Trust Me, I'm Trouble (32 page)

I check Lily’s phone for the time: 8:19 p.m. I open the text app. I tap Ackley’s
Phony
number into the
To
box, and then type the following message:

I have the encryption key. If you want it, meet me at Bar63 at 9:00 tonight. Come alone.

I tap Send and take a seat on a barstool at the empty bar. Now for the waiting.

I could call the hospital, find out how Dani is. But I think it’s better if I don’t know. If she’s awake, I won’t be able to concentrate. If she’s not, the same. But if I don’t know, I can hold off thinking about it. I remember the Chevelle, and my heart thumps painfully. There’ll be no saving it from the impound lot this time.
Good car,
I think, stroking its hood in my mind.

Time passes as I swipe through memory after memory of friends and jobs and St. Agatha’s and Mike and Angela. Tyler, too. I linger on him now, remembering the boy and not the pain. But it’s like looking at someone else’s life. A different Julep from a parallel dimension.

I stop myself before my sappiness gets to the puddle stage. I pick up Lily’s phone again and type in Dani’s phone number. I hold the phone to my ear and wait. Her phone is either at the bottom of the lake with the Chevelle or waterlogged past repair, but I’m not really trying to call her.

This is Dani Ivanov. Leave a message.

I take a deep breath, the bands around my chest loosening for a half second before ratcheting down even tighter. I end the call and redial the number, listening as it rings before the voice mail picks up. I repeat the cycle several times, a junkie on a binge, before deciding I should leave an actual message. Who knows what will happen tonight? And if she does wake up, I want her to know—I don’t know. Something.

This is Dani Ivanov. Leave a message.

“It’s me. I—” I close my eyes, listening to a second tick by. Two. I don’t actually know what to say. She wouldn’t want to hear me say I’m sorry. “I’m going to fix it, Dani. When you get this, if I—” My voice cracks, damn it. “If I’m not around, I just want you to know that I’m thinking about you.” Man, as last messages go, this one really sucks. “Tell the others I’m thinking about them, too.” I pause and then laugh at myself sardonically. “I’m a grifter, I should know how to do this better. I never was any good at being real. Except with you.” I pause again, wanting to say more but not knowing what. I end the call.

Han takes the barstool next to me with lethal grace. It must be later than I thought.

“Nice message,” she says, unwrapping a stick of gum and folding it in her mouth.

She heard. Fabulous. That’s just…perfect.

“You’re the reason we broke up, you know,” she says, alternately wadding up the wrapper and smoothing it out.

“Dani said it was because you asked her if she loved you and she said no.”

Han clenches her jaw, then keeps chewing. “Yeah. Why do you think she said no?”

I dig my nails into the polished wood of the barstool. “Are you trying to make me feel worse?”

“Maybe,” she says.

Well, I did ask.

“What time is it?” I say.

“Showtime.” She nods at the door, which is nudging open as we speak. “Break a leg, grifter. Or both legs.” Then she’s gone.

I slide off the stool to face the fate I made.
Keep your eye on the lady.

My mark walks into the bar.

“Aadila,” I say.

“Julep,” she says, much less surprised than I am. She’s wearing black. Black cargo pants, black crew-neck sweater, even a black skullcap. No hijab, I notice. And she’s clearly not here for the chicken wings. “Expecting someone else?” she taunts.

“How did you—? But the footage. The fairy.” I’m stumbling over my words like a moron.

“Ackley was a stooge. Easily manipulated to do things I wanted him to—like go to Duke’s office at a certain time for no good reason. I told him to ask about the blue pixie to hook you. Almost as easy to manipulate as you with your weakness for the young and marginalized. Throw a scarf over my head, whip out a pithy sentence or two, and you were eating out of my hand.”

I scowl at her. “So I’m guessing Aadila isn’t your real name.”

“Nope,” she says, smiling. “But I picked it because it means ‘just,’ ‘honest,’ ‘upright.’ Isn’t that kind of poetic?”

“What do I call you?”

“Aadila works,” she says. “Or Your Highness. Whichever.”

I need to get this conversation back on track. Spade could show up any second.

“If you’re here, where’s Ackley?” I ask.

“The canal, probably. I killed him and his mother so no one could sound the alarm for a few days. I changed his address on the employee directory to send you to a house that looked like a front. And I planted that phone number for you to find.
Phony.
Get it?” She chuckles. “I kill myself.”

“Why go to all that trouble? Why not just kill me, too?”

“Come on, Julep. We’re the same, you and I. Except I’m slightly better than you. But in any case, I figured if anyone could find the encryption key it would be you.

“How’d you get it out of him, anyway? I interrogated the sneaky bastard for two days and got nothing. The poison I used on him should have rendered his brain completely useless, but I guess he clung to that one thing until he could tell someone he trusted. Intriguing. I may have to do a study on it. You know, when I get into med school.”

Is she talking about Duke? But he was shot, not poisoned. And he certainly didn’t have a chance to tell me anything. She just admitted to killing Ackley. So who the hell is she talking about?

“Where’s the flash drive?” I ask. “I’m not giving you the encryption key until I see it.”

“That’s not true. You’ll give me the encryption key as soon as I ask. But I’ll humor you.” She lifts the chain she’s wearing around her neck. The blue-fairy flash drive is attached to it like a pendant. I feel a slight measure of vindication in predicting that a person who’d leave me a taunting note with their contact info wouldn’t be able to resist taunting me with the drive itself.

“I know you’re not working alone.”

“Well spotted. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“It’s Devi Raktabija, isn’t it? She was Duke’s right hand and got too greedy, watching all those people with access to millions waltzing in and out of NWI. She couldn’t resist.”

Aadila laughs. It sounds a lot like a cartoon-villain laugh.

“Just a note: criminals don’t really laugh like that anymore.”

Her smile broadens. “I like you. Too bad he wants me to kill you.”

“He?” I ask.

“He,” says a new voice behind me. Joseph enters the room.

I nearly fall off my stool in surprise this time. I really need to turn in my detective-in-training badge. I
suck
at this. I manage to keep it together but only just. Any time now, Spade. Really.

“So Devi’s a patsy, too?” I ask, stalling.

“Devi’s an idealistic fool. She actually believed in that garbage Duke was selling about self-actuation and manifesting your fullest potential.” Joseph snorts. “Sanctimonious bullshit. No one
gives
you a leg up in this world. The only advantage is the one you take when no one else is looking.”

“That whole sob story about being out on the streets? That was all a lie?”

“Yes and no. I did come to them as a street punk, but it was a cover.”

“What’s the blue fairy to
you
?”

“A paycheck. I’m a contractor. Sort of like you.” He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I can’t believe I never noticed how crazy it makes him look. “Unfortunately, you showing up kick-started Duke’s flabby grifter instincts. He knew things were heading south the second you set foot in the building. He began suspecting me after I instituted the relaxation exercises. I tried to rope Devi into planning them to throw off Duke’s suspicions, but he saw through that eventually. Which is why I had to kill him before I could get the blue fairy. But I’m a grifter of many gifts, so I figured it was only a matter of time before I found it.”

“Devi had no idea what you were doing?”

“You had no idea what I was doing,” he points out. “I’m just that good.”

“But why even bother going to so much trouble manipulating the NWI initiates? Wasn’t the blue fairy your objective?”

“It wasn’t my only objective,” Joseph says, flashing the charismatic grin. “And I really
can’t
tell you any more.” He nods to Aadila. She smirks and pulls out a black velvet bag. “I think it’s time that we get down to business. You have the encryption key. I want the encryption key. Hand it over.”

“Where’s your gun?”

“I don’t need a gun. You’re going to hand it over to me of your own free will.” He lifts his hand and points at me. I focus on his finger and watch as he moves his hand to the side.

“Sleep,” he says softly. And I do.

• • •

“Wake.”

I come to cross-tied between a table leg and a ceiling support, my arms wide and unmovable. I blink rapidly, trying to remember what just happened. Oh, right. Joseph.

He smiles at me. “Your more authentic self told me that you don’t actually have the encryption key. That rather upsets me. So here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to leave Aadila to play with you while I go make a phone call.” He pats my head and turns to Aadila. “No need to leave her mind intact. I’m sure they’ll bargain for her with or without her sanity.”

Joseph strolls off humming to himself like a crazy person, which he clearly is. Crazy and really, really good.

“I am very much looking forward to trying out my special compound again,” Aadila says, squatting next to me. “It’s taken me years to perfect. I started working on it when I was twelve.”

“How does a kid become a poisoner?”

“Oh, same old story,” she says. “I answered an ad on Craigslist.”

“You’re sick.”

“Am I? Or is sympathy the sickness? You can’t honestly say that you don’t see your gaping chasm of compassion as a weakness.”

I can’t honestly say that, no. I’ve always considered my feelings to be my grifter’s Achilles’ heel. But faced with Aadila, with the atrocities she’s committed, I can’t help but recognize myself in her.

Is this who I’d become if I could stop myself from caring? If I could block out my guilt over what happened to Tyler, eradicate my feelings for Dani, use up and throw away Murphy, Bryn, and Sam? Is that what I want, really?

“Well, Julep? Are you a grifter or a phony?”

I am the patron saint of lost girls.

“They may be sheep, but they’re
my
sheep,” I snarl. “Just do whatever it is you’re going to do already. I’m losing brain cells just listening to you talk.”

She chuckles and pulls out a wicked-looking bowie knife. Running the flat edge along my cheek, she says, “This is going to be fun.”

I close my eyes, prepping myself for pain, when the door creaks open. I can’t see who has come in since I’m facing away, but I can see Aadila’s reaction. Her eyes widen and she grips the knife tighter as she stands up. I’m desperately hoping it’s my second guest and
not
the cavalry. Though, if it were the cavalry, they’d probably have announced their presence loudly and a lot.

“What do you want?” Aadila asks.

“Your prisoner,” says a cool, dispassionate, and undeniably feminine voice.

“I hate to disappoint you, but I had her first, and I have obligations to my employer.”

“As I have to mine.”

Click.
Same sound, different gun. A round slides into the chamber.

“W
ait,” Aadila says, raising her empty hand. “Maybe we can come to some sort of compromise.”

“I’m not interested in compromise,” the woman says. “Give me my target and walk. Otherwise, I’ll take her and you’ll be carried out in a bag. Your choice.”

All doubt of the woman’s identity evaporates with her use of the word
target. Spade.
A
woman.
The rumors must be part of her cover. I hope she’s as good as they say. Well, almost.

“Who’s the girl?” Aadila asks, clearly stalling. Wait. Girl? What girl?

Faint whimpering sounds behind me. “She’s none of your con—”

Sounds of a scuffle erupt. I crane my head to see, but the booth blocks my view. Joseph must have gotten the drop on Spade, damn it.

“Julep!” cries a terrified Lily.

Oh,
crap.

“Lily!” I shout back. “Get out of here!”

“I can’t!”

Aadila leaps into the fray with Spade and, I presume, Joseph. The tussle turns into a battle with objects breaking and shrapnel flying through the air.

I fight to get out of the zip ties. Unfortunately, being tied spread eagle makes breaking out a challenge, but I might still be able to do it. I manage the wriggling necessary to line up the locks, and with a couple of sharp yanks, the ratchet on the table-leg tie breaks, freeing my hand. Without hesitation, I grab the ruined zip tie to shim the tie holding my other hand to the pole. But it slips in my fingers and lands on the floor, skittering just out of reach.

The fight tumbles onto the floor in front of me. I yank back my legs just in time to keep them from getting squashed under Joseph, who springs to his feet at once, although he’s holding his ribs and there’s a bleeding cut on his forehead. Aadila isn’t faring much better. She’s lost her knife in the fight, but the blue fairy is still dangling around her neck.