The Operator
Page 114

 Kim Harrison

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Jack watched unbelievingly as Michael turned on a heel and headed for the gas station. His mistrust flared, fueled by his indecision and doubt. “I don’t think she’s alive,” Jack said. “I don’t trust you. I want to hear her voice. I hear it now or I don’t go.”
Michael’s expression was cross when he spun back around. “Fine,” the taller man muttered as he took his phone from a pocket and hit an app. Eyes on the screen, he cleared his throat. “Good morning, Peri. It’s time to prove you’re alive. Say something.”
Jack’s pulse quickened at her familiar voice, groggy with sleep. “Harmony?”
Harmony’s brow furrowed, the woman understandably torn by betrayal and wanting to trust.
“Harmony, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Jack got himself out. It didn’t go like I planned.”
Michael smiled. “Really? You didn’t plan on being caught, incarcerated, and drugged? But you do it all the time. Say hello to Jack. He’s here, too.”
“Jack?” Peri’s voice came small over the speaker, freezing Jack’s first words. She sounded annoyed. “Let me talk to him.”
“No.” He went to end the call, Peri’s voice shouting, “Let me talk to him! I want to tell him where to leave it! Michael, don’t you hang up on me. You want the accelerator, let me talk to Jack!”
Eyebrows high, Michael looked from his phone to Jack. “She wants to talk to you.”
Jack’s fingers shook as he took the glass phone. Swallowing, he whispered, “Hello, Peri.”
There was a short silence, then Peri said, “I had a hundred things I was going to say to you, all of them thought up in the last six hours.”
He licked his lips and turned away. “I only have one thing to say to you. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, yes,” she said tartly. “Now I remember. One: you are a son of a bitch. Two: if I ever see you again, I’m going to kick you so hard you can use your balls as your Adam’s apple. Three—”
“You’re right,” Jack said, ears warming as Michael laughed. “I’m scum. Lowest of the low. I could have had everything—I did have everything—and I pissed it away. But you let me do it to you. Admit it, Peri. You’re partly responsible. You let me make you into it.”
His pulse hammered at her silence. She might hang up, not willing to trust him, her pride not allowing that she had a part in her own betrayal. He was almost afraid of what she might say next. “I know you never loved me,” she said softly, “but if you ever had one ounce of respect, or honor, or decency . . .” She hesitated, and Jack waved Michael back, sure she was going to tell him. “I swear, Jack, that I will come for you if you betray me again.”
“Promise you’ll come for me if I don’t,” he whispered.
His head hurt, and he waited, knowing she’d tell him. She’d trust him. God knew why.
“You son of a bitch,” she whispered. “Michael thinks I’m telling you where to put the accelerator.”
“Which is . . .” he prompted.
“Unnecessary,” she said. “This is a ruse to get Harmony free. Take her and go, okay? Get her to safety. Think you can do that for old times’ sake?”
Harmony, not himself. He wasn’t the reason for the subterfuge, but an afterthought, an also-ran. I can live with that, he thought sourly. An also-ran was still in the race. “Sure,” he said flatly, ending the call.
Michael’s shit-grin as he handed him his phone burned to his core.
“Bill always claimed it was just as easy to condition two agents as one,” Michael mocked. “You hate her, betrayed her, lied to her, and yet you’re not going to bring it to me directly or tell me where she wants you to put it, are you. Pathetic.”
Angry, Jack flicked his gaze to the gas station. “Your ride is leaving.”
Michael spun, pulling himself upright as the woman walked out the door, her long legs eating up the pavement. “Twenty-four hours,” he said. “Get the accelerator. If you go ghost, I kill her. If you don’t check in every four hours, I’ll let her go into withdrawal. If you contact Bill, I’ll not only let her go into withdrawal, but I’ll send you a copy of the video. If you get caught by WEFT . . .” He smiled. “Don’t get caught by WEFT.”
Turning away, he jogged to the woman’s car, hand waving. “Yo! Beautiful! Wait up! Which direction are you going?”
Jack didn’t move as Harmony came even with him, both watching as the woman let Michael in her car and they drove off.
“Think he’s going to kill her?” Harmony asked.
Jack shook his head, not believing how indestructible people thought they were. “No. Unless she reminds him of someone he doesn’t like.” They tracked the red car as it got on the expressway and roared off.
Harmony eyed him as she picked up the short-job bag and jiggled the van’s keys. “I meant, do you think he’s going to kill Peri.”
Jack glanced at her and away, taking a deep breath as his world shifted a hundred and eighty degrees. “No. She’s going to kill him first.”
Hesitating, Harmony looked between the van and the interstate. “Where?” She turned back to Jack, eyes wide. “How? We’ve got to help her.”
But Jack scuffed the pavement, head down. “How,” he said flatly. “I have no way of even finding out where she is. You know what she told me to do? Get you to a safe place.”
“The little bitch,” Harmony swore, clearly frustrated. “I do not need saving!”
“I know how you feel,” Jack said around a sigh. “But that’s Peri for you.” Opti had ingrained a need for her to put her anchor’s safety before her own, and seeing as Peri had been working with Harmony, the woman now fell into that category. But Jack knew this was more than Opti conditioning. It was just how Peri was.
“I can’t sit and do nothing,” Harmony muttered. “What are we supposed to do?”
Jack turned to the van and opened the door. “Watch the obituaries.”
 
 
CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN
Her arm hurt where the cold metal of the fencing bit deep. Coat bunched up at her elbow, Peri forced her hand farther out through the chain link. Her fingers were losing their feeling from the cold or, more likely, from the lack of circulation as she angled the thin piece of metal into the lock. The “key” was a piece of the chain-link fence, wiggled off with metal fatigue and filed flat on the cement floor. It was only a matter of time before she got the lock picked. Time, though, wasn’t an asset she had.