Between Shadows Page 17

  Nothing happens.

  Instead the female guard smiles at him, waving him through. Our bag sails through the X-ray machine. Luke picks it up and hoists it on his shoulder, sending me an arrogant grin. He hovers right on the other side of the machine, waiting for me.

  I walk through the line, waiting for the alarm to go off. But just like with Luke, nothing happens. The same woman that waved Luke through waves me through as well, although the smile she throws my way pales in comparison to the one Luke received. We walk away from the security line together.

  “How did you do that?”

  Luke grins like a boy showing off a new trick. “My watch.” He flashes me his wrist and the stainless steel timepiece. “It has a device inside of it that screws with the X-ray machine. Handy, isn’t it?”

  “Who are you, James Bond?”

  He laughs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Okay, fine. Plus I may have paid off some security people earlier. I’ve come through this airport a few times and we have a deal.” He grins at the annoyed look on my face. “Have I ever told you how much I want to kiss you when you’re surly?”

  I roll my eyes. “Bite me.”

  “We’ve probably made enough of a scene in the airport. We should save something for later.” He flashes me another devastating grin. “There are plenty of interesting places on your body that I wouldn’t mind a chance to nibble on.”

  I trip over the carpet, my feet an awkward tangle. My cheeks flame; I don’t even have the good grace to recover smoothly.

  Luke coughs, and I can see he’s trying hard not to laugh.

  His phone goes off, saving me from even more embarrassment. Thank god. Luke scans the message quickly.

  “Change of plans.”

  “What do you mean change of plans?” I need to get back to London.

  “Oscar came through.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That guy in Tunisia. The former asset Oscar told us about.”

  My heartbeat speeds up.

  “He’ll meet with us. The only catch is—we have to go to Tunis.”

  “I have to go back to London.”

  “If you don’t want to go, I can do it on my own. You can go back to London, take care of Grace. I don’t blame you for wanting to be with your sister.”

  I’m so torn. I’m dying to get back to Grace, but I need to see this through. It’s the only way she’ll truly be safe. I trust Luke, but I’m not used to giving control up like this. It’s as much my mission as it is his.

  “Fine. Let’s go to Tunis.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  We walk to a café on the Avenue Habib Bourguiba—a street Luke refers to as the Tunisian ChampsÉlysées. The city is an interesting mix of East and West. The French influence is obvious in the architecture around us, but it still feels like we’re firmly entrenched in the Middle East.

  I wish I could enjoy it more. I struggle, exhaustion settling in. We’ve been traveling for days now, jumping continents at a pace that’s beginning to wear on me. I’ve tried to sleep on the flights as much as possible, but between my dislike of flying and the constant switching time zones, I’m running on practically no sleep at all. Luke seems to be doing fine.

  The former asset, known only to us as Malcolm, is already sitting at the café when we arrive. He claimed a table in the back near an exit. He sits against the wall, his eyes surveying the room. I have no doubt he is as well armed as we are. Our carelessness in Havana won’t be repeated.

  We slide into the remaining seats at his little table. Luke takes the spot next to Malcolm’s, his gaze trained toward the door. I’m left with my back to the entrance, but between the two of us, Luke is much sharper right now. We need him to be the point man.

  A waitress comes over to take our orders, and I study Malcolm. He’s not particularly tall, but even in his casual shirt and jeans, it’s clear that he’s fit. Really fit. He looks to be about thirty. His hair is black and buzzed, his skin tan, his eyes so dark they look nearly black. He leans back in his chair, studying us, mimicking my perusal. His posture may be lazy, but I’m not fooled. He has an asset’s eyes.

  “How can I help you?”

  Luke leans across the table, careful to keep his voice low. “We have a mutual friend. Oscar thought you could help with some questions we have.”

  Malcolm’s gaze flicks back and forth between Luke and me. “You’re the ones they’re looking for.”

  My heart pounds as I shove my hand in my front pocket and grip the knife’s handle. So word of our defection has gotten out.

  “What are you talking about?”

  His gaze shifts to me. “I still keep up with news—”

  “How?” I ask, curious to learn more about the Academy’s network.

  “I have my ways.”

  “What are they saying about us?”

  “That two assets left the Academy in London. That they were spies. Nothing official has been released by the Academy. Just rumors filtering out.”

  I’m surprised there isn’t an international alert out on us. They have a team of assassins stationed all over the world. Why aren’t they using them?

  “What else have you heard?”

  Malcolm laughs. “You think that’s how this works? You just come here and I spill all of my secrets?”

  “I don’t know,” I snap. “You said you were willing to meet with us. Why? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know something. Clearly, you want something from us as well. You aren’t just doing this out of the kindness of your heart.”

  Malcolm’s gaze shifts between the two of us. “You go first. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

  “You left the Academy. And Ares. We want to know everything you know about them.”

  Surprise flickers across Malcolm’s face and something nearly imperceptible happens at the mention of that word. But if I were betting, I’d say he looks angry.

  “What do you know about Ares?” he asks.

  “We know enough,” Luke bluffs.

  Malcolm laughs again. It’s the kind of laugh that’s cloaked in darkness. “I doubt that. If you really knew about Ares, if you truly understood who they are and what they do, you wouldn’t be here.”

  My patience is beyond thin. “So tell us.”

  Malcolm’s eyes narrow, focusing first on Luke. “How long have you been out of the Academy?”

  “A few years.”

  Malcolm’s attention turns to me. “And you? You look too young to be out on your own.”

  It’s hard enough being a girl in my line of work; my age doesn’t do me any favors. “I do just fine, thanks.”

  Luke grins, barring his teeth in a feral expression. “Piece of advice? I wouldn’t needle her. She’s in a killer mood on her best days. We’re tired, the Academy is screwing with us, and we want answers. We flew all the way to Tunisia. Are you going to help us or not?”

  Malcolm doesn’t respond. He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze calculating, before turning his attention to Luke. Classic stalling technique.

  I have no doubt he’s a dangerous motherfucker.

  “Ares runs the academies,” he finally answers.

  Luke nods. “We know that.”

  “They’re an international organization. They’re everywhere. There isn’t a country they don’t have their fingers in.”

  “Who are they?” I ask. This shadowy bullshit isn’t getting us any closer to the truth.

  “Politicians, world leaders, military leaders, financial leaders. Major power players.”

  “Are most of them British?”

  “No. It’s a mix.”

  “Who’s in charge?” Luke interjects.

  Malcolm’s gaze remains on me. “They operate with a twelve-man board. Membership rotates with three permanent members serving indefinitely. The academy heads report to the board. The board’s identity is highly guarded and protected. The members are untouchable.”

  “How do you know so much about the board?
” I ask.

  “Because each member has a four-person security detail. I was assigned to guard one of the rotating members. I did it for two years. You’d be surprised what you learn.”

  “Is this guy still on the board?” Luke asks.

  “She. No, she isn’t.” His gaze flickers to me, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Women are just as capable of being ruthless as the men. Sometimes, more so. You should know that better than anyone.”

  I ignore the jab, leaning across the table. “What’s their agenda?”

  Malcolm’s eyes narrow. He studies me for a moment, not speaking. Under the table, Luke squeezes my hand. I can hear the silent, be quiet, just as clearly as if he’d spoken out loud.

  Malcolm still stares.

  There’s something about that stare. It’s not sexual or admiring. He’s cataloguing me, assessing me. The sensation is all too familiar. And yet—

  His stare makes me want to squirm.

  Malcolm breaks eye contact, rising from the table. He pulls money out of his pocket, tossing it next to his glass. He leans down, his face close to mine.

  “Their motive? They kill. They’re powerful people and their only goal is to amass more power. They will take, and threaten, until they have everything they want. We’re just the tools they use to get to their endgame. And we’re disposable to them. All their talk about justice is just that—talk.”

  “We know. We’ve figured that out. But we need more. Why do they choose the assets? How do they pick them? Why us?”

  Malcolm’s stare bores into me. “I suspect some were born for it. And others are just unlucky.”

  He pulls away from me.

  “Wait. Is that it? You’re not going to help us at all?”

  “I don’t need this. I paid a debt to Oscar, but you shouldn’t have brought this here.”

  Luke’s eyes narrow. I can tell he’s thinking something, but instead of speaking he just sits there quietly, his gaze darting back and forth between Malcolm and me. Why isn’t he saying anything?

  “Where would we find them if we wanted to?”

  I can’t accept that we came all the way here for nothing.

  Malcolm laughs. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about finding them. I suspect they’ll come for you. You’re already dead.”

  A chill slides down my spine.

  Luke rises, anger coming off of him in waves, his body poised, ready to attack. I reach out, grabbing his arm, holding him back, trying to keep him from doing something stupid. I know the look in his eyes. Right now, I’m worried he’s going to start something we can’t afford.

  Malcolm seems to sense the dangerous shift in Luke at the same moment I do; he pulls back. A look of sympathy crosses his face. For some reason, the sympathy scares me more than anything else.

  His gaze remains on me, but his words are for Luke. “You care about her. It’s obvious. But you have no idea what you’re getting into. You think you can save her, but you can’t. You can’t protect her. Not from this. She will destroy you.”

  As he walks away he stops for a moment, turning back to face us. “They have an estate in England. In Surrey. The board meets there every few months. You want to find Ares? I would start there. They have a meeting coming up in a few days. But trust me, you aren’t going to like what you find.”

  He walks away without another glance.

  A minute passes and neither one of us speaks. Luke grabs his napkin, balling it up. He takes the little white paper, ripping it into shreds piece by piece.

  I put my hand over his, squeezing. “Stop.”

  “He’s wrong. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be safe.”

  It’s as if he believes saying it enough will make it true.

  “I don’t care if I’m fine. All I care about is Grace.” And you.

  “I care about you. I care if you’re fine. I’m not okay if you’re not.”

  She will destroy you.

  I hate that Malcolm’s probably right. We’re killers. I am a killer. Any excuse I used before to justify my behavior has been ripped from me. I am a monster.

  Luke rises, his body tense. “Let’s go. We should head back to the hotel.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to figure out what set him off. He was fine and then he wasn’t. Our talk with Malcolm has left me frustrated too, but this is something else entirely.

  He flashes me an easy—and wholly unbelievable—smile. “Sure. Just wondering if the hotel will have room service.” He kisses the top of my head, his lips brushing against my hair.

  I nod like I accept his answer, but I can always tell when Luke is lying.

  There is no “okay” for people like us.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Luke goes in search of food and I shower quickly, washing the grime of the past few days off of me. I hesitate when dressing. Finally, I slip into one of Luke’s shirts. It’s big enough to almost fit me like a nightgown while still leaving most of my legs bare. I slide into bed, covering myself with the sheets and blanket, waiting for Luke to return. A few minutes later I hear the three-knock code we agreed upon, and Luke pushes the bedroom door open, a bag of food in hand.

  He walks into the room, closing the door with a gentle thud. He engages all of the locks before turning back to face me.

  All it takes is a look for everything to change.

  It’s like all of the air has been sucked from the room. I wait for him to go sit on the other bed. The room isn’t huge, but at least it would put some space between us. Instead, he stops in front of mine. He sets the food on the nightstand. He stands there, facing me, and I see the question lingering in his eyes.

  I don’t know what answer to give. I’m nervous and I’m scared—not of him, but the craziness surrounding us, the fear that there is something destructive inside of me. And I’m sick of being both. I want him. It’s the worst possible timing and I don’t care. I want him now. Need him.

  I pull back the sheets. For a moment, Luke doesn’t move. Then his lips curve. He slides into bed next to me and turns so he’s on his side.

  My heart pounds.

  We lie in bed facing each other, our bodies posed as if they’re mirror images. We’re nearly fully clothed, but something about the closeness leaves me exposed. Luke moves an inch closer. Our breath mingles. He reaches out, a fingertip trailing down my face. That simple touch lights a fire within me. Every time he touches me, I feel as though I’m going to combust.

  We’ve been hurtling toward this moment for days now, both picking up where we left off and starting somewhere new entirely, on equal footing, without the cloak of our pasts and our covers shrouding us.

  “Are you okay?”

  I’m not sure if he’s referring to what’s going on between us now or to everything else. Either way, my answer is probably the same.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We can’t beat ourselves up. We can’t lose sight of the important thing. Maybe we’ve made mistakes, but we have a chance to change things now. A chance to end things with the Academy.”

  There’s something in his voice—I’m not sure who he’s trying harder to convince—himself or me. I want to believe him. I want to try to be a different person; I want to escape the darkness that fills me. But it seems too easy, and nothing in my life has been easy.

  “What we’ve done—”

  Luke reaches out, his finger ghosting over my lips. “Is in the past. We have a chance at a fresh start now. A chance to be better.”

  “What if we can’t?” It’s my deepest fear. “What if we can’t be better? What if we’re exactly what they made us to be? What if that’s all we’ll ever be good at, all we’ll ever know?”

  “It’s not.”

  “What if it is?”

  Luke pulls back, studying me. “What’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what happened to the girl I’ve always known? The girl who isn’t afraid of anything. The fearless gi
rl.”

  I laugh, the sound hollow. “I’m anything but fearless.” He’s seen the claustrophobia, knows about the nightmares, all of it. If I really were fearless, I would be someone else; I’d be stronger. Sometimes it feels like I’m always afraid.

  “Being human isn’t a weakness,” Luke answers. “Being vulnerable,” I hate that word, “doesn’t make you weak. You’re fearless because you are afraid of things. And instead of letting that fear define you, you defy it. Constantly. You aren’t afraid to fight for what you believe in. You are fearless.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, linking his fingers with mine. He squeezes gently.

  His words unravel me, bit by bit. I want to be the girl Luke describes, but I see the blood on my hands, and I can’t escape the weight of that. Whatever Luke says, I’m responsible in the end. It may have been the Academy that directed me to act, but my hand took those lives. And even if he forgives me, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.

  “I’m so fucked up,” I whisper.

  Luke squeezes my hand again. “Then we’re perfectly suited for each other. Did you ever think that I’m pretty messed up myself? Maybe that’s what I like about you. I can be myself with you. Completely myself. I like that you accept that.”

  I shake my head in amazement. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “How do you…” I fumble for the right words. “There’s a lightness about you despite everything else going on. How do you keep that lightness with you?”

  He’s silent for a long time.

  “Because there’s something I love more than I hate myself.”

  Every muscle in my body stills. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I feel like I’m having a strange out-of-body experience, one I have no idea how to handle. He can’t mean—

  “I love you, X. Always.”

  I’m speechless. I hear that voice in my head again. People make you weak. Suddenly, this word “love” that he throws around is more terrifying than anything the Academy or Ares would do to us. I don’t know why, but I feel fear, real fear. If he loves me, if I love him, then I have something irreplaceable to lose.