Erasing Faith(30)

There were six monitors, each displaying various views of hallways and exit points in what appeared to be multiple buildings. Some of the split-screen images showed what looked like the Hermes office interior; others were entirely foreign to me. On the largest monitor in the center, there was a computerized street map of Budapest, with several red blinking dots scattered at different locations throughout the city.

I wasn’t a tech expert by any means, but it looked like they were tracking something. Several somethings, actually.

But what — the bikes? The packages?

Why did a simple courier service need so much security?

And, more importantly… was I about to appear on one of those monitors?

I felt my stomach churn with unease at the thought. It took effort, but I managed to keep my eyes from wildly scanning the ceiling above, looking for cameras trained on me, as I backed slowly away from the door.

It was time to get out of here. Screw the textbook, screw the quiz. I didn’t want to be at Hermes another moment. The guards were distracted by their argument — they’d never know I was here.

Slinking back toward the exit, I cursed my stupid decision-making the entire time. Then, I cursed Wes Adams for clouding my head and making me forget my damn book bag in the first place. And then, I cursed Professor Varga because, really, if he hadn’t threatened a freaking pop quiz, I wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

As I neared the back door, I felt some of my panic ease. I hadn’t done anything wrong — I wasn’t sure why I’d responded with such fear. Even if I’d been spotted, it’s not like they would’ve done anything to me. I’d obviously overreacted.

Or… maybe not.

Because when I rounded the final corner that would lead me to the exit, I bumped straight into Istvan’s broad chest. And he did not look happy to see me.

***

“How did you get in here?” he hissed for the second time, his hands wrapped like iron shackles around my biceps. His normally friendly eyes were narrowed on my face and filled with suspicion.

“I told you already, Istvan! I scanned my badge and came through the delivery entrance.” I tried to calm my racing heartbeat. This was Istvan. We were friends — or, if not friends, then acquaintances. I said hi to him every time I arrived for a shift. He laughed at Margot’s lame jokes. He wouldn’t hurt me.

Right?

“There was no guard at the door?” he growled, disbelief written plainly on his features.

I shook my head.

“Why are you here?” His hands tightened on my arms.

“Look, I just needed my textbook.” I swallowed roughly. “I swear.”

He muttered something indecipherable in Hungarian.

“You’re hurting me,” I said quietly.

His grip loosened marginally but he didn’t release me.

“You aren’t supposed to be here after hours.” His expression was grim. “I should report this.”

“I didn’t know, Istvan. I’m really sorry. I had no idea.” I stared at him with wide eyes, imploring him to believe me. “I’m a terrible liar — just ask any of my older siblings. You’d know if I was lying to you. I have a big quiz tomorrow in my history class and I forgot my school bag. That’s it. I promise.”

He stared at me for a long moment, weighing my words.

“Wait here.” He released me abruptly and turned away. “And don’t move.”

Crap. I was so screwed. He was totally going to report me. I was definitely going to lose my job.

I rubbed my tender arm muscles as I watched him walk away. For two long minutes — the longest freaking minutes of my life — I waited for him to return. I didn’t dare run, knowing that would only make me look guiltier. If there was any chance of salvaging this situation, I had to hold my ground.

He finally returned and I nearly collapsed with relief when I saw he was alone and, to my surprise, carrying my book bag in one hand. He shoved it roughly in my direction, leveling me with a serious look that undoubtedly would’ve made me pee my pants had there been a single drop of liquid in my bladder.

“Office hours are 6 a.m. to 8 p.m.” His tone was grave. “Don’t forget it.”

I nodded, my shaky fingers clamping onto the fabric and clutching it tightly to my chest.

“You’re lucky it was me,” Istvan muttered, his eyes on the ceiling. “Anyone else and you’d be…”

“Fired?” I whispered.

His eyes flew back to mine. “Yeah…fired.”

There was something strange about the way he said those words, but I was so focused on the fact that he was letting me go without reporting me, I didn’t expend too much brainpower dissecting it.

“Thank you, Istvan.”

He stepped forward to pull the door open for me. “Don’t mention it.” He glanced at me through slitted eyes. “Seriously. Don’t.”

I nodded again.

“See you tomorrow, Faith.”

“Bye.”

I slipped through the exit and out into the night, thanking my lucky stars that my job — and my skin — were still intact. I didn’t let my thoughts linger too long on Istvan’s strange reaction, or the fact that Hermes had a heck of a lot of surveillance in place for a family-run courier service. Sometimes, it was simply better to be left in the dark.