Then they both laughed, the ridiculousness of it all crashing down on them.
“Don’t blame me if you wake up with me wrapped around you,” Eve whispered, when she could speak again.
Then she turned away, leaving a small space between them.
Cally stared up at the ceiling in the dark, wondering about infrared cameras, Eve’s trampled feelings, and Antoine in his watery grave. Noah waiting, livid. Darian traveling back with them in the morning.
And one name: Nico Aldobrandini.
Eleven
The limousine trip back to Stewart International Airport was a quiet affair, aided by the muffling effect of the hoods.
Darian released the neck wire as they drove across the Hudson River. Cally pulled hers off and glared at him. He handed over their phones with an apologetic smile, then leaned back in his seat.
He’d forgone his usual suit, wearing jeans and a field jacket. Cally wondered if the gun she’d never seen was still under there somewhere, or if he’d packed it for the flight. Maybe he wasn’t armed at all, but she very much doubted it.
Beside her, Eve shook out her auburn hair, then threw her hood at Darian. He snatched it from the air without any expression, and reached out a hand for Cally’s. She was tempted to hold on to it—it might be useful when their positions were reversed sometime in the future—but she handed it over.
The flight back on the Order’s private jet was equally awkward. Cally and Eve exchanged a look or two and were perfectly civil to the flight attendant who brought them drinks, but they ignored Darian for the hour-long flight.
Cally flicked open her phone and winced as she saw the day-old missed messages from Noah. It was like having another dad. She typed a quick apologetic reply, letting him know they were on their way back, but didn’t give him details. If he met them at the airport and Darian saw him, it would only cause more complications later.
How were they ever going to give him the slip?
Lying awake the previous night, Cally had briefly considered bringing him in on the heist. With the connections the Order had,they might even have been able to contact WHOI and get access to Alvin. But there was no way of hiding their objective, and Darian would hardly sign off on any mission involving the recovery of a vampire.
Despite his alleged blind devotion to Cally’s interests after only one day.
Darian followed them through the private terminal of Boston Logan International, his duffel bag hooked over his shoulder. Security was empty and the agents waved them through with a smile, then stopped Darian.
Cally walked faster, pulling out her phone and calling up an Uber on the app. “Let’s take this opportunity,” she muttered to Eve.
“Chance of getting an Uber before Darian catches us up?” Eve asked.
Cally grimaced. “Not high.”
She pocketed her phone, pushing open the door to the outside. They were on Prescott Street, parking lots and airport buildings all around them.
“Fuck it, let’s hide,” she said to Eve, running for the nearest large vehicle—a Ford pickup, halfway down a row of parked cars. Eve was close on her heels, and together they slipped between the vehicles, keeping low.
“I didn’t see anyone, did you?” Eve asked.
“No.”
“Under the truck?”
Cally laughed. “Sure, why not.”
They crawled under the parked vehicle, lying on the oily asphalt, and within seconds Darian exited the private terminal building. Peering beneath the cars, Cally could only see his boots as he stopped and looked around, shifting as he turned to check the rest of the area. Would he assume they’d got straight into a ride, or go looking for them?
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, the noise muffled, yet loud enough in the quiet of the parking lot. She swallowed a curse, reaching for it, pushing the button to reject the call through the material of her jeans. It fell dormant and she pulled it out, quicklyopening the settings and turning off the vibrations. Eve reached for her own phone, flicking the switch on the side, muting the alerts. Then she grimaced, turning the screen to Cally to show the incoming call.
“How did he get our numbers?” she whispered as she tucked it away.
Cally didn’t reply, watching his feet as he took some initial steps toward them. Had he heard her phone? Were they hidden enough? If he found them, would he be angry? It would make it so much harder to give him the slip again.
The door of a nearby car opened, a man stepping out. He was only a dozen feet away, dressed in a suit with polished black shoes, a briefcase in one hand. Had he seen them hide? He’d been sitting in his car, right there, and Cally couldn’t imagine how he’d have missed them.
