“Good. Get that location tonight and I want her eliminated before dropoff.”
“Yes, sir,” I say automatically. “Drop off is still on schedule.”
“Don’t cut it too close, understand?” His dark eyes bored into me. “I have a deadline too.”
“Sir, I understand. We’ll be on our way tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” He smiles at me and I force one back. “I’ll see you soon. Please bring me good news.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, but he’s already turned his back, walking out the door.
I wait a few seconds, then follow and make my way to the bar. “Pack of Reds, please. And a lighter.” The bartender walks off and returns a few minutes later with my smokes. I am not a big smoker these days. In fact, I officially quit three years ago. But ever since Tony, I’ve been using them to think things through.
And right now, I need to do a hell of a lot of thinking to understand what just happened.
You know what happened, Tet says in my head. “Elimination order,” I whisper to myself. The bartender is only a few feet away and he catches my words, shoots me a terrified look, and quickly walks off.
There’s no smoking indoors in California, so the only thing on my mind right now is getting the f**k out of this place so I can get a nicotine fix. I slip my pack into my pocket and walk calmly back to our table.
Harper and Sasha are laughing about something. They clue me in and I laugh too, but I have no idea what was said. The Admiral’s words are echoing through my mind. I want her eliminated before dropoff.
The girls stand and I throw some cash down on the table for a tip. My meals here are complimentary, there is no check. But the girls won’t know that, so when Harper starts questioning me about what took so long, I tell her I paid already.
She buys it, laces her hand in mine, and she continues her conversation with Sasha as we start walking out. The windows are on the left and I look out over the valley, towards the looming mountains.
A feeling of doom washes over me. A leftover reaction to the Admiral’s order, maybe.
Or maybe it’s from the approaching darkness.
Because that sunset I wanted to see so badly is long gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five - Harper
James is quiet the whole drive home, and this bugs me. So much about him bugs me. It’s like one second he’s everything I need right now, then that gets turned off and he’s back to being the job. Plus, I admit, I’m falling pretty hard for him. All it takes is a look and I’m wet between my legs, secretly begging him to touch me. And after he said all those things to me last night about trust—if I tell you to walk through fire, it’s because I know you are fireproof, and the ten days’ promise—it’s like he knows just what I need. Like he’s got the inside scoop on how to make me feel desirable. And safe. He knows how to push all the right buttons. He takes the anxiety away. Hell, the past few days have been so easy for me in terms of keeping the anxiety in check.
But why them? Why am I here with these two? It’s just weird. There has to be something the Admiral wants from James to give me to him. The only other explanation is that the Admiral is setting James up.
But for what? And why? The Admiral made that offer twelve years ago, so how can all this be related?
Shit, I have no idea.
James turns into the long driveway that leads us back to the house, and I notice Sasha is quiet in the back. I turn around in my seat and she’s sprawled out across that table thing that separates the buckets. “You didn’t make her put her seatbelt on?”
“No?” James answers absently as he parks the Hummer. “Well, hardly matters now. We made it home and she’s still alive.”
Maybe this is a stupid example, but earlier he’s demanding she buckle up and sit straight, like her safety is second nature. But now he’s… distracted. Sasha is off his radar.
James gets out and then opens Sasha’s back door. I watch from the front seat as he nudges her. “Wake up, Smurf, we’re home.”
Home. Hmmm. This is not home, but again, he’s using a term to evoke feelings. Is it for himself? For me? For Sasha? Or is it genuine and it’s for all of us? I just can’t tell.
He slaps her on the leg and she kicks him. I have to chuckle at that. But James just pulls her out of the backseat and throws her over his shoulder. “Let’s go, tough kid.” I get out and follow him to the door. Sasha is half awake now, kicking and complaining for him to set her down. He opens the door with one hand and flips her over, making her squeal as she is unexpectedly placed on her feet. “When I say move, soldier, you move.” He winks at her. “Or I’ll make ya move, brat.”
She growls at him and then stomps off down the hallway towards the room she’s using.
“I’m ready for bed,” James says as he shuts the door behind me. “You ready for bed?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes my hand and leads me over to the other hallway where our room is located. We don’t even bother turning on lights. The moon is half full, and there are enough skylights in this place to allow the moonshine to filter in and give it a surreal quality.
Once we get inside the bedroom, James closes the door, reaches behind his head, and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion. “I’m f**king exhausted. Tomorrow we’re heading back to the OC.”
I’m a little bit stunned at this revelation and I lose a whole second through hesitation. “Don’t you think they’ll be looking for us?”
“Yeah, probably,” he says, unapologetically. “They’ve been looking for you all year, Lionfish. I highly doubt it’s secret. But I just got a message about some missing files that were found.”
“What? How?” I recover quickly but that’s my second hesitation in this conversation. I’m not sure it’s quick enough. “I mean, how did you get a message?”
“I used the bar phone at the restaurant. I have an answering service. Merc and I share one, actually. It’s not covert or anything. 1-800-Rent-A-Receptionist or some shit like that. We leave voice mails on there. And Merc left one saying he found some intel on some files your father’s been looking for.” He eyes me, asking the silent question.
“I don’t have any files, James.”
“Obviously not these files. Because these files have been traced to someone else. And I’ve gotta go collect them.”
“Yes, sir,” I say automatically. “Drop off is still on schedule.”
“Don’t cut it too close, understand?” His dark eyes bored into me. “I have a deadline too.”
“Sir, I understand. We’ll be on our way tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” He smiles at me and I force one back. “I’ll see you soon. Please bring me good news.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, but he’s already turned his back, walking out the door.
I wait a few seconds, then follow and make my way to the bar. “Pack of Reds, please. And a lighter.” The bartender walks off and returns a few minutes later with my smokes. I am not a big smoker these days. In fact, I officially quit three years ago. But ever since Tony, I’ve been using them to think things through.
And right now, I need to do a hell of a lot of thinking to understand what just happened.
You know what happened, Tet says in my head. “Elimination order,” I whisper to myself. The bartender is only a few feet away and he catches my words, shoots me a terrified look, and quickly walks off.
There’s no smoking indoors in California, so the only thing on my mind right now is getting the f**k out of this place so I can get a nicotine fix. I slip my pack into my pocket and walk calmly back to our table.
Harper and Sasha are laughing about something. They clue me in and I laugh too, but I have no idea what was said. The Admiral’s words are echoing through my mind. I want her eliminated before dropoff.
The girls stand and I throw some cash down on the table for a tip. My meals here are complimentary, there is no check. But the girls won’t know that, so when Harper starts questioning me about what took so long, I tell her I paid already.
She buys it, laces her hand in mine, and she continues her conversation with Sasha as we start walking out. The windows are on the left and I look out over the valley, towards the looming mountains.
A feeling of doom washes over me. A leftover reaction to the Admiral’s order, maybe.
Or maybe it’s from the approaching darkness.
Because that sunset I wanted to see so badly is long gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five - Harper
James is quiet the whole drive home, and this bugs me. So much about him bugs me. It’s like one second he’s everything I need right now, then that gets turned off and he’s back to being the job. Plus, I admit, I’m falling pretty hard for him. All it takes is a look and I’m wet between my legs, secretly begging him to touch me. And after he said all those things to me last night about trust—if I tell you to walk through fire, it’s because I know you are fireproof, and the ten days’ promise—it’s like he knows just what I need. Like he’s got the inside scoop on how to make me feel desirable. And safe. He knows how to push all the right buttons. He takes the anxiety away. Hell, the past few days have been so easy for me in terms of keeping the anxiety in check.
But why them? Why am I here with these two? It’s just weird. There has to be something the Admiral wants from James to give me to him. The only other explanation is that the Admiral is setting James up.
But for what? And why? The Admiral made that offer twelve years ago, so how can all this be related?
Shit, I have no idea.
James turns into the long driveway that leads us back to the house, and I notice Sasha is quiet in the back. I turn around in my seat and she’s sprawled out across that table thing that separates the buckets. “You didn’t make her put her seatbelt on?”
“No?” James answers absently as he parks the Hummer. “Well, hardly matters now. We made it home and she’s still alive.”
Maybe this is a stupid example, but earlier he’s demanding she buckle up and sit straight, like her safety is second nature. But now he’s… distracted. Sasha is off his radar.
James gets out and then opens Sasha’s back door. I watch from the front seat as he nudges her. “Wake up, Smurf, we’re home.”
Home. Hmmm. This is not home, but again, he’s using a term to evoke feelings. Is it for himself? For me? For Sasha? Or is it genuine and it’s for all of us? I just can’t tell.
He slaps her on the leg and she kicks him. I have to chuckle at that. But James just pulls her out of the backseat and throws her over his shoulder. “Let’s go, tough kid.” I get out and follow him to the door. Sasha is half awake now, kicking and complaining for him to set her down. He opens the door with one hand and flips her over, making her squeal as she is unexpectedly placed on her feet. “When I say move, soldier, you move.” He winks at her. “Or I’ll make ya move, brat.”
She growls at him and then stomps off down the hallway towards the room she’s using.
“I’m ready for bed,” James says as he shuts the door behind me. “You ready for bed?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes my hand and leads me over to the other hallway where our room is located. We don’t even bother turning on lights. The moon is half full, and there are enough skylights in this place to allow the moonshine to filter in and give it a surreal quality.
Once we get inside the bedroom, James closes the door, reaches behind his head, and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion. “I’m f**king exhausted. Tomorrow we’re heading back to the OC.”
I’m a little bit stunned at this revelation and I lose a whole second through hesitation. “Don’t you think they’ll be looking for us?”
“Yeah, probably,” he says, unapologetically. “They’ve been looking for you all year, Lionfish. I highly doubt it’s secret. But I just got a message about some missing files that were found.”
“What? How?” I recover quickly but that’s my second hesitation in this conversation. I’m not sure it’s quick enough. “I mean, how did you get a message?”
“I used the bar phone at the restaurant. I have an answering service. Merc and I share one, actually. It’s not covert or anything. 1-800-Rent-A-Receptionist or some shit like that. We leave voice mails on there. And Merc left one saying he found some intel on some files your father’s been looking for.” He eyes me, asking the silent question.
“I don’t have any files, James.”
“Obviously not these files. Because these files have been traced to someone else. And I’ve gotta go collect them.”
