Dark Lies (DARC Ops Book 6)

by Jamie Garrett

  She was moving around in the dark, her voice coming nearer. “Is this . . . a bed?” Tucker felt her weight press down on the mattress.

  It was the first bed they’d been on together since the hotel room. It had only been twenty-four hours, but it seemed like an eternity. It felt even longer since their last kiss, but he couldn’t rush things. A kiss, at this point, would be out of the question. He was just happy to be sitting with her again, in the dark, in silence, in private.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “For the bed, and the room here. It’ll be a good hideaway.”

  “You only have to use it when we approach the port,” Tucker said. “Then you’ll just sit and wait here for a few hours until we pass inspection. Don’t make a sound while they’re inspecting, obviously.”

  “What should I do then? Take a nap or something?”

  “Do you snore?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Macy said, chuckled. “Did you hear me last night?”

  Tucker was silent for a minute, lost in memories, of the night before and when he’d known her, many years ago. It seemed like another lifetime now. “No,” he said. “No snoring that I recall.” He waited for her to say something else, to continue their joking.

  She stayed silent.

  Macy was sitting next to him, but she felt a million miles away.

  The mattress moved, her body’s shuffling making it sink slightly. When she spoke, her voice came from the other end. “Hey, Tucker?” She must have been leaning against the wall. He was glad that she was getting comfortable. He was also glad she was calling out to him through the dark.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t even know how to say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “And maybe I’ve even said it before. I don’t know.”

  “Said what?” She was confusing him.

  Macy took a deep breath. In the space between them, in the vacuum of air, he injected his thoughts and concerns about what she had to say. Would it leave him thrilled, or dead inside? What was this thing she had to say that suddenly made her sound so weak and scared?

  Macy said his name once more, sadly, the sound of it wilting, falling like dead flower petals. And then, “I’m sorry.”

  What did she have to apologize about? As far as he was concerned, she got a free pass on everything that had happened between them since catching up with her in Luanda. There was history between them before that, too, but that was ancient history now. Besides, she’d been burned just as badly as he had, perhaps even more so in the end. He had no idea what had really happened behind the scenes at St. Louis—he was too green to have been told the entire story. But it was entirely possible that Macy had made enemies there. Maybe even enemies that set her on the path that had ended in the last few years of torture.

  Tucker waited in the silence for her to continue. He waited, listening to for her breathing again, listing for any sound of her. Through the bed, he could feel the vibration of the ship’s engine and its propeller slowly churning away. The sense of rocking had left, or maybe he’d just become used to it.

  Macy was still quiet, moments later. So much so that he wondered for a second if she’d somehow managed to leave the container without his noticing. The air was still moist, the dark still close. The bed still vibrating with the engine. It took Tucker another minute to realize the actual cause of the vibration. He knew it when he heard a sound through her mouth, a little anguished cry seeping out. The bed wasn’t vibrating from the engine, but from her quivering, crying body.

  Should he reach over to her? Console her? Touch her?

  “I’m sorry,” Macy said again, the words coming out a little stronger this time.

  “It’s okay.” Whatever she was apologizing for, it was okay. Their argument, St. Louis—he didn’t care about any of it anymore.

  “I don’t think I’ve said it before,” she said.

  “You haven’t.”

  “I should have.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t need it.”

  “I do.”

  “What? You need what?”

  “I need you to forgive me, for what happened.” She sniffled and then said, sounding more crushed, “I got you fired.”

  Tucker took a deep breath, glad for the involuntary action so that he wouldn’t be able to talk for a second. He needed to think first. It had the effect of sticking a gag over his mouth while his mind went back to St. Louis. He was a new cop there. Still on probation. And definitely not very well-liked by the chief.

  “I didn’t know what would happen,” Macy said. “I didn’t know that you’d be fired. Things got so complicated there, and corrupted, and I got corrupted right along with it.” She sniffled again and said, “He hated you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He was jealous.” Macy let out a frustrated huff.

  “Jealous?”

  “He knew I liked you.”

  “And he was obsessed with you,” Tucker said. Pieces started to fall into place.

  “What?” Macy sounded a little startled at that. “The bottom line is that he used me against you. And he used my feelings.”

  “What feelings?”

  “I was jealous, too. Tucker, I was rejected.”

  “What? I know you asked me out once, but I was…”

  “Seeing someone at the time,” Macy interrupted. “I knew that, too. Only my heart still wanted you.”

  Tucker stared at her. He’d had no idea of the depth of her feelings for him. “Macy, I’m sorry. I was young, and it…” he broke off, his eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had no idea…”

  She put her hand up, stopping him. “I know, and it’s okay. And besides, all it would have done was bring the heat down on both of us faster. That’s not an excuse, though.”

  “Okay.” What could he say to that? To the bombshell she’d just dropped. They’d both been caught up in a total disaster. He’d known that. But she hadn’t been a part of the inner circle. He’d known that much. Had he been a total fool?

  “I was trying . . . I’m asking . . . for your forgiveness.”

  “Just tell me what exactly happened,” Tucker said. God, he hated how sharp his voice sounded, but he didn’t want to modulate it, either. It was over; it didn’t mean anything. That didn’t stop the unresolved anger flooding back, anger he’d buried for years. “What did you do, knowingly?”

  “I chose my career. Over you.”

  “How?”

  “He blackmailed me, Tucker. Told me to go along with it or he’d tell everyone. I hardly had a choice.”

  “But you did, you just said you had a choice. Just tell me what exactly you did.”

  “I supported his allegations,” Macy said, the words muffled by her hand. She might have been wiping her nose. “I sold you out and got you fired.”

  His fingernails dug into his hands, and Tucker forced them to relax. “In exchange for what?”

  “He threatened to do the same with me. He had dirt on me.”

  “No one had any dirt on me,” Tucker said. “There was nothing to take advantage of. Nothing except your feelings for me.”

  “No. But he wanted you gone. I didn’t understand why, at the time.”

  “That was dirt enough.”

  “Either way, I did the wrong thing. I betrayed you. I was fucking going crazy back then, you know that.”

  Tucker knew that. But it didn’t stop the hurt.

  “And it’s fucked me up ever since. Especially since going along with him. That’s what led to this whole thing out here. After being in so deep, the only way to escape was to run. I ran all the way to the CIA, but somehow it followed me. Tucker, once they have something to hold over you, it’s over. They’ll use it against you forever, no matter where you are. No matter what you’re trying to do, and who you’re trying to do it with.”

  And they’d tried to kill her. They’d used her as a sacrificial lamb. Some
one who’d do whatever they asked, digging herself deeper and deeper into their corrupt madness. All because she’d wanted him, loved him, all those years ago. That had been the reason they’d been able to turn her; do what we want or we’ll go after both of you. She’d pushed him out of her life, out of his job, and out of harm’s way. She hadn’t known it at the time, but she’d saved him. He’d found the military, then Matthias, and his future had been forever changed, too.

  The anger rushed out of him, leaving his body weak. No matter what she’d done, Macy had paid more than she ever deserved. The least he could do was help make it right.

  “It was the whole phone-hacking thing,” Macy said. “I think that’s why I got so upset. I’ve always carried around all this guilt, this self-hate for what I did to you, and to others. And I’ve never been able to express it. You gave me a chance to be upset with you, I just went with it. You know?”

  “You had every right to be upset.”

  “I was, at the time.”

  “And you got over it,” he said. “Right?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Right, Macy?”

  “Yes, I’m over it.”

  He exhaled loudly, letting go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Here went nothing. “And I’m over that shit with St. Louis. But I’m not over you.”

  “What?”

  Tucker desperately wished he could see her face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s obvious.”

  Macy paused, and then said quietly, “Oh, God . . .”

  “Macy . . .”

  “What?” She almost barked it.

  “What if we’re . . . in the same boat? I mean, we are in the same boat, but . . .”

  “And we’re in the same shipping container.”

  “I just don’t understand,” Tucker said. “About Chief Gormley. How did you let yourself get sucked into that?”

  “I was young,” she said, “stupid, you name it. I don’t know. I guess I’m just weaker than you.”

  “You were also single. I had someone, back then. A foundation. You had—”

  “I had . . . I had a crush on you.” Tucker heard her take another deep breath. He could almost visualize her chest, her breasts, rising and falling in the dark.

  He inched his hand across the bed, slowly, not even sure what he was going to encounter in the dark. What part of her body he would make contact with first, and how he would go about feeling it, and for how long. Or if she’d even let him. Midway across the mattress, with his body awkwardly stretched, he paused. Was she just going to reject him all over again?

  When Macy started cursing quietly under her breath, Tucker pulled back. Then he felt her moving, getting up, her silhouette suddenly in the way of the faint light at the doorway.

  “Macy?”

  Her feet clunked on the metal floor, moving, leaving him.

  Fuck! Why hadn’t he acted soon? Why hadn’t he reached out for her immediately? Why hadn’t he said what he should have the second she’d divulged her secret? Her confession, both of them.

  But what was there to say? That he had a crush on her, too?

  It was something he should have showed her.

  “I’m sorry,” Macy said from the doorway.

  Tucker sprung off the bed. “Wait.”

  “It’s okay, I just . . . I need some air.”

  He followed her out, glad to be in the fresh air again. Glad to be able to see her, and see where she could potentially run off to. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. He felt something new, a strong urge to keep her to himself. He was tired of the interruptions, the constant separations—both mental and physical.

  “Tucker,” She stopped in her tracks, spinning and facing him. After her time in Africa, she must have developed an innate sense about being followed.

  “Macy?”

  “I think I need to be alone right now.”

  It was the opposite of what he needed, and what he’d needed for her to feel. Why couldn’t things be straightforward and easy between them? Just once. Why couldn’t he just pick her up right now, sweep her off her feet . . . or maybe just take her to bed and make her come over and over until she gave in. She’d probably make his life miserable if he even tried to touch her right now, but he had to at least protect her. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  “Why not?” He said nothing, and she dismissed him, turning away again. “I’m safe. I’m on a ship full of your men, and we’re headed back to the US Why exactly shouldn’t I be alone?”

  He had no answer.

  “What’s here for me to be afraid of?”

  But I don’t want to let you go.

  She was probably better off to steer clear of him right now anyway, given his mood, his confused desires.

  Macy looked back to the door cut in the side of her container. “Maybe I’ll just . . . stay in here.”

  “What?” He blinked. Surely she couldn’t mean . . . “For the whole trip?”

  “No,” she said, her brow crumpling up in annoyance. “Just . . . for now. I just need to be alone. And definitely not in some bunkbed.”

  Tucker nodded, a feeling of emptiness washing over him. “Well, do you need anything?”

  She was still looking into the container.

  He continued, “Dinner or anything, or . . .”

  “I think I might just try sleeping,” Macy said. “I don’t think I’ve had any decent sleep since meeting you.” She looked away suddenly, away from his gaze and back to the empty container. “Well, I did have a few hours in the hotel.”

  The way she stood there, withering, almost slumped, nearly broke him. Maybe he should just leave her alone, finally. Give the girl a break. “I’ll come check on you later,” he said. “Just to make sure you don’t get locked in or anything.”

  She looked so vulnerable in the glow, the sunset off her face showing the lines of worry, the crags of fatigue across an otherwise perfect face. Macy could barely seem to look at him. When she finally did, her eyes looked dulled and wet. “Check on me?”

  “Of course.” Tucker wanted to say more. God, he wanted to do more. But he’d do the right thing and leave her to her privacy. He’d check in on her later. Absolutely. Maybe then they could try talking. Maybe then Tucker could finally say the things he needed to.

  30

  Macy

  She was back in the shadows again. Just like in Luanda. And like the last two years of her life, exhausted and alone. Off the radar. Off the map completely. And now, at sea, she felt herself slipping over the edge of the world into darkness.

  She was dark, too, in the stale air of a shipping container, amidst a vague rotting smell. A leftover, perhaps, of what her cube had last contained. But the smell didn’t bother her. It was fitting. She was rotting, too. She could feel it on the inside, in her bones, her marrow putrefying. Her mind was going toxic already with its cocktail of cortisol and repressed memories. A sense of dread. Despite being so close to home, or what she’d last thought was home, she had a lingering sense of it. She’d known for too long the horrors of false hopes, and false securities. False relationships. Tucker. Even the shipping container, a bulk of steel, and the enormous vessel that carried it, felt paper-thin and illusory in the big picture. The big Atlantic, too, helped fuel the feeling of soul-crushing insignificance. At least here, in the open waters, she could be real about it.

  She rested her head back flat against the mattress. It was the same hard type that they’d had in the bunk rooms. No blankets. Just antiseptic rubber that made little noises when she tried shifting positions. Sleep would be difficult, even in this state. But then Macy remembered that she wouldn’t be staying in this room long enough for it.

  Or would she?

  Part of her wanted to stay locked away and separated for the entire length of the journey. They could give her a loaf of bread, slide in a few water bottles. A bucket for a bathroom. And then just leave her the fuck alone. Eve
ryone in the whole world, leaving her alone for good.

  Even in the United States, she could remain in isolation.

  Maybe hitch a ride on an intermodal freight train headed to the west coast. Though it would hardly matter where she went. Along the way, she could starve and die happily, alone and utterly peaceful. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go out. And at least it would be on her terms, and that of her body. It was up to her own body, and not at the bullet fire of some two-bit assassin.

  She imagined they existed in the United States, too. They were probably waiting for her. All of her problems, too, all waiting for her whenever she’d pop back up into reality, when her head would come up for air from the dark and comforting depths of solitude.

  But here, in the dark of the shipping container, it was just her and her phone.

  She had pulled it out of her pocket, turning it on, the flash of blue light a welcome sight in the dark container. The sun had almost set and whatever light was coming in now was barely perceptible. She used this new light to look around for a better view of what might be her eternal tomb. It was empty, aside from the bed. She was almost reassured about that, not having to see anything or anyone else. She tried keeping certain thoughts out of her mind, like what the container had last carried inside of it. She preferred Chinese washing machines to anything like the hazardous material of DARC Ops’ other shipping container. Her brain was toxic enough.

  She went back to her phone, not wanting to think too deeply on the safety or cleanliness of her new home. She had enough driving her slowly insane already. She aimlessly scrolled through some old files. Despite Tansy’s obviously ambitious comments earlier, no internet connection penetrated the walls of the container. She had since gone through and deleted half of all her files, after the hack, just in case. But the memoir still remained. It would be something she would try working on again, when things calmed down. Maybe use it for a later book, if she would ever be safe and sane enough to go through with it. At the very least, it would be an outlet for venting. A psychological release, charted in full: the step-by-step destruction of her life starting with Police Chief Gormley.