Retribution (Secrets & Lies #3)(58)

Isis leans back and laughs lightly, crossing her ankles in front of her. “Ah, dear Nathan. I suppose he does have reason to not trust me, but what he doesn’t understand is that in some ways, I am the one person in all of this that he can trust.”

“How so?” I ask, wanting for some reason to know this woman's insight into his mindset. “You're trying to kill him. Me too, actually.”

“Which is what makes me trustworthy,” Isis says pleasantly. “You see, I'm not trying to kill you, Melissa. I am going to kill you. Nothing is going to stop that, you understand? So your fate is decided, that is for sure. But while I am going to kill you, I do not hate you, I have no feelings about it. You're a job, plain and simple. As such, you do deserve at least some respect and dignity in your death. What Peter wanted to do... no. It’s unacceptable. Besides, it risks my plan, and that is worse than your dignity in my eyes.”

“No feelings?” I ask, and Isis shrugs. “I don't believe you.”

Isis laughs lightly and leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “I will admit, your artistic skill is impressive. In looking at it, I could see the world through your eyes, and they are eyes I wish I could look through all the time. It's not enough to save your life, however.”

Well, at least she can appreciate fine art. “And Nathan?”

“The best man I've ever had in my life,” Isis says, leaning back. “It is... it is the one mistake I made in my career to shoot him back then. But, c'est la vie, non? I can’t rewind time, and so I live with the consequences. He’s a good man.”

“I know.” The words are out before I can even think about them, and Isis stops, a twinge of anger twisting her delicate features. She truly is beautiful, the best of her French and Kurdish heritage coming through in her face, and I wish I had a sketch pad to capture that face as it smooths out and gives me a sad little smile. She sees right through my words, knowing I have feelings for Nathan.

“Is that so? Well, now I see why he resisted my charms. I thought the memory of my sister would have kept him from being with anyone else. You must be even more remarkable than I thought to have swayed him.”

I nod, giving Isis an honest smile, although it's meant for Nathan. “I love him. He loves me.”

Isis nods, maybe a little more sadly than she was a moment ago, and reopens her book. “Then you have my congratulations, and my condolences. At least you were able to truly feel l'amour, count yourself lucky. It’s regrettable that it was for such a short time. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to finish the rest of this chapter before I send the message to your family. I’ll bring you some food in about two hours if you are awake still.”

Isis opens her book again and starts reading. A few minutes later, Peter comes stomping down the hallway, screaming over his shoulder that he's going out for dinner, slamming the door behind him. Isis gives it a glance and goes back to her reading, while I close my eyes and pray that Nathan, my knight in shining armor, can actually find me.





Chapter Twenty-Four





Nathan





Jackson has a gas can in each hand, swinging them up and into the bed of the truck, and I feed him the cargo strap, where he puts them under the handles before clipping it to the eyelet and ratcheting it tight. “Not too much,” I remind him. “These are plastic cans. We don't want to crack them.”

“Roger,” Jackson says, stopping the ratchet and checking. “Good?”

I check, and there's just a little bit of slack. It's tight enough the cans won't slide, but we can still get them out if we need. “Yeah, good. Eight cans, forty gallons. That's a tank and some change extra, we can make about eight hundred miles on what we have.”

Jackson nods and looks inside the cab, where BA's baby seat in the back looks strange considering everything else. “It's going to be tight in there. Five people and a baby in a crew cab.”

“I know. Do you want to leave BA and Andrea here?.”

Jackson thinks, then shakes his head. “Katrina would want to keep Andi with us, make sure she's as connected as possible. And Katrina's only got the one laptop.”

I nod. “Do you want to bring the van so there’s more room?”

Jackson considers the vehicle, with its busted back window, and nods. “It'd help.”

I point, showing him my concern. “The window? A cop could pull you over for that.”

“We plasticked the thing once, we can do it again. If Carson or I drive it, the worst we'd get is a ticket from some cop. Actually...” Jackson says, looking at the window, his eyes going bright, “I think I can fill that in.”

“How?”

Jackson ignores me and runs toward the house, and I watch him go. I'm running out of things to do to keep myself occupied while Katrina's banging away inside, trying to keep her sources going on finding Peter. She's working hard, and last time I checked Darcy's got every underground hacker and member in New Orleans searching for us. But that means I've got little to do other than sit around with my thumb up my ass and make sure everything's ready to go.

Jackson must have found what he wanted because he comes running back out of the house, a piece of paper and a tape measure in his hand. He measures the width and height of the broken window and then runs around the back of the house, the whine of the electric saw starting up a moment later. I start to go around the house to see if I can help, but before I can, the door to the house opens and Carson sticks his head out. “Nathan! We got something!”