She shrugged. “Yeah.”
God. She was stuck. It ripped at something in my chest, a twinge of discomfort that I refused to let fester. Fuck. How had she come to matter so much? So soon? Was it the life-or-death urgency of this? Or just…her?
I rubbed at my chin. My stomach growled. “And we may as well eat. Been a while.” More than a while. Sue’s stew had been the last we’d had anything.
“I’m not that hungry.”
Fuck. She had to be. I tapped my finger on the window ledge, trying to guess how long it’d take to reach the exit.
Finally, we pulled off the highway. She parked the SUV and I grabbed the backpack. Surprisingly, there weren’t many cars at this rest stop. I’d have guessed with the snail’s pace on the highway that people would be stopping. Perhaps the rundown appearance of the stone-bricked facility turned others off. Weeds poked in the cracked pavement and graffiti decorated the exterior walls. Must not be a priority for the highway department to clean. A blessing in disguise. More than that, I couldn’t find any obvious security cameras posted on the building or the lots.
Robotically, without meeting my gaze, Cassidy exited the car and beeped it locked. I took her hand and led her inside. It was an older building but accommodating for what we needed. Individual unisex restrooms were spacious and equipped with a sink. All we needed to a quickie hair task.
“Probably should cut it first,” she said as she rummaged through the backpack I’d set on the counter.
True. I hated the dejection in her voice. “Want me to do it?”
“Suit yourself.” She stood in front of the sink, staring at the rusting faucet.
I stepped behind her and swallowed hard, uneasy on how to break her out of this funk. Funk? This was no snit. A hissy fit or pout for show. She was unhinged.
“Cass.”
It took her a moment, but she finally glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
The intensity of her stare stunned me. Any words, coddling platitudes…they all fell flat in my head. I had no idea how to break through to her.
“Go on. We shouldn’t stay in one place for too long. Cut it.”
I heaved in a deep breath, desperately seeking something to say. Nothing. I had not a single thing to offer her that could make her feel better. I’d been seasoned to bullshit and hardships through life. She hadn’t been and I was unequipped to coax her out of this shell-shocked state.
“I picked black.” I’d always thought it was badass on a woman. Dark. Mysterious. Bold.
She huffed. “My natural color.” Her statement was robotic and blunt.
“Really?” I asked as I picked up the scissors we’d gotten for my gauze.
No reply.
“How short?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Goddammit. I bit back the profanity on the tip of my tongue. She had to care. Didn’t all women? Cassidy wasn’t high-maintenance as far as I could see. But she had to have a damn opinion.
“I’m…”
I waited, holding a fistful of her soft tresses.
“I’m never going to be the same.” She almost pouted her lips and shook her head, tugging the hair I held side to side a bit. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Enough of this. I chopped off inches of hair. I couldn’t do this soft shit. And if she started to cry again, I’d lose it. It ripped something fierce out of me to see her broken. “You’re Cassidy. Same as you were before you came to Rosa’s apartment.”
“Yeah, right.”
I chopped away.
“You want to fuck yourself up analyzing about it all, be my guest. We’re floating in a shitstorm. So what. That’s where we are and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Her jaw slid as I kept cutting her hair. From my peripheral vision, I watched the auburn locks float to the sink.
“Right? All we can do is try to beat them. To survive. Because the only other option is to give up. You want to hand over that data? Do you see another option we can try?”
She remained quiet for the rest of her haircut. I tried. I really did, tugging down ends of hair on either side of her head to see if they matched in length. It was probably too choppy and uneven but this was the first time I’d played beauty parlor. I doubted she’d care if I shaved her bald for as frozen as she was.
“You don’t understand,” she finally snapped back.
“What?” I hated how nasty my laugh sounded, echoing in this mausoleum of a bathroom. “What don’t I get? Huh?”
I ripped open the box and began prepping the dye. It had to be a similar process to when I’d changed her from pinkish blonde to red. She fisted her hands.
“How fucked up—”
“No. I get it. I get it all.” I began applying the chemical. “Remember? I was—am—a criminal. I’ve killed people and was hunted down for it. I’ve faced death numerous times. Those scars you were so curious about—forgot about those already?”
My gloved hands smoothed the dye in roughly but she didn’t react to the harsh movements on her head.
“Remember?” God, I was an asshole, barking at her like this. “Those were from Ryan. Ry-an. The fucker who has apparently risen from the dead to try to kill me again.”
She inhaled a deep breath but I wasn’t ready to let her meekly whine back.
“I’ve been chased down. Shot at. Beaten. On the verge of death. I get it. And all I can say is you can’t let it eat you. Or you will lose.”
The dye was plastered in her hair. I tugged off the gloves and threw them in the overflowing garbage can in the corner.
“What is it that I don’t understand? Huh?”
We had twenty minutes to kill for the chemicals that I’d probably applied too liberally. I’d be damned if we carried on this awkward silence, especially with her back to me. Facing her reflection in the streaked and hazing mirror wasn’t going to fly.
I spun her around to face me and she reared back until she was pressed into the sink’s edge.
“What?” I crossed my arms. The need to hold her was too strong to resist. It wouldn’t help. Her walls were up and I wasn’t going to breach them with kindness.
“Huh? What don’t I get?”
She screwed her lips together and looked at the ground.
Fuck. That.
I gripped her chin and brought her focus back to me. “What?”
“Leave me alone.”
I sneered. “No fucking way.”
“You’ve…” She scowled as though she hated she was surrendering her thoughts. “You…”
“What?” I yelled it, impatient to snap her out of it.
“You’re strong!”
I dropped my hand from her.
“You’re strong enough for this!”
The fire in her eyes warned me she was pissed. Most likely because I’d goaded her to spill.
“You… You can do this. The running and hiding and fighting. I can’t.”
I smirked. It egged her on even more.
“I don’t—” She growled. “I don’t know how to do this. To keep above it all. I’m drowning, constantly panicked that this is it. That he’s going to get me. I’m—I’m—” She shoved at my chest and I didn’t rock back. “I’m not strong enough to let it in one ear and out the other like you. I’m just an ordinary—I was—a nobody minding her own business. I don’t know how to let the punches roll. I don’t know how to stop freaking at this constant violence. I can’t shut off the memory of that guy getting his brains blown out two feet from me. I can’t—”
“That’s funny.”
She panted, interrupted from her outburst. Glowering at my comment.
“You’re standing right in front of me. Proving you can.”
“No. I’m… I can’t she reached up like she was going to grip her hair. The dye was cooking up there so I grabbed her hands. She yanked up, to jerk free, but I held her fast.
“I can’t keep up with this constant fucking chaos. I can’t think straight. I don�
��t even know what to think anymore.”
“Then don’t.”
She slit her eyes and jutted out her chin. “Don’t?” Her lips curled as she snarled. “Oh. So easy. Simple as that. Don’t.”
It hit me. Her attitude, her rambling sentiments…I’d been there before. Consumed with paranoia and fear. I overcome it in a less healthy way, but I’d had the time to pick at it all. I’d had six years of nothing but stagnant time to obsess over the disasters of my life and by treading over and over those thoughts, I’d eventually vented out my frustration.
Cassidy hadn’t had the luxury of absorbing all of this.
“Don’t. Don’t think anymore. Tell me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tell you what?”
“All of it.”
And for the remainder of the eighteen minutes for the dye to set, she did. In an incoherent rambling, run-on diarrhea of words, she vented it all.
First, Act One was a fast list of what-ifs.
What if Michael finds us?
What if Rosa is dead?
What if we lose the data?
What if Ryan is immortal?
What if we’re caught?
What if I’m really charged with murder?
And on, and on…
Then the swirling, meandering guesses that so freaked her out.
Maybe Scott gave her up for adoption because the research mattered more.
Perhaps Rosa was actually responsible for making the monsters like Michael.
Suppose they catch us and they kill us first and then take the data.
Or, maybe giving the data to Rosa will ensure she dies next.
Once those were exhausted, she snapped out her frustrations.
How much her feet hurt from “all this mother-effing running.”
How she would give anything for a decent night of sleep.
How furious she was at Wyatt’s betrayal.
How confusing it could be that people masterminded so much corruption across the country.
How worried she was that Zero could be hurt for helping us.
An explosion. She spewed all the crap she’d been bottling up. Rosy-cheeked from talking nonstop, she didn’t even pause for more than a pant for air. All through the wait for the dye. She carried on even as I instructed her wordlessly to bend over the sink to rinse out the chemicals. I shampooed her hair twice, slightly worried she’d pass out from the excess of blood to her brain and her impassioned blabbering.
Once I figured she was as dye-free as I could get her, I rubbed her hair with a towel we’d purchased.
Not once did I interrupt her. And I listened to every single word.
Finished with her hair, I lowered the towel. Maybe the end of her hair ordeal signaled a cue for her to shut up. She could have gone on. I was all ears. Whatever helped her find that feisty spirit that I admired from the second she’d bashed that pan on Michael’s head.
The shorter, jagged hair spiked a bit from my aggressive toweling. Rosiness glowed on her fair skin. Her eyes—those soul-grabbing bright blues sparkled at me once again. I lost my focus on her new look to follow the slide of her tongue peeking out to lick her pink lips.
Fuck.
Me.
Riled up and…back to her normal self, she was… Well, she was badass.
And I’d never wanted a woman more.
I swallowed hard and met her gaze again. She raised a brow a bit and drew in a deep breath. Her attempt to catch her breath pushed her tits closed to me and I held in a groan.
So close. She was so painfully close.
“Better now?”
A frown lined her face. “No. Not yet.” She lunged forward, framing my face tightly and dragging me down to her level. Her lips crushed mine in an unforgiving lock. I growled into the kiss, wrapping my arms around her until she gasped.
Yes!
Finally.
Her nails scraped through my hair, eliciting a ragged flare of little pain and a lot of desire. God, did I want her. Sealing my lips to hers, I struggled to believe I really had her. In my arms. Her breasts smashed to my chest. Her arms clinging me even closer. Her—
She ground against me, knocking me off balance.
Fuck, yes.
Her low moan was like tossing gasoline into the fire. I tightened my grip on her waist, digging into her soft flesh.
I stumbled back, wincing at the weight on my leg. She dove in for more, distracting me from my wound by nipping my lower lip. As we’d fumbled together, she turned us so my back smacked against the wall.
“Cass.” I breathed her name as she nuzzled my neck, trailing hot, open kisses on my skin.
I cupped her face and dragged her mouth back to mine.
Mine. All mine.
My sexy, strong, badass—
A ring chirped.
I might have almost missed the sound, but she didn’t. She froze, her swollen lips a breath from mine, her hot exhales wisps against my chin.
I held her to me, willing my heart to stay in my chest for as fast as it raced. I waited, listening.
The burner phone in my pocket was ringing. Two tones. A text. Only one person had the number and if he was contacting us, it wasn’t to shoot the shit.
“Didn’t he already give you the email?” she whispered, slinking down and away from me.
I closed my eyes for a second, forcing myself to snap out of the moment of heat we’d both needed—still needed to finish. I shifted my cock as I stood up, holding one hand to the wall as I tried to find balance.
Fuck.
Talk about zero to sixty.
She panted and stared at me. Brushing a lock of hair away, she licked her lips.
“Yeah. He did.” He’d given us the directions to the café and then followed up with the username and password to log into the encrypted cloud space he trusted. It was implied we shouldn’t contact each other for the hell of it—all for reducing a trail despite how many burners we used and disposed of.
I pulled out the device, all traces of desire waning and forfeiting to concern.
“Why’s he texting? Something must have happened.”
Cassidy’s voice was shaky, but at least she was vocalizing her thoughts. Not freaking out and keeping it inside.
“I don’t know.” I brought the phone up to read the screen and another noise rang out.
I glanced at Cassidy, then stared at the backpack. The other burner?
“What the hell?” She rushed to it, unzipping it and rummaging. She pulled out the second activated phone. It rang. And rang. Someone was calling.
I read the text from the phone I held. “Answer it. Trust me.”
Cassidy slanted her brows and stepped closer to me, showing me the unidentified number.
With a shaky finger, she slid the tab to take the call then pressed for speaker.
The silence droned as we waited.
Garbled static came.
“—idy.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at me.
No way. Even I had an idea who was calling.
She held the phone higher. “Rosa?”
Chapter Seven
Cassidy
“Rosa?”
Static crackled on the phone. Maybe a thump?
“Rosa!”
I gripped the phone harder, hoisting it in the air as if it’d help. We were locked in a concrete bunker of a bathroom. Nothing was going to work in here. Jerking my chin at the backpack, I hoped Luke got the hint. I ran toward the door, rolling my hand to gesture for him to follow.
She hadn’t replied yet.
Rosa. My God. Finally. Relief spiked hard and fast at the news she was alive.
Luke grabbed our things and rushed out after me. In the open air, reception was still shitty.
“Rosa?”
Her voice was garbled. “You … can’t …”
Luke scowled, limping close to me as I held the phone between us. His face tightened into lines of concentration as he tried to listen in.
I y
elled, “I can’t hear you!”
Now…wind? It sounded like gusts of air buffeted around her, interrupting her voice.
She replied, “… didn’t kill them. I know.”
She must have seen the news of my alleged murders. “No, I didn’t kill anyone.” I’d wanted to. Thought I had—twice. But no.
“…you … it?”
“What?” I squinted as I tried to piece together her question.
Luke opened the passenger door and tossed the backpack to the rear seat. He motioned for me to get in. I did, repeating my question on the phone. No sooner than Luke got in the driver’s seat and shut the door did I get a reply. Kind of.
“Do … have it?” she asked.
Did I have it… The data? It was what she’d sent me to get. “Yes. I got the Xol files from Scott’s storage in Texas.”
My father’s files. The guy you lied to me about.
I shut off that burn of annoyance and strained to listen. Luke started the car and began to leave the parking lot.
“… you have it?”
She must not have heard me. Where the hell was she that reception was so shitty? “Yes,” I repeated louder and firmer.
“Go to—” Whooshes of air whistled from her end.
“Go where?” Please. Please, tell me. I needed to know. How to end this once and for all.
“Go to … now.”
I clenched my teeth. “Go where?”
An alarm started in the background of her end. More noise, like a consistent we-a, we-a. Perhaps realizing I couldn’t hear her, she spoke clearer and louder over the noise. Like she might have brought the phone to her lips.
“Go to Hendrick.”
I nodded once, holding on to the armrest as Luke sped up to turn back into traffic. He raised his hand in gratitude to whoever had let him into the flow of faster moving vehicles that were still bumper to bumper.
Hendrick. Her long-standing and loyal research assistant. “Where is—?”
“They’re on to me.” The siren grew louder, blocking her words again.
“Rosa! I can’t hear you.”
“… onto me. I hoped they wouldn’t remember. But they did and they won’t stop, she can’t stop until they get you.”
“Who?” I tuned out everything but the phone. “Who, Rosa?”
Find: Project Xol Page 6
