Blood and Bone(13)

He kisses me good night. I slip the pill into my pillowcase and close my eyes when he turns the light off.

I pretend to fall asleep, feigning the deep breathing and then the slack  face. In the light of the alarm clock I can see him staring at me when I  glance under my lashes. The look on his face is frightening. It's the  first time I have ever seen anything like it. He looks detached from me  completely.

After a while, I don't know how long, he climbs from the bed and dresses  silently. Somewhere in the dark, my heart breaks with fear that he's  actually the monster they say he is.

When he slips from the room I wait for the sound of the door closing to  the outside before I sit up. Something immediately tells me to lie back  down, so I do. I breathe deeply, suddenly afraid of every choice I have  made. I lie there still and terrified, only to have it all confirmed by  his sudden appearance as a silhouette in the doorway.

I don't hold my breath or inhale sharply, both movements I want to make.  Instead, I continue to breathe as softly as I can. He stands there for a  moment, a shadow in the doorway, before he turns and leaves the house  for real.

I am near tears when I hear the car out front.

He either knew I was faking my sleep or suspected it. There's a real  possibility he's a killer. Even in the warmth of our bed, I have to  admit it.

I grab the pill and take it to the toilet, walking slowly through the  dark room. I flush the pill, take a pee, and flush again. When I turn on  the light it's gone, but I don't know how to continue with the plan I  have formed in my feeble brain.

I get dressed quickly, pressing 911 on my phone as I walk out the front  door in my all-black clothing. I feel like an idiot, but my body moves  with stealth and my instincts are sharp.

"Tell me he's gone to work and ya need someone to keep that bed warm with ya!" Rory answers cheekily.

Ignoring his bravado I mutter, "He's left in the car."

"I know. I see the beacon moving on my screen. Come climb in." A black  van down the road flashes me with its light as a door slides open. My  insides twist and churn, but I walk to the van and climb in. Rory nods  at me from behind a small laptop in the front passenger seat. "He's  headed for Bellevue." A young man in the driver's seat starts the van  and drives, jerking me back into a seat.

Rory nods at the young man, the only other occupant of the vehicle. "This is Antoine."

The young man waves back at me, glancing with dark eyes in the rearview.  "Hi, Sam. We actually met eight years ago, but I know you don't  remember me."

Rory hands me a black handgun. "You remember how to use this?"

I am about to say no when my hand reaches for it. The weight is more  than familiar. I pull the clip, glance at it, and hammer it back in, in  one smooth movement. Rory nods. "I'll go with yes."

Holding the gun is so foreign to me, and yet completely natural to my  body. But my brain wins, and I start to hand it back to him. "I'd rather  not have it, if it's all the same to you."

He shrugs. "It's not. I want you to have my back."

I turn, still holding the gun but pointing it at the floor. It trembles  against my leg, weighing more and more by the second. I hold it by the  handle, not going anywhere near the trigger.         

     



 

"He's stopping. Chism Beach Park, it looks like." Rory turns, offering  me a sympathetic look. "Ya know he's bad, right? Ya do understand that?"

I shake my head. "I know you think he's bad, but I've been with him for years. He hasn't ever been anything but perfect."

The sympathy leaves his face, replaced by disgust. "Ya don't really believe that, do ya? He's an evil man. He's conned ya."

Tension starts to build inside me. "You can't pretend to be amazing for years. He would have slipped up. I would have seen it."

"Love is blind, Sam. You see what you want."

There is no point in arguing. We're here for two different reasons. He  wants Derek taken in on charges of murder. I just want Derek cleared so I  can go back to my regular life. Whatever that is. When we cross the  bridge my body starts to hum, vibrating with anxious energy and the  bumpy ride of the van. There is a small part of me that's terrified of  what we'll find. The other part of me assumes it'll be nothing.

But who leaves in the middle of the night after sedating his loved one? Who double-checks that his girlfriend is sleeping?

I know the answer to the question, but I refuse to believe in his guilt.

Antoine parks a mile from the beach and hops out. Rory jumps out with  him, and they both give me a look. Rory is dressed in dark jeans and a  black skintight jacket. It looks like Lululemon. His dark hair is styled  perfectly, coiffed as if he were going on a date instead of a mission.

Antoine is the same. He looks about thirty and completely adorable. He's  clearly Italian and I would imagine smooth in a dangerous way. The sort  of guy who would be looking for love in all the wrong places.

Seeing them both reminds me of what Rory said to Angie. I scowl. "Why  did you tell my friend you were looking for love in all the wrong  places?"

"That was our code." He says it with a dirty smirk.

I cock an eyebrow, disgusted, as I step from the van, placing the gun on  the seat when they're not looking, and close the door quickly.

They break into a run along the beach, making me wrinkle my nose and  start after them with a slow jog. Rory glances back, shaking his head  under a streetlight. "Haul some ass, Barnes."

I try to pick up the pace but get a cramp instantly and end up walking.  Antoine turns back, jogging up to me. "Samantha Barnes walking? Damn,  you are different." I'm gripping my side and wincing at the stitch when  Antoine lifts my hands in the air, touching me like we know each other  well. "Arms in the air, Barnes. A side stitch needs arms in the air." He  walks next to me in the dark, nudging me a little. "You and Dash are  fully together?"

"Derek, not Dash." I nod, feeling like a moron with my arms in the air but noticing the difference it's making.

"That's so nasty. He's insane."

"You don't know him."

Antoine gives me a skeptical stare with his dark eyes. "Trust me, if  either of us is in the dark, it's not me." He grabs my hand and drags me  into a run, much faster than my comfort level is set. When we get to  the parking lot for the beach I'm winded and nauseated.

Rory glares at me from behind a tree. "Ya need to get in shape."

I take a knee, breathing like Ronald when he caught me. "I'm not in bad shape. I walk all the time. I just hate running."

Rory scoffs. "Since when? You were a track star in high school and  college. You still hold the record for running the Cooper at basic."

I wipe my face, fighting the urge to wheeze and pass out. I'm exhausted  and stressed. The whole superspy thing is too much work. I want to go  back to bed and forget the whole thing.

Rory creeps ahead, constantly looking back to check on us. I follow  Antoine, not being stealthy any longer. I'm ready to curl up under a  tree.

"You okay?"

I nod. "I just feel like shit. Who runs at two in the morning? This is nuts."

He snorts. "It's like meeting your sweet yet lazy twin, I swear it. You  were such a ball-busting bitch. This is almost refreshing."

I lift my middle finger in the air, something I'm not sure I've ever  done. He rolls his eyes. "Never mind, looks like the old you is making a  comeback."

"Whatever."

He points. "See, classic Sam." He grabs my hand and makes me run again. I  want to whine and snivel and complain, but the reality of the situation  is too dire.

"What are you, a cyborg?" I ask after we stop running and stand in a shadow.

Antoine grins, flashing his white teeth at me. "I was a marine for a  year, then I got scouted by Randall. He came and asked if I'd be  interested in something covert and top-secret security clearance-so top  secret he couldn't tell me until I signed off on it. Of course I said  yes."         

     



 

"CIA?"

He nods. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's FBI, like now. This particular job  is a joint task force between some of the local authority and the FBI.  Secret Service is aware of it as well, since Dash killed three senators  last year and we have to assume his target will be political."

"No, he didn't."

He nods. "He did. They were perfect too. One guy got shot with an icicle  in the neck when he was away on an ice fishing holiday. It looked like  the icicles had fallen from the cabin he was staying at, but the water  in the icicles on the roof and the water found inside the wound were  different. Just slightly, too, like he wanted us to see it. Then he  killed another one in the man's own bed. Made it look like he'd had an  allergic reaction, but there were traces of poison in his system that  could be found only if he was tested two weeks after the murder. The  poison is some jungle tincture that goes dormant, slowly releasing  through the pores of the person over a two-week period. His skin was  black-"