“So what’s the plan, Jay?” Tristan asks, his tone less heated than it had been a moment ago.
“You’re asking me?”
Jay’s voice has a little more strength than it had before. She seems fortified somehow. No doubt by the enormous relief of knowing she’s not going to die after everything she’s been through. Even if she knows what Tristan’s capable of, she has to know that’s not the kind of person I am.
“You must have had a plan when you asked Crow to bring me here and talk to you. We may as well get our intentions out in the open if any of us hope to get out of this mess alive.”
“I’m at your mercy. Even if I hadn’t told Crow everything I did, the Company would probably still want me dead. I can’t resurface. All I can do is hide. So you can help me hide, or…” She swallows. “It’s in your hands, Tristan. I’ll fight for my life, but that’s about all I have the energy for right now.”
A long silence follows. A silence filled with possibilities, doubts, and a growing seed of worry that Jay’s about to become a fixture in my world, something I never expected.
“We were heading south,” Tristan finally says.
Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s calculating something. “Aguilera?”
“That was the plan.”
“It’s too obvious,” she says. “They’ll send someone else to take care of her, but they’ll be waiting for you to show up first.”
“Halo… They could hide her,” I say.
If Jay recognizes the name, she doesn’t show it.
Tristan meets my gaze. We’re homeless, rootless, and running again. The closest place to home for me was Halo, and it’s been calling me back for days.
“I guess we’ll find out if they want to make this their problem,” he says.
I shrug. “It’s better than showing up where they’ll most expect us.”
Jay shifts on her feet uncomfortably, no doubt fully aware that she’s the problem. Her existence. The Company she represents. Everything she knows.
Except if she’s given Crow information, maybe now we’ll finally get some too. Learn about the Company and how we can be rid of them, once and for all. Jay is a snake. I don’t trust her. But by some odd twist of fate, her survival now hinges on ours.
“What about the woman, though? If we don’t get to her first…” My voice trails off.
Jay and Tristan share a brief look. I’m certain she doesn’t care if this woman dies, but Tristan is beginning to. Neither of us wants her blood on our hands. But how do we get Devon Aguilera out of the crosshairs without putting ourselves in danger?
I look to Tristan, not wanting to say Makanga’s name in front of a woman I still very much consider the enemy. “What about the Postman?”
He nods. “I’ll have him leave tonight. Be ready to leave in five minutes.”
Tristan makes his call outside, and soon after, we’re on the road.
We drive for an hour and make a short stop for food and supplies. While Tristan and Jay wait, I spend more time than I probably should in the local supercenter, picking up things for the two-day journey and also for Jay, whose ordeal has me more conflicted by the minute. I’m devastated by what she’s endured tonight. But I also can’t ignore that she’s facilitated the death of likely hundreds of people over the past several years. In the end, my instinct to comfort a woman in distress can’t be overruled by the awful things she’s done.
“Jesus, Isabel. What is all this?”
Back in the car, I ignore Tristan’s exasperated tone as I sort through the bags.
“Here,” I say, handing back a pillow and blanket for Jay and a bag of snacks and drinks that will hopefully sustain us for a while.
I don’t miss her hesitation accepting the small comforts, or the gratitude in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she utters, barely above a whisper.
As Tristan guides us back onto the highway, she carefully unpackages the blanket and wraps herself up tightly, taking the full width of the back seat to rest. A few minutes go by before she dozes off.
A few hours later, when I can no longer stay alert on the road, Tristan seems to notice. He threads his hand in mine and strokes his thumb rhythmically. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up, and we can switch off in a few hours.”
I doubt he’ll let me take a shift, but I’m too wiped out to deny the offer to sleep. So I drift off too, lulled into slumber by darkness and the hum of the highway.
TRISTAN
We drive until dawn, when Isabel wakes and insists we stop for food. Jay’s in no condition to be seen in public, so we get drive-through and a more respectable room at a hotel just outside Chattanooga, more than halfway to our destination.
We eat in silence. Isabel and Jay at the table. Me on one of the beds. I catch Isabel staring at Jay every once in a while, studying her visible wounds.
“Do you want me to get you some ice?”
Jay tries to smile, though it seems like the small motion causes her pain. “That might help. Thank you.”
“I can get it,” I say.
But Isabel’s already halfway out the door. “I’ve got it.”
Jay drags a french fry through a pile of ketchup. “She’s very sweet. Thoughtful.”
I don’t acknowledge her comment. I’m not about to start singing Isabel’s praises to a woman who hired me to kill her. That and Isabel’s qualities can’t be summed up with common words. Nothing could capture the soul of her or the thousand perfect, maddening things that make her the only human being in the world I’m ready to make every sacrifice for.
“Where is this place you’re taking me to?” Jay’s question disrupts my thoughts.
“A safehouse of sorts. They’ve been at odds with the Boswell family for years, though. So I’m not really sure how this is going to work.”
A few silent moments pass before she speaks again. “There’s someone else who might be able to help me.”
“Who is it?”
She closes her eyes and exhales softly.
“Jay, you’re going to have to start talking eventually.”
“I realize that. It just goes against every instinct.”
“I can relate.”
She looks up. “You’ve changed, haven’t you?”
I take a big bite of my sandwich, because I don’t know how to respond. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve changed or if there was someone better hiding inside me all this time. Isabel seems to think so, and I want to believe her. Still, I don’t want Jay thinking I won’t hesitate to do whatever I need to do to keep Isabel and myself safe. She’s vulnerable and completely dependent on my good will now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put her totally at ease.
“Maybe I just did bad things because that’s the only life I knew.”
A sad smile lifts her lips, but she doesn’t say anything more.
“So who’s your lifeline, other than me, of course. Family?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t have any family.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Honestly, Tristan. If I had anyone I cared about, I couldn’t do what I do. It’d be too risky. The only life I can take responsibility for is my own.” She takes another bite of food and swallows it down. “It’s Townsend.”
I pause. “Townsend?” I know his name from the files I snatched from Jay’s office, long since destroyed but burned into my memory all the same. If it’s the same Townsend, he’s a British-born spy, an enemy of the state on more than one count and reclusive enough that I’ve never crossed paths with him.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“He doesn’t like to be met, generally.”
“Then why would he take you in?”
She collects her hair, a dark auburn, and twists it to lay over her shoulder. “Sometimes connections are made.”
“So he’s your favorite.” I can’t help the teasing in my voice. “I was beginning to think I was.”
She smirks. “You’re the best. That’s different.” She lo
oks up, her eyes more somber. “I’m in your debt for what you did back there with Crow. I haven’t given you a lot of reasons to show me mercy.”
Isabel returns with a bucket of ice before I can respond, which is fine because I don’t want to. I’d rather not contemplate the uncomfortable attachment I have to Jay, which has kept me from ending her life not once but twice.
We finish eating, and even though the sunshine is pouring in through the windows, we pull the drapes closed and resign ourselves to a few hours of rest before we get on the road again. I take the bed nearest the door and tuck Isabel against me. Only when I hear the two women’s soft snores do I let myself drift.
I jolt awake at the sound of loud voices outside the room. I sit upright, blinking away sleep as the voices get quieter. Just other hotel patrons passing by the room. I check the digital clock on the table, noting that more than a few hours have passed. Jay is obscured under the blanket on the other bed.
I rub Isabel’s shoulder gently until she wakes. Her eyes widen quickly, and she glances around the room. “What is it?”
“Everything’s fine. It’s just time to get back on the road.”
She relaxes against her pillow with a heavy sigh. I straighten the pendant at her neck that’s slipped to the side in her sleep and talk myself out of kissing her, knowing it’ll lead to things I’m in no position to finish. Her sleepy gaze locks with mine, and our hands fold together.
“Do you think they’ll hide her?”
She’s talking about Halo, and I’ve asked myself the same question about a hundred times since we left New Jersey. Because I can’t spend the rest of my life babysitting Jay, and I obviously can’t kill her or leave someone else to do it. She’s my responsibility now until someone else can take her in. I hope to hell Martine is that person.
“If Martine’s still in the business of soul saving, I can’t think of a more desperate candidate.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Isabel
Halo is unchanged. The house still smells like spices and home. Except its friendly faces aren’t focused on me. Each set of curious eyes is trained on Jay. She’s the burning question in the room. The stranger with an aura of mystery whose stolid expression still holds a hint of pleading in it. For our part, Tristan and I are silently pleading too, or at least we will be once Martine shows up.
We’re waiting in the dining room of the mansion on St. Charles. The sun has set, and the chandelier above the table casts a dazzling pattern of lights on the walls. Zeda is across from us, silently studying Jay when Skye walks in with a few glasses of tea and sets one in front of each of us.
“Can I get you anything else?” Skye may be opening the offer to everyone, but she’s looking directly at Jay.
Skye doesn’t have to say it. I can tell she’s reliving the horror of what she went through with her old pimp the second we walked in. She’s been all nervous energy and questions and fussing since we arrived.
Finally the front door opens with a groan. The click of heels on the hardwood floor ends with Martine’s presence filling the room.
Halo’s own fairy godmother is dressed in a white shift dress, emboldened with loud streaks of color as if she’d walked through a narrow gauntlet of ready paintbrushes. Her cheeks are tinted with their usual rouge. Her yellow hair coiffed for whatever business she was attending to today is still held nicely in place.
She stands at the head of the table, paused beside the chair reserved for her.
“Isabel. Tristan. You’ve come back.” She smiles warmly. “With a friend, I see. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
“This is Jude McKenna,” I say.
“Welcome to our home, Jude. You’ll have to pardon my very bold assumptions, but you do look as if you’re in need of a soft place to land, child.”
Still Jay doesn’t speak, and I know now I’ll have to be the one to do it. For a moment, I worry that explaining the situation with Skye and Zeda in the audience is wrong, but then I remember what Skye once told me about there being no need for secrets. How it puts everyone in danger. And if they decide to accept a manager of mercenaries in their midst, they deserve to know the extent of it. Especially Skye, who looks like she’s ready to take Jay under her wing the second Martine gives the okay. At the moment, she has no idea what kind of person Jay really is.
“She goes by Jay and has been working with Tristan for several years,” I begin. “She was the one who confirmed the information about Vince Boswell when we needed it. She was also the one who arranged for the hit on my life.”
Silence descends on the room. A heavy, tense silence.
“By a series of unfortunate events, she’s been disconnected from that organization. Not by choice but by circumstance. And now…”
“The people I work for are not the forgiving type,” Jay says, her voice steady and almost businesslike. “I’ve been compromised. If I’m found, they’ll kill me. No questions asked.”
“So you’re the reason why Isabel’s been on the run?” Skye interrupts.
“I’m one cog in the wheel. I’m not blameless, but I’m hardly the mastermind of the operation who doles out assignments to men like Tristan. I can assure you, there’s a lot more to it.”
Skye grimaces, conflicted, as if she’s pissed that I let her feel sorry for such a soulless woman. I offer an apologetic half smile.
Martine drags her chair back, its feet moaning along the floor before she lowers into it. She leans back and cocks her head slightly. “This is a safehouse, you realize.”
“I’m not a murderer.”
“And yet you’ve murdered,” Zeda adds coolly.
Jay sighs. “If it’s not obvious already, I’m not especially adept at defending myself. I wish no one here harm. I’m only here by Isabel’s invitation in an attempt to protect my own life. If you can’t help me then don’t.”
Martine purses her lips, still carefully studying her would-be charge. “Who do you answer to?”
Jay hesitates and glances to Tristan.
“I’m curious about that myself,” he mutters.
“Are you wanting to barter?” Jay asks pointedly.
Martine lifts the corner of her mouth into a coy smile. “I don’t ask for payment from those who stay with us. I ask for an open mind. I ask for loyalty and trust. I don’t imagine you can give us much of that, so perhaps I can, in this case, ask for something more specific. An offering in exchange for our trust to hold you here among us.”
Jay’s breathing ticks up. She stares down at her lap, twisting her fingers. The information she carries is her true lifeline. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Then she’s just a woman who’s betrayed the strictest confidence, a certain death sentence.
“You may stay here tonight. But I can’t have an enemy residing inside these walls, Miss McKenna. You’ve struck against one of our own, so you’ll need to prove some semblance of loyalty to us if you hope to have our protection. I see no other way around it.” Martine rises. “We can meet again in the morning, once everyone’s had some rest. Skye, please show Miss McKenna to a room and whatever she might need to be comfortable for the evening.”
With that, Martine leaves and everyone slowly begins to move. While Skye gets Jay settled upstairs, Zeda follows us to the foyer.
“You staying here?”
“I didn’t know if it was an option,” I admit.
Zeda laughs. “If she can stay”—she gestures toward the stairs—“you can stay.”
Tristan stiffens. “I’d rather not.”
I glance up at him and take his hand. “Just one night, okay? It’s been a long drive.”
Zeda doesn’t wait for him to relent. “Come on. There’s a second master this way.”
She walks us to the east side of the house through a hallway that leads to a large corner bedroom with an adjoining bath and bay windows that face the street.
“Most people who come are on their own, so this room rarely gets used. I’m sure Martine will let you stay as long as you wa
nt.”
I step through the doorway and survey the space. White carpet stretches across the floor, meeting the bottoms of the floor-to-ceiling drapes, which are rough, creamy silk. In the center of the room sits a four-poster iron bed, bracketed by lavender velvet head- and footboards and covered in matching decorative pillows.
“Will this work?”
I turn to her. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
“Get some sleep,” she says, lifting her chin toward Tristan as if some camaraderie exists between them.
“What was that about?” I ask when she shuts the door.
He goes to the windows and draws the curtains closed. “We got to know each other a little when we were prepping things at the hotel for your rendezvous with Boswell.”
I tug off my shirt and toss it to the floor. “You’re quite the pair for confidences.”
He turns to me. “She doesn’t trust Martine’s soul-saving bullshit, and neither do I. That’s as far as the confidences go.” He strips down to his briefs and tears back the silky duvet before sliding atop the sheets.
Undeterred by his mood, I slip off my jeans and the rest of my garments until I’m naked.
“I was just asking. You can bring your guard down now.”
I move to the foot of the bed and lift my knee to the mattress. He’s still, following me with his eyes.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Slowly, I crawl up the bed and sit astride him. “Reclaiming all of your attention.”
He brings his hands to my hips, taking firm hold as if to keep me there.
I smooth my hands over his pectorals and down his rippled abdomen, admiring and savoring the feel of him, a luxury I’ve been denied for too long. “I feel like I can’t touch you or say what I want to when she’s around.”
He grasps my roaming fingers, squeezing them gently.
“You’re wise not to. You can never trust her. No matter how humble she may seem all of a sudden.”
I know it, of course, but his reminder is one I’ll have to keep fresh in my mind. Jay is smart enough to play on my kindness if it suits her agenda, if her agenda is anything past staying alive.
The Red Ledger, Book 4 Page 7
