Hunted (Riley Cray) (41 page)

“Can I get you some coffee, Agent Tillman?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to go check the perimeter,” he replied, though I noticed that he wouldn’t meet my gaze and his cheeks had begun to darken again. “Sir,” he said, nodding as he rushed past Holbrook.

“You scared him off, you big oaf!” I accused as soon as Tillman was out of earshot, snatching up a nearby rag and smacking Holbrook in the shoulder with it.

“Yup, I’m just a big ‘ole brute.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned my back on him, only to let out a hum of pleasure when he settled a hand on my shoulder to rub his thumb in small circles against my tight muscles. His touch was absolute bliss, and for a second I could almost forget about everything else that was going on. Almost.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, breaking my carefully constructed façade of calm.

“I’m fine,” I lied, wishing that I could stay there wrapped up in my fantasies forever.

“Liar,” he whispered, the tenderness in his voice making me smile despite my misery.

How long could I continue to pretend that I was okay when people were dying because of me?

Turning to face him, I looped my arms around his shoulders to trail my fingers through the baby fine hair at the nape of his neck. Rising up on my tiptoes, I ignored the pull in my stitches and pressed my lips to his. He responded immediately, moving his hands down to grasp my hips and returning my kiss with a slow brush of his lips.

When I pulled back he didn’t pursue me, but instead rested his forehead against mine and asked, “What was that for?”

“Just saying thanks.”

“For what?”

“Just being you, I guess,” I replied with a shrug.

Our tender moment was broken by Santos’s arrival, his mere presence sending a wave of austerity through the assembled agents. The men milling around in Holbrook’s entryway fell silent and parted like the Red Sea as soon as Santos stepped into the house, pausing for a brief moment until his eyes landed on me. Striding towards us with a dour expression on his face he didn’t say a word until he crossed the threshold of the kitchen.

“Would anyone care to explain what the hell happened here?” he asked without taking his eyes off me, the deadly calm of voice making me shudder.

“Sir, we...” Holbrook began, his hands remaining on my shoulders.

“I’ll tell you what happened, I lost six good agents,” he said, cutting Holbrook off. “Six families lost their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons today.”

I could hear the unspoken accusation in his words cutting into me like a knife, digging deep into my heart where it twisted and gouged at the tender parts of me. I wanted to protest that it wasn’t my fault, but I didn’t think that would help to diminish the anger burning in the older man’s eyes.

“You’re going back to the hotel, where you will remain until Reed is caught and put away.”

“But...” I said, the rest of my words withering on the tip of my tongue under Santos’s baleful glare.

“No arguments, Ms. Cray. I have been exceedingly patient with you and understanding of your situation, but today your selfishness has cost the lives of a lot of good men. Now, I want you to gather your things and get your ass in the car out front, do you understand?”

Pressing my lips together in a thin line I nodded and stalked into Holbrook’s bedroom to collect my bags, the weight of a dozen eyes tracking my movements making my shoulders vibrate with tension. Resisting the urge to slam the door shut behind me in a childish display of anger, I pushed it closed with sharp and precise click, and took several slow breaths. Santos was right of course, my stubbornness had caused those men to die. I may as well have killed them myself. Still, that didn’t mean that he had to rub it in my face.

It only took a few minutes to stuff my belongings into my duffel bag and backpack. Looking at them leaned up against the foot of the bed, I wondered if I’d ever get to return home, or if I’d spend the rest of my short life living out of a suitcase.

Samson’s on the run so why does it feel like I’m the one being locked away?

I knew what I had to do. One way or another I was going to have to end this. I only hoped that I would live to tell the tale. Giving Holbrook’s bedroom, with its gaping window, a final look I slung my bags over my shoulder and walked out into the living room where my Men in Black entourage waited to escort me downtown.

“Let’s go, fellas,” I said as I cut a path through them, scooping Loki up from the back of the recliner on my way out the door. I knew Santos and Holbrook were watching me, but didn’t dare look at either one of them for fear that it would break my fragile resolve.

* * *

Holbrook sat in the back of the SUV with me as we drove from his house to FBI headquarters, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I hadn’t realized how long it had taken for the bodies of the security detail to be removed from the property and for us to be given the all-clear to move out until I gazed out of the car window and saw the sun alighting on the horizon. Rush hour traffic was already at work clogging the highways, slowing our progress to an excruciatingly slow crawl along the highway. Every impatient honk of a horn or hiss of a semi’s airbrakes set my nerves on edge.

Holbrook’s hand settling over my bouncing knee clued me in to the nervous tick, and pulled my gaze away from the traffic jam.

“Hey,” he said, offering me a smile that should have set me at ease. Instead it made the anxiety claw at my gut with renewed vigor, reminding me that all too soon I’d be running out on him, leaving him possibly for the last time.

“Hey,” I replied, unable to muster up the energy to force a smile of my own.

“We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get Reed, I promise.”

Pretty words, it’s a pity they don’t come with any guarantees.

Rather than speaking my bitter thoughts I nodded and compressed my lips into what I hoped looked like a smile. Mollified by my reaction, he squeezed my leg and turned his attention to his buzzing phone, though he left his hand in place to trace circles against the side of my knee with his thumb. Normally I would have reveled in the affectionate contact, my years of solitude having not erased my need for human touch, but the small repetitive motion just made my skin crawl with the desire to get away.

I spent the remainder of the drive across town trying to figure out how the hell I was going to sneak out of the FBI, and by the time we pulled into the parking garage my stomach had been reduced to a writhing ball of nervous energy, making me feel as if my gut held a bowl of wriggling snakes.

“You okay?” Holbrook asked, drawing me out of my uneasy thoughts.

Rubbing at my gritty eyes I replied, “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”

Grasping my hand, he squeezed my fingers. “It’ll be over soon.”

It took a herculean effort to stop the hysterical laughter from bubbling up out of my throat. Instead, I forced a wan smile and squeezed his hand in reply, hoping he’d let the subject go.

You have no idea.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

AN AURA OF sadness had fallen over the building, word of the incident spreading quickly, leaving everyone cocooned in their own bubbles of sadness and introspection. The usual sounds of dozens of people going about their daily business still filled the open work space when the elevator doors opened, but they seemed hushed somehow, and there were several groups gathered together speaking in low voices. Many of them stopped when I stepped out of the elevator, their eyes tracking my movement. Most of them just looked at me with the same sense of sadness and loss as they did their coworkers, but more than a couple had an accusatory glint in their eyes.

I hung my head and trudged along behind Holbrook like a recalcitrant child being led to the principal’s office, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

The sooner I get out of here the better.

We settled in Holbrook’s office, the air of melancholy extending even into his small corner of the building. He looked bone tired, as if the weight of the world were resting on his shoulders, and I supposed that in some ways it was. He was as responsible for the deaths that morning as I was, and that had to have been weighing heavily on his mind. He had known those men, worked with them, risking his life alongside them, and now they were gone, their lives so easily, and pointlessly snuffed out. Because of me.

Dumping his backpack next to his desk, he ran fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up in a messy, dark halo, before collapsing into his chair. He looked vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before, and I mourned the loss of the small piece of innocence I had stolen from him. I had done that to him. Perhaps not directly, but through the mere act of knowing me, he’d lost a part of himself that made him the righteous man he was. The self-hatred and weary creases around his eyes helped to solidify my plan to leave. I just had to wait for the right time to do it.

Following his lead, I settled into the chair in front of his desk and waited. I was sure that at some point he’d leave to fetch some coffee, giving me the chance to make a break for it, and maybe even have a few precious moments to say goodbye to my best friend. Unfortunately, he seemed more driven than ever, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

I spent the next thirty minutes watching the clock mounted on the wall, convinced that someone had tampered with it to make it run at an agonizingly slow pace. There was no way that thirty minutes could feel like three hours.

Oh, come on! Don’t you have to pee or something?
I wanted to ask as I stared at him pounding away on his keyboard. I wished that somehow he’d pick up on the thoughts I was projecting, but instead was left to watch as his attention flip-flop between his monitor and the spread of scattered papers on his desk.

Now what do I do? I can’t sit here forever.

It wasn’t outside the realm of plausibility to just get up and leave, supplying him with some excuse about going to the bathroom, but was I really prepared to leave without saying goodbye to Loki? Guilt tore at me when I glanced down at his carrier sitting on the floor next to the desk. He’d been my only real friend for almost a decade, and the thought of leaving him hurt more than anything else Samson might do to me. Tears began to gather in my eyes, and I wiped them away before Holbrook saw them and questioned me. If he asked what was wrong I’d spill it all in a heartbeat.

Though I’m not sure he’d even notice
, I thought, glancing up to where he sat with his uninjured hand fisted in his hair, the other pecking at his keyboard.

Turning back to look at Loki, I was struck by how his violet eyes appeared to shine in the gloom as he watched me through the bars. His gaze held an intensity I’d not often seen, as though he felt the weight of my impending departure as much as I did. Seeing me looking at him, he let out a short, chirping meow, and before I realized what I was doing I slid out of my chair to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Propping open the door to the carrier, I welcomed him into my lap and struggled to staunch the tears that rose in my eyes. It would’ve been all too easy to break down into a sobbing mess and change my mind about going, and as I trailed my fingers over his silken fur, I was tempted to do just that. I knew without a doubt that I had to leave, but the rational voice sounded so small in the sea of emotions clamoring for attention. The fact that Loki looked at me with an accusatory expression, as if he knew I was leaving, didn’t make my decision any easier.

“I love you
so
much, buddy,” I whispered, bowing my head to rest my forehead against his. “I’m so glad came into my life, and so grateful that you chose me to be your guardian.”

Try as I might, there was no way I could stop the tears from slipping over my cheeks when he placed his paws on my shoulders, giving me a kitty hug.

“Take care of the cowboy for me, okay? He’s going to need a friend when this is over,” I said, no longer resentful of their bromance. Knowing that they’d have each other after I was gone helped to ease some of the heaviness in my heart.

As much as the restless energy thrumming in my veins made me want to leap up and get the hell out of there, I selfishly allowed myself to remain on the floor snuggling with Loki for several minutes. I wished that I could have shared a similar farewell with Holbrook, but I knew that he’d lock me away at the first mention of facing Samson alone. While the white knight act was romantic, it was likely to get him killed.

For once, the fates appeared to be on my side, granting me a few extra minutes with them both. Content that I’d said my goodbyes to Loki, I started to get up from the floor when a puffy-eyed agent brought in a couple sandwiches and cups of tepid coffee, breaking through Holbrook’s concentration. Relief and irritation warred for dominance while I rose to my feet, relief winning out as I accepted the plastic encased sandwich and returned to my chair.

I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I ate until I tore open the carton and my stomach clenched in hunger. Drawn by the prospect of food, Loki jumped up into my lap, looking at my sandwich with the intensity of a teenage boy glimpsing tits for the first time. When my stomach gave another hungry spasm, I figured he had to be ready to eat his own tail. Flinging the wilted piece of lettuce into the trashcan by the door, I tore off a chunk of soggy bread and mystery meat for Loki and then took a large bite. Vending machine food had never tasted so good.