Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(76)

My eyes widened. People knew who we were, just from my name. This couldn’t be good. If they knew, the MM was still tracking our flight. Waiting for us to screw up. I couldn’t tell by her neutral tone if she objected to our presence.

“They haven’t been cleared,” the guy said irritably. “You know the rules, Banks.”

“I know the exceptions, too. Miller’s got information.”

For him. Information for Sean about Rebecca. I didn’t know anything else. I sincerely hoped Sean wasn’t setting me up for trouble by bringing us here.

Can-Head narrowed his eyes at me. “Yeah, I bet she does.”

Chase shifted.

“I’ll take responsibility for them.” Sean gave Chase a stern look as if to say Don’t make me regret it, and knocked twice on the door they guarded.

“What’s his problem?” I asked Sean under my breath.

“A carrier was murdered at the Harrisonburg checkpoint a couple days back. They found evidence that points to a female.”

“What kind of evidence?” I said quickly. Chase had gone very still beside me.

“Footprints, I think.”

I had to remind myself to keep breathing.

I’d slipped on the floor when Chase had dragged me outside. Slipped on something wet. Blood. My bootprints were all the way out the door. It took everything I had not to rip them off right there.

“I think Riggins thinks it was you.” Sean didn’t try to keep our conversation a secret.

“Well, it wasn’t!” I said, aghast, turning to Can-Head.

Riggins looked unabashed and unconvinced.

I clasped my hands together to keep them from fidgeting. The danger was stacking up. People recognized our names. I was being pinned to a murder. We were now hiding out with a large body of resistance. It was going to take a hope and a prayer to reach the safe house alive at this point.

My eyes darted to Chase. He looked like a wolf ready to attack. I felt the energy radiating off of him and knew to be prepared for anything.

The door cracked open and then pulled inward as Sean was recognized.

We entered a narrow room that smelled stale. The walls were bare and yellowing. In the back were a few crates of food and nearly thirty cardboard boxes marked by sizes: M, L, XL. Uniforms. The missing uniforms.

A gray wool sofa, the only piece of furniture present, sagged against the side wall. Above it hung a blueprint of the building. The exits were marked by bright red circles. A man in his mid-thirties stood from his seat on the couch. He had long greasy hair, too gray for his youthful face, and a mustache.

The guy holding the door was younger. Fourteen or fifteen maybe. A mousy mop of hair hung over bright green eyes. He held a rifle, lowered but still lethal.

“Who are they?” interrogated the man with the graying hair.

“A girl I knew on duty. She came here to find me,” Sean lied. “They need shelter.”

“They need—”

“Before you blow a gasket, Wallace, remember I’m only here because of—”

“You’re risking the entire operation for a girl?” he exploded. “This isn’t a damn game, Banks!”

I was already on edge, tired, hungry, and hedging on desperation. On some level I understood the need for caution, but the rest of me was furious that this man was treating us like children who had run away from the babysitter.

“Does it look like we’re playing?” I said hotly. I felt Chase’s hand on my arm. The boy still held the gun. The tension in the room was palpable.

Wallace turned on me.

“There are induction procedures in place.”

I felt a flash of anger, and without thinking, displayed the discolored welts running across the backs of my hands.

“I know about induction procedures,” I spat. “So we can go ahead and skip the initiation.”

A cynical smirk lifted Wallace’s face but faded away into understanding.

“I can see that. This is merely a safety precaution, I assure you,” he said, calmer.

Sean cleared his throat. “Wallace tries to make sure recruits aren’t followed or working for the FBR.”

“You cleared me,” I said stubbornly. “Sean can vouch for me. We weren’t followed, and we sure as hell don’t work for the MM.”

“Sean hasn’t been with me long enough for that responsibility,” answered Wallace flatly.

Sean’s jaw was set. “So what are you going to do, discharge me?”

Wallace groaned. “Maybe it would sink in the second time.”

He stared at both Chase and I for several seconds. Seeming to have made up his mind about our threat, he motioned for the boy at the door to put down the shotgun. I sighed audibly. Chase did not.

“I’d apologize for the reception, but I’m sure you understand why we can’t send out open-house invitations.” He dipped his head toward me. “I’m Wallace. That over there is Billy. And you are?”

When I introduced us, recognition dawned on Wallace’s face.

“Jennings. Interesting. Been a while since we’ve had celebrities.” His curiosity was quickly snuffed. “I don’t suppose Sean stressed the importance of discretion?”

“We won’t say anything,” I promised.

“Certainly he won’t,” said Wallace, eyeing Chase.