She huffs.
“Then we need to go back in the house the normal way. Through an actual door.” I reach for her arm to guide her. She wrenches it away. My fingertips burn with the feel of her.
That’s all I’m getting for now.
I guess it’s better than nothing.
At least she’s still here, weaving her way through the bushes alongside the house’s foundation, finding grass and a stone path that winds around to the back door.
My gun is in my waistband. Lindsay’s in sight.
Just another night at work, right?
Chapter 4
Lindsay sits on her bed, pretending to read on her phone. Her long blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail, eyes hard, mouth tight.
She looks like her mother.
The whole pretending-to-be-bored schtick makes her seem even more like Monica.
Except Monica really is bored most of the time.
Every few seconds, Lindsay’s tongue pokes out to lick the tiny split in her lip. It’s healing slowly from the car accident. God, that was just a few days ago, wasn’t it? Time telescoped the second the helicopter landed on that island five days ago, when I checked her out and brought her back to her real life.
Paulson’s standing near the door, taking it all in, silent. Gentian’s nervous, primed for emergency where one no longer exists.
This is my tactical team. This.
I couldn’t ask for better people.
“Is this going to take long? I’m hungry,” Lindsay whines.
I roll my eyes.
“Should have thought about that before you decided to skip out on us and nearly create an international scandal.”
“I aim to please,” she says with a smirk, not looking up from her screen.
It’s all an act. She knows it, I know it, and Paulson definitely knows it. He frowns, giving me a look that asks, Fill me in later?
I nod.
“Lindsay’s attackers have been texting her. Started during or right after the car was tampered with.”
Paulson perks up. “You trace the texts?”
“Yes. The first batch came from a phone registered to Lindsay.”
Gentian and Paulson give her hard looks.
She finally reacts, dropping her phone, palms up. “I didn’t do it!”
They look to me to verify.
“I was with her during the entire time when she allegedly bought the phone that the texts are from. She couldn’t have done it.”
“Not even an online purchase? Or set up someone else to do it for her?” Paulson asks.
“Fuck you,” Lindsay exclaims. “I’m right here in the room! You’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Of course I didn’t do it!”
Paulson’s eyes dart to her. “It’s nothing personal. The truth never is.”
She snorts.
“It’s possible,” I concede.
“Drew!” Lindsay gasps, her voice small and hurt. I wish she’d just yell at me. Now I feel like shit for hurting her. I am too reactive, too pumped.
Too emotional.
“But highly improbable,” I continue. “She does know how to use the darknet, though. Could hire someone to do all this for her,” I add. “Plus, she’s using covert systems to communicate with her hacker. Book reviews written in code. Signing up for text message alerts for sweepstakes.”
“Really simple tools,” Mark muses.
Her eyes bulge. “How do you know I....?” She winces.
Ha. Caught.
“I suspected. We have evidence. You just confirmed it.”
“I confirmed nothing other than the fact that I hate you.”
I sigh.
Paulson smirks.
“I know.” I give her a tight smile. “You’ve said that already, so no need to repeat yourself, sweetheart.”
“But I never hired anyone to do this! I swear to God I’m not pretending to be in danger.” The desperation in her voice makes my gut tighten. Her anger turns into a tearful plea to be believed.
I reach for her and press my palm on her shoulder. She closes her eyes, one tear trickling down the line of her straight nose, down the side of the nostril and over the crest of her upper lip. She’s sending more mixed signals than a malfunctioning Super-8 ball.
“I know,” I say softly. My emotions are all over the place.
Her eyes fly open. We look at each other, each second more intense than the last, until she’s all that I see. All that I know.
All that I love.
And all that I protect.
“I know you didn’t set this up. They did. They’re gunning for you, and we need to figure out why.”
“And stop them dead,” Paulson adds.
Lindsay jolts. It’s like she forgot other people were in the room, too.
“Dead?”
Paulson shrugs. “If that’s what it takes.”
“Oh,” she whispers. Then her lips settle into a not-quite-smile that makes me hold my breath.
This would be so much easier if we could take John, Blaine and Stellan out, but that’s not how this is going to work.
Nothing’s simple when it comes to those three.
“You know where they are?”
“Yes.”