Remember Jamie Baker (Jamie Baker #3)(43)
“No.” Major Wilks grunted. “I don’t care if it would work. We’re not revealing to the world that Chelsea’s Angel is alive. Angel could be so much more helpful in the future if people continue to believe she’s dead.”
I ground my teeth. Major Wilks was thinking about me as an asset again. Still, I was on his side about this. “I don’t want my identity leaked. It would ruin any life I might try to have someday. And what about my family? You said I have parents. If they were the parents of Chelsea’s Angel, their lives would be ruined, too. And any friends I had…you.” I gave Ryan a look.
Ryan’s answering smile was sympathetic. “I’d do it if it meant your safety, and so would your parents. But I wasn’t talking about revealing you as Chelsea’s Angel.” I frowned, and he squeezed my hand. “You have a different story worthy of prime-time news.”
“I do?”
I glanced around the room and realized I was the only one not caught up. Lightbulbs were going off in everyone else’s heads. “Actually, we do,” Ryan said. “You and me. Remember how I said Visticorp tried to capture you, and you had to run off to The Lair with Teddy about a month before the explosion?”
An uneasy feeling settled in my gut. “Well, as far as the world knows, about seven months ago Jamie Baker was abducted from her college dormitory and vanished without a trace. Her boyfriend was shot in the attack. The story was everywhere. Her return would be huge.”
I gasped, shocked, and my eyes fell to his arm and the round scar I’d seen their earlier. A bullet wound. I looked at Ryan, and he surprised me even more by grinning. “That’s right, I took a bullet for you, babe.”
“You…” My voice trailed off as I tried to get a grip on the sudden swell of emotions raging inside me. Guilt, gratitude, horror…take your pick. I felt them all.
Ryan squeezed my hand. “That’s a good reason to promote a guy to boyfriend status, don’t you think?”
He was joking about this? He was shot, and he wanted to joke about our relationship? Was he for real?
“Don’t fall for it, Angel,” Johnny G teased. “It was barely a flesh wound. It didn’t even hit anything vital. I’ve been shot twice myself. It’s really not that bad.”
As I turned to gape at the Special Forces agent turned ACE, Ryan argued with him. “Hey, considering I was on a football scholarship—which I lost after I was shot—I’d say my throwing arm was extremely vital.”
“As if you needed a scholarship, rich boy,” Eyes teased. “And you didn’t even really like football that much. You’d already given up UCLA to stay close to Angel when she could have run the distance between the schools in five seconds anyway.”
“True,” Ryan agreed. He shrugged and winked at me. “Really, it’s the thought that counts. Boyfriend status. Just think about it.”
Too baffled by their banter—and Ryan’s total nonchalance to the situation—to try and make sense of it, I shook my head and tried to focus on the conversation we were supposed to be having. “So you think we should have this Carter person run a story saying they found the missing college girl. Okay, that makes sense. But I look just like Chelsea’s Angel. Won’t they all recognize me and guess the truth?”
“I think you’ll be okay if we leave your hair natural.”
Joy. Just what I wanted. Become a national news story with neon-green hair. “The guy at the motel was the one who told me about Chelsea’s Angel. He brought her up because he told me I looked like her identical twin.”
Ryan shook his head. “I think it’s the eyes. Not many people have yellow eyes. Chelsea’s Angel wore a mask, so her eyes really stuck out. With the green eyes, you were never recognized as the Angel. We’ll get you some new contacts and you should be fine.”
Geez, the guy just had an answer for everything, didn’t he? I glared at him, and he graced me with another peck on the cheek. He was so touchy-feely. If it didn’t feel so nice every time he touched me I’d have zapped him for it by now, but the more contact he made, the more I started to crave it.
What was wrong with me? I definitely wasn’t as warm with anyone else. I hardly ever let Teddy touch me, and if any of the other ACEs tried to kiss me they’d most likely get zapped for their efforts. But Ryan? I’d practically given him permission to hold my hand and kiss my cheek whenever he felt like it because I never made any effort to stop him. I never even got mad at him for it. Was I starved for attention from being so lonely for the last six months, or had I always been that weak with Ryan?
“I’ll be right there with you, Jamie. You’ll be fine. As long as you don’t blow up any cameras or fry any reporters.”
“That’s a big possibility,” I grumbled.
I couldn’t believe I was really going to do this. This plan had disaster written all over it.
Dave Carter worked for CNN in New York City. I took Ryan and Major Wilks with me superstyle while the rest of the team agreed to wait and follow us by plane later. It gave us some time to work out a plan with Carter, and kept me out of the skies.
Carter’s office was in the Time Warner building on the southwest corner of Central Park. Columbus Circle, a small roundabout with a monument dedicated to Christopher Columbus, rested between the building and the park. It was a nice little sanctuary with a fountain, landscaping, and benches for people to sit and enjoy the city. I stopped there, and both Ryan and Major Wilks immediately plopped down onto the closest bench to catch their rolling stomachs.