Tristan smiled. “Charmed you, more like.”
“No, he lied to me,” I said as I looked around, babbling while I searched for a way to help Marsten. “He told me I wasn’t working for the council. He said I’m working for a Cabal.”
One of the guards shot Tristan a confused look, mouthing “Council?”
They didn’t know…
The other two guards had been in on Tristan’s scheme, but these ones had no idea what I was talking about. Marsten said Tristan was working on personal revenge, that the Cabal would never have sanctioned his death. The other two guards had known that, had been moonlighting outside the Cabal with Tristan. But these two weren’t. Interesting.
I called down again. “I don’t know what you hope to gain by killing me, Tristan.” I pulled out the business card Marsten had given me. “We’ve already called—”
I squinted at the card. Earlier, I’d glanced at it just long enough to register the last name—Cortez—and I’d remembered Marsten saying he’d done work for Benicio Cortez’s son, the one who wasn’t part of the Cabal. So that’s the name I expected. When I saw what was really printed there, my heart thudded.
I turned it over. A handwritten phone number. Oh God, was that real? What if it wasn’t?
“Yes, Hope? You were saying?”
I’d been about to say that I’d called the person on the card and told him everything. But that wouldn’t work now. Had I really called already, these guards wouldn’t be here.
Think…think…
“Who am I really working for, Tristan?” I said. “Who sanctioned this job?”
His gaze shot to the guards. “The Cortez Cabal, Hope. You already said that.”
“Yes, but I…I’m confused. You two down there. When you were called in, what did Mr. Cortez say Karl’s crime was?”
The guards looked at one another.
“Wait,” I said. “Mr. Cortez didn’t give the order, did he? That came straight from Tristan. So what did Tristan say Karl’s crime was?”
“He’s a thief,” Tristan said, between his teeth, surveying the forest as if trying to pinpoint my voice.
“Okay…but—well, he’s been a thief all his life, right? And his father before him. But now, out of the blue, Mr. Cortez decides he deserves to die for it? Right after Karl joins the Pack. Right after the Pack joins the interracial council. Isn’t that a diplomatic crisis in the making? I thought Mr. Cortez was pretty careful about stuff like that.”
The guards turned to Tristan, their eyes narrowing, but still expecting a logical explanation.
“I don’t question my orders,” Tristan said.
“Maybe, but I do. I’m going to call Mr. Cortez. Got his card right here.” I read off the office numbers, so they’d know I was telling the truth. “And, while I’m sure those numbers would get me through to some flunky eventually, I can probably save some time by using the number on the back. Benicio Cortez’s personal number.”
“How’d she get—” one of the guards began.
“She didn’t, you—” Tristan clipped off the insult. “It’s a stalling tactic. You really are a naïve little girl, aren’t you, Hope? Where did you get Benicio Cortez’s number? The phone book?”
The second guard snickered, but the first took out his cell phone.
“Here,” he said. “Give me the number and I’ll call.”
Tristan smiled in my direction. “Yes, Hope. Give him the number.”
I resisted the urge to rattle it off, and stammered it out instead, as if I was making it up. Where had Marsten got this number? What if someone had given it to him as a joke? I looked down at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his eyelids were flagging, as if he was struggling to stay conscious.
My hesitant delivery made Tristan smile, and he made no attempt to stop the guard from dialing, just leaned back against a tree and awaited my downfall.
Ten seconds after the guard finished dialing, his head jerked up.
“Mr. Cortez?”
Tristan chuckled and shook his head.
“This is Bryan Trau,” the guard said. “SA Unit 17. I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a situation here.”
Tristan jumped so fast he nearly tripped. His hand flew out, and he motioned for the guard to hand over the phone, but the guard stepped away. Tristan started to lift his gun, then stopped as the second guard raised his halfway, the threat respectful but clear.
The guard explained the situation, and I swore I could see Tristan sweating. When the guard finished, he listened, said, “Yes, sir,” then held out the phone.