“I did it to fuck with Jabberwock’s head. It was stupid. It was childish. I wish we hadn’t gone. Is that what you’re looking for?” The irritation in her voice grew with each sentence.
“No. Because it’s not true. Why were we in Nashville? Why did we attend the masquerade? And where did you go the next morning?”
She clenched her jaw and stared at him, ice radiating from her. “I went to call the NSA and tell them where you were. Not. You’re pushing for something, and I don’t know what it is, but I’d like to remind you that you were never part of my plan. I didn’t ask you to find me. I didn’t ask you to leave Salt Lake with me.”
He didn’t like how she nailed his suspicions with the flippant retort. “Just tell me what we’re doing.”
“I am. I have been.”
“But you’re leaving out details. Let’s start simple. What. Was. In Nashville?”
“No. Screw you and this third-degree. I don’t know what I did or what Queen said to you, but I thought you and I were good. We moved past this. When I say I trust you with my life, that’s literal. I’m not answering your questions, because I don’t know why it’s so important all the sudden.”
“How about a different question?” He yanked his anger and hurt and rage and stowed them under the callousness that would get him through this. “Are you Cheshire Cat?”
She dropped the dolls, and her face paled. “What?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The answer to Blake’s question was simple. It sat on the tip of Reagan’s tongue. Say it, and this deescalated, and she could shove I told you so back in his face.
But the venom in his voice and that he believed she was Cheshire Cat enough to tear into her like this, made her bite back the truth until it ached in her lungs. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and glared at him. “We were in Nashville, and I was out that morning, because that was where the key was for the safe deposit box. And yes, Alex mentioned Hare, Dormouse, and White Rabbit attended the masquerade every year. You probably don’t get this, but I needed that confirmation that my brother wasn’t the struggling, starving man I thought he was. I had to see for myself that an event like that, where it was all riches and wealth, was a part of his life.”
“Bullshit.” Blake spat the word.
The ache inside swelled, and she bit the inside of her cheek. “If you’re not going to believe anything I say, why are we having this conversation?”
“If it’s true, why not tell me that up front?”
“You want the list?” She was falling for him. Of all the stupid, naive, immature things she’d done to date, that had moved to the top of the list. “I’ll count it down. I didn’t know why you approached me in Salt Lake, so that seemed like a bad time to give you all the details. Would you have agreed to the party if you knew I just wanted to look? Why the hell did you agree anyway, if you thought it was a bad idea? And because ever since you came back into my life, you look at me like I’m a broken toy, and I didn’t want to give you another reason to do that.”
“Hang on,” she said, as more of the meaning in his accusation sank in. “You think I hired people to shoot at us. At me. Even if I’m as far gone as the pity in your eyes says, why the fuck would I do that? What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.” His retort lacked strength. “What’s wrong with you, walking back into the middle of all of this, to chase a phantom? We were out. He didn’t know where you were.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” she shouted. She clenched her jaw until she could draw some of the rage from her voice. It gouged a hole in her chest, to hear him speak to everything she feared was cracked inside. “I don’t know why you think it’s your job to save me. I didn’t ask for that. I don’t want that. You look at me and see a little girl who doesn’t know anything, who almost got herself killed. I’m not her. Stop trying to heal me or fix me or put me back together. I’m good the way I am.”
Except that she wasn’t fine, or she wouldn’t be here, but—God damn it—that wasn’t his call to make.
“That’s not what this is.” The accusation was gone from his tone, replaced with something sadder.
She didn’t care. “What is it, then? Explain it slow, so I get it.”
“You can’t sink into the darkness that comes with this world. Seeing it... You can’t take that back. Understanding it? Knowing how to navigate it? Necessary evils. But you can’t let it become a part of you.”
Great. Now she was being lectured. “And you avoided it? That’s why you’re so well adjusted? Why we spent all this time together, and all it took for you to question me was a phone call and what one of his people said?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m already a part of it, and it sucks here. I want out. But if you can’t climb up from the pit, I don’t stand a chance.”
“It’s a sweet sentiment. Pretty words. It doesn’t change the fact you don’t trust me.”
Blake sank into a chair with a sigh. “Because I still don’t get it. I understand the drive and obsession. I wish I didn’t, but enough of me gets it that I can’t argue it. I don’t know why you keep taunting him, though. Las Vegas. Nashville. What does that do?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “You should know that. Queen just did it to you. You spent seven years working for the guy. How is this a mystery?” From where she sat, it was the most obvious thing there was about Jabberwock.
“Explain it slow, so I get it.”
She didn’t appreciate having her words tossed back at her. “I don’t keep taunting him. Twice. That was more than enough for me and for him.”
“Enough of what?”
“To make him question everything. He’s a paranoid bastard. He plays so many games and twists so many things around, he forgets what’s real, and he assumes everyone else around him is doing the same.” She glared. “And apparently he’s right on some counts.”
Blake had the good sense to wince.
“The rest of the time, I’ve stayed as far from him as I could while still doing this.” She needed to calm down. Letting her rage and irritation speak brought them here. It may have kept them alive, but it immersed her in a toxic, terrifying game.
She forced a steady rhythm through her veins. “After I left you, and even before, I was furious. When I told Jabberwock I wanted to burn it all down, I meant it as literally as was possible. I climbed back from that ledge. I figured out what Alex left for me, and I spent several months putting it all together. I’m close, and I needed Jabberwock looking in another direction.”
“Close to what?”
She nodded at the plastic box that held the dolls. “Assembling the information to publish to the internet. To put everything about him out there. To tell the world who he is and who his clients and vendors are, and to take away every shred of anonymity and leverage he has.”
“Until he comes after you,” Blake said.
She’d thought of that. The nightmares woke her. She’d tell Blake the same thing she tried to convince herself of. “He was coming after me anyway. And for all I know, the result would be the same, regardless. This way, his resources are gone, I’ll be out of reach when the information is published, and he’ll have to find me before someone finds him.”
“It’s nuts. The entire thing.” Blake dropped his face into his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.
It was. But it didn’t matter how often she told herself that same thing; she couldn’t stop. “I tried to walk away. I can’t leave this, given what I know about him. About everything. You came back.”
“For you.”
She wouldn’t let him use her as an excuse. Refused to. “That might be what you told yourself—and that little girl in me that you want to save? She likes that answer—but you’re here because you can’t walk away.”
He clenched his fist then wriggled his fingers, then repeated the gesture. “Can I say it’s both?”
“Sure. Still think I’m Cat?”
“No. And I didn�
�t before, but I let Queen get in my head, and I needed answers. I’m sorry.”
“That’s what they do. You’ve played that game.” She tried to put emphasis on her words without letting too much of her hurt show. “You should have asked, instead of...” She frowned. “And I should have told you days ago what I was up to. I’m sorry too. Are we good?”
“We’re not. We’re better—more honest about the parts that aren’t great—but we’re far from good.”
The words hurt as much as anything he could have said, but she had no argument. “That’s fair. I need to get to Logan. Are you still in?”
“We’re going back to Utah?” He looked at her in disbelief.
“We have to. It’s where we’ll find the decryption information for the card.”
He rolled his shoulders and met her gaze. “I’m in. Because you’re one hundred percent right about one thing—I can’t walk away from this, either.”
She gave him a weak smile, though his confession did anything but reassure her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sawyer had no trouble locating his target when he stepped into the Seattle diner. Tony Harrison—Blake’s old boss—was one of only four patrons in the local spot at three in the afternoon.
Exactly what Sawyer hoped for. He’d found information that the man came here for a late lunch, specifically to get away from people.
He approached Tony and took the seat next to him at the counter.
Tony glanced sideways but not up. “Plenty of other seats in here, pal. Don’t you dare offer to buy me a drink.”
“I’ll do one better.” Sawyer like the blunt attitude. He waved down the waitress. “His lunch is on me.” When she was gone, he reached in his jacket pocket and set his phone to record the conversation. An old habit that served him on several occasions.
Tony jerked his head up and swiveled in his seat. “Listen, asshole—” His eyes grew wide when he saw Sawyer. “I know you.”
“And we’ve never even been formally introduced. I’m flattered.”
“You’re the Hare.”
“Just Hare. It’s a name, not a title.” Sawyer grabbed a nearby packet of sugar and rolled it between his fingers. Looking at the vein poking out on the side of Tony’s neck, he decided telling him he was actually Jabberwock might end the conversation sooner than he wanted.
Tony reached under his jacket, and Sawyer grabbed his wrist. “Hear me out,” Sawyer said. “We have a mutual problem.”
“You nearly cost me my career.” Tony strained against his grip, then twisted free with a grunt.
“No. Blake Allen and Reagan Lidell could cost you your career. As I said, mutual problem.”
Tony narrowed his eyes, then turned back to his meal. “Talk to me.” He sawed off a bit of steak, dragged it through egg yolk, then shoved the forkful in his mouth.
Sawyer was surprised it didn’t take more convincing. This was only a foot in the door, though. “If I point you to them, can you do the rest?”
“Why would you do that?”
Mutual problem should have covered that. Sawyer was losing interest in the conversation. “They’re making business difficult.”
“I bet. And not my problem.” Tony snorted. “I’d have loved to nab you at the same time we took Ms. Lidell, but no. You and your cohorts were off-limits. Jabberwock was the priority.”
“Lucky me. What did happen when you grabbed her, anyway?”
“Complete fluke. We lost her in Salt Lake, and the higher-ups were furious. Then we get an anonymous tip—from a cat, of all things—that she was holed up in a condo here. We kept eyes on the place for a few days, and we were ready to scale back our people, when she stormed out in the middle of the night.”
Sawyer hid his frown. Did Alice call them? They extracted her, so it made sense. “So, you took her to a safe house, and she refused to cooperate?” It was something he’d been curious about. Why didn’t she tell them that one piece of information about him? She gave him reasons, but it felt like there was more he didn’t know.
“Safe house. Yeah.” Another snort, followed by Tony slicing off another piece of steak. “We’ve got a holding facility”—he made air quotes—“where we introduced her to a taste of what held indefinitely can mean.”
“Oh?” Sawyer would say as little as possible if it meant this man kept talking.
“The bitch fucking hated it. Screamed. Threatened. Negotiated. She burned herself, to get attention.”
Sawyer liked a good game, but the glee in Tony’s voice sent fury racing through his veins. Locking someone in a room wasn’t a game; it was a zoo. “I bet.” His voice was thin. “I’ve got what I need. I’ll be in touch.”
“Looking forward to it.” Tony set down his silverware, wiped his fingers on a napkin, and extended his hand.
In a fluid motion, Sawyer grabbed the knife, twisted his arm, and plunged it into the other man’s throat. He spun and walked from the diner, leaving a chorus of terrified screams behind him. A tiny smile played on his face, and satisfaction flitted inside. Alice didn’t deserve to be locked in a cage. A maze perhaps, but only as a chance to play with her.
He checked the ground, to ensure he wasn’t tracking any bloody footprints. The splatter on his face and arm were the worst of it. He climbed into the car waiting for him a few yards from the entrance. “Back to the hotel,” he said to the driver.
Less than half an hour later, he let himself into Lisa’s room. She was sitting on her bed, her attention on her laptop. She didn’t look up. “Did you have fun on your play date?”
“It had its ups and downs, but overall was a success.” He had an idea now what to do, to get under Alice’s skin. He knew Cat had been tracking him for a while, though he still didn’t know if it was her.
But if he talked to more of Blake’s former colleagues, he could come up with the perfect way to end this game with Blake and Alice. It would start with a cage, because only he was allowed to put her in one, but she wouldn’t stay there for long. She had to be given a fair chance. “Did I miss anything interesting?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Ooh.” He settled on the mattress and stretched his legs out next to hers. “I didn’t expect that.” The image on her screen was a traffic-camera view of an interstate. “What’s that?”
“Blake and Alice.” She switched windows to a still shot and pointed to a sedan near the top right corner of the image. “This is the car they traded for in Wisconsin, on I-80 in Cheyenne, heading west. It was taken thirty minutes ago.” She tabbed to another photo. “This is them, getting in that car in Lincoln Nebraska, a few hours earlier.”
“I like it when you tell stories.” He grinned.
“This is a good one. They’re going to Logan.”
Sawyer’s amusement wilted. “Why would they do that?”
“Reag—Alice was born there. Alex lived there.”
He was missing something, but the buildup made the wait worth it. “And...?”
“Alex bought that house years ago. That’s where Alice is going. I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I’m pretty sure.”
“How do you know he bought it?” Something like that should have showed up on the records Sawyer kept—alerts and tracking he had in place, to let him know if any of Alex’s assets became active.
Lisa met his gaze, her amusement gone. “He told me.”
“And you never thought it was important to share that with me?” The annoyance Sawyer felt in the diner returned, nibbling at his senses.
“He asked me not to, and I held onto it until I realized you needed know. My loyalty is to you. But this chase... The call you had me make to Blake a few days ago, though I don’t think for a second that she’s Cat... It’s all falling apart, and you’re letting it.” Irritation dragged through her voice.
“Stop. Breathe.”
“No, God damn it. Listen to me. Pay attention to something other than your own fucking obsession for a few minutes. Fuck—for all I know, you’
re Cheshire Cat, and this is a new game I don’t understand, and you’ve gone that far off the deep end with your self-sabotage.”
He thought he was doing well with Lisa. Showing her what she needed to see, to keep her happy. He’d try harder. “I’m sorry. And I’m not Cat.”
“Do you swear? Promise me by anything our friendship and business relationship ever meant to you?”
He drew an X over his chest. “Cross my heart. What can I do to make this better?”
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I have the plane ready to take us to the Logan airport. But after that, you need to step back from Alice. I’m not saying ignore her, but your focus needs to change.”
“Of course.” He gave her a warm smile. This was better. He and Lisa were good again. The way it should be. “One more game, and then I’ll take a few steps back.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was after eleven at night when Reagan and Blake drove down the mountain pass and toward the small grouping of lights in the center of the valley. It wasn’t as cold here as Illinois or Wisconsin, but seven or minus seven, it meant frozen fingers either way. He rolled his neck and blinked, to restore moisture to his eyes, but they’d dried out hours ago.
As a sign came into view, promising a chain motel with a number in the name, he navigated to the off ramp.
“This isn’t our exit,” Reagan said. “The address is five miles east.” Those were the most words she’d said to him in a single block since the argument in Wisconsin.
That didn’t make them any more reassuring. “And it’ll still be there in the morning,” he said. They’d driven straight through, trading off who slept and who drove. It made the trip go faster, and offered another excuse for them to not speak.
He didn’t know how to repair the chasm he created with his accusation. No matter how deep he dug in his brain, he couldn’t find an answer. The powerless feeling was made worse by the looming cloud he swore followed them since they got on the road—that nagging feeling they didn’t have a lot of time, period.
The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland Book 2) Page 11
