Lies(42)

Thom says nothing, still busy on his cell phone.

“I trust you have access to a secure line? Give it to me, please.” The woman holds out her hand, her polish immaculate. Unlike mine, her hand is steady. Though she didn’t kill anyone, only dodged bullets. What a day.

Without hesitation, Thom hands over his cell. “You can get a warning to Mr. Adisa?”

“I can try. But I have a feeling this is going to get much worse before it gets better.”





CHAPTER EIGHT


Of course, Helene’s idea of a safe house is a large, renovated English-style cottage with a widow’s walk on top sitting on tons of acreage on the Hudson River. It’s not dirty, just a little dusty. As if no one’s been here for a while.

In the basement, there’s an operations room. Lots of computers and stuff. It’s the only room in the place that has clearly received constant attention and cleaning. No dust, and the tech looks like it just rolled off the shelves. There’s also a large walk-in weapons locker and a security system that could rival a Swiss bank’s. The woman is obviously prepared for just about anything.

Bear sits at one of the consoles, tapping away on the keyboard. “Fox and Crow are on their way. ETA for Fox is an hour and a half. But Crow is going to be longer.”

Not a surprise. The sun is rising since it took us forever to get here with Bear staying off main roads and often doubling back on himself. No one could have possibly managed to follow us. Though we’ve thought this before, and been unpleasantly surprised. After all, traffic and security cameras would have been able to monitor us for at least some of the way. And Helene’s car is a Rolls Royce. Very distinctive.

Thom pulls a collection of weapons out of the locker, lining them up on a table. Night-vision headset thingies. Fully automatic rifles. You name it, we’ve got it. Even Henry would be impressed.

“I can call in backup from the security firm I use,” says Helene, watching the screen over Bear’s shoulder.

Thom shakes his head. “We don’t know who Archer’s gotten to, except that he’s likely already penetrated the group once. Scorpion and her people had inside knowledge of your movements and security detail, Helene. I’d bet my life on it. They knew exactly when and where to attack to get their best shot at taking you out. If Bear and I hadn’t shown up, you’d be dead.”

“Very well. I’m going to rest while I have the opportunity. Alert me to any changes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helene ascends the stairs like a queen, with her head held high. Not a sign of anxiety, despite the recent assassination attempt. Meanwhile, I’m sitting on a chair to the side, mentally running through song lyrics from a few decades ago. Because I’m practical like that. And I’d rather think about Janis Joplin and her general awesomeness than death in general, or actually dying sometime soon. Mostly it keeps my mind occupied and away from things best not pondered. Like bodies and blood and brains on the wall. Me killing someone. The surprised look on Badger’s face. White roses with red specks.

Maybe I’m in shock. I feel cold and the real world seems distant. Like any moment now I might wake up from this horrible dream.

“Babe.” Thom holds out his hand. “C’mon upstairs and lie down. Nothing’s going to happen for a while.”

I take his hand, letting him pull me out of the chair and lead me upstairs. There’s plaid wallpaper and chunky brown leather furniture. Walnut kitchen cupboards and stainless steel appliances.

“Are you hungry?” asks Thom. “There’s nothing fresh, but the freezer is apparently full of frozen meals.”

Just the thought of food turns my stomach. “No. Thank you.”

Thom ushers me into the closest room, a tan-colored bedroom with a large sleigh bed made up with forest-green sheets. The curtains are drawn against the morning light. Like the rest of the house, the room is only a little dusty. Guess a cleaner comes once a month or so. The gardens might be basic, but they’d still need looking after. Perhaps she pays the people through a shell company so no one knows who they’re actually working for. Not that any of it particularly matters.

We’re safe for the moment. I should feel safe. I should be able to breathe easy for a little while. But I can’t. I’m just waiting for the next disaster to befall us. Which sounds like I have nil respect for Thom’s abilities. Though that’s not true. I’m just…damn. I don’t know what I am. I can still feel the gun bucking in my hand when I squeezed the trigger. Hear the sound of bullets entering flesh and pinging off metal. It’s as if a part of me is still standing in that elevator, watching all hell break loose.

And there’s a bathroom attached to this room, which is mighty handy given how my night turned out and what a mess I am. “I might just—”

“Let’s get you out of those bloody clothes.” Thom shuts the door and turns the lock. He inspects my face. A whole lot of too-pale skin with dark circles under the eyes, no doubt. It’s been a hard few days. A tough night.

“I convinced that kid to take me up to the penthouse,” I say. Just needing to hear it out loud. The cold hard fact of the matter. I am culpable. There is blood on my hands. “Cory. His name was Cory. He’d just finished his shift. He was doing me a favor.”

“You had no idea about what was going on up there.” Thom kneels at my feet, unties my boots. “Sometimes innocent people get caught up in bad things. If you want to blame someone, blame the person who shot him in cold blood. Sit on the bed, babe.”