by Cherrie Lynn
Lindsey went still. Jace set his fork down and gave his full attention to Mr. Morris’s polite inquiry. The lies usually came easily, but for some reason, they didn’t this time. These people were too nice to deceive, but he never risked the truth in these situations. His made-up past was far preferable over his real one. “Boulder, sir.”
“How did you and Lindsey meet?” Mrs. Morris’s eyes sparkled at him from across the table, as if she were preparing to hear the most romantic tale of her life.
They’d already gone over this on the way over, choosing the safest route. “We work together.”
“At Denicorp?” her dad asked. “That’s great. I have a joke for you.”
“Oh God,” Lindsey groaned under her breath, but her dad went on, heedless.
“A programmer’s wife says, ‘Honey, please go to the market and buy one bottle of milk. If they have eggs, bring six.’ So the programmer comes home with six bottles of milk. When his wife asks, ‘Why in the world did you buy six bottles of milk?’ he says, ‘Because they had eggs!’”
Jace had heard it before, but he laughed anyway because it always got him. Lindsey put her face in her hands. “He loves that lame joke.”
Jace nudged her with his elbow. “How many programmers does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
“Spare me, please.”
“None. It’s a hardware problem.” That one was Helix’s favorite.
Mr. Morris cackled. Jace grinned at Lindsey, seeing her shoulders shake with laughter she tried her best to suppress. “Come on, you know that’s killin’ ya,” he teased, and finally she lifted her face from her hands, reluctant amusement written all over it. She’d never looked more beautiful to him than at that moment. She wanted so much to laugh, needed to laugh, and didn’t want to let herself. But he’d learned to grab moments of joy when he could.
“Eat your food,” she said, prompting another round of mirth.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He met every question after that with a carefully cultivated lie, the same ones he had been telling for years when the situation called for it. Lindsey let him take the lead for the most part, sipping from her water glass and keeping her mouth resolutely closed. Easy for her, since he was the one under the gun here.
She was right about what she’d told him back at her apartment. Her parents were desperate to see her married off. He kept those expectations at bay as best he could, if solely to spare Lindsey from having to explain their “just friends” status over and over.
She had so much to offer. How was it no one had come along and snatched her up? He maintained a cynical view on such matters, ordinarily—the common denominator for someone with a graveyard of failed relationships in their wake was them. But Lindsey seemed like a genuinely good person. Maybe when it came to relationships, she had a little Lena in her after all. He kept waiting to see it emerge, but so far it hadn’t.
The Morrises had a nice place, with a huge Christmas tree dominating the living room, almost as tall as the balcony of the second floor that overlooked the massive room. Underneath were piles of elegantly, brightly wrapped presents and gift bags.
He looked at them after they retired from the dining room and wondered how many were for Lena. If she would ever get to open them.
Lindsey helped her mother clean up while her father poured Jace a glass of scotch, which he took reluctantly. One wouldn’t kill him, though he needed to stay sharp to keep up this charade.
When he spied the large family portrait over the fireplace—Mr. and Mrs. Morris seated in elegant chairs with both twin girls standing behind them—he studied it closely. And he found it was true: even though both of them were dressed conservatively and giving demure smiles for the photograph, he could tell Lindsey apart from her sister immediately. There was a sweetness in her expression that he suspected Lena simply did not possess in the entirety of her soul.
“Amazing resemblance between the two of them,” he said anyway, gesturing to the picture with his glass.
“I’m so used to them that they look entirely different to me,” Mr. Morris admitted. “In fact, it surprises me when people comment on it.”
“I can see that,” Jace said.
“It’s a shame Lena hasn’t been around much lately. You could have met her. Then you’d see how different they are.”
Trust me, I already know. He shuddered at the thought of coming face-to-face with the woman again, taking a drink to hide his distaste.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, sir.” It was easier than explaining he probably did, somewhere. He didn’t keep in touch with his parents any longer, but they were still out there, and no doubt they’d procreated again at some point. Unfortunately. “And I actually haven’t minded that fact, truth be known.”
Mr. Morris chuckled. “I have three sisters, and believe me, there have been times when I would’ve completely understood where you’re coming from.”
Jace almost, for a moment, wished that this whole setup could be the real deal. A great girl, a good family, a gigantic Christmas tree with a metric fuckton of presents under it. Nothing like that had ever seemed to be in the cards for him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it sometimes.
Helix and Sully and the other guys would blow a gasket if they knew. Sully viewed the idea of marriage and kids like most people did a root canal. And Jace would say that Helix’s bed was like a revolving door, but he never brought his women to his own bed at the Nest. He always took his carnal delights elsewhere, which was a good thing.
But yeah. Getting out, making a break, leading as normal a life as possible. The thought held its charms at times.
“Yes, night and day, those two,” Mr. Morris was going on, still staring fondly at his daughters’ images. “Lena’s the more free-spirited of the two. Can’t keep that one in one place for too long. Half the time we don’t know where she is or what she’s up to, but I guess she likes it that way.” He sipped from his glass. “Frankly, sometimes, I think that’s probably for the best.”
Sir, you have no idea.
“What are you two talking about?” Mrs. Morris asked cheerily, breezing in from the kitchen with Lindsey on her heels. The latter looked a little down, but she forced a smile for him, and he wondered what sort of conversation had transpired while the two ladies were cleaning up. She’d probably endured her mother going on and on about what a respectful gentleman caller she’d brought home to them—when he was anything but. He’d have to make this up to her somehow, he decided.
“How different the girls are,” Mr. Morris said.
“And thank goodness for that. I’m not sure we could handle two of either of them.” Lindsey’s mom laughed as she sat on the couch beside her husband, which left Lindsey to perch on the loveseat next to Jace, frowning in confusion.
“What would be wrong with having two of me?” she asked.
Cuteness overload, Jace thought as her mother said, “Oh, Lindsey, for all of Lena’s wildness, it’s you we worry about the most. She can take care of herself.”
“And I can’t?”
“Well…” her dad said, probably sensing the impending conflict. “I’m sure that’s not what she means, sunshine. But sometimes I think if we didn’t make you get out, you’d hole up in that apartment of yours and never be seen again.”
“I do go out. Just because I don’t tell you guys every time I do doesn’t mean I’m sitting alone dying of spinsterhood. And this didn’t get incredibly embarrassing just now, thanks.”
Her mom and dad laughed while Jace put his nose in his drink and let them carry on. The situation seemed better off without his input. But as the evening wore on, she relaxed a little, even sitting back next to him as if she didn’t want to take his head off for subjecting her to this whole thing.
Eventually, what he figured was her worst nightmare came to pa
ss, and her mother dragged out old photo albums. She was as cute as a baby as she was now. He also laughed to see there were several photos of Lena torturing her in some way when they were children. Lena always seemed to have a big wicked smile on her face, while Lindsey was caught in the middle of an epic-looking wail.
After a time, though, Lindsey quit smiling as she looked down at the pictures, reality obviously intruding on her thoughts. The one her parents had no idea about. He didn’t think she would hold it together for much longer. After a few seconds, he managed to get her attention when she glanced up at him, and he tipped his chin toward the upstairs area.
“There’s probably a lot more old pictures and stuff in our bedrooms,” she said, maintaining eye contact with him. “Let’s go see what we can find. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
He stood with her, not missing the hopeful smiles her parents exchanged.
It almost made him glad he didn’t have anyone to meddle in his affairs. Almost.
“You two didn’t share a room, huh?” he asked as she opened a door at the end of an upstairs hallway.
“Hell no. Not since we were tiny. I hated sharing a room with her as much as she did. If not more so. Do you really think you’re going to find anything here? Seems a long shot.”
It was. He’d just needed an opportunity to do a little recon on Lindsey and her folks, and this had seemed like a good one. “You’d be surprised how often long shots hit the target.”
“Right. Well, there’s her old laptop—no telling how long it’s been sitting there or even if it still works. I have no clue where to begin looking for anything else. Like I said, she hardly ever stays at home. Maybe at the holidays. Sometimes not even that.”
Because she was out of the country so often, no doubt. Lena was obviously a master at maintaining such a level of secrecy, but he wondered how she accomplished it. It was easy for him. He had no close relatives endlessly sticking their noses in his business.
He sat at her laptop while Lindsey stood at the door, making sure her parents didn’t come snooping while he was snooping. As he figured, her machine was clean, but that didn’t lessen his frustration.
“I guess we’re on,” he said, shutting it down.
“Surveillance?”
He spun the little desk chair around to face her. “Only surveillance. All right? If you’re insisting on going, Lindsey, I’m not risking anything more. We’ll watch, but we won’t interfere.”
She actually looked excited, and for some reason that broke him down a little. Her expectations were too high. “When? Jace, we can’t wait—”
“Tomorrow,” he said, cutting her off. Dread churned in his gut as soon as he said it, but he confirmed it all the same. “Tomorrow, we’ll go.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Now. Show me yours.”
“Um…huh?”
“Your room,” he said, grinning. “Show it to me.”
“Checking on me, too?”
“Maybe.” He stood and followed as she led him to the next door down, taking note that her hair was quite remarkable in this muted light, the paler individual strands catching what illumination there was and sparkling. The scent she left in her wake, that soft floral essence… He wished he weren’t so ignorant about such things. Was it lilac? It fit her, somehow. Whatever it was, he liked to think that if he came across that particular flower at some point in the future, it would immediately remind him of her.
“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” she said as she opened the door in front of them and flipped on the light.
He was anything but. Lena’s room had been sparse, but Lindsey’s looked as if someone still lived here. No machines he could snoop through, but it had the personality that had been lacking in her twin’s room. A whimsical canopy still hung over the bed. The drapes were airy, the bed piled with fluffy pillows. It was the room of someone who wanted beautiful things around her.
“This is the house you grew up in, right?” he asked, turning to look at her from the center of the room. She still stood near the door, for some reason looking as if she wanted to bolt.
“It is.”
She really didn’t know how lucky she was. Or maybe she did, but in his experience, most people who had grown up in a stable home didn’t. They always had something to whine about. All he had ever wanted was parents who gave a fuck. At the same time, he wondered if he would’ve worked as hard trying to make something of himself.
“You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on your mom and dad for only wanting to see you happy,” he told her.
That brought her gaze up to meet his. He could clearly see she wanted to argue but maybe thought better of it when she reflected on what she knew of his history. What little she knew. Drawing a breath, she gave a nod. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am. They obviously love you very much.”
“So…you…I mean, I have questions. But I don’t know if I should ask them.”
“You can ask.” He shrugged. “I might even answer.”
“You’re from Texas?”
“Dallas, originally.”
“How old were you when you were removed from your home?”
“Eleven.”
“God. So young.”
“Yeah. They voluntarily terminated their rights. Didn’t try to get me back at all.”
“I know you told me to save my sympathy, and I will. It’s only that I find it so hard to believe they didn’t see what a brilliant kid they had.”
“I guess it’s hard when you’re high or drunk all the time. And I admit, I was difficult.”
“Well, of course you were,” she said as if it should be patently obvious, and he noticed it wasn’t only her hair that collected the light beautifully but her green eyes, too. Those impossibly deep, understanding, green, green eyes.
Dude. Stop. Last time you got caught up in eyes like those, you lost your fucking soul.
They had been staring from a completely different mind, though. A different personality, a different set of intentions.
“Did you ever come close to being adopted?”
“No, not really. People looking to adopt want cute babies and toddlers. Impressionable kids they can make their own. Hardly anyone wants a troubled little shit. I’m sure people who would are out there, and I’m sure many of them have good intentions, but I was never interested. I learned to make my own way. I liked it like that.”
“I would imagine, given your particular skill set… I mean, have you…?”
“Have I looked up my parents?”
“Yes.”
“No. Not once. Never. I have no idea if they’re dead or alive. I don’t care.” They hadn’t even come to any visitations child services wanted to set up. They hadn’t been interested in counseling or parenting classes. Some of his fucking caseworkers had been more motherly than his own mom. But the agency had a lot of turnover, and no one had stayed in his life for very long. “My mom and dad gave up on me, so I gave up on them.”
“Wow,” she said softly. She crossed her arms over her midsection, almost as if she were hugging herself, as if the very thought caused her to need comfort. He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing around at the warmth and safety of her childhood bedroom.
“So, yeah. You have it good, all right? I wouldn’t mind some meddlesome, matchmaking parents myself at this stage of life.”
She chuckled. “Well, you might change your mind if you had them, but you have given me a new appreciation, I guess. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Lindsey.”
She blushed. And speaking of pleasure near a blushing, beautiful Lindsey looking impossibly luminous with a bed ten steps away was a dangerous thing. He didn’t give a damn they were in her parents’ house. In fact, every new wall that sprang up between them only made him want to tear through them like the fuc
king Hulk. Every new reason why he shouldn’t want her, even one as trivial as their current location, only made him want her more. It had always been so easy to turn himself off, to not feel anything he didn’t want to. This time was different. And he didn’t understand it, nor did he like it. At all.
He didn’t have time for relationships, didn’t want the entanglements and deceptions that often came with them in his line of work. This was a relationship kind of woman. She was made for candlelit dinners and midnight promises, and he didn’t have any of that shit to give. She needed some button-down type from her job or something. That kind of guy would fit in with this life, her, and those nice people downstairs.
Lindsey cleared her throat, bringing him back from the sheer fuckery of his thought process right then. “Should we go back down?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Taking one last look around, at everything he’d never had and never would, he followed her out.
Chapter Fourteen
“N-Tech,” Jace said, staring at the nondescript, unimposing structure on the quiet, tree-lined street. “At least, that’s what it was, a data storage facility, though everything I found said it was no longer in operation. Now I don’t know what the hell it is; they want to keep it secure.” It was just a boring building.
But Lindsey supposed that not all bad guys’ lairs could be decrepit and sinister. It was only a couple of stories tall, rectangular and sitting at a quiet intersection.
The large street numbers above the door were the only signage: 1248. Jace and Lindsey sat in a car across the street that was as unremarkable as the building. She found that funny. It seemed even more suspicious.
Might as well be in a plain white van. It was broad daylight, and all they were doing for the time being was watching. Lindsey sipped her coffee, her eyes on the glass front doors. “I know what you said about the IP address,” she said, “but I can’t help but wonder if my sister is in there right now. It makes me want to storm the place.”
“I know what you mean,” Jace said. “There’s always the possibility that it’s the safest site to keep her because it’s too obvious. It’s happened before. Still, they shoot themselves in the foot by doing that.”
