Find Me (Corrupted Hearts Book 3)

by Tiffany Snow

  “What’s your favorite, then?” Clark asked.

  “Oh boy,” Mia muttered. Clark glanced at her.

  “I can’t answer that,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Mia’s hissed comment came at the same time as Clark’s follow-up question, and I gave her a questioning look before answering Clark.

  “Favorite food implies there’s one meal or dish that I prefer above all others and would always choose to have if that choice was possible. But not only would that be unhealthy, it’s discriminatory against all other foods. Not to mention that I’ve only eaten a fraction of a fraction of all possible combinations of nutrients in the world, so the sampling size is scientifically too small for there to be a preferred item.”

  Clark’s lips had a twist to them, and his blue eyes had a softness I wasn’t accustomed to seeing.

  “Um, but I guess if I were to go with the conventional answer to the question . . . I’d say pizza.”

  Clark’s smile widened. “Nice job.”

  Mia was looking at me, too, brows raised, spaghetti noodles dripping from her ladle. “Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s eat.”

  The three of us sat down to laden plates and dug in. I was on my third meatball when Mia asked, “So, are you two a thing now?”

  I looked at her as if she’d just told me the meatballs were store-bought. Clark promptly began choking. I pounded on his back and shot her a dirty look. She just sucked up more noodles, oblivious. Or pretending to be oblivious.

  “I’m engaged to Jackson,” I said sternly to her. “Clark and I are partners. And friends. That’s all.”

  Clark said nothing, just took another sip of his wine. A very long sip.

  “I’m just a teenager,” Mia said calmly. “So I don’t know much. But I think that it would be better to face the hard questions before the wedding rather than after. Maybe you two need to have a talk. Or some alone time.” She popped up her phone. “I’m going to stay with Megan tonight. I’ll check you two tomorrow.” With one last slurp of her noodles, she jumped up and pecked her lips to my cheek. “Leave the dishes. I’ll do them in the morning.” She winked at me and left.

  It happened so fast, I was left staring at the closed door in openmouthed shock. Had she just suggested . . .

  “I’m not a genius like you,” Clark said drily, “but I think Mia just tried to insinuate we should have sex.”

  I turned to him. “We are not going to do that. I-I’m supposed to be going over to Jackson’s.”

  “Right. I almost forgot.” Getting up, he took our empty plates to the sink and began rinsing them.

  “We are two relatively young people with healthy libidos,” I said. “It’s only natural that we would have a certain . . . physical attraction. Plus, we’ve been put into life-threatening situations several times, which can heighten and accentuate . . . feelings. Making them feel more urgent and real than they actually are.”

  Clark didn’t respond. He just kept rinsing, then began putting the dishes in the dishwasher and storing the leftovers in Tupperware.

  “We’re just acting out millennia of fight-or-flight tendencies as well as the natural reaction of gratitude that someone feels when another person puts their life on the line to help them. It’s the highest form of . . . of . . . affection . . . and . . . and . . . friendship . . .” I ran out of words.

  Clark finished and turned toward me, leaning back against the counter. His gaze was dark and his mouth unsmiling.

  “I’m not going to argue with you,” he said at last. “I want you to be happy. I’m just not sure if you’d be happier with someone else instead of Jackson.”

  I shrugged helplessly. “That’s sweet of you, but there is no one else. Jackson is the man in my life.”

  “There’s me.”

  I froze, staring at him. This was the first time he’d actually offered me something. “What are you saying?”

  There was a hard knock on the front door, then I heard the lock clicking, and it opened. Jackson walked in. He came in about ten feet until he got a good look in the kitchen, and he stopped.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he ground out.

  Oh shit.

  “Jackson!” I jumped to my feet and rushed to him. “It’s so good to see you.” I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard. He didn’t hug me back.

  “Why is Clark in your house?” Jackson’s question was asked with deceptive calmness.

  “Um, it’s kind of a long story,” I said carefully, gazing up at him. He still hadn’t put his arms around me. I felt awkward, so I took a step backward.

  Jackson’s gaze landed on Clark. “What the fuck are you doing here? How much of your shit have you gotten China involved in now?”

  “Jackson—”

  “No, it’s okay,” Clark interrupted. “He’s right. I’ve gotten you way too involved in things that are dangerous. I should never have come.” He grabbed his jacket, and my stomach fell to my shoes.

  “No, no! Wait!” I grabbed his arm, latching on to him. “You can’t go.”

  “Let him,” Jackson said. “He’s poison, China.”

  I turned on him. “He is not poison,” I hissed. “He’s been framed, and I’m not about to let him leave when I—when we—are in a position to help him.”

  “I am not helping him,” he sneered. “He’s wanted by every law-enforcement agency we have.”

  “They’re wrong,” I insisted. “He’s not guilty. And he’s my partner. I can help him and so can you. If you refuse to help me, then . . . then I guess we have a problem.”

  Jackson looked at me, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing anger.

  “Is that an ultimatum?” he asked.

  I hesitated. Ultimatums were bad. Every reality show I’d ever watched said that. “Umm . . .”

  “Because it sounds like one,” he said.

  “It’s a call to do the right thing,” I said, lifting my chin. “We’ve always maintained that we were on the side of what’s right. Are you going to put restrictions on that now, just because it’s Clark?”

  “How long have you been helping him?”

  I shrugged. “A couple of days.”

  “Why haven’t you said anything to me?”

  I was at a loss for that one, because if I answered with the truth, I’d be throwing Clark under the bus.

  “I asked her not to,” Clark interjected. Jackson’s gaze swung to him.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I knew you’d freak the fuck out, just like you’re doing,” Clark retorted. “And I trust you about as much as you trust me.”

  “I know who you really are and what you’ve done,” Jackson said. “I’ve not told China because I didn’t want to ruin what little innocence she has left by knowing the truth about you.”

  “I know,” I interrupted. Jackson glanced at me. “He told me,” I said. “He told me everything.” At least I hoped it was everything.

  “Really. And how do you feel about your ‘partner’ who used to be a paid assassin?”

  I swallowed. “Um, well, it was unexpected, but sometimes people do things they wouldn’t normally do when they’ve undergone a period of extreme stress . . . or . . . or grief.”

  “So you’re defending him?” Jackson’s tone was a mix of anger and incredulity.

  “I’m not defending him,” I said. “I’m saying that I understand. Plus, that was then and this is now. It’s not like he was an assassin just last week. He’s in trouble and so are you, and I think they’re tied together.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because of this.” I pulled the Gemini talisman out of my pocket. “Look familiar? Someone left it for Clark, too, right before they tried to kill him. And I bet if I look deeper into those deaths I told you about”—I was looking at Clark now—“I’ll find something similar.” I turned back to Jackson. “It’s not the number two, it’s a Gemini sign. Gemini was the name of an
operation. I don’t know why this is important or who’s doing it, but someone obviously has a vendetta. And if we work together, we may find out who it is and can stop him before he kills someone else.”

  Jackson’s jaw worked for a moment, then he said, “That’s what I wanted to tell you. That symbol was found spray-painted on the wall where the sniper shot at the president.”

  We all took a moment to process that.

  “Okay, then. We need to find Mark Danvers and William Buckton,” I said. “Buckton is probably next on whatever list this guy is using. He’s the one with the security firm.”

  “Speaking of which,” Clark added, “why would you get a Gemini, Coop? When have you ever worked for the military?”

  “I was never in the military,” Jackson retorted. “A Google search will tell you everything you need to know about me. For all I know, it could be some nutjob who decided something Cysnet created or was involved in is worth killing over. I don’t think we can classify whoever’s doing this as someone who’s sane.”

  “We can try to find Danvers while we go see Buckton,” I said. “We need to find out what he knows.”

  “Can’t we just call?” Jackson asked.

  “I did,” I said. “He’s out of the country at the moment, expected back in Omaha on Wednesday.”

  “Buckton could be the shooter or the target, for all we know,” Clark added. “We need to see him face-to-face, ask him some questions.”

  “We can leave tomorrow,” I said.

  “If you’re set on this, then I’ll call and get my plane ready.” Jackson reached for his cell.

  “We can’t take your plane,” Clark scoffed. “Those require flight plans and lists of passengers. I’m still wanted.”

  “There’s an easy way to take care of that,” Jackson threatened.

  “Just try it, geek boy.”

  “What are you? Twelve?”

  I interrupted their argument. “Knock it off. I thought you two had buried the hatchet. This is ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” Jackson asked. “I’m your fiancé and am just now finding out you’ve been helping him for two days?”

  “Maybe if you didn’t go so crazy when it came to Clark and me, I would’ve told you sooner,” I shot back. “And, yes, you’re my fiancé, not him, so how about a little trust?”

  My Hypocrite Alarm was sounding loud and clear, but I ignored it. I wasn’t wrong. Jackson hadn’t even let me explain before jumping to bad conclusions.

  “Fine,” he said at last. “But you’re not going alone with him. We’ll all go.”

  “That’s all I wanted,” I said. “Go home and pack. You can pick us up in the morning.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ll go pack, but I’ll be back tonight.”

  I sighed. “Whatever. That’s fine.”

  “Think I’m going to seduce your girlfriend the moment you’re gone?” Clark sneered.

  Jackson shot him a look of pure loathing. “I think you’d try. She may be oblivious to your obsession with her, but I’m not.”

  “Jackson—” I warned.

  He cut me off with a hard kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back. And don’t think I didn’t notice that he’s wearing your clothes.” Then he was out the door and gone.

  11

  I heaved a sigh of relief when Jackson left. I honestly didn’t know if I had it in me to drive nineteen hours to Nebraska from Raleigh with just them and me.

  Wait a second . . .

  “Mia,” I said to myself, grabbing my phone from my pocket. I shot her a text.

  Spontaneous trip to NE tomorrow. Come home and pack.

  Her response was quick and to the point. Srsly?! Omw.

  Clark was standing in the kitchen. He’d gotten a towel and was taking apart the weapons he’d acquired. Cleaning them, I guessed. The tension felt very thick, though I wasn’t always the best judge of that.

  “I really hate it when you antagonize Jackson,” I said.

  “I think it’s a mutual antipathy,” he replied.

  “Yes, but it takes two to tango.” Those idioms really came in handy in everyday conversation. “I’d appreciate it if you could be the bigger man.”

  “I am the bigger man.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t mean literally—for once. I meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” he interrupted, finally glancing up at me. “Fine. I’ll attempt not to antagonize him. But it’s not as though we’re going to be buddies.”

  “I’m not asking for that. Just a cease-fire, okay? For me? Because I can’t take you two fighting.”

  His lips twitched. “I thought every woman’s fantasy was to have two men fighting over her.”

  “I’m not every woman,” I shot back. “And my friends are few. I’d prefer those I do have not despise each another.”

  There was a flicker of something in his eyes that I couldn’t read.

  “I understand. I really do. There aren’t many in my life I’d label as a friend either. I’ll try to get along with Coop.”

  He didn’t mention the conversation we’d been having when Jackson arrived, and I didn’t bring it up either. Best to just let that one drop.

  “Good,” I answered just as the front door opened and Mia came bounding inside.

  I explained to Mia that we had to go see someone in Nebraska and that it’d be a good time to visit her parents, too, but that we’d be driving instead of flying due to Clark’s current . . . status.

  “Road trip!” she exclaimed. “That’s awesome!”

  I wished I could have felt some of her enthusiasm as she hurried upstairs to pack. Not only did I not want to be stuck in a car with Jackson and Clark, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to showing up on my dad’s doorstep with them in tow. But there was no way I could take Mia with me and not show my face at home. Jackson had said he wanted to meet my family. Well, he was going to get his wish.

  Clark borrowed my keys to take my car, saying he had a “go bag” nearby that he could retrieve since he still couldn’t go back to his house. Which left me standing alone in my living room after what felt like a whirlwind had gone through it.

  I was at a momentary loss as to what to do. It was Sunday, which meant I needed to do laundry. Since I also had to pack, those two things went well together. There. A plan. I could follow a plan.

  Mechanically, I headed upstairs to my bedroom. My lingerie was already in little bags to keep the hooks from the bras catching on the delicate lace of other items. I separated my clothes when I changed, so there was not much to do besides put a load into the washer, which I did.

  My luggage was in the office closet, and I retrieved a bag from there. I printed off the winter version of my Seven-to-Ten-Day Trip packing list and began checking things off. It served to keep my mind busy for a while.

  I was hanging up my best Victoria’s Secret lingerie to air-dry when the boys returned. At the same time. I’d changed into my pajamas and washed my face. I wanted to watch television and eat my Fig Newtons, and I really didn’t care what they did.

  Plopping myself in the middle of the sofa, I crossed my legs and chewed on my cookies, remote in hand. I watched as Clark hauled in a duffel and backpack. The amount of small arms and ammunition he had with him made me chew a bit slower. In addition to what we’d already taken from PFG, it looked as though he was ready to take on a small army. He’d changed into his typical plain black T-shirt.

  Jackson had a small suitcase and a backpack, too, but his contained the tech, in contrast to Clark’s guns. I chewed my second cookie as I watched him plug in his laptops to charge. Neither he nor Clark spoke to each other. I flipped channels on the television and finished my cookies, wishing I’d gotten more.

  “Smallville is on,” I said to the room in general. My voice sounded too loud. They both stopped what they were doing and glanced at me. I cleared my throat and pushed my glasses up my nose. “If anyone wants to . . . you know . . . watch, too,” I finished.

  I
hugged my legs to my chest and rested my chin on my knees, focusing on the screen opposite me. I’d done my hostess duty; now it was up to them to behave.

  Jackson was the first to respond, coming to sit next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me toward him. I rested my head against his shoulder with a sigh.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. His fingers played with the ends of my ponytail.

  “Achy,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve been popping ibuprofen all day.”

  “You should’ve been resting in bed,” he lightly reprimanded me.

  “That would’ve been nice. I’m sorry about the Jag. It was gorgeous.” It was a crime for that car to have been totaled before it had even hit a hundred miles.

  “I don’t care about the car. I’m just glad we’re all right.” His lips pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  We watched for a few minutes in silence. The warmth of his hold was comforting and secure. I took a deep breath and relaxed. After the nonstop stress of the past two days, I felt as though my limbs were made of lead. Exhaustion seemed to ooze from my bones. Even my hair hurt, which was a ridiculous assertion, but still . . . Jackson’s hand moved to the back of my neck, lightly massaging, and I nearly groaned at the relief that brought me.

  Clark had been sitting at the kitchen table, finishing cleaning and reassembling the weapons. The sound of metal clinking was comforting, in some strange way. My eyes drifted closed. I felt Jackson slide my glasses off, which enabled me to snuggle closer to him. I sighed deeply, my body taking on the consistency of warm clay.

  I was in that dreamy place between sleep and awake, where things sound far away and you can’t be bothered to move limbs grown heavy with lethargy, when I heard the metal noises stop and only the sound of the television. Then the couch dipped slightly and my bare feet were laid on a denim-clad thigh. A roughened, warm palm curved around my instep and chilly toes.

  “What are you doing?” Jackson’s voice rumbled in his chest.

  “Keeping her feet warm. It’s the only part I’m worthy of touching, and it’s asexual. So don’t get all pissy about it.” Clark’s voice was just as quiet.

  “I wonder why you feel the need to touch her at all. You’re just partners, remember?”