Fuck. He knows. Or at least suspects. “I almost caught Zephyr on Newbury Street. Got within a hundred yards of her.”
“Care to explain ‘almost’?” Trevor asks.
Evade, redirect, ignore. With his CIA training, he’ll spot a lie. Technically…Ididget close to her on Newbury Street. Hopefully that kernel of truth will keep me out of Dax’s crosshairs.
“She told me she wasn’t in São Paulo on the day of the murder. Flew in three dayslater. For fuck’s sake, she gave me the name on the passport she was using and Wren verified it.” I’m perilously close to crossing every line in the book—with Trevor, with Dax, and with Zephyr—but I’d bet my life she’s innocent, and I needsomeoneto believe me.
“Any assassin in the game for more than a couple of kills knows how to fake customs records,” he says. “What else you got?”
“My gut.” I shrug, pulling on the stitches in my shoulder and wincing. “The evidence doesn’t add up. If she’s this master assassin, why leave prints and DNA behind?”
With a frown, Trevor stares at the orange trees, his eyes unfocused for a moment, before checking his watch. “I have a conference call in twenty minutes. Foster kid a week away from adoption and his drug-addict birth father kidnaps him.”
“Shit. Is the kid in danger?”
His shoulders tense up, and I regret asking. Trevor spent most of his childhood in the system, and from what little he’s shared with me, his memories of that time aren’t good. “The biggest danger is that the father will disappear with the boy. From all reports, he loves the kid. He’s just not stable enough to be a parent.” Pushing to his feet, he snags his coffee mug and pins me with his stare. “Give me access to the case file and I’ll make some calls. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
He’s through the stairwell door before I can thank him. I’m too sore for anything but the elevator, and I only stop in the office long enough to pick up my bag and put my empty mug in the dishwasher. I need to get back to Zephyr before my nerves fray any further. And send a message to Lambert to see if I can catch him in a lie.
* * *
“Zephyr?”My living room is empty. Her laptop sits on my coffee table, locked and still running, but her backpack is gone. I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone. Poking out from under the computer is a folded piece of paper, and I grab it. I don’t care what her excuse is, but I have to know.
Ronan,
I’m going to the South End. Saw at least two members of the cartel trying to be unobtrusive, and I can’t let them get to Martín if he shows up at the bank. I’ll be back by six. Don’t touch my laptop.
Zephyr
“Goddammit!” Crumpling the note in my fist, I throw it across the room. She couldn’t wait a couple of hours for me? Or send me a text message? I gave her a brand new burner phone before I left and programmed my number into it. I can’t let her risk herself in the open alone. Not when at least two people who want her dead—or worse—are out there.
The locked trunk in the bottom of my closet—another investment Ford and Trevor recommended—contains my standard go bag along with everything I need for in-person surveillance. A tweed flat cap to hide my hair, dark glasses, a large overcoat with padding in the shoulders to disguise my build, gloves, and a thick scarf. The small gun safe behind a false panel in my nightstand requires my thumbprint, and I clip the holstered Glock 19 to my belt. A smaller, backup piece straps to my ankle under my black jeans.
If I find her—alive and free—we’re going to have a serious discussion about trust. And how a lack of it could get both of us killed.
* * *
Trafficanywhere in Boston is maddening, which is why I usually take the T. But evading pursuit on the subway? Not as easy as movies and TV make it look. By the time I find a spot to park, it’s almost 2:00 p.m. and according to the palm scan on my front door, she’s been gone for three hours.
My last attempt at surveillance failed miserably if the video Zephyr captured of me is anything to go by, so I keep my distance, stopping at a news stand to buy a copy of the Globe and making small talk with the owner, all the while scanning the area for anyone who looks out of place.
A flash of red catches my eye, and I stare as a large crowd quite obviously on a walking tour of the area passes across the street.There. In the center of the group, a woman in a flashy red leather jacket, tight jeans, and platinum blond hair appears to be nodding along at something the tour guide is saying, but her gaze is fixed on a man leaning against the wall of the bus stop.
I’ll give her props for her disguise, but if I can recognize her, so can someone else.
Saying my goodbyes to the news stand owner, I tuck the paper under my arm and cross the street. Fuck me. The man at the bus stop has Zephyr’s eyes. Her chin. If that’s not her brother, Oliver, I’lleatthis hat. In under a minute, she’ll pass right by him. What the hell is she thinking?
I don’t have time to stop her. The best I can do is create a diversion. “Taxi!” I shout, doing my best to hide all evidence of my accent. Stepping out into traffic, I raise my arm like I’m trying to hail a cab, even though I haven’t seen one the entire time I’ve been here.
Two cars lay on their horns, and at least one person rolls down his window to call me an asshole, but it does the trick. Oliver turns in my direction, and Zephyr drops to one knee to tie her shoe less than a foot away from him.
Anger and panic churn in my gut. She’s going to get herself killed. Oliver pulls out his phone and starts texting. As soon as Zephyr finishes with her shoelace, she pops up and darts around the crowd and away from her brother. Thank fuck. I cut through an alley on the way back to my car, and when I exit onto a side street, I almost collide with another pedestrian.
“Sorry, mate,” I mutter. I’m about to look up when I notice his hand. A tattoo of a snake crosses his knuckles. I’ve seen it before. When I checked to make sure the asshole at the comic shop was still breathing. Theo.
He elbows me out of the way with a snarled, “Watch where you’re going, shithead,” and rushes down the street toward the bank.
If it had been any brighter last night, if I’d foregone the heavy coat and hat, he would have made me. My heart pounds half out of my chest until I’m back at the car. I have no idea where Zephyr went and I’m sure as fuck not going to text her. Any distraction could get her killed. So I do the only thing I can. Go back home and offer up some prayers that she’ll soon join me.
