Chapter Seventeen
Will made his way down the stairs to the Boston commandery’s headquarters, hidden in plain sight in one of the fallout shelters that had dropped out of use after the end of the Cold War. The deeper underground he went, the more inviting the compound became, until he finally reached the innermost section, where the ops centers and private quarters were located. Unlike in Chicago, the Templars in Boston all had quarters on-site, but then their homes were scattered throughout the city. The only person who lived on-site almost permanently was the local commander, Tony Cain, who strode toward Will, extending his hand in greeting.
“Commander Asher,” he said in his deep bass. The guy had a voice that made James Earl Jones sound like a prepubescent kid, and an authoritative presence that Will looked for among those he’d tapped to lead the local commanderies under his purview. Tony was one of his best and most reliable appointments by far. “Welcome, sir.”
Will gave him a terse nod. “Tony.”
“If you’ll follow me, sir, I’ll take you to Ms. Davenport,” Tony told him. “We halted the examiner’s session with Ms. Davenport the moment you alerted us that you’d like to talk to her yourself.”
“So how’s Claire doing?” Will asked as Tony led him through a labyrinth of hallways.
Tony turned into a hallway with several doors on either side. “Angry. Indignant,” he said. “Pretty much what you’d expect. She understands the reason for her relocation, but she’s furious about being detained and questioned like a criminal.” Tony stopped in front of one of the doors and sent a sidelong glance Will’s way. “And sorry to say, but you’re definitely persona non grata at the moment, my friend.”
“I’ll bet.” Will raked a hand over his hair, grasping the back of his neck for a moment.
He couldn’t go in there. Couldn’t face her again. Yeah, okay, so that meant he was being a total fucking coward. But staying away had been as much for her peace of mind as his, hadn’t it? At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself. Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong. Well, he guessed he was about to find out . . .
Will took a deep, bracing breath, then nodded. “All right. Give me a few minutes with her.”
Tony unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Will to pass. The room was sparsely but comfortably furnished with a simple wooden chair sitting next to a bed. A table in the center of the room held the only source of illumination—a small grouping of candles that cast just enough light to keep the environs dimly lit and soothing.
He halted when he caught sight of Claire lying on the bed, curled up on her side as she slept, her honey-blond hair fanned out on the pillow, the candlelight accentuating the coppery highlights.
God, she was beautiful—even more so than he remembered, more so than the photos Finn had sent him as part of her dossier.
His chest grew tight at the sight of her, his misgivings about how to handle her situation gripping him once more. He forced himself to move forward and sat in the chair next to her bed. A lock of hair had fallen over her cheek as she slept. He reached out, hesitating briefly before tenderly brushing her hair back, his fingertips skimming lightly across her cheek as he pulled his hand away.
At his touch, her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked rapidly, then gasped, throwing off the blanket covering her, and sat up. “Will.”
He managed a hint of a smile. “Hi.”
She tilted her head to one side, her brows drawn together in a frown as she reached out with trembling fingers to touch his cheek. When she made contact, he squeezed his eyes shut, her touch sending a jolt of heat through every atom of his body.
“Youarealive,” she whispered.
He grasped her hand and gently pulled it away. “I’m alive.”
When he opened his eyes he saw her expression shift, her lovely, full lips pressing into a hard line. And he probably should’ve seen it coming, but the sting of her open palm against his cheek still jarred him.
“You son of a bitch,” she hissed. “All this time you let me think you were dead! Do you have any idea what it was like waking up in that hospital and not knowing where the hell I was? What the hell had happened? And not knowing if the man who’d rescued me—who’d kept me alive for three days in the jungle, for crying out loud—was dead or alive? After everything that happened—what we shared—you just dumped me and vanished without a trace?”
Will rubbed absently at his cheek, still warm from where she’d slapped him. “Claire—”
“And now you have the nerve to keep me locked in here like a goddamned prisoner?” she fumed.
He reached out to lay a hand over hers. “You have to understand, Claire—”
“I don’t have to understandshit,” she spat, shaking off his touch. “I’m an American citizen. I have rights.”
Oh, so that’s the way it’s going to be. Okay then . . .
“We don’t work for the government,” he pointed out, his tone even. “Anygovernment. But you know that, don’t you?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head away.
“What else do you know, Claire?” he pressed. “As I’m sure my colleague has already informed you, I can’t let you leave here until you tell us everything.”
She laughed bitterly and turned her furious gaze back on him. “So . . . what? You’re just going to keep me here indefinitely?” When he responded with only a bland expression, her eyes went wide. “You can’t be serious! What about all the promises of a new life? This relocation you keep talking about?”
