It was going to be absolutehellknowing he was a cab ride away but also knowing he’d never be hers. The photos of his wedding proved it. When he pictured his future, it wasn’t with someone like her.
She wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head for a week. Ayear. But she couldn’t give in to the bout of ice-cream binging, no-showering depression she deserved. Not when she had an electrical grid to save and her good name to clear.
Fisher brought the car they’d been furnished courtesy of the couple who’d met them at the airport to a stop.
Hannah had been surprised to learn Sam and his teammates weren’t the first people to work as private defense contractors out of the old menthol cigarette factory. Apparently, before Sam’s crew took over, there’d been another squad of guys who’d called Goose Island home.
Included in that original group was one Bryan “Mac” McMillan who’d married Delilah Fairchild, the owner of Chicago’s most famous biker bar. And the love in the couple’s eyes as they’d stared adoringly at each other had been so sweet and hot she’d had to look away. It’d just driven home the fact that no one had ever looked atherthat way. And now, it was crystal clear the one man she’d always dreamed might do exactly that, never would.
“Howdy.” Fisher rolled down his window, pulling her from her depressing thoughts. He flashed his fake credentials at the guard. “I’m Agent Mulder. These are Agents Waller and Moretti.” He hooked a thumb at Sam who sat in the back with Hannah and then jerked his chin over to Eliza, who rode in the passenger seat.
He and Ozzie had thought it the height of wit to take the names of the agents who’d apprehended Hannah and use those names as their fake identities. She didn’t really get the joke. But maybe that was because she was in no mood for levity.
“We’re here on urgent business with Miss Violet”—again, a play on Hannah’sreallast name of Blue that she didn’t find all that funny—“who works for ERCOT.”
The security guard grabbed Fisher’s badge, studying it carefully. “FBI?” Disbelief colored his voice.
Hannah held her breath, wondering if the fakes Ozzie had 3D printed looked real or sus.
I mean, they seem identical to the ones the feds flashed in my face last night. But it wasn’t like I took time to study them.
Holy hell, had that just been last night? Her flight from custody felt like ten years ago. So much had happened since.
A little sigh of relief hissed out of her when the guard handed back the badge and, instead of reaching for the gun he kept in the holster slung low around his waist, he simply said, “What’s this about, Agent Mulder?”
He had a thick, Texas twang that madeaboutsound like it had three syllables instead of two.
“That’s classified.” Hannah wouldn’t have thought Fisher capable of sounding so authoritative. But he was doing a bang-up job of channeling therealAgent Mulder. “It’s a matter of national security,” he added. “We need to speak with whoever is in charge here.”
“That’d be Teddy Gonzales.” The guard waved over his shoulder in the general direction of the plant. “He’s the lead engineer for third shift.”
“Get him on the horn, then.” Fisher made a hurry-up-time’s-a-wastin’ motion with his hand. “Tell him we need to speak with him ASAP.”
The guard hesitated, his eyes traveling over the plain black sedan Mac and Delilah had given them, coming to a stop on the license plate bolted to the front bumper.
It was a government plate. Hannah had noted that when Mac had handed Fisher the keys. And she was more than a little curious how the Black Knights had gotten their hands on a government car.
Or maybe itwasn’ta government car? Maybe it was a regular car with government plates?
Either way, all she could say was that Sam and his coworkers had an amazing ability to conjure out of thin air whatever they needed. Convincing-looking laminated ERCOT badge with her smiling face on it? No problem. A last-minute private flight from Chicago to Texas? Easy breezy lemon squeezy. A shiny black sedan with government plates? Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing.
As the security guy made his way to the guardhouse, a thought occurred and her blood ran cold. “What if he calls the local FBI office to verify your identity?” she whispered because Fisher still had his window rolled down.
Eliza answered quietly. “Ozzie’s monitoring all calls in and out of the facility. If someone here tries to check our credentials, he’ll be the one to answer and confirm.”
“Oh.” Hannah shook her head. “Wow. You guys think of everything.”
“Not our first rodeo.” Sam’s grin was cool and confident.
“Right.” She tried to channel some of his mojo by slowing the racing of her heart. It didn’t work. Her adrenaline was too high. “And I repeat, I don’t know how you guys do this day in and day out. I’m about to jump out of my skin.”
Something flickered across Sam’s face. Before she could study it, the guard returned. “Teddy’s on his way.” His drawl drew out the sentence. “Be here in a jiff.”
“Appreciate it.” Fisher gave a curt nod and then rolled up the window.
After the security guard returned to the guardhouse, Hannah sat back and closed her eyes, trying to center herself. To imagine what would happen next.To get a damn grip.
But with her eyes closed, her other senses heightened. She could smell the sweet, earthy scent of Sam’s aftershave. Hear when he adjusted his shoulder holster. Feel when he shifted slightly in his seat.
