“And, my, I’ll bet you were surprised, weren’t you, darlin’?”
She lifted her foot to kick the back of Raynor’s seat, but then thought better of it and paid him no attention instead. “I flew into Portland using up all my frequent flier miles, rented a car, and when I got to Cascade Falls, I found out there was no Bernie. I shouldn’t have been surprised, since you lied about where you lived.” She was back to glaring at me. “But some coffeehouse bimbo recognized your picture.” She blushed as pink as her nail polish. “One that I happened to have with me. No big deal. I have one of my pet rat too.” Her expression said I was about ten rungs below rat, and not a pet one either. “The bimbo said your name was Parker and you’re soooo sweet and such a doll and couldn’t be cuter and you worked at the coffeehouse.”
The glare was white-hot now. It could’ve cut metal like an acetylene torch. “You’re watching movies with me every week while flirting with some brainless wonder serving up caffeine, lying about your name, lying about getting your PhD. Lying about everything. But I try . . . try to give you the benefit of the doubt. Fake name, fake job when you are smart enough to have two PhDs by now; you love the escape of movies because maybe that’s the only escape you have. You could be in the Witness Protection Program. I liked you so much, I was willing to turn off my own brain cells and go along with that ridiculous excuse.”
This time she did kick the back of Raynor’s seat. “Until this asshole has some goon grab me, toss me into the trunk of his car, put me on a private plane, fly me out here, and throw me into another car trunk. That is not Witness Protection. Homeland Security, Gitmo, or plain criminals, that I can see, but not Witness Protection.”
“You’re right about that, but kick the back of my seat again, girly, and I’ll but a bullet in that pretty little foot of yours,” Raynor warned.
The threat didn’t intimidate her—I wasn’t sure anything would—but she used common sense and tucked her feet under her in an impossibly flexible move. “And now this dick says your name is Michael.” The fury faded from her eyes and transmuted into speculation. “Well?”
“Well what?” I asked cautiously.
“What’s the truth? What’s your name? Who are you? What’s going on? That ‘well.’ ”
She was every bit the Ariel I’d come to know over the past years . . . and more. That should’ve made me happy. Taking into account the situation, I was anything but. “Oh. You’re done. I wasn’t sure,” I said. “I thought you might go on for a couple more hours.”
“Do you want me to kick you for hours, because that I can do. I take yoga. My stamina is profound. Absolutely goddamn profound, got it?”
I got it. “My name’s Michael, but I go by Misha, and I was in hiding. That’s kind of obvious.” I shook my chains to demonstrate. “That was why I lied to you.”
“And?” she asked when I stopped.
“And that’s all I can tell you.”
“That’s all? What do you mean that’s all? After you used me? Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? You were using me for. . . .”
The next words out of her mouth were going to be “genetic research,” and that was the last thing I wanted Raynor to hear and be thinking about. It would muddle things and have him ordering someone to make a run at Stefan to get my case with the delivery system of tranquilizer guns. That was not going to happen. I couldn’t kick her, in turn, to keep her quiet, not with my shackles.
I went with the next best thing, cutting her off with a brusque, “Fine. Okay. I used you for computer sex. I typed with one hand and jacked off with the other. When I wasn’t screwing Sara from the coffeehouse and was home bored, you were better than porn. All right, another lie. You were almost the next best thing to bad porn. If you’d shut up once in a while, I could’ve moved you up a rank or two. The Internet is full of horny guys. Don’t tell me I’m the first one you’ve come across.” I slid down in the seat. “Jesus, Raynor, you couldn’t do better than kidnap my computer humpday special?”
I took back everything I’d said and thought about Saul. Channeling his perverted ways had created the perfect excuse to fit the situation.
I heard the faintest of choking sounds beside me and slanted my gaze toward eyes that, despite the gravity of the situation, were luminous with suppressed laughter. Liar, liar, pants on fire, she mouthed silently. I almost smiled. She was right. There wasn’t a chimera born who didn’t know how to lie.
Not the kind who lived very long.