relieved, I thought. Or shocked by what I'd said.

Until she kissed me.

It was awkward and inexperienced and slobbery. She didn't even know how to
kiss
. That should have turned me off. It didn't. The way my body reacted, she might as well have jammed her tongue down my throat and her hand down my pants. I shoved her away before she could realize what a depraved man I was. “What the hell was that?”

Her blush was visible even in darkness. “You said…I thought…”

“
You thought I wanted what?” When she didn't respond, at least not right away, I went on, “
You?
How conceited.”

“
But you said — ”

“
Only you could give me what I wanted. Right. I never said what.”

Her face darkened further. She ducked her head, but I caught her before she could turn away. “Hold on. I never said I wasn't interested. But what kind of fool would I be if I turned down a fresh start for…you? You're pretty, darlin, but you're no Helen of Troy. Let's say I take you up on the money and the free citizenship. That covers you and your parents — since you helped me out a bit, I'll give you a twofer on that — but what about A? Without Richardson, she's broke. I don't risk my life for gratitude.”

“
So you
do
want — ”

“
I don't like A. She's a blood-sucking vampire and the world would be a much better place if she died. Asking me to save her is a mighty big sacrifice on my part. If you want me to do that, you have to show me you're serious.” She'd refuse. Any
normal
woman would refuse.

“
OK,” she whispered. “A deal's a deal.”

Fuck.

Christina:

Not even the imminent danger of the guards could take my mind off the feel of his chapped lips and his hard body against mine, burning with a promise I had unwittingly sealed.

“
We're almost there. Keep quiet — there might be guards.”

Maybe he
had
done a lot for me. I didn't think I should have to
pay
him to fix the lives he had torn asunder. I thought I'd been generous. I was going to have a time of it convincing my parents to give him the things I'd promised. I knew I
could
do it, because I had learned at great cost just how much they valued their own lives.

Clearly, Michael didn't think so. All that crap about “sacrifices” and “sweetening the deal” was just that — crap. Nobody should have to pay like that. No amount of rationalization or bribery could convince me otherwise. I wasn't B. I wasn't even A. I didn't find the IMA or their lifestyles attractive. They were high profile, full of flash, but all their relationships were superficial, from what I'd seen. I suspected the ruthlessness they exhibited in the workplace carried over to their personal lives. Nobody could be so callous and remain untouched. He would hurt me, I knew it. if not physically, then emotionally.

But as long as he got what he wanted, he wouldn't care.

Michael stopped walking. I nearly crashed into him. We were standing in front of a metal building that looked like a glorified garden shed. A red and white sign was slapped on the front:
DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE
. “This is it?”

“
No guards,” Michael said. A startled but pleased laugh escaped him. “
Fils de putain
.”

He was right. There weren't
any
men standing guard. There wasn't even an alarm. The door had a lock but obviously it hadn't been changed recently because the access code Michael entered opened the steel door.

“
That doesn't seem wise,” I said. “An electric code to the generator? How are you supposed to get inside if the power fails? And was that French?”

He gave me a sharp look. “Wait outside. Quietly.”

The lights of Target Island's main facility twinkled through the trees like stars, blurred by the fog and the tears in my eyes. Then, as if by magic, all those small spheres of light were swallowed up by darkness with a faint hum. Michael ran out of the generator room, letting loose a hushed
whoop
. “Now we ro-day the hell out of here.”

A silence had settled over the island. I could no longer hear the peal of the alarm in the distance, and even the sounds of the crickets chirping in the bushes seemed to have stopped.

“
Your parents are probably in Node Three or Four.”

“
How do you figure?”

“
Prisoners are ranked according to how big a threat they are, with those in Node One being comparatively harmless to those in Node Six being a dangerous liability.”

We
had been in Node Six. Not just Michael. Both of us.
I
was a dangerous liability?

I was aware of Michael watching me, measuring my response. I turned away.
Stop looking at me
.

“
Why so quiet, darlin? This about what I said earlier? Do you think I'm asking too much?”

I shrugged, privately alarmed. He could read me far better than I liked. It was disturbing. But not surprising, considering I had been with him for the better part of two months. Longer than my longest relationship.
Oh, God
. “Leave me alone.”

“
One night and I'm out of your life forever? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

“
Why?”

“
Mais
, for starters I think your parents deserve to die for their displays of cowardice. Because A is a gold-digging Jezebel who knowingly fucked my boss despite knowing full well who he was and what he did just because he gave her some pretty clothes to play dress-up in around the office. I certainly don't feel like doing them any fucking favors. You owe me a favor, you're attractive enough, and you won't be in tears if I leave first thing in the morning.”

Oh, there would definitely be tears. Probably well before he left.

“
Is that all I am? Some kind of down payment to you?”

He caught the disgust in my voice. “You're pitching an awful lot of fuss for something that hardly matters. I really don't think I repulse you as much as you let on.”

“
You'll get your money,” I said coldly. “I'll make sure of it. But this doesn't mean I'm attracted to you. As far as I'm concerned, it will have never happened.”

He got angry, then. Angrier than I had ever seen him.

“
And why is that? You going to run out and get baptized the moment I'm through with you? Is that it? Become a born-again-fucking-virgin?”

“
No. It's because I know that this is God's way of testing me. To see if I'm strong enough to see what I
know
is His way through the end. And that is rescuing my parents
and
A.”

Michael shook his head and turned away without another word.

At least
I
still had my conscience.

Chapter Twenty

Ultimatum

Christina:

Node Three was dead quiet; when Michael cut the power, he'd also shut down the alarm. He suggested we try Node Three, first, since my dad wasn't much of a danger to anyone without a computer in front of him. That sounded reasonable enough to me.

Like Node Six, there were long rows of cells. Most of them were empty. Given the island's name, I wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. Some of the cells had shadowed forms in them, curled up into various shapes of hopelessness.

I recognized two of those shapes.

Breaking away from Michael, I ran up to the bars. “Mom? Dad?”

The bigger of the two shapes looked up. “Christina?” Dad did a double-take. “Christina! What the hell are you doing here?”

“
I got captured.”

Dad looked completely shell-shocked. “They told us they let you go.”

“
They lied,” I said flatly, tugging on the door. “They were going to execute me this morning but we escaped.” The access panel had been disabled, but I had forgotten about the additional manual lock because our cell had been open when we escaped. I gave the door another fierce, pointless tug and my dad gave me an awkward hug through the bars.
Daddy
, I thought, with a childish need I thought I'd left behind in grade school.

“
Oh, Sweet Pea,” Dad said softly, as I began to cry all the tears I'd bottled up from when I'd thought they were dead. He patted my hair, hesitantly at first, as if I were an animal he thought might run away. “I was afraid I'd never get to hug my little girl again.”

“
Why didn't you
rescue
me?”

“
We wanted to, Sweet Pea. But your mother didn't think it was safe. She was afraid it would only put you in more danger.”

I took a step back from the metal door. That didn't sound like my mother. She had never concerned herself with my safety, only my obedience. Until recently, I'd thought they were interchangeable. “Dad, they were going to torture me! How could I possibly be in more danger than that?”

“
We didn't know,” he was saying. “We had no way of contacting you. We only knew what they told us, and even then, we couldn't be sure of the truth — ”

“
Christina.” My mother's voice. Her dark eyes assessed me through the bars. Hooded, as though she had been sleeping. She raised her eyebrows. Even in prison, the arches were still perfect. “Is that you? I barely recognized you; you've lost so much weight.”

“
Nice to see you, too, Mom.”

“
Is that all you have to say to me, after all this time? “'Nice to see you?'”

“
You abandoned me. What am I supposed to say?”

“
Think of this from your father's and my perspectives. When that organization began sending us threatening telephone calls, we didn't have time to think. They didn't mention you at all. Why bring you to their attention? Our staying in that house would only put you in danger.”

Bullshit
. “But that
isn't
what happened. They
did
know. And you left me there — like a sitting duck. Plus, there was that message. The one on the machine. You had to have known.”

“
Message?” Dad looked confused.

“
She's talking about a warning I had the detective leave her, just in case.” My mother looked annoyed at having to explain herself so much. “You're completely missing the point, Christina. Listen — ”

“
No! You listen. You don't know what's happened to me over the last couple weeks. What I've sacrificed by coming here. While you and Dad were running around and fleeing the country, I was almost killed. Yet whenever people pressed me for information about you, I lied, like a good little girl. I said nothing. I risked
everything —
because I thought you would save me. But you didn't.” I drew in a deep breath. “Now — what have you really done for me? And complimenting me on my
prison
weight loss or giving me one pathetic warning don't count.”

“
We turned ourselves in to save you, you ungrateful child. Isn't that why you're free?”

“
Liliana, Christina, do we have to talk about this now?” my father pleaded. His eyes were restless, searching the darkened corridors for guards. It was plain to see he thought our argument was going to attract unwanted attention. “Christina, your mother really did try her best to keep you alive, but I really think we should focus on getting out of here. We can work out the details later, go to family counseling, anything you think is necessary” — my mother muttered something sarcastic — “But for now, I think — ”

“
It doesn't really matter what you think,” Michael said, in a voice like steel. I felt him come up behind me. “The only reason this girl is alive is
me
.”

“
Michael, no — ” I cut off as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“
Let me handle this.”

“
That voice! I recognize that voice,” my mother growled. “It's the
hijo de puta
who kidnapped Christina.”

“
I think you owe your daughter some answers. I'm interested in hearing them myself, actually.”

What the hell is he doing?

“
You think you —
you —
of all people have a right to tell me how to do my job?” my mother squawked. “I'm not telling you a thing! Get away from my daughter, or I will scream for the guards!”

“
Liliana, no!” Dad cried. “Are you crazy?”

“
You do that and they'll kill us all.” I felt the mean laughter as it vibrated through his throat. “Come on, Mrs. Parker-de-Silva. For once, in your miserable fucking life, think about somebody besides yourself — because I'm not letting you out of this cell until you do.”

Dad sighed. He knew Mom's rages too well. “Hear him out. We don't have much choice. Looks like we'll have to deal with this sooner, rather than later.” To me, he said, apologetically, “The call came so suddenly, we didn't know what to do. Adults panic, just like children. Maybe worse than children, because we have the ability to do so much more harm. You were in school. We didn't want to pull you out and drive you into a panic. We had no way of knowing that they knew anything about you. I suppose we made some bad decisions. I'm sorry, Sweet Pea. If I could do the whole thing again, I'd do it differently. I really would.”

He was crying. I'd never seen my dad cry before. Coulda, woulda, shoulda — why hadn't he made the right choice when it really mattered? Why hack at all?

Michael seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Your wife left her at my mercy. I am curious. Did you think I was bluffing? Or were you simply not concerned? I have difficulty believing any real mother would willingly allow her child to be raped.”

The irony of that statement. I wanted to throw up.

“
Liliana — what the fuck is he talking about?”

Mom looked Michael straight in the eye. “He demands no money. Instead he makes cheap threats to sound like a bigger man. What kind of man trades information for a girl, instead of asking for something sensible?”

“
Mother!”

“
You stupid bitch,” Michael said softly.

“
What do you want from us?” My dad still looked sick.

“
I am here to help you at her request.” He nodded at me. “If you follow my instructions, you have a chance at survival.”

Mom looked hopeful, then angry. “I told you to get your hands off her.”

“
I have kept her alive,” he said in a chilling voice. “Which is a lot more than you can say for yourself, leaving her with a man like me.”

“
Don't talk to my wife like that.”

Michael turned towards me. “I've had enough. Give me on of the hair pins.”

I handed him one. Ignoring my father, Michael jimmied the manual lock while checking over his shoulder for guards. The door slid open after a few terse seconds. “Get out,” Michael said. “Quickly. Use the door on the left.”

“
We came in through the right.”

“
Which is exactly why you should take the door on the left.”

“
It's a trap,” my mother said. “He's trying to kill us, as before.”

“
I'm not so sure it is.” Dad gave me another hug. “I am so, so sorry, Sweet Pea. Thank you for saving us. You're my little Guardian Angel.” It was a sad hug, an apologetic hug, and it made me feel…nothing. I was numb. Dad shot my mother a furious look, so full of disgust that she actually balked; Mom never balked at anything.

She recovered quickly enough. “Coming Christina?”

“
No.”

“
What? You want to stay with him?”

“
No. I am going to save the woman who helped me when nobody else would. And I'm sorry to say this, Mom — because I still love you — but that person wasn't you. I wish that weren't true, but it is.” She flinched. I felt bad for a moment, until I remembered all those nights I had spent cold, alone, and unhappy — because of her. My heart hardened…just a little. “Get out of here,” I added. “That's what you really want. I'll just slow you down. Just as I always have.”

She looked stunned. “I feel like I don't know you anymore.”

“
You never did,” I replied, just as coolly. “You were always too busy thinking about who you would
like
me to be that you never thought to ask who I actually was.”

Mom shook her head. Even now, she couldn't deal with anything that contrasted against her world views. Catholic guilt made children in perpetual debt to their parents for a gift that was immeasurable and holy and impossible to repay: life. My sudden rebellion was not because of any fault of hers, in her eyes, but through some failure of mine.

“
You look different. Act different.” She scowled at Michael, clenching her hands into fists. “What did you do to my daughter,
puto
?”

Michael turned on his heel. “Are you addressing me?”

“
Yes, I am talking to you…you…
mamagüevazo.
”

I flinched. “
Mamá
.”

She'd just used one of the most profane insults particular to Domincans. Her tone left little need for a translator, and Michael narrowed his eyes accordingly.

“
You rob my daughter of her innocence, turning her into a whore no decent christian man will want — and then brainwash her? To turn her against me, her own mother? Who bore her from her own
womb
? You monster! When will you be satisfied? You — ”

He backhanded her across the face. “Shut the fuck up.”

She pressed a hand against her cheek. “What?”

“
Shut the fuck up,” he repeated, “And get out of here — or I'll kill you myself.”

Mamá
looked at him. Then at me. Then she ran. I closed my eyes and turned away.

“
Come on.” Michael gripped my wrist. “We don't have much time.”

I swiped at my cheek with the heel of my hand. “Just a moment.”

“
Your mother is a vain woman. Too accustomed to getting her own way. She's not worth a moment of my time. Or yours.”

Words could be as cruel as knives, though. Her old modeling photographs were on the mantle, above the fireplace. One of my friends once told me it was like a shrine, but I hadn't understood — until now. I used to look at them and hate myself, wondering what was wrong with me that I didn't look like that. Now I realized belatedly there
was
no problem with me. The problem was with her. She didn't like herself, but she liked me even less for not surpassing her own personal standards. Even if I
had
, that still wouldn't have been enough. She liked lording her superiority over people. I could be the most successful model in the world and I suspected she would still consider me inferior to her own talents and abilities, resenting me for what she undoubtedly would consider a “lucky break.”

The truth had been staring me in the face this entire time, and I'd been too blind to see. My parents weren't perfect people. I knew that, obviously, but hadn't really understood the implications. I'd been taught never to question; that my parents were on a level of authority surpassed only by God. But my parents weren't divine. Not hardly. They were people, fallible, with weaknesses and flaws. My mother, with her unfulfilled hopes and cripplingly low self-esteem — what kind of woman attacks her daughter for passing remarks one of her catty friends makes? I'd completely internalized the insults. Now they made me think. Was my mother
really
ashamed of me? Or was she ashamed of herself and looking for a scapegoat?