Lies That Bind

by Diana Rodriguez Wallach

  Including me.

  “I should have recorded that!” Charlotte cried, snorting.

  “Bravo!” Julian clapped.

  Antonio hung his head, chest shaking with hysterics, as Marcus patted his back. “That was awesome!” he congratulated his brother, and even I couldn’t help but smile wider.

  “I swear I have done it before,” Antonio defended, still laughing, dimples in full force, matching his brother’s.

  “I completely believe you!” Marcus cheered.

  “And I can’t say I hate the wet T-shirt,” Keira teased.

  “I did it all for you,” Antonio offered, blowing her a flirty kiss. Then he grabbed my sister in a champagne-soaked hug, and she pretended to flinch from his sticky embrace, squirming as he squeezed her tighter, rubbing his sopping beard in her hair. I knew she was loving it, which was why it froze the grin on my face. She was falling for him.

  “It’s okay to laugh.” Charlotte nudged me. “Antonio just made a complete ass of himself.”

  “I know,” I replied, my expression melting to a frown.

  Keira molded her body into Antonio’s, kissing him sweetly.

  “Or you could ignore them and enjoy Buckingham Palace!” Charlotte darted to an interactive touch screen that labeled every building in view. Julian instantly rushed to her side, displaying the techno gadget. They were completely in their element.

  And I was completely alone, a “them” once again.

  A body pressed behind me, a hand on my hip. I knew his smell; even through the fog of champagne on his now-damp clothes, I could have closed my eyes and known it was Marcus—that unique mix of leather and sweat. I gazed at the tangerine sunset creating a black silhouette of the historic British skyline. It was a romantic moment, a honeymoon moment. I knew this in my head, but I couldn’t feel it. Not like my sister. Not like Antonio.

  “Deep in thought?” Marcus whispered in my ear.

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “Sí. Want some champagne?”

  “No.” I continued staring at the sky as it shifted to a dusty rose.

  “I’m sorry about Tyson. I wish I could have gone with you.”

  I nodded, the back of my head brushing against his chest.

  “I know you miss him. I know you cared about him, but you don’t have to be miserable all the time just to honor his memory.”

  What?

  I pushed off the window, spinning around to glare at Marcus. He’s going to tell me how to feel about my dead best friend? He’s going to explain grief to me? The look on my face made his eyes widen.

  “I didn’t mean to offend.” Marcus backed away. “But death can also remind us we’re alive.”

  “So it’s a good thing?” I snapped.

  “No, of course not.”

  Where was this coming from? Antonio? I didn’t remember Marcus wearing YOLO T-shirts before. Sure, maybe I’d go bungee jumping and hang gliding when this was all done, but before then, I was busy not being killed by spies.

  I walked toward Charlotte, toward the only person left who still understood me. “Can we discuss the plan?” I asked.

  “Sure.” She nodded, her eyes flicking toward Marcus and seeming to read our mood. She gave me a concerned look, and so did Julian. Then they both pulled tablets from their shoulder bags.

  “Okay guys, we have some names,” she announced.

  “Cross sent over a list of five,” added Julian.

  “Now we need to figure out who’s going where and how.” Charlotte plopped onto the wooden bench, pulling her feet crossed legged, exposing a stringy hole in the knee of her jeans. Julian sat beside her.

  Antonio quickly stepped forward, leaving Keira behind as he tried to read off Charlotte’s screen, almost a bit too eager.

  “We’re still doing research on the families,” Charlotte explained.

  “The list is diverse.” Julian swiped at his screen. “Of the names Mr. Cross provided, three are related to Dresden employees, but two have no familial connections to the company. Instead, they were clients whose families were destroyed by Department D—even worse than mine.” He sounded oddly impressed.

  “Bueno. Let’s hear them. Where are we going?” Antonio smacked his lips.

  So now he’s on board? Yesterday, he acted like I was an evil traitor trash talking his benevolent parents. He said my plan was ridiculous and unnecessary. Since when did he become my champion?

  An uneasiness moved through me as I eyed him. “Um, maybe we don’t need the names right now.”

  Our pod hit the apex of our climb, a weightless feeling rushing over me. It lifted my stomach.

  “Porque?” He looked my way.

  “Charlotte said they’re still working on the details. We should wait,” I lied. For some reason, I now didn’t want him to know too much.

  And he knew it.

  Antonio thudded toward me. “Do you think I still work there?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know. It’s just—” My stomach continued floating in space.

  “Anastasia, he quit.” Marcus said it like it was simple, like he was offended that I didn’t miraculously trust his brother. His own parents badmouthed him (which was rather messed up), and yesterday he did nothing but criticize Cross’s plan. Now Antonio was suddenly first in line to get to work?

  “I’m sorry.” I shrugged, though I wasn’t sure I meant it. “But you used to work for these people. You’re connected to them.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Marcus eyed me with a look that seemed as confused as it did hurt. “Will you ever trust me?”

  Of course I trusted him; it was his brother I didn’t trust. How many different ways could I say that? This wasn’t about him or us.

  “Anastasia, I get why you’re nervous,” Keira conceded. “But his past gives us some inside information.”

  I dug my hands into my hair, wanting to shout, What if he’s their inside man? “Your parents still work there.”

  “Do you really want to talk about parents?” Antonio shot me a look.

  “Yes! My parents suck, and if they were here, I wouldn’t trust them, either.”

  “You don’t trust anyone,” Antonio spat, then he looked at Marcus. “I don’t know how you deal with her…”

  What did he just say?

  “Pause!” Charlotte hopped up, jumping between us before I could take that comment and shove it down Antonio’s throat. “If we even want to attempt this plan, we need to stick together. There are six people in this pod. Six. That’s it! We need to add to that number, not subtract from it.”

  “Tell her that.” Antonio pointed to me, then knocked back a glass of champagne in one gulp.

  I guess they figured out how to open a bottle when I wasn’t looking.

  “What do you want to do?” Charlotte asked me, and I heard Antonio grunt like she was giving the rookie the ball on the final play.

  I was tired of defending myself; it was my life, Keira’s life, on the line.

  I turned to Julian. “Look, let’s be honest. When we first met, I knew you had your own motives, your own reasons for being here, and you understood why I held back, didn’t you?” Julian nodded, his turquoise eyes full of more kindness than anyone else in the pod right then. My gaze shifted to Marcus. “Everyone here proved themselves in Italy.”

  “So it’s my fault I wasn’t there?” Antonio gawked at his brother. “Are you really going to let her blame me because you chose to let me keep working for that organization even after you found out it kidnapped family members?”

  “No one is blaming you,” Marcus said, his eyes screaming apologies, on my behalf, like I was so embarrassing. “And I tried to contact you. You never called back.”

  “I told you the truth about my job the second you found me,” he hissed.

  “I know you did. But you didn’t see what she went through.”

  Finally, Marcus was defending me. At least someone understood, at least someone had my back.

  “Are you seriously takin
g your girlfriend’s side over mine?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Marcus retorted.

  My heart slammed into my throat. What? Only I knew what he said. I could see the words floating around him in dark little clouds. She’s not my girlfriend, she’s not my girlfriend, she’s not my girlfriend…

  The insult hollowed me out, scooping everything I felt for him, everything I thought we felt for one another. I shifted to the window, hiding the tears that were building inside. Do not cry. Do not cry in front of him. A sour taste filled my mouth, heat rising in my cheeks. Sure, Marcus and I hadn’t made any “official” pronouncements. We hadn’t had that talk, but I didn’t realize it had to be said. I’d assumed we meant something to one another. After everything we’ve been through…

  “It’s not like that.” Marcus stepped to me, hands outstretched. I jerked away. “I didn’t mean it that way. It came out wrong.”

  I felt our pod slowly moving back toward Earth, our ride ending.

  “He’s my brother,” he added.

  I guess I knew where I stood, what he really thought of me. I wasn’t going to argue my way out of rejection. I wasn’t going to beg him to care about me. If he didn’t want to be my boyfriend, fine. I’d gone my entire life without one; I could do it again.

  Tears pushed at my lashes as I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing the ache in my chest. I’d never meant anything to him. It was all in my head. How could I have been so wrong? Did he care about me in Italy? He had to have. It felt real.

  I cleared my throat. “Keira and I will go together to find the first kid.” I looked only at Charlotte. “Antonio stays here. He can keep you and Julian safe while you continue researching the other names. I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”

  All politeness was gone. He worked for Department D, maybe he still did. Or maybe he would scare off a bunch of kids whose families were destroyed by the organization. I didn’t know. That was the point.

  “What about me?” Marcus asked, reaching for me, sounding almost as pained as I felt.

  Oh, don’t act hurt now.

  “One of the names that Cross sent over is a kid in the UK,” I explained, and Charlotte nodded in confirmation, her eyes dripping with sympathy, with pity. I gritted my teeth. “You can get him on your own.”

  “You’re sending my brother alone?” Antonio yelled like he wanted to shake me.

  “I’ve seen your brother in action. He can handle himself.” My tone was as cold as I felt.

  “Anastasia.” Keira looked like a disapproving mom. “You’re my sister. I love you, and I know you’ve been through a lot.” She eyed Marcus like she wanted to toss him off the Ferris wheel. That, I appreciated. “But you know this isn’t right. Maybe you and Marcus could go together, and Antonio and I…”

  “No,” I cut her off.

  “I guess she tells you all what to do. Great girlfriend you got here!” Antonio quipped, nodding to his brother and knocking back another swig, bubbles dripping down his hand. Then he looked my way. “Oh, I forgot, she’s not your girlfriend.”

  I wanted to punch him, and I was pretty sure he wanted to punch me, too. Then Marcus cut between us.

  “It’s okay. I’ll go,” Marcus said. “She’s right. I can handle it on my own.”

  “The Dresden Kid we’re sending you after is only fifteen years old, and he’s a short train ride from London,” said Julian, sounding afraid to enter the conversation. “I could go with you if you want.”

  “No, Anastasia’s right.” Marcus looked at me, his eyes full of apologies I didn’t want to hear. “You need to stay with Charlotte and find out everything you can about these families so there are no surprises.”

  “Yeah, like someone attacking my brother while he’s off alone.” Antonio glared at me.

  I hugged my chest tighter. I was sending Marcus to meet a potential member of a criminal family, with no backup, all because he hurt my feelings. I couldn’t do this. I shouldn’t do this.

  “It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Marcus said as if reading my mind. “Lo siento. I don’t know why—”

  “Don’t.” I held up my hand.

  He stopped talking, and our pod returned to ground level. We all moved toward the exit and stepped off of the still-moving tourist attraction.

  The Ferris wheel never stopped turning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saint Paul de Vence was much like Tuscany, only the people spoke French and everything smelled of lavender. It was a medieval mountain town, a day trip from the beaches of the French Riviera, and it was lined with ancient stone streets featuring shops selling everything from tablecloths to modern art to local herbs. Chalice-shaped fountains gurgled almost lyrically as photo-worthy alleys peeked behind every corner. Roads were so narrow cars couldn’t drive, making it a walking city, much like Venice. Ah, memories. I was haunted by them.

  I spent the entire high-speed train to France reliving the London Eye, not the views, not the sunset, but the last five minutes, especially four specific words—“She’s not my girlfriend.” I wouldn’t let Marcus take them back. Not in the pod when we descended back to Earth. Not in Julian’s car when he tried to hold my hand. And not later that night when he knocked on my hotel room door. Taking it back, trying to offer some retroactive explanation wouldn’t change the fact that he said it, that he meant it, at least in that moment. The thought was in his head. He would never be able to suck the tears back up from my cheeks, the ones that fell the moment I got back to my room and slammed the door.

  I’d never had a boyfriend. I knew I was doing everything wrong. I didn’t flip my hair. I didn’t sit on his lap. I didn’t let us go all the way the night after Antonio arrived. Maybe that was a mistake, or maybe I got lucky. I didn’t know. There was no advice column or horoscope to offer insight on how to talk to your boyfriend while your friends were being murdered and your parents were implicated in their deaths. We were complicated. I was complicated. But that was what made us work; at least that was what I thought. Except it seemed we only worked when it was my parents who were the bad guys. The second his brother entered the mix, the second I mentioned his parents might be corrupt, Marcus pulled away. I felt it the moment Antonio insisted his family wasn’t “that bad.” Sure, they knew about Department D, they worked for the organization, but they didn’t really do bad things. Marcus jumped on that, and any suggestion I made to the contrary, any theory, pushed him further away. He told his brother I didn’t trust him. He probably told his brother much worse than that. What else did he really think of me? And he wondered why I stopped us that night?

  “Who needs a StairMaster when you can live in Europe?” Keira grunted as we climbed the steep hills of Provence. Even wearing sneakers, our ankles twisted on rounded rocks that were probably set in concrete sometime during the reign of Louis XIV. And we thought Boston was old.

  “Seriously. There is no excuse for anyone living here not to have a butt like J.Lo.”

  Keira and I didn’t chat much on the train, but in a good way. We watched a Sandra Bullock movie on her tablet and shared a bag of Gummy Bears while Marcus’s words echoed in my head. All she said was, “Let’s see how this goes, and we’ll take it from there.” There was no sense fighting about a plan that we hadn’t yet tried. If this kid slammed the door in our faces and refused to utter a word, then the entire strategy would need to be rethought.

  So a lot rested at the top of this hill—our first Dresden Kid, Dani Zamen. He was a Turkish teen whose mother spent two years in prison for reporting on a fake military coup. Department D orchestrated evidence related to the false coup and arranged for the imprisonment of any journalist who didn’t report the “facts” the way they wanted. His mother was one of those journalists.

  “This kid could hate us,” Keira pointed out. “What if it was Mom and Dad who did it? What if he pulls out a gun or something?”

  “I’ve handled worse,” I said, remembering Italy.

  “That doesn’t make me feel b
etter.” She sounded winded. Our climb was a mix of curving roads and deep wide steps. We’d developed a pattern—step, step, up; step, step, up. It was exhausting, yet rustically beautiful, but we had the determination of tourists chugging to the crown of the Statue of Liberty: we were only doing this once, and the payoff was worth it.

  “Are you worried about Marcus?” she asked, as though it were a casual question. Hey, look at that cloudless blue sky! The French country buildings! Doesn’t the air smell like flowers? By the way, do you think you sent your non-boyfriend off to his death?

  “Of course I am,” I admitted.

  Not that I wanted Antonio to go with him, there was something too eager about the way he suddenly wanted to help with the plan, but I should have at least told Julian to go. Only that would have left Charlotte alone with Antonio.

  They were right—I didn’t trust him. Antonio hadn’t provided any inside information on Department D. He claimed he wasn’t high enough to know any, and maybe that was true, but he needed to bring something to the table other than his ability to chug alcohol and hit on women. Now Marcus was alone somewhere in the English countryside meeting a family that was destroyed by my parents’ organization, by our parents’ organization (though I doubt he saw it that way).

  “I know Marcus made a dick comment. But if it helps, I don’t think he meant it. He feels really bad,” Keira defended, giving me a look like she knew she was diving into choppy water.

  After the Ferris wheel, they’d all gone to the hotel restaurant. Instead, I chose room service. I didn’t answer my door when they knocked. I was humiliated in a pod on the London Eye in front of all of them, and more than that, I was pretty sure I was dumped for the first time in my life. I didn’t have any experience with this sort of thing, and maybe since I “wasn’t his girlfriend” in the first place, this didn’t count. But it felt like a dumping. And it hurt, on top of all the other hurt I was already feeling about Tyson, my parents, and my sister. There was only so much a person could take before she pulled up the sheets to her chin and turned off the light.

  “All I’m gonna say is Marcus loves his brother,” Keira went on. “How would you feel if he tried to convince you not to trust me?”