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“Good riddance. Because I can’t work with someone who suspects me of that level of mindfucking sabotage.” I can’t be in love with one, either.
She just shrugs.
“Gentian!” I snap into my mouthpiece. “You and Paulson are in charge. I’m out.”
Fury turns my vision a cold white as I find the nearest Exit sign. Paulson appears to my right as Lindsay opens her mouth to say something.
I storm away, crashing through the metal double doors into the blinding sun, unable to think or feel. The world inside is nothing but fuzz. Outside, everything lives in stark, crisp clarity. Sound and touch and taste and wind and car exhaust and everything blends.
I walk and breathe. Walk and breathe. Curse and fume. Curse and fume until I’m in my black SUV and pull out my laptop.
“She fucking thinks I’m setting her up. She – what?” I mutter to myself, fingers flying on the keyboard as I open programs I hope the NSA doesn’t know exist. The looming threat of Stellan, Blaine and John is like a thundercloud that builds and builds, twisting into a tornado high in the sky.
Filled with sharks.
I snort at the image. It’s not funny. Nothing about any of this is funny. But we made it through the senator’s announcement and all I know is that those assholes from our past are out there, playing a cat-and-mouse game that I need to control.
And fast.
Lindsay’s little darknet contact has been feeding her information all along. She knew more than she let on. How deceptive has she been this whole time? Has she been playing the innocent while double-crossing me?
And why?
If you know the why in a given mystery, you can figure out the how.
Why would Lindsay keep all this knowledge under wraps? Why did she tap into someone using the darknet in the first place?
But more important:
Why is this person helping her?
And how reliable are they?
If she’s trusted every scrap of information this person has fed her while they’ve worked together, then she could be in even more danger than I realized. Bet it never occurred to her that her contact could be a plant.
Someone Stellan, John and Blaine set up to screw with her.
Tap tap tap.
I look up to find Lindsay glaring at me through the tinted window, with Gentian behind her, rolling his eyes.
I ignore her.
“Drew!” she shouts. “Don’t make me make a scene!”
There is a crowd of media behind her, cameras pointed at different angles so the talking heads can get their ninety-second clips. If she draws their attention by yelling more, this victory could quickly turn to defeat.
Setting the laptop aside, I snap the door open and grab her wrist, pulling her into my lap. Gentian closes the door quickly, turns around, and leans his back against the window.
Good man.
I can smell the anxiety pouring off her skin, her body stone cold and trembling at the same time, oddly still, yet buzzing. Her skirt hikes up and the thin triangle of cotton from her panties reveals itself between her thighs.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shouts. We’re in the passenger seat, which is pushed all the way back, and she’s wriggling, her long hair in my face.
I wrap my arms around her and tighten them. She can’t leave.
I won’t let her.
