“Sure. Breathing’s good.”
She walked quickly with him. This drug rarely made anyone sick, but there were always exceptions. She glanced up to check his color. He was still pale but his lips hadn’t taken on the greenish hue that would presage nausea.
“Do you feel sick to your stomach?” she asked.
“No. No, I’m fine…”
“I’m afraid you’re not. I’m going to take you to work with me, if that’s okay. I want to make sure this isn’t serious.”
“Okay… no. I have school?”
He was keeping pace with her easily despite his disorientation. His legs were about twice as long as hers.
“We’ll tell them what’s happening. You have a number for the school?”
“Yes, Stacey—in the office.”
“We’ll call her while we walk.”
This would slow them down, but there was no help for it; she had to allay his concern so he would stay docile.
“Good idea.” He nodded, then pulled an old BlackBerry out of his pocket and fumbled with the buttons.
She took it gently from his hand. “What’s the last name for Stacey?”
“It’s under ‘Front desk.’”
“I see it. Okay, I’ll dial for you. Here, tell Stacey you’re sick. You’re going to the doctor.”
He took the phone obediently, then waited for Stacey to answer.
“Hello,” he said. “Stacey. I’m Daniel. Yes, Mr. Beach. Not feeling so good, going to see Dr. Alex. Sorry. Hate to dump this on you. Sorry, thanks. Yes, get better, for sure.”
She flinched a little when he used her name, but that was just habit. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be Alex again for a while, that was all.
It was a risk, taking him out of school. Something de la Fuentes might notice if he was keeping close tabs on his messenger of death. But surely he would not raise the alarm to critical over one missed Friday. When Daniel showed up intact Monday morning, the drug lord would be reassured.
She took the phone from Daniel and pocketed it.
“I’ll hold this for you, okay? You look unsteady and I don’t want you to lose it.”
“Okay.” He looked around again and frowned at the giant concrete ceiling arcing overhead. “Where are we going?”
“My office, remember? We’re going to get on this train now.” She didn’t see any faces from the other train in this car. If they were following, they were doing it from a distance. “Look, here’s a seat. You can rest.” She helped him settle, surreptitiously dropping his phone by her foot and then nudging it farther under the seat with her shoe.
Tracking a cell phone was the very easiest way to find someone without having to do any work. Cell phones were a trap she’d always avoided. It was like volunteering to tag yourself for the enemy.
Well, she also didn’t really have anyone to call.
“Thanks,” Daniel said. He still had one arm around her, though now, with him sitting and her standing, it was at her waist. He stared up at her dizzily and then added, “I like your face.”
“Oh. Um, thank you.”
“I like it a lot.”
The woman sitting next to Daniel looked over at Alex and examined her face. Great.
The woman seemed unimpressed.
Daniel leaned his forehead against her hip and closed his eyes. The proximity was disconcerting on a few different levels, but also oddly comforting. It had been a long time since any human being had touched her with affection, even if this affection had come out of a test tube. Regardless, she couldn’t let him fall asleep yet.
“What do you teach, Daniel?”
He angled his face up, his cheek still resting on her hip.
“Mostly English. That’s my favorite.”
“Really? I was horrible at all the humanities. I liked science best.”
He made a face. “Science!”
She heard the woman beside him mutter, “Drunk,” to her other neighbor.
“Shouldn’t have told you I was a teacher.” He sighed heavily.
“Why not?”
“Women don’t like that. Randall says, ‘Never volunteer the information.’” The way he said the words made it clear he was quoting this Randall verbatim.
“But teaching is a noble profession. Educating the future doctors and scientists of the world.”
He looked up at her sadly. “There’s no money in it.”
“Not every woman is so mercenary. Randall is dating the wrong type.”
“My wife liked money. Ex-wife.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He sighed again and closed his eyes. “It broke my heart.”
Another twinge of pity. Of sadness. He would never say these things, she knew, if he weren’t high on her Ecstasy–truth serum hybrid. He was speaking more clearly now; the drug wasn’t wearing off, his mind was just adapting to working around it.
She patted his cheek and made her voice cheery. “If she was that easily bought, she probably isn’t worth crying over.”