“I don’t have any beds, and you have a big day ahead of you. Plus there is an unusual amount of guard activity due to an unconscious guard who was just found,” CINDY says. “I’ll reserve you a three-room suite at the Peabody.”
“I can’t check in to a hotel at two in the morning,” I say. “They’ll recognize me.”
“I chose the Peabody because it has an elevator that goes straight from the parking garage to the guest room floors,” CINDY says. “The staff will never see you if Dominic checks in.”
A shiver passes through me. CINDY’s forethought and intuition is downright creepy. I can’t help but imagine bowing down to our computer overlords in the near future. I’m so glad she’s on our side.
“I don’t know…” I say.
“Wallace is paying,” CINDY says. Do I imagine the little bit of singsong in her voice? Surely I do.
“We don’t need the Peabody, though. Isn’t there a shady motel where no one asks questions that would work better?”
Can computers scoff? CINDY can. “Wallace would strip my wires if I used my systems to even glance at a place like that. Staff at a place like the Peabody are as discreet as humans can be. That’s why Wallace always has me put up his guests there.”
I sigh. Wallace has a small room identical to mine at DIC, so it’s easy to forget how loaded he is. “Okay, fine.”
“Reservation is made in the name of Dominic Harris,” CINDY says. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Turn the lasers around this building off for about fifteen seconds?” I ask, voice full of sarcasm. There’s no way she can…
“The grid within twenty feet of the exterior of this building will turn off for fifteen seconds, starting the second you close the exterior door.” The interior door leading back to the brick closet slides open with a whoosh. “A car is waiting for you on the street directly west of this building. Good luck and good hunting.”
This just in: Semi-sentient computers are creepy.
Chapter Fourteen
I have one of those confused waking moments when Sani gently shakes my arm in the morning. The pillows beneath my head are softer than anything I’ve ever touched. I’m cocooned in lavender-scented sheets of the highest thread count. The mattress is the most comfortable thing that’s ever had the pleasure of supporting my weight. This is definitely not DIC.
Then I see the room’s décor—colors that are meant to offend no one’s taste, but don’t really appeal to anyone’s taste either—and remember I’m in a hotel.
Sani pulls open the curtains in my room, and I yank the covers over my head to defend my pupils from the onslaught of sunshine. I feel the light pressure of Sani sitting down on the bed next to me. The fact that Sani and I are both technically in the same bed stalls my brain’s waking up. Through twelve years of the most rigorous training, my lungs have worked perfectly, but now they don’t seem to be able to pull in enough air for the demanding activity of lying in bed.
Despite my best efforts, the covers inch away from my face, and I slam my eyes shut, groaning.
“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice is as soft as the sheets wrapped around me.
I force one eye open, and he smiles at me. Oh, that smile. The one that makes my hearts want to jump out of my chest and join Sani’s in his chest. That smile deserves two eyes gazing at it, so I open my other eye.
He laughs at me. “You’re the grumpiest not-morning person I know.”
Flinging my arms about, I toss myself dramatically onto my stomach and glance up at him. “Morning is a terrible time for operations. Ask anyone.”
“But a good time for transnational flights to start.” He’s already fully dressed and ready to travel.
“Ugh.” It’s a reluctant agreement. “What time is it?”
“Eight. Dominic’s flight leaves in two hours.”
The silence between us while Sani waits for my brain to ramp up to operating speed is as comfortable as this bed.
Now that I’m fully conscious, yesterday comes rushing back to me. The image of Sani crumpled on the pavement, bleeding, flashes through my mind’s eye. What a terrible day that went on forever—and it wasn’t even a Monday. “How’s your heart?”
His smile widens to a full-on grin. There’s true happiness in it, the kind my soul can’t help but swim toward, soaking in the light. “I’m good to go.”
“As in…?”
“Yes.” The relief in his posture matches my own. What we’re going to attempt is crazy enough without Sani’s dragon out of the game.
A grin invades my lips as if it’s contagious. “Awesome.” A growl comes from within me, but it’s my stomach, not my dragon. “We have plans for breakfast?”
He points toward the door of my room that leads to the common area of the suite. “I ordered room service for you. Scrambled eggs with cream cheese, an entire plate of bacon, and pancakes with peanut butter and syrup.”
The empty spaces inside my chest fill up until it feels like my rib cage won’t be able to keep it all in. This is my absolute favorite breakfast, my big-day breakfast. I look at him and my lips fumble for words. I’m stuck in this half-space of wanting to both run away crying and tackle-hug him.
He reaches out to me and brushes a strand of hair back off my forehead and behind my ear. I’m so glad I’m lying down, because I don’t think my knees have the strength to hold me up right now. “You don’t have to say anything; the look on your face tells me I did well.”
I find a word, the only word I need. “Perfect.” Is this finally it? Is Sani finally seeing me like I see him? All it took was our entire race to be imprisoned and impending war with the mob to bring it out of him. I should feel guilty, but I can’t find that emotion anywhere inside me.
I’m smiling up at him, trying not to look like the big honky doofus I feel like when a strange look flashes across his face. He pulls his hand stiffly back to his side and stands up. Everything inside me crumbles into a confused mass of hungry and tired.
“You should eat and get dressed.” His words are cold and forced. “We need to leave soon.”
“Yeah,” is all I can manage. What the hell? Bipolar much?
I’m still trying to figure out what I did to make him do a total 180 when he shuts the door behind him on his way out of my room.
…
The cab is stuck in the perpetual traffic just outside of the airport. Sani and I haven’t said a word to each other since he left my room. Dominic, of course, fills the silence with questions and comments and strategies and ideas. He rambles on like he’s trying to make up time for all the watchful silence required of his job.
“I can try to get into the warehouse first and open a cargo door, so you can enter in dragon form,” he says to me.
“If anyone’s going to be able to get into the warehouse undetected long enough to open a cargo door, it’s Sani,” I respond. It’s a mechanical statement, a fact. I keep all admiration out of my assessment. Well, at least I keep it out of my voice.
“Right,” Dominic says. “We should do that instead, then.”
Sani says nothing.
Thankfully, the cab pulls up to the correct gate entrance before Dominic can say anything else.
“See you on the west coast.” Dominic climbs out of the cab and stretches.
“We’ll be beside you the whole time,” I remind him, warning him with my eyes.
The cab driver gives me an odd look in the rearview mirror, so I add, “You know, in spirit. So you don’t have to worry.”
“Sure,” Dominic says, meeting my gaze for a long beat. He doesn’t have any luggage to speak of—I wouldn’t let him go back to pack a bag—so he just waves and walks in through the sliding glass door. I watch him disappear in the mass of humanity, praying I’ll see him again.
“You sure there’s not somewhere else I can take you?” the cab driver asks us. The whole car smells like corn chips and baby powder.
“Nope,” I answer. “The closest gas station is ju
st fine.” Sani and I had decided against asking him to drop us off in the closest remote area, figuring that would draw a little more suspicion than we need. People are kind of touchy about airports that way. I just need somewhere I can change out of sight, and we’ll be on our way.
The cab merges into the traffic trying to escape the airport at ten miles an hour. I sigh and shift in my seat. Sani remains the kind of still that can drive a girl insane. I check out the traffic like it’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. At this rate, Dominic will be in California before we make it off airport property.
I’m not a fan of texting and driving, but this cabbie is masterful. He picks up his phone at red lights and when traffic stalls, his fingers sliding across the screen even as he keeps up the cab-mandatory script: chit chat about our destinations, the weather, the local sports teams. Oh, and he’s not wearing a seatbelt. I’m so glad my life (or at least my bodily health) is in this man’s hands.
The traffic has cleared as we head out of the city. I pretend to stare out the window, but my full attention is focused on Sani sitting beside me as he starts to fidget. Every twitch of his fingers, every blink of his eye, sends a jolt of anxiety through my entire body. I can’t figure out what’s worse: the interminable stillness or the uncharacteristic fidgeting. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m about to make war against vicious killers, and all I can think about is why Sani went from hot to cold in two seconds this morning. He was so…there, and then he wasn’t. What did I do?
This is why, even though I’m staring straight at it, I almost miss the gas station that passes by on our right. The one percent of my brain that’s not currently obsessing over Sani reminds me of the mission.
“That was a gas station,” I point out, my voice raising in pitch as it passes.
Sani startles and looks to where I’m pointing. Only then do I realize how odd it is that Sani didn’t notice before me. Is it possible that something is distracting him as much as he is distracting me? And how high could our chances of success on this mission possibly be with both of us so preoccupied? If we stay like this, we’ll be relying on Dominic to pull it off. My shoulders shudder as I picture that in my head. If we can’t get our heads back in the game, Jacob is doomed.
“That gas station is no good,” the cabbie says, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.
“Any gas station will do, really,” Sani says.
“It’s not a safe one for two young people.” He eyes me in the rearview mirror. With my size and innocent face, I get this kind of thing a lot. People assume I can’t take care of myself. It doesn’t bother me, though; I use that to my advantage more often than not. I also figure the cabbie is doing his best to run up our fare. Since Wallace is paying for this, too, I don’t mind so much. Dominic’s plane doesn’t take off for at least an hour, and I could probably use another ten minutes to refocus.
“Okay,” I say. “But next one for sure. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of a war zone, got me?”
The man nods once and takes a left onto a less crowded street. I’m really watching the buildings we pass now, determined not to let this cabbie slip another one past us. We seem to have turned into a residential area. Not one of the good ones with white fences, perfect green lawns, and happy children, but the kind with barred windows, crumbling plaster, and cars on blocks. His driving deteriorates, taking corners too quickly and breaking the speed limit like whoa. What kind of game is this driver playing with us? Maybe he’s planning to rob us and leave us in the ghetto. He’ll have one hell of a surprise if he thinks we’re easy marks.
Sani and I trade suspicious glances right before the cabbie makes a sudden turn onto a street just wide enough for one car. It’s not really a street so much as a broken-down alley. There are other cars parked in the recesses between buildings surrounded by piles of trash and a problematic number of beer cans.
The sound of five hearts pounding inside the sudden quiet of the cab is deafening. Sani and I tense, each of us with a hand on a door handle. I expect the cabbie to turn on us with a gun pointing clumsily between the two of us, demanding our money and telling us to get out of the car.
That does not happen.
The passenger door on the junk-car closest to us swings open with surprising smoothness. It’s an ambush.
“Get down!” I hiss at Sani. “Out of sight.”
“You too,” he says.
“No,” I whisper as quietly as I can, hoping the cabbie won’t hear me. “Whoever set up this trap knows me. I’m the only recognizable one. Stay down, we may get lucky.”
Almost in sync with the other car, the cabbie opens his door and dives out into the alleyway. He didn’t even bother to put the car in park. He scampers behind the car and ducks out of view. Now I think I know what all that texting was about. How stupid were we to assume a cab driver wouldn’t recognize us from the news? Cabbies are the second-biggest gossips, next to hairdressers, of course.
Too late to do anything about it, I smell the telltale scents of CIA operatives: gunmetal, cheap suits, and too much aftershave.
At least fourteen armed men emerge from car doors and dark corners, but I only really see one. The sight of him brings my blood to a boil. My dragon cries out for retribution. An echoing cry escapes my lips. Before Sani can make a move to stop me, I’m standing in front of the cab, staring face to face with CIA agent Cleft Chin. He’s never seen me in person before, but I’m confident he knows exactly who I am.
“Didn’t expect to see you,” I say. “Again.”
He doesn’t react to my implication. “Didn’t expect to see you at all. Who knew Chen Lung’s daughter would be stupid enough to take a cab when her face is plastered over every newspaper and TV screen?”
I shrug. “I’m told I’m full of surprises.” I’m surprised at how nonchalant I sound, with my dragon roaring so loudly I can barely hear myself think.
“How about you surprise everyone by going completely against your race’s nature and your personality profile and come with me to the D.I.C. quietly?”
I tap my chin like I’m thinking about it. I’m totally not. “What else does my personality profile say?” I ask—and not only because I just heard Sani sneak out of the cab door I left open and I want to keep Cleft Chin talking, but because I’m actually kinda interested. What do the shrinks think I’m capable of? Do they have any idea? I start to pace, swinging my arms, ensuring all eyes stay glued on me. Having no way of knowing where Sani went or what his plan is, I have to be ready for anything and make sure everyone is looking at me.
“Come in with me,” Cleft Chin says. “I’ll let you read it.”
He sounds like a creeper, tempting a child with candy or a puppy. One thing is for sure: he has no respect for dragons. Maybe it’s time I teach him some. I stop my pacing suddenly and turn to him, raising an eyebrow. His hand moves jerkily just a little toward his waist. I’ve been surrounded and feeling trapped, so only now do I realize how frightened this man is, despite his bravado. Taking a closer look at the improvised dragon trap they’ve turned this alley into, I realize a few things. There are only fourteen men here; no government vehicles, no air support, no snipers. That’s about a fourth of what they had at the tea shop last night. Some of the men obviously aren’t even CIA trained. Maybe local or state cops out of uniform. This was a rush job and Cleft Chin knows he’s outgunned, but he’s trying anyway. I’ll say one thing for the guy: he’s got balls. No brains, probably, but definitely balls.
“What if I were to make a trade?” I ask, letting my shoulders drop. It takes effort—staring at the man who handcuffed my wheelchair-bound father like I don’t want to rip him into tiny little shreds—but I make my body language broadcast calm. I ball every bit of aggression into a tiny pit in my stomach and wrap it in layers of feigned cooperation. Whatever Sani’s working on, I need to buy him as much time as possible.
“What kind of trade?” Cleft Chin asks. Relaxing, his hand moves to hang by his side once more.
“I’ll come in with you. No trouble, I promise.” I make a cross over my heart. “If you release my father.”
Cleft Chin lets a loud, boisterous laugh escape. “That’s impossible. Every single dragon threat must be eliminated.”
Eliminated? That’s a drastic word choice. Why not contained, or even neutralized?
As he says this, I spot a flicker of movement on the very edge of my vision. I don’t draw attention to it, but I shake my head in apparent disapproval so I can survey the whole alley again. Hmm. There are only ten men still in sight. At first, the word “trap” comes to mind, but then I spot a still, shiny black shoe sticking out from one of the building corners. It is an ambush, after all. Of one. And I’m not the target.
“Why is it so impossible?” I ask quickly, before he notices my pause. “You get to take in one young and strong, impulsive and unpredictable dragon, and all you have to do is release a crippled old man.”
“That crippled old man is more dangerous than ten healthy dragons put together,” he says. Maybe he’s not such an idiot, after all. He draws his eyebrows together and studies me. “But you know that, don’t you?”
I do a quick survey of the alley around us. Only seven CIA men (or CIA posers) standing now. Plus the cabbie huddling behind the closest jalopy, but I really don’t see him as a threat. I take him out of my mental calculations. Cleft Chin is going to notice his missing men any moment now; not even my scintillating conversation can distract him from the reduction of his team by half. It’s time to move.
“Yeah.” I start to shrug but turn the movement into a forward dive. As soon as my hands hit the grimy asphalt, I spring into a flip. I land three feet in front of Cleft Chin. His hand has reached the gun at his waist. Before he can grasp the grip, I kick his forearm away from his body and hear a light snap. Oops. Not really my fault. Human bone just breaks so easily, and I train with dragons. His gun clatters to the ground.
Before he’s even finished crying out in pain, I spin behind him. Grabbing both of his arms, I pull them back. He groans in pain, but I ignore it. I position him between me and all of his men, who have their guns pointing in our direction. They’re still underestimating dragon speed and strength, but a few more encounters like this and I won’t be so lucky.
Dragons Are People, Too Page 13
