Gone (2 page)

At the very least
she
knew what she had to do next… as sick as it was going to make her. She had to maintain the status quo. She had to continue to play the part of the frightened, mushy-headed girlie-girl with Skyler. She had to continue to play scared and “kept” in his presence, until she could gather all the necessary info without him even knowing it. Because right now, all she had going for her was the element of surprise. Her most valuable weapon wasn't the power she
had finally rediscovered; it was that Skyder didn't
know
she had rediscovered it And Gaia was going to keep it that way. Until just the perfect moment. Then she would let him know. Then she'd remind them all just exactly who they were dealing with.

JAKE COULDN'T KEEP ALL HIS THOUGHTS in line. That was something he'd have to work on if he truly planned to make it in the world of covert ops. He'd have to learn how to organize all the facts in his head and draw clearcut conclusions. Then he'd have to learn how to keep those conclusions separate from the mishmash of emotions twirling around in his head like paint in an industrial mixer. Because right now he sucked at it. He couldn't help it His heart was mangled with frustration.

He had seen the truth. He'd seen the infamous “God” dealing Invince in Washington Square Park, and now he knew that “God” was in fact none other than Chris Rodke himself, disguised in cheap spray-on blue hair dye and blue wraparound shades and a long
Matrix
-style coat. Now he knew that Chris had been the one dealing Invince to the entire city, wrecking New Yorkers' lives (including Gaia's, Ed's, Kai's, and even his own) with “a bit of the old ultraviolence.” That in and of itself made Jake sick to his stomach. It made him want to find “God,” aka Chris, and give him a whopping dose of his own ultraviolent medicine.

But the situation ran much deeper than just one drug dealer, and Jake knew it—even if he didn't understand exactly how. Chris might be the distributor, but Jake was pretty sure that the true source of Invince was Rodke and Simon itself. And Jake was convinced that the entire operation had something to do with Gaia…
something
—that was all he knew. But still, he could feel it: Gaia was the Rodkes' victim. She was their target. And this was where Jake's emotions were getting the better of him. This was truly pissing him off.

Because Gaia was too goddamn blind to see it.

How could she let herself get snowed by that faux “playah” rich boy Skyler Rodke and his snob of a brother? And more importantly, why couldn't she see that she needed more capable people to step in and take care of things for her? Jake and Oliver were the ones who really knew what was going on here. Not only did they know what was going on, they were the ones who could
handle
it. Why couldn't Gaia see that?

Jake whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and
dialed Gaia's cell number. He could just picture her right now, leaning her misguided head on Skyler's shoulder, staring up at that asshole's face with a trusting smile, being snowed by every single lie coming out of his puckered-up little bl ue-bl ood mouth. For all Jake knew, Gaia was sitting there with Skyler
and
Chris, having a freaking wine tasting or something. It was time to give Gaia a serious reality check.

He listened through her voice mail message (of course she still refused to pick up her phone), and the moment he heard that beep, he just let it rip.

“Gaia, I thought we
talked
about this,” he barked into the phone. “You've got to
pick up
when I call.” He took a deep breath and tried to clamp down on his frustration before placing the phone back to his ear. “All right, listen, okay.
Listen
to me this time, 'cause I'm not screwing around here. Chris Rodke is ‘God,' do you understand?
Chris
is the one dealing Invince in the park. I was
there
, all right? I saw it with my own eyes. If you want to know why we nearly got killed in the park by those psychos—if you wanna know why Ed and Kai were almost
killed,
it's because of your friend Chris. And this goes deep, Gaia, Oliver and I are sure of it. This whole operation stems back to the whole Rodke family. As in Mr. “Upstanding CEO.” As in Mr. Upstanding CEO's son
Skyler
. Do you get it now? They're plotting something against you, Gaia.
We're sure of it. They're using you. If you're still sitting there in Skyler's house, then you need to
get out.
You need to get out of that apartment right now and you need to contact me and Oliver. You need to let us take care of this thing. And if you can't get out of that apartment, then you need to let us know
where
it is. Give us Skyler's location and we'll come there and get you out. Just
call us.
I'll be at Oliver's in ten minutes, and we'll wait for your call. Look, I know I sound pissed, but I'm just worried. I'm worried you're not seeing the whole picture here. So just call, okay? And stay away from Skyler Rodke. And Gaia, whatever you do, stay the hell away from Chris. He's sick in the head. The whole family is.”

EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE RODKE building knew Chris. Every secretary, every janitor, and more importantly, every security guard. It was part of their job—knowing when the boss's son was rolling through, knowing which butt to kiss to get their Christmas bonus. Chris sped through a chorus of obsequious helios as he made his way through the gilded revolving doors of Rodke Industries, straight
through the metal detectors, and into the elevator, banging on the button six or seven times, as if that would somehow speed things along. He had absolutely no time to waste. He was doing damage control here, and that meant moving swiftly and keeping his mounting anxiety to a minimum. Which wasn't so easy at this particular moment. Because the proverbial cat was out of the bag.

Jake had seen him in the park and Chris knew it. God's identity had been revealed. Chris was sure that Jake was sitting somewhere right now feeling quite proud of his successful little spy job, but that didn't matter to Chris in the least. Dealing with Jake would be easy. He surely had no idea what God was capable of. There were a hundred different ways to shut Jake up. The problem was his father. Chris had to be the one to tell his father about this unfortunate development before he heard it from anyone else. And when his father heard the news… he wouldn't be happy.

And screw him for being such a pompous, neglectful son of a bitch,
Chris thought as he tapped his foot incessantly and waited for each floor to race by.
This is my father's fault anyway. If he'd given me just an ounce of additional support—a couple of lookouts, a little protection—this never would have happened. And isn't Skyler just going to love this?
Chris gnashed his teeth together as the elevator opened on the executive floor. This was just what Skyler needed to prove that Chris
was nothing but a screwup. Wouldn't this just support every little snide comment and obnoxious insult his brother and father had not so subtly thrown at him? “You're not careful, Chris.”
“Your tasteless flare for drama just embarrasses us.” “One more of your stupid stunts and you'll ruin the Rodke name permanently.”

That phrase had always stuck in Chris's head like black tar:
“Tasteless flare for drama…”
He knew exactly what it implied, no matter how much his father and brother denied it—no matter how many times Chris had denied it himself. It was a veiled code for “gay.” Of course, his family had always insisted to the hilt that they had no problem with his sexuality. They'd made Chris a poster child for “acceptance” in all the society magazines and press releases, and Chris had always tried to believe the party line. He'd convinced himself that his own flesh and blood were too enlightened and intelligent to be prejudiced. And as far as his mother and Liz were concerned, he still believed it. But if he was being completely honest with himself, then he had to face his serious doubts about his father and Skyler. They could
appear
as enlightened as they wanted, but there was at least one category where Chris knew his sexuality was an issue: the Family Business. He'd tried to deny it a hundred times before, but it was getting harder and harder to turn a blind eye. Never in a million years would they have come out and said it, but now Chris could feel
them thinking it: “We don't want the gay boy running the company”

The fact was, his mother and Liz were the only ones in this family who'd shown Chris the realest kind of affection and respect. They were the only ones who'd treated him with love and kindness even when they
didn't
have guests over or the paparazzi flashing away at some horrific promotional event. That's when his father's arm was suddenly draped all over Chris's shoulders and he had a wide, loving grin. That's when his father would fake-smile his way through some inane conversation with Chris until the camera crew had shut off their lights and gone home. It was sickening.

By the time Chris had made it to his father's office, the anxiety had already given way to anger. Chris wasn't scared about admitting his screwup anymore. He wasn't scared of anything or anyone. Especially his father. He wasn't scared. What was there to be scared of? This wasn't his fault. It was not his fault.

So why was he sweating so profusely?

Chris stiffened his posture and swallowed very hard. Then he stared down at his father's secretary, Eileen, with a cold “I-own-you” glare. There was no time for his usual fake princely smile.

“I need to speak with my dad, Eileen,” Chris stated. “Now.”

Eileen's insecurity began to bleed out through her caked-on makeup and her excessive eye shadow—the
low-class giveaways to her buttoned-up “executive assistant” facade.

“You'll have to wait, Chris” she said, trying to sound firm and professional. “Your father just came in with an important client, and he said no visitors”

“Visitors?”
Chris squawked. “Do I strike you as a
visitor,
Eileen?”

“No, of course not,” Eileen croaked. “I'm just telling you… he insisted they not be disturbed….”

“Disturbed? Do you think he would find a visit from his own son disturbing?”

Eileen's eyes widened nervously. “No, Chris, no, I just—”

“Right, Ã11 only be a minute.”

“Chris…”

Eileen stood out of her chair, but Chris ignored her completely, marching right by and swinging open the double doors to his father's office.

Two angry faces darted up toward the doorway. Chris had seen this look on his father's face a thousand times. But the other man he had never seen before. And given his crisp, tightly buttoned army uniform and the regalia of stars and bars on his shoulders, Chris certainly would have remembered him.

Dr. Rodke quickly wiped the dark frown from his face and replaced it with the fakest smile of delight. “Chris!” he bellowed jovially. “What a surprise! Listen, we're right in the middle of something here—why
don't you give us just a few minutes and then you and I can go to lunch?”

Chris's eyes darted down to his father's grand mahogany desk. There were numerous copies of some kind of contract spread out across the desk, and General Stars and Bars had clearly been right in the middle of signing one of them. Not only did this make Chris extremely curious, but if there was one thing he couldn't tolerate, it was being dismissed by his father. He took a large step into the room and matched his father's disgusting display of fakery with a display of his own.

“Ooh, Daddy, can I just get a few minutes with you now?” He clasped his hands together in prayer and bounced slightly in place. “I've got a problem I really need your help with.
Pleeease.
I'm drowning in teenage angst!” Chris knew exactly what he was doing. He was challenging his father's supposed tolerance right to his face. He was “turning up the gay.” And it was making his father squirm. Chris turned to General Stars and Bars and waived daintily. “Hiii. I'm Chris.”

The general raised his right eyebrow with contempt, although the rest of his craggy, tight-lipped face didn't budge. Dr. Rodke bolted up from his chair with another plastered-on smile. “Um…General Colter, this is my son Christopher. Chris…General Colter.”

So Stars and Bars had a name. That still didn't
explain what he was doing signing contracts in his father's office or why his father looked so uncomfortable. This meeting was clearly something Chris wasn't supposed to see. Which meant that he needed to see much, much more.

General Colter stood up slowly and shook Chris's hand. “Good to meet you.” His handshake nearly broke Chris's fingers.

“You too,” Chris said. “Listen, General, could you please just give me and my dad a minute? See, I'm having ‘boy problems.' I
love
your outfit, by the way.” Chris smiled.

General Colter looked mortified, and Chris savored every moment of it. The general stared at Chris and then flashed his father a dubious glance. “Why don't I give you two a minute,” he said finally.

“Oh, God
bless
you.” Chris grinned. “It'll only be a sec!” Chris held the door open for the general and then slammed it closed behind him. The smile instantly dropped from his face.

Chris's father glared at him with even deeper disdain than usual. “What the hell are you doing?” He clenched his teeth to keep his volume in check. “If you're trying to embarrass me, then congratulations—”

“What am
I
doing?” Chris snapped. “What are
you
doing? What kind of deal are we making with him? What, did the army run out of no-tears shampoo or something?”

“Chris, keep your voice down. This is not the time or place for this. Go back to school. Go back to school, and I'll see you at dinner.”