“No. I … never mind.”
“Fine,” Jamie says, and for a long time, he just hugs me. But I can hear him humming under his breath. And when the humming stops, his words are almost a whisper.
“What if I stay?”
“No.”
I push away and rub my nose with my sleeve as he tells me, “I could defer. Go back in a semester or two.”
“No!” I’m shouting now. Grandpa might hear us, get worried. Come to see what has become of his only grandchildren. But that’s not likely, and we both know it. “I’m not going to let you throw West Point away.”
“West Point isn’t going anywhere.”
“I’m not going to be responsible for ruining anybody else’s life. I can’t … I won’t do that.”
There’s nothing my brother can say to that so, to his credit, he doesn’t say a thing.
“Get some sleep, Gracie.” He pulls me to my feet and pushes me toward the door.
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re exhausted,” he says, and a part of me has to admit he might be right because, when I reach the door, I sway a little. I have to hold on to the frame when I turn.
“Jamie?”
My brother looks up at me.
“Alexei is in a cave in the hills, three clicks north of the Iranian embassy.”
It takes a moment for the words to register, for their meaning to land. I can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed when he shakes his head.
“You don’t want to tell me that.”
“He’s not far from the hot springs where the two of you used to sneak off and swim. The cave’s pretty well hidden. There’s just a narrow crack. But you can find it if you’re looking.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Tell the cops. Don’t tell the cops. Tell Grandpa. Swarm the place with a SWAT team, I don’t care anymore. It’s your choice. I’m through.”
With Alexei?
With drama?
With taking foolish chances all on my own?
I don’t stop to specify because, in truth, I really don’t know. I’m just through. With all of it. Most of all, I’m through with trusting my own judgment because, clearly, it’s as messed up as my mind.
Lila and I aren’t going to storm the Society. They are welcome to their secrets, and as far as I’m concerned it can stand for another thousand years. When I go back to my room I fall onto my bed and deep into sleep. I don’t even dream. The embassy could go up in flames around me, the neighbors could start World War III … I wouldn’t notice anything. I’m dead to the world.
Or at least it feels that way. I tell myself that’s why I don’t notice when my door opens. I don’t feel the mattress sag. And when a hand presses against my mouth it’s why it takes a moment for me to swallow down the instinct to scream.
“Wake up, you little traitor.”
I bolt awake and realize Alexei’s blue eyes are staring into mine. His face is inches away. “We need to talk.”
I’m not afraid.
That’s the first thing I realize, aside from the obvious. That Alexei is in my room. That Alexei is in the US embassy. That Alexei knows I told someone his location, and now Alexei has fled his hiding place and come to me.
And Alexei isn’t smiling.
It’s been days since he’s shaved, and dark stubble covers his strong jaw. But his blue eyes are clear and alert as they stare into mine. Alexei is wide awake, but he’s not wild. His breathing is slow and even. He’s almost the boy I know. Or, at least, the boy I thought I knew.
“If I take my hand away, are you going to scream?” he asks, and, slowly, I shake my head.
“Don’t lie to me, Gracie.”
And that does it. I wrench myself away from him and roll off the other side of the bed.
“You’re telling me not to lie to you?!”
“You said you would not scream.”
“Oh, I can show you screaming …”
But Alexei is on me in a flash. “You might want to lower your voice if you don’t want your grandfather and a whole host of your American marines to find a killer in your bedroom.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I bite out.
Alexei grins. “Once upon a time that would have meant we’d have to marry, you know. It would have been the only honorable thing to do.”
“Don’t!”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t flirt with me. Don’t tease me. Don’t lie to me.”
I’m mad and I don’t trust him — not to tell me the truth, not to do anything but hypnotize me with a touch. Mainly, I don’t want the reminder of how weak I was, how easily fooled. I don’t want to remember being used.
“You’ve been busy, Gracie.”
“You can’t call me that anymore,” I tell him. “I revoke the privilege.”
“Jamie came to see me,” Alexei says.
“Did he bring the police with him?” I ask, even though I’m almost afraid of the answer.