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“Would you rather I look and not touch?” I joke. I grip the phone in my fist, swearing when she takes a big step in the opposite direction.
“Do what you’ve got to do, Tough Guy,” she bids.
Things look a little different in the light of day, but one thing hasn't changed for me. There is still only Aria, this bright light at the end of a nearly impassible tunnel. She’s now standing out by the car in her clothes from yesterday, and I fixate on the view. Staring at her face, her body, everything in between. She’s making this too easy on me.
Easier than I deserve, considering what a selfish prick I’ve been.
I hold the phone against my ear.
I don’t want it to be easy, though. How do I tell her?
Later. Another time, another Devan.
Pulling my focus from her with a harsh groan, I press the button to send, and after a few moments of silence and several clicks, the call goes through. It takes several rings before Naomi answers, breathless.
“Who is this?”
“I don’t get a hello?” I return. “I’m using some kind of program so the number won’t show up as mine.”
Her sigh of relief has my guilt flaring like a bad case of gout. “Christ, Dev, I thought you were dead! I heard about the shootout at the Galleria, but they didn’t find any bodies, only a car. What’s going on?”
I wait for her to rush ahead, to get everything out that she wants to say before I speak again.
“Where are you?” Naomi finally finishes. “Do you want me to come get you?”
“I only need to know one thing?” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Can I trust you?”
It’s not the question she’s expecting, and it must come as a shock if I can judge Naomi’s sudden silence. “What do you think?” she asks in a low voice. “I’m not going to waste both our time trying to convince you.”
“I think you’re the only person who knew I’d be at the Galleria yesterday,” I grind out.
Aria shifts closer, huddling against my side against the bite of the wind. I want to hold her close, but with my attention divided between her and Naomi, it’s impossible to make the right choice, so I do nothing.
“Well shit, Dev,” Naomi says with a sigh. “Yeah. I get it. You have every reason not to trust me.”
“I want to.”
“I want that, too. I can only tell you I had nothing to do with the shootout, and I’ve been working with Jasleen on trying to connect the deaths of the three hackers to Broderick Stevens. Adam and Bill can tell you we’ve been at your place since word came in about the shootout. Ashcroft doesn’t want us out there on the streets, says we’re too close to you, and until he talks to you himself, he’s put out an APB for you. I’m not sure if he thinks you had something to do with the shootout, but your blood is at the scene, and they’ve seized your personal computer to comb through.”
Not the news I expected to get if I’m totally honest. I groan, sinking down to a crouch, my knees cracking. I feel rather than hear Aria move closer until her heat seeps into my skin as she folds herself over my back. Her arms go around my neck, the side of her face pressed to mine in silent comfort.
“I didn’t get a good look at the guy. I can only tell you it was a white SUV, windows darkened. The plate has 1143 in it, but I didn’t get a good look at the rest of it.”
“Do you remember the make—” Naomi breaks off. “Or model?”
“It was a Ford,” Aria whispers in my ear.
“Did you catch that?” I ask Naomi.
“Who are you with?” Her voice goes hard. “Dev, talk to me. The car left at the Galleria was registered to the same woman you brought into the station the other day. Are you with her?”
“Yes, and I’m safe. We’re coming back to the city soon. We need a safe place to meet where we won’t be interrupted. If you know of someplace where we can convene, it will go a long way toward building that trust, Ellison.”
“You…want the Scooby Gang?”
It’s a snap of a finger, going from distrust to strange bedfellows, and I know I don’t have a choice.
“Avengers, assemble,” I reply ruefully.
