Freak (7 page)

Street rat,
she thought.

“You coming?” Jake called out.

And right in front of her own reflection, Gaia smiled. Instantly. Purely. Without thinking about it. It was so odd, this actual spontaneous emotion. Could she really do this? Could she really just take off on the
spur of the moment, forgo a night of obsessing and just have fun?

As she stood there, staring at herself, Gaia realized that she wanted to try.

She ripped off her sweatshirt and tee, pulled on the turtleneck, and yanked her hair out of the collar. Then she grabbed her denim jacket and her messenger bag and strode out of her room.

It was time to see what this fun thing was all about.

Getting There

“THANKS, MAN. I OWE YOU ONE,”
Jake said, slapping hands with his friend Derek Simms at the entrance to section 79 at Madison Square Garden.

Derek worked as a security guard at the Garden and had just smuggled Jake and Gaia in through a back entrance. The Knicks were playing a crappy team, so there were empty seats all over the arena and Derek was giving them two of the best.

“Yeah, when are you going to get a job
I
can take advantage of?” Derek asked, laughing as he gripped Jake's hand.

“We'll see,” Jake said. They slapped each other's backs and then Derek loped off to return to his post.

Jake looked around and found Gaia standing at the top of the stairs, watching the action on the court. Her hair looked so touchable with all those waves, its million shades of blond shifting every time she moved. He could still feel its softness under his fingertips.

Get a grip, man,
Jake told himself, rolling his shoulders back. Gaia was definitely a closed book and he knew it was going to take a lot of patience before he got to touch that hair again. He should count himself lucky that she didn't knee him in the groin the first time.

“Pretty sick, huh?” he asked, stepping up next to Gaia. Even with an undercapacity crowd, the place seemed to be filled with screaming fans in blue and orange. The butter-colored boards of the court gleamed under the bright lights and the loudspeaker blared a cavalry horn recording, prompting everyone in the arena to shout, “Charge!”

“I've never been to a game here,” Gaia said, her eyes trained on Allan Houston as he drove down the court.

“Never? Well then, you'll need to have the full experience,” Jake said. “I'll meet you at the seats.”

“Where are you going?” Gaia asked, her blue eyes wide.

“Trust me,” Jake said with a grin.

He waited until Gaia had settled into one of the seats Derek had pointed out, then turned and jogged over to the nearest souvenir stand. He picked out a blue-and-orange Knicks visor, a white tank top with a small logo on the chest, two huge foam fingers, and a tan fisherman-style cap for himself. The girl behind the counter eyed him like he was a crazy person as she handed over the goods and took a major wad of his cash. Then Jake hit the food counter and bought a couple of hot dogs and sodas. Balancing everything in his arms on the way back down the stairs, Jake thanked God that he had an aisle seat. Anyone he had to walk over would have killed him.

“What is all that?” Gaia asked as everyone around them stood up and cheered a killer three-point shot.

Jake placed the food tray down on his empty seat and handed the tank top, the visor, and the foam finger to Gaia, one by one.

“I'm not putting this stuff on,” Gaia said flatly.

“Live a little, G,” Jake told her, pulling the fisherman's cap down over his own eyes. He knew he probably looked like a tool, but that was the point. Gaia was going to have fun tonight if it killed him. Even if he had to embarrass the hell out of himself to make it happen.

He slipped the other foam finger on over his hand and raised it in the air. “Go, Knicks!” he shouted, tipping his head back. The fans all around him let out a huge cheer.

Gaia laughed and shook her head, her eyes dancing. Jake's heart flipped over. She'd laughed. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen that before. Suddenly Gaia cleared her throat and looked away, flushing as if she'd done something wrong. Was it possible that she had actually never laughed before? Okay, probably not. But she obviously didn't do it much.

“Just put the tank top on over your shirt,” he told her.

“What is it with you and dressing me?” Gaia asked. “Do you miss your Barbie dolls?”

Jake tucked his chin and looked up at her past the brim of his hat. “Put it on or you don't get the hot dog.”

Gaia sighed and tilted her head so she could see the foot-long waiting for her in the cardboard tray. He could tell she was caving.

“Fine,” she said finally. She took off her jacket, pulled the shirt on over her turtleneck, then slipped her jacket back on. While she was still adjusting herself, Jake placed the visor on her head and put the foam finger in her lap. Gaia rolled her eyes up and looked at the visor, then shook her head again, trying not to smile. She yanked the foam finger on and looked at Jake expectantly.

“Hot dog,” she said, holding out her free hand.

Jake finally sat down, lifting the tray onto his lap, and handed her the goods. Gaia consumed a third of the hot dog in one huge bite.

“I'm good now,” she said, chewing. And she actually did look good. She looked comfortable . . . content. And ridiculously cute. She lifted her foam finger to shoulder level. “Go, Knicks,” she said quietly.

Jake smiled and bit into his own hot dog. “You're getting there.”

Get It Done

TOM STOOD IN ONE OF THE DEBRIEFING
rooms at the CIA's New York headquarters, completely calm and composed. He'd changed into a clean, starched suit and a tie and made sure there was no stray stubble on his face, no hair out of place on his head. Whatever he'd been called in to do, he was going to do it. He was going to prove that he was back on his game.

The door opened noiselessly and Director Vance entered the room, followed by two other agents—a young woman Tom had met two days ago named Clarissa Rosenberg, who was a behavioral specialist, and Trey Frenz, an agent Tom had trained with as a neophyte whom he'd never much liked. Tom ignored the presence of the other two and trained his eyes on Vance.

“Agent Moore, we've cut your leave of absence short—”

“Very short,” Tom couldn't resist saying. Vance ignored his joke.

“Because since you left on Thursday afternoon, the prisoners have refused to speak to anyone,” Vance continued.

Tom blinked. “What does that have to do with me?”

“They've refused to speak to anyone . . . but
you,”
Vance said, averting his gaze for a split second. Tom felt a twitch on his lips and forced it away. He was not going to smile. He was not going to rub his triumph in his director's face. Vance was not the type of man who would find it amusing.

“We even took your daughter's advice, Agent Moore, offering each the other's freedom, but they didn't bite,” Agent Rosenberg said. “At least not until now.”

“Wait a second—Gaia was here?” Tom asked, baffled.

“She didn't tell you?” Agent Rosenberg asked.

“No,” Tom said, making a mental note to ask a few questions of Gaia later. Now was no time to dwell on daughterly missteps. “Which one of them gave in? Which one is ready to talk?”

“Natasha,” Agent Rosenberg said. “Call it a motherly instinct.”

“So you're going back in there,” Vance said. “Agent Rosenberg will be monitoring the prisoners' behavior,
looking for body language, expressions, anything to indicate subterfuge.”

“I'm sure I can—”

“I just want a second eye,” Vance said. “These women know how to beat a lie detector but no one has ever snowed Agent Rosenberg.”

The woman smiled slightly at the compliment, then quickly rearranged her sharp features.

“He's right. Your reputation precedes you,” Tom told her.

“Thank you, Agent Moore,” she said, a slight blush working its way across her high cheekbones.

“Agent Frenz is here to keep an eye on you, when I'm not in the observation area, and make sure you don't screw up again,” Vance continued. Frenz smirked and Tom didn't give him the satisfaction of noticing.

“Agent Moore, I don't think I have to remind you of how delicate a situation this is,” Director Vance said, stepping so close to Tom he could smell what the man had eaten for dinner. “Do you think you're ready for this?”

“I am, sir,” Tom said, filled with conviction.

He did an internal systems check and was relieved to find that he was telling the truth. His pulse was slow, his body temperature normal. He didn't feel in the least bit stressed or excited or angry. All he wanted was to get it done.

“In fact, I'm quite looking forward to hearing what the prisoner has to say. . . . ”

I've
dated girls with secrets before, but Gaia is a completely new kind of cagey. I thought after the whole Tatiana shoot-out, after playing Triple X in Russia, after fighting for our lives together with her crazy father and uncle, after telling me about her mother's death that there couldn't possibly be anything else she was keeping from me.

But there's more. I know it. There's something else. Something else big. Something that's keeping her from trusting me completely. I can tell in the way she's always darting her eyes around when I ask questions. And sometimes I feel like she's on the verge of saying something and then she stops herself. I mean, what is it? She's pretty much with me most of the time.

Could her family have even more deep dark dramas that she doesn't want to reveal? Is that even possible? Is it something about her mom, maybe—or the reason her dad and uncle, like, hate each other?
Is it secret worthy? Something more than your standard dysfunctional spy-family crap?

I've got to admit, it scares me just a little bit. I mean, what could be bigger than the fact that her family is full of spies and that she's constantly a target? If there's something bigger than
that,
it's got to be a little scary.

The thing is, it's not scary enough to keep me away. It's not scary enough to even make a dent in the attraction I feel toward her. I've never felt anything like this before. And it's not just that she's hot. I mean, she
is,
but it's not just that. It's something else. There's just something about her. Something that makes me think about her all the time and crave her when I'm not around her.

So whatever that secret is, it's not going to scare me away. And sooner or later, she's going to tell me what it is. Because, unless I am totally off base, I think she's starting to feel the same way about me.

What had made her think that she could get away with one normal, fun night? Didn't she know the fates were working against her here?

Freelance Vigilante Work

GAIA WAS IN SUGAR HEAVEN. SHE
had passed Dylan's Candy Bar a hundred times since its grand opening, but had never stopped in, and now that she was there, she felt as if she'd come home, made peace with the universe. This place was built for her.

“I can't believe you've never been in here,” Jake said, watching as Gaia selected a huge bag of Gummi Bears to add to her basket. “You live less than ten blocks away.”

“I know. I have issues,” Gaia said. But now that she'd been inside, she knew she was definitely coming back. Possibly on a daily basis. The two-story candy shop had every sugar-fix item Gaia had ever loved plus dozens of things she'd never even heard of. They had Wonka Bars, M&M's in every color in a Crayola box, and an ice cream counter with flavors only dreamed of in heaven.

Maybe I should get a job here,
she thought, imagining the damage she could do with an employee discount.

“So, I tell you we can go anywhere in the city and you drag me all the way back up and across town to go to a place, like, ten blocks from your house,” Jake said, gnawing on a piece of black licorice.

“You said it was my choice,” Gaia pointed out.

“Just wanted to be sure we're clear,” Jake said, smiling. He looked down at her overflowing basket and frowned. “You're going to be on a sugar high for the rest of the year.”

“Pretty much,” Gaia said.

She took one last pass by the novelty wall, grabbed another Spider-Man pop, and deposited her basket on the counter. As the girl started to ring up her purchases, Jake pulled out his wallet. Gaia grabbed his wrist and pushed it back down under the counter.

“I got it,” she said, the words “sugar daddy” ironically popping into her head. Every time Jake paid for something—cotton candy at the Knicks game, the cab to get back uptown—she felt more and more like this was a date. And the more she felt like it was a date, the more self-conscious she became. Gaia and dates did not mix.

Besides, she couldn't be out on a
date
while her father was interrogating Natasha and Tatiana. She couldn't be out on a date while her dad's kidnapper was still out there somewhere. It was just wrong.

Better for her subconscious to think she was just hanging out, even if on some level she was hoping this was a date, and Jake seemed to be hoping that, too. Her subconscious, after all, was the entity that made her say stupid things, drop entire plates of food in her own lap, and automatically punch the lights out of anyone who touched her.

The total for the candy was astronomical, but Gaia barely even blinked. It was worth it just for the experience. Jake held the door open for her as she maneuvered her way outside while simultaneously ripping open a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels. She bit into one and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. This had to be what happiness felt like.

“So, you up for more or do you want to head home?” Jake asked. “Cuz there's this band playing at CB's Gallery tonight. This guy Shiva from my dojo said he's seen them play. They're supposed to be pretty good.”