“Why didn’t he ever mention you?”
“Why didn’t you ever tell him about your brother? We all have our secrets.”
She never told Wayne about Alex because she didn’t want him to know her search was anything beyond academic. This Hare guy had too much information. Enough to terrify her as much as it persuaded her to hear him out. “How do you know Alex and Wayne?”
He leaned in and looked her in the eye, elbows resting on his knees. “When Alex died, I did my research on the angel of a little sister he adored, and you’re not as well hidden as you think. It led me to Wayne and discovering he and I had a shared interest in Jabberwock. If I can find this much about you, so can anyone else. You don’t have to give me your blind trust, but I need enough cooperation to keep us both alive.”
That made sense. An eerie amount of it. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He handed her the stack of clothes. “Change into something more practical. Wash off the dirt. Lock the door and bar it, if you’re worried about me. Use the time to think this through, and then we can talk about next steps.”
She didn’t have a reasonable argument. “All right.” She took the T-shirt and sweat shorts from him, and locked herself in the bathroom. She forced herself through the motions of stripping down, turning on the water, and stepping under the stream.
If she paused for even a moment, and looked at the situation as a whole piece, she’d collapse in fear and indecision. Despite not having an answer to what next, she knew surrendering control wasn’t it.
Chapter Five
Standing under the hot water and letting it sluice over her body gave Reagan a chance to organize her thoughts. Tension thrummed in her veins, but it didn’t have the same edge to it as before.
She didn’t trust this Hare guy. Had no proof or reason to believe he was who he claimed. For all she knew, he worked for Jabberwock. Or was CIA Black Ops. Or... The possibilities were endless.
However, he hadn’t killed, hurt, or even really threatened her, and he kept her from getting shot. On top of that, she needed information. More than ever, she had to get close to Jabberwock. She didn’t know what she’d do when she found him, but she’d figure it out along the way. He was responsible for the deaths of at least two people she cared about, and she wanted to find out why.
If Hare had any information that would help in her search, it was worth sticking around. She’d be cautious and examine anything he said. She could do that.
She stepped from the tub and stared at her reflection in the steam-fogged mirror. A blurry her stared back. Wild red locks fell around her face in wet strands, further distorting the face watching her. It was no more surreal than the rest of her day.
The clothes Hare had handed her were loose on her. The T-shirt hung halfway down her thighs, and the shorts passed her knees. Which made sense—he was five or six inches taller and a bit broader in the shoulders compared to her slight frame.
She forced another round of you’ve got this through her head, unlocked the door, and stepped back into the main room.
Hare sat on the bed, back against the wall, as he flipped through TV channels. He had the sound turned down and the subtitles on. He stood the moment he saw her. “Feeling better?”
“Much. Thank you.” She couldn’t help giving him a second look, now that her mind was clearer. He’d shed his suit coat, leaving the shoulder holster—complete with pistol—on display. The implied threat didn’t detract from the fact he was attractive.
Shit. She reached for her purse. “I told my roommate I’d catch up with her. I need to let her know not to worry about me.” Reagan grabbed her phone.
Hare shot his hand out and grabbed her wrist before she could blink. He pressed a tendon hard enough she dropped her phone into his waiting hand. “Are you kidding? You’ve still got this on you, and you think it’s okay to use?”
“Really.” Indignation sparked inside Reagan. She was as irritated with his condescending tone as with the voice inside that agreed with him. She knew better, but the terror of the day threw her reason out of whack. “I’ll turn it off, then.”
He clenched his jaw. “Battery can’t be removed without breaking it. I should destroy it.”
“That’s a six-hundred-dollar device.” Not that she paid that much. Her job barely kept her current on bills. The phone was a gift from Mindy, when she upgraded to the newest generation. The train of thought reminded her about work. If this Hare guy got pissy about her checking in at home, what was he going to say when she needed to leave, to get to her job?
It was a ridiculous train of thoughts, given her afternoon, but she struggled to wrap her head around being shot at. That it happened to her. That it was real.
He pulled a padded envelope from one of his bags and dropped her phone into it. “We’ll go out later tonight or tomorrow morning, and you can call her from wherever we end up.”
“You’re as bad as Wayne. Am I a prisoner now?”
“Nope.” He handed her the envelope and stepped back. “You’re welcome to leave whenever you want. I’ll even give you cab fare.”
She hesitated, waiting for the catch.
“This is sinking in for you,” Hare said. “I get that. It’s tough to accept the implausible, even if you know it’s true. I’ll lay this out from my perspective, and you can decide if you want to stay.”
“Okay...?”
“You’ve got the attention of a powerful man.” Hare settled onto the edge of the bed again. “I’m not talking US-Senator or Saudi-prince powerful. Jabberwock is the man who holds their secrets, and when needed, their leashes. He conducts his business digitally, because he knows how to hide in that world. For whatever reason, you’ve made it your goal to find him and wrapped that in the excuse that no one can truly hide online. If that’s true—if you’re right, and he’s spent years lying low—do you really think he won’t find you first? Especially if you do things like using your cell phone and talking openly with your new student adviser about him.”
The ice was back in her veins, thanks to not only his tone, but also the tiny details he seemed to know. “Of course I considered all that.” She forced herself to laugh. To pretend his mini-lecture didn’t terrify and humiliate her. In reality, knowing the threat was there and believing it were two separate things.
He sighed and stood. “Someone followed you to a funeral, waited until you were as good as alone—no witnesses—and tried to shoot you. You never saw the guy. If I were in your shoes, I’d call Mindy and tell her you’ll be gone for a while. That you’re visiting a long-lost relative out of state, or whatever she’s going to buy. Tell your boss the same thing. Resign yourself to the fact that you’re not going back to that life, and figure out how to move forward. Embrace the fact that you’ve got someone with you who has your back—that’s me, by the way—until you’re ready to vanish completely. But that’s just what I would do. You can still walk out the door and go home.”
The deluge of reality overlapped what lingered in her thoughts, and she sank into the nearest chair. “I’ll do it your way.”
He gave her a tight smile. “I’m sorry to be the bad guy here, but this isn’t a pampering situation. I’m going out, to grab us some essentials. If you’re gone when I get back, I’m writing you off. Don’t let anyone in, regardless of what they say. Oh—and what size do you wear?”
“What?” She stumbled on the question and stared at him. “You mean you don’t know? You’ve got the rest of my personal details on mental file.”
“I only know what I can find online. I don’t care if you’re a two or a thirty-four; I figured you’ll want something to wear out that isn’t mine.”
He knew a little more than what she talked about online, because she hadn’t even told Mindy about the conversation with her new student adviser yet. She stowed that curiosity for later, suspecting he wouldn’t give her a straight answer. “I’m an eight. Tall, because long legs.”
“Great. I’ll be back in two hours, tops.
”
She didn’t move for a while after he left. This new world continued to settle around her. Sickness churned in her gut, but the fear ebbed. She grabbed the remote, but nothing on TV caught her attention. Reality shows felt trite, police procedurals were dramatic for the wrong reasons, and the sitcom laugh-tracks drilled into her head until she thought she might vomit.
At what point did she step through the looking glass, into this world, where rampant paranoia was both the norm and the only thing that might keep her safe?
Time passed more quickly than she expected. She couldn’t calm her racing thoughts, though. Every sound from outside made her jump. Each new smell required she analyze it. Was this smoke? Should she be worried about that thud? Was the temperature rising in here? All her senses were on high alert.
When she heard keys scrape against the lock, her stomach dropped into her shoes. Frantic, she looked around the room for something to use as a weapon, in case it wasn’t Hare. She grabbed the phone, the only heavy thing that wasn’t bolted down, and backed up against the wall.
When Hare stepped inside, she relaxed with relief. He raised an eyebrow at her makeshift weapon, then set several bags down at his feet. “At least you took me seriously.”
“You made a convincing argument.” She set the phone back on the nightstand. The nausea, coiling tension was back full-force, knotting her gut and neck.
“I wish I didn’t have to.” He handed her one of the bags. When he shifted the purchases, the smell of fried food greeted her, making her sick and reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day. “Something to wear, until I can take you shopping. I’m sorry if I came off as harsh, but this isn’t the kind of situation you fuck around with.”
“I get it.” She grabbed the offering and looked inside. Jeans, a T-shirt, and a package of panties. There was also a cellphone he probably picked up for ten bucks at a convenience store. He was right; it would do.
“Use the phone to call anyone who’s going to be looking for you, and tell them you’re safe,” he said.
Right. Cut herself off from her life. “I’ll be back.” She stepped into the bathroom to put on the underwear, and make her calls. Mindy was sympathetic when Reagan said her grandmother has passed way, and she was going to be gone for a few days at the funeral. Mindy told her to take whatever time she needed. Her boss wasn’t so forgiving. He said not to bother coming back when she was done doing whatever she was doing, and hoped she was keeping a list of all these deaths so she could come up with new ones as excuses at the next job.
When she returned to the main room, Hare was taking food from a paper bag and setting it on the desk. “Hungry?” he asked.
Never eat it unless it’s pre-packaged. Alex’s voice echoed in her head. An odd warning from ages ago, that he’d drilled into her and she never understood why.
She shook her head, and her stomach growled in disagreement. “Yes, but no.” She raked her fingers through her hair, but dropped her arm back to her side when her hand shook.
He closed the distance between them and grasped her fingers. “How are you really doing?”
“I don’t know.” She was still hyper-aware of everything. His touch seared her skin. His scent drilled into her thoughts, both tantalizing and taunting. His voice sent chills down her spine, and she swore she could taste him. “Afraid, but not?”
“It’s adrenaline.” He stood so close she saw the flecks of dark gray in his eyes, like shattered ice. “Once you calm down a little, it’ll fade, but it’s going to make you sick unless you burn it off.”
“I’m not much of a treadmill girl.” Her chuckle sounded hollow to her own ears. “Not that they’d have an exercise center in this place. And I have a feeling going jogging is out.”
He glided his palms up her arms, raising goosebumps along the way, and cupped the base of her neck. “If I were a sleazier kind of guy, I’d try to convince you sex was the best way to burn off the excess energy.”
Her breath jammed in her throat. The suggestion raced through her, igniting desire and doubt. She liked it more than she should. The idea of being pinned beneath him. His hands roaming her bare skin. Her diving into his kisses. God, she was fucked up if she was thinking about sex at a time like this. Enjoying the rush was one thing, but what the hell was wrong with her?
She licked her lips. “But because you’re not?”
“I’m going to tell you the next best thing is a good meal, a better night’s sleep, and finding your center.” He stepped away.
She was relieved—and nothing else—that his solution was simple. There was no disappointment at all that he dropped the sex conversation, because that would be ludicrous, given the day she’d had and how little she knew about him.
Telling herself that didn’t quell the thrum of desire that took his suggestion and let it set up fantasy-time in the corner of her mind, but she managed to mostly ignore that.
Chapter Six
Reagan leaned against the counter near the motel-room coffee maker, while the last drops sputtered into the pot. She grabbed one of the disposable cups from the stack next to it, poured half of the dark liquid, and added generous portions of cream and sugar. She looked at Hare, whose attention had alternated between her and the door since she woke up. “How do you take yours?” she asked.
“I don’t do the coffee thing.” Last night, he insisted she take the bed while he kept half an eye on their surroundings. When she woke up, he was dozing in a hard-backed chair. His eyes shot open the moment she stirred. It was both reassuring and disconcerting, but that described ninety-nine percent of interacting with him.
“How do you survive without caffeine?” She kept her tone light and teasing. “Did you even sleep?”
“Knowing what’s out there tends to keep me on my toes.” His tone was flat.
She sipped her coffee, not caring that it scalded on the way down, to cover her lack of a response. When he didn’t reply, she perched on the edge of the overstuffed chair by the bed and searched her thoughts for a new subject.
Sitting around here for the next few days or weeks, or however long he deemed was safe, didn’t seem like a great idea. That might be a good topic to bring up. If she had an alternative.
“I need to find you someplace safe for the next few days.” His comment startled her.
While it was what she wanted to hear, after his lecture last night, suspicion crawled through her. “Why?”
“You’re not my life. I’m sure you’re a great person and all that, but I have other responsibilities.”
“Like what? Or does that fall under Information you don’t Trust me with?”
“It does.”
It made sense, but that didn’t sate her curiosity. His suggestion to relocate her raised another question. “Does that mean you’ll stuff me in a different room for a few days, no contact with the outside world, and then vanish until you feel like it’s time to come back for me?”
“Do you want to stay out of danger?”
“I want to not go out of my mind with boredom.” She wasn’t answering his question, but she was being honest.
He sighed, and his expression softened. “It’s only for a few days. You’re not going to die of boredom in that amount of time. Besides, what I have to do is dull. For instance, do you see yourself as a wine-tasting kind of person?”
The question triggered a memory that flitted just out of reach. She focused and grasped for it. Right. Wayne had been planning on attending a wine-tasting tomorrow. In the midst of death and chaos, she forgot. One of Jabberwock’s men was supposed to be there, checking out a potential client before the next step in whatever business deal they had.
She wanted to be there. “As a matter of fact, I do see myself as a wine-tasting person.”
“You’re not.”
The hint of disbelief in his voice raised her ire. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means?”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of answer
ing; that argument wouldn’t suit her purposes. “If you’re attending some sort of affair that gets you closer to Jabberwock, I’m going with you.” Not that she was in a position to make demands, but she had to do something.
“If I was going to that it would be the kind of event you have to fit in at. If you stand out, you’ll blow everything.”
It was a bunch of people sitting around, sipping fermented grapes, and talking about how woodsy or nutty the different glasses tasted. She couldn’t fathom it would be that hard to blend. “I can fit in.”
“Have you ever seen one of those awkward-teenager, coming-of-age movies?” Hare asked. “I’m talking Anne Hathaway style. Nerdy, unpopular girl finds herself immersed in high-class society, because contrived plot?”
“I guess.” She didn’t like the implied comparison.
He sighed and leaned in, elbows resting on his knees and gaze locked on her. “There’s always at least one scene where the spunky heroine is plunged into the middle of a high-class event and embarrasses herself—dinner with the prince, or dancing at the country club. At the time, everyone cringes, but by the end of the film, everyone accepts she’s quirky and fun and her way of doing things is the best way.”
“Yeah...?”
“Real life doesn’t work that way. This is an invitation-only event, and if you so much as sniffle in the wrong way, you’ll draw attention to yourself and there won’t be a fun happily ever after.”
She couldn’t comprehend any social situation that was that uptight. “I can behave. You can’t keep me locked up for the next... however long you’ve got in mind. I was hunting down this man before you came along, and I plan to finish. This is the best way to make sure you and I don’t step on each other’s toes.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and seconds dragged by without him responding. “You may be the most poised person in the world, and that won’t matter if you don’t do everything exactly right. If you go with me, you have to promise—swear on your life, because it’s that serious—to take my cues and do everything I tell you, when I tell you. You don’t argue and say you know or you think it’s stupid or any complaint you have. Don’t be offended. Don’t decide this event is your chance to shine and be unique. To blend in, you’ll do what I say.”
Reagan Through the Looking Glass (Hacking Wonderland, #1) Page 4
