by Eva Chase
A lot of restaurant goers had used this spot: friends crowding around the little tables, a couple cuddling at the back, a family with a little boy who scampered all over the platform. I skimmed back farther with each glimpse that didn’t include Nick, focusing on his presence.
There. He was sitting with a bulky black guy and a woman with tight auburn curls and, in my humble opinion, way too much make-up. Was the black guy Alex? If he was, then he obviously wasn’t a Keane brother.
I pushed back farther in time, and farther, until I landed on another moment Nick had inhabited. The usual buzzing in my ears had gotten louder with the strain of reaching back so many times. He was with just a woman this time, a different one. Slim and Indian herself, from her coloring and features. Yeah, Nick definitely got around a little. Could I find—
“Managed to get it out,” Nick announced triumphantly, returning to the nook. I jerked back to the present.
Nick sat back down across from me, a little damp spot on his blue shirt where he’d washed out the sauce. “Did you want dessert, or…?”
I patted my stomach, trying not to show my disappointment that I hadn’t managed to see more. “I’m stuffed, thanks. But you were right. This is the best Indian I’ve ever eaten. I’ll have to come back here.”
“I’m always happy to have company,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes that did something funny low in my belly. I ignored that shiver of attraction. I couldn’t ask him right out what this Alex looked like or to show me a picture, because that would be really weird. But there were other ways I might be able to confirm whether I could rule out Alex as my target.
“Hey,” I said, “are you on Facebook or Twitter or whatever? We should totally follow each other. That way I can stalk you here the next time you come.” I winked at him.
He laughed. “I’ve got Facebook, but it’s a pretty sparse profile. Not really my thing. Here, I’ll text you my profile.”
He got out his phone and flicked his thumb across the screen. A minute later, a text appeared on mine with the link. I opened it up right away to hit the friend request—and just to take an early peek.
Nicholas Fox. I glanced up at him. “Is your last name really Fox?”
He gave me a wide grin. “What, I don’t fit the name?”
He did, way more than I was going to let on. I resisted the urge to immediately dive into his friends list, which like he’d said only included a couple dozen people, and tucked my phone into my pocket. “I guess I should finally pitch in for something,” I said, pulling out my wallet instead. “Otherwise you’ll think I really am just using you.”
“You mean you’re not? I’m glad to hear that.” He kept grinning as I checked the bill. “Here, how about we split it. I invited you here, so I should at least cover my part.”
“All right. If that makes you happy.”
On the sidewalk outside, Nick scanned the street for a cab. “You want to head anywhere else, or do you need to get going?”
I wanted to spend more time with him, but what I needed to do was delve through that profile of his. “I think I’d better head home,” I said. “Lots of stuff to do. But I’ll harass you again soon.”
I touched his arm, holding his gaze with a smile so he’d know I wasn’t giving him a real brush-off. He eased his hand around to grasp my fingers and smiled back at me. “I’m counting on it.”
My heart thumped, and for just a second I wanted to find out what would happen if I took a step closer to those intent blue eyes. Let myself fall a little farther into them. I was willing to bet at least a thousand bucks that Nick was a damn good kisser.
But he was still the friend of my probable target, and as soon as I confirmed that, he wasn’t going to want to ever see me again. So better not to find out anything about how he kissed.
“You know,” he said, “I’m really glad I happened to run into you the other night.”
“Me too,” I said. In more ways than I could tell him.
A cab pulled up. Nick swept his arm to offer it to me. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you, dear sir,” I said in a mock haughty accent. I was still smiling as I settled into the seat. As the cabbie pulled away from the curb, I glanced back at Nick—and saw him swiping his hand across his face with a suddenly serious expression.
My instincts prickled uneasily. I tapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Stop up there by the corner just for a minute?”
“If that’s what you want,” the cabbie said.
I peered through the back window as he did. Another cab arrived outside the restaurant, and Nick got in. It did a U-turn and headed north.
North. We were already way north of the neighborhood where, as he’d just put it, he’d “happened” to run into me, and he’d said he lived near there.
Of course, maybe he wasn’t going home right now. He could have work, or friends to meet up with, or even a booty call. What did I know? But the prickling sank a little deeper. Frederick’s voice, the snarky way he’d talked about Nick and his convenient friend, rose up, more insistently than I could shake.
It was convenient. A small coincidence, if Nick and my target really did live around there, but still a coincidence.
There was an easy way to find out if it really had been one, wasn’t it?
“Okay,” I said. “Change of plans.” I gave the driver an address just down the street from the house where the teddy bear had been returned.
I grappled with myself as the houses swept by outside the window. This detour wasn’t really paranoia given the things I knew, the reality I lived in, was it? Anyway, Nick would never find out I’d checked up on him this way.
To distract myself, I pulled up his Facebook profile again. A quick glance through his friends list showed me the Black guy I’d seen him with in my view of the past, but that guy’s name was listed as Dushane. No one named Alex, but then, Nick obviously didn’t do a whole lot of friending people on here. He hadn’t even posted an update since last month.
I skimmed through Dushane’s profile in case he was friends with this Alex person too. He was a big personality, obviously. Over a thousand people on his friends list, including four different Alex or Alexanders. And an Alexandra, I was going to guess from that “Alex” profile photo. Lots of shots from the club. Nothing I saw with Nick in them to give me a direct connection to anyone else.
The cab slowed to a stop. “Here we are,” the driver said. I paid him rather than asking him to wait—I didn’t want him to think I was any weirder than he already did—and waited until the cab had drifted away.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and families were out on the lawns, kids riding bikes and scooters along the sidewalk. I drew back to lean against a tree near the edge of one yard and held my phone as if I were checking something on it.
I’d been standing right over there outside the house when Nick had come up on me. If he had just been out for a walk, then that night I should see him walking along toward me, casually on his way. Then I could put that nervous niggling to rest.
Peering over the top of the phone, I let my vision detach from the present. Six nights ago. Not that long. And since I’d been here, I could remember all the details, from the cool breeze to the summer-flower scent in the air, to bring me back there.
My view reformed, the street hazily dark before my eyes. There I was, standing out front of the one house. And, ah, there was Nick—crossing the street from a few houses away and ambling over.
Well, it wasn’t that strange he might have crossed the street to see if I was okay. I had looked pretty out of it. My jaw tightened as I eased my vision back just a few more minutes, studying the side of the street he’d come from this time. He should come walking into view any second now…
Nick’s easily recognizable form emerged from the shadows between a tree and a fence by one of the neighbor’s houses, as if he’d been standing there. He headed straight across the street toward me.
My stomach dropped. What had he been doing there?
Standing around in the middle of the night, hidden in the dark, just… waiting?
I pushed farther back, the vision jittering a bit with my nerves. Maybe he’d ducked into that yard only briefly for some good reason…
No. There was no sign of him on the sidewalk for minutes and minutes and minutes more. Finally, when I’d slid back at least an hour, he appeared around the corner. Brisk quiet strides, his gaze sweeping the street. Pausing when another guy passed him. Then edging into that dark space by the fence.
I released my hold on the past and hurtled back into the present. My stomach lurched with the transition, but I didn’t think it was because of the sudden shift.
Nick hadn’t just happened to run into me. He’d staked out that spot and only come out when he’d seen me.
Why? What the hell did he want from me?
And had he already gotten it?
9
Nick
I sat back in my desk chair and frowned at my laptop. Carina’s smiling face, reserved but with her lips curled just slightly slyly, looked back at me from the screen.
I didn’t know if her Facebook profile was totally accurate. She was lying about plenty of other things. But from the birthdate given there, she was twenty-three, and by all appearances she was in her early twenties. She’d commented on being around that age at least a couple times.
My parents had escaped from the Alpha Project facility thirty years ago. Well before Carina would have been born. So there was no way her parents could have been killed as my dad had quite literally burned their way out.
But that didn’t mean there hadn’t been other times, other incidents I didn’t know about. I wasn’t even supposed to know exactly how that escape had gone down. But just like Mom couldn’t help dipping into our minds with her talent from time to time, I hadn’t always known how to block off the impressions that came to me when I touched things—or people. I’d seen a lot more of both Dad and Mom than I’d ever wanted to have to tell them.
I’d just never expected to be in a situation like this.
I pushed myself away from my computer, grabbed the watering can I often left by the kitchen sink, and went out to the balcony. The rustling of the plants in my various pots and planters took some of the edge off my nerves.
The leaves swayed as I watered all the ones that needed it. Then I checked all the inhabitants of my little garden for dead leaves to remove or damage from the city wildlife.
My breath slowed, but the whirl of thoughts in my head didn’t.
Back at my desk, I hesitated over my phone again. Maybe it was too late. I should wait until the morning.
I texted Ethan instead. Did you finish up those songs?
Done and delivered, he wrote back. Want to hear the finished product?
Absolutely! Send them along when you have a chance.
I still hadn’t talked to Connor like I’d told Jeremy I would. I’d rather hear his voice to get a read on his mood.
He answered within a couple rings. “Nick! It’s been a while.”
He sounded almost chipper. That wasn’t like Connor.
“Sorry,” I said. “There’s been a lot going on.”
“I heard you’re doing some covert spy investigating over there,” my younger brother said. “If you ever need a hand, you know I’m good for it.”
He’d probably love diving into an active investigation. Staying still and quiet was not Connor’s strong point. But that was exactly why getting him involved in a situation like this seemed unwise.
“We’ll see,” I said. “What have you been up to, anyway?”
“Oh, you know, picking up whatever work I can find. Checking out the city. I actually went to a few of the art galleries, since Jer made such a big deal about them, and they’re pretty nice. Kind of calming in a weird way.”
Only Connor would think that art being calming was weird. I held back a laugh. He did sound more settled down, like Jeremy had said. Florence had been good for him.
“If you ever want to do a day trip,” I said, “there’s a few places you shouldn’t miss.”
We chatted for a little longer. After I’d hung up, I kept holding the phone. My laptop was still open to Carina’s Facebook profile. The question was still hanging in my head.
Oh, fuck it. I wasn’t going to be able to wait until tomorrow morning to get my answers.
Is this a good time to talk? I wrote to Dad.
He replied a minute later. I’m still up, but your mother’s asleep. If you just need me, we’re good.
Yeah. He was the one I really should be asking. Not that I was looking forward to it.
I dialed the number and swiveled back and forth in my chair as I brought the phone to my ear. Someone in the next apartment was playing jazz music that carried from their open window into mine. The smell of fresh pastries from the bakery down the street drifted in too. It should have made for a pleasant atmosphere, but my stomach had already knotted in preparation for this conversation.
“Hey, Nick,” Dad said when he picked up, his voice as steady as always. “What’s going on? Are you still in London?”
Had I needed to flee, he meant. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve managed not to blow my cover yet. And I found out why Carina is helping Alpha Project hunt us down.”
I could practically hear him perk up on the other end. “Oh? Well, I’m definitely curious to hear about that.”
He was going to regret that enthusiasm.
“I think I should probably tell you something first, Dad,” I said, the words seeming to drag the knots in my stomach tighter. “You know way back when, how you broke out of their facility?”
“Of course,” Dad said. “I’m not likely to ever forget that day.”
“Yeah. You and Mom always told us about distracting the guards with her telepathy, using your control of heat to mess with the electric locks and all that. And then you just grabbed a truck and ran for it.”
“That’s right.” A slight hesitation had crept into Dad’s voice. He could probably guess where this was going. He wasn’t slow.
“Well… I know it was harder than that. I know that tricks didn’t get you all the way out.” I swallowed hard, the impressions of their escape that I’d picked up from him over the years, the first time when I couldn’t have been more than twelve, swimming up in my mind. Not just the visuals: the flames and the charred skin. The shouts and cries of pain, too. The heat that had licked Dad’s skin. The tightness in his own gut as he’d focused his mind.
“I know you had to blaze through some of the guards to get past them,” I went on. “When I was younger, when I didn’t have as much control over my talent as I do now—”
“It’s okay,” Dad said roughly. “You don’t have to explain. I know you never pried on purpose.”
“I understand why you didn’t tell us that part,” I said. “I could feel how much it tore you up, using your power like that. But… You hurt people, because you had to. You maybe killed at least a couple. I’ve got that right, don’t I?”
Dad was silent for a moment. He sighed. “I’ve never wanted to use my talent to hurt anyone. You know that. I’ve told you the story of what happened with my family, that horrible accident…”
“Yeah.” When Dad’s talent had been emerging, when he’d been just a kid, he’d set fire to his family home without meaning to, without even knowing he could, during an argument with his own father. His dad and little sister had died in that fire. I’d gotten impressions from that part of his past too—I’d felt the surge of angry heat and the horrified confusion as it’d manifested beyond his body, the inner burn of guilt in the aftermath.
For a long time I let myself believe I was a monster because of that moment, he’d told us. I thought I deserved everything they put me through at the Facility. It was your mother who helped me see that as horrible as the fire was, I didn’t have any control over what happened. I have that control now, but you all are still learning. You might make mistakes, even big ones. I don’t wa
nt you ever to be afraid to ask for help—and I don’t want you to ever think you’re horrible because of what you’re capable of.
“The day when we escaped from the Facility,” he said now. “It was the second worst day of my life, after that time with my house. Even though it paved the way for the best days once we were free. I didn’t have any choice. Or, I did, but it was either hurt them or let them hurt us. The staff already started outright torturing us. They’d have punished us for trying to escape. In that moment, the only thing that seemed to make sense was to do whatever I had to in order to get me and your mother out of there alive.”
“I know,” I said. “It makes sense to me. I’ve never blamed you.” It’d just made me realize that my dad, who’d always been the hero of my life story, was maybe a little more tarnished than I’d realized.
“Why are you asking about it now?” Dad asked, sounding more relaxed now that I’d made it clear I wasn’t accusing him of anything back then. “How does this connect to what you found out?”
“Well…” I sucked in a breath. “Carina believes that you and Mom murdered her parents—or at least are directly responsible for their deaths. She’s after us to get justice for them. But she’s only in her early twenties. It can’t have anything to do with your escape. So, I had to wonder…”
“If there were any other times I had to go that far to protect the family,” Dad filled in. “All right. That’s a reasonable question. And I can swear to you that the answer is no. The last time anyone from Alpha Project was even close enough to us that I could have hurt any of them was that time I told you about in Paris, when you were only a few months old. Twenty-seven years ago. I used my talent then, but only to create a minor distraction. The fire was already out before we’d even gotten away from the scene. The worse that could have happened was a minor burn. The last twenty-five years, we weren’t even completely sure they were still looking for us.”
