Atomic Beauty (12 page)

She released a partial breath to see which way the bubbles moved, gaining her bearings.

Her mask had slipped off during the roll taking her mouthpiece with it. Both were gone. So she shivered out of the small air tank strapped to her back and readjusted her position in the water. She broke surface long enough to get a good breath and then dipped under, swimming like hell to put some distance between herself and the shooter. A bullet pelted the water six feet away. She dove deeper and swam in the opposite direction until her lungs burned. She needed air. If she didn't get out of the water soon, hypothermia would set in and the shooter wouldn't have to finish her. Her short-sleeve wetsuit wouldn't keep her warm for long in such cold water.

If he was waiting, tracking her, she'd be dead as soon as she broke surface. Stay under water and she would drown.

No choice.

Erika propelled her arms beside her and burst through, gasping to get a good breath. She scanned for any signs of the sniper.

He'd retreated. Jace must still be in the game. A wave of relief struck her so unexpectedly, it caught her breath.

She recalculated her position. This time, she'd approach from the east.

The frigid water numbed her arms, staving off the burning sensation from where the bullet had grazed her earlier.

She climbed a boat dock and slipped out of the water and into the nearby trees. Monkey crawling, she scanned the area and located the sniper. His gaze shifted from the water to Jace's position where she'd left him.

If she kept on undetected, she could come at the guy from behind. She pulled her KA-BAR from the pack and gripped the handle. She hoped like hell Jace wouldn't accidently shoot her.

Deliberate, light footsteps carried her across the grass toward her mark, her absolute focus on him.

In one motion, she threw her arm around his neck and pulled him against her, squeezing.

He writhed under her grasp, then jabbed his elbow into her ribs, knocking all the air out of her lungs.

Erika gasped but held steady, maintaining pressure on his neck. The fact this guy could lead her to her father's killer sent her pulse jackhammering. “Who sent you?”

He shook his head. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” she parroted. “Tell me who sent you or I'll cut your tongue out.”

He compressed his lips in a tight line.

She tightened her grip. Much more pressure and his larynx would snap. She pressed the KA-BAR to his cheek.

Another elbow jab to her ribs and she folded forward, giving him just enough room to drop to the ground.

She kneed him in the back of his head, but he was already twirling around on her. The blade had cut his face and blood ran down his neck, pooling at his collar. She quickly assessed his injury as superficial.

Erika kicked again, connecting with his face.

He grabbed her foot and held.

“You really want to know who sent me?” His English was good, but she picked up on an Albanian accent.

She jerked her foot free and hopped out of his reach, knife blade ready to strike if he made a move. “No. I'm standing here for my health.”

“You should already know. Ask your boyfriend. Or better yet, talk to your father. Oh, never mind, he's dead.”

“My father?” She heard the snap and the pop, but couldn't afford to take her eyes off this guy.

He locked onto the blood flowering on his shirt at the same time she did, and then folded onto his knees. Shock lightened his dark features and gray eyes. The shot had come from behind him. Mercer Island. Jace?

Erika needed to get out of there while she could still breathe. She took the assassin's phone and retreated toward the tree line. Her rental car wouldn't be far.

She glanced up, and then froze.

Jace stood in front of her.

But that was impossible.

He'd shot the sniper from the other direction. Reality hit hard. No way could Jace have been the shooter, not if he'd been closing in from behind her. “Are you working with someone else, Jace?”

“Come with me.” He stretched out his hand toward her.

All she had to do was take it, and yet she knew what a bad idea contact would be. He needed to see she would step out on faith with him, though, so she had no choice. He was her only link to finding out who'd killed her father.

“Come on.” As soon as she placed her hand in his, he rocketed through the woods toward the road.

“My car is stashed there.” He pointed to a small hybrid.

A moment of hesitation hit as she hopped inside and buckled her seatbelt.

“Who else knows about what you're working on?” Jace asked, firing up the engine and wasting no time getting the car moving.

“Aside from my boss? No one.” She sat for a minute, thinking.

Navigating the tree-lined streets on his way north, Jace's gaze intensified on the road. “We have a serious problem.”

“We sure as hell do. My father was killed for whatever you found out. I know about two partners at CorMeds. I have a source digging into the identity of the third. You can save me time by telling me who it is.”

“I had a name, Andrew Smith, but he doesn't exist.”

“I've heard that name before. Didn't he work for Exacto? The guy back there had an Albanian accent. He's probably the third partner.”

“No. They have deep ties into Sanctuary, Erika. That's why I disappeared. Every trail I follow leads to the agency.”

“No one like us would go into partnership with them. And we sure as hell don't leave tracks.” Agents for Sanctuary were thoroughly vetted. It was unlikely one would turn but not impossible. More signs pointed toward the reality her brain couldn't fathom—Murdock was somehow involved. Of course, he could be looking for the third party, too.

“Neither do these guys.”

Erika didn't like the sound of those words. Was there any scenario possible that she could think of in which an officer would do something like that? “What if there isn't a third person?”

“I thought about that, too.” He paused.

“Why don't we start with you telling me everything you know about Sam Carter?”

“I'm going to lock your door first.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't need you doing anything rash.”

She didn't like the sound of that, either. “Tell me, Jace.”

He hesitated.

“Spit it out, dammit.” Her impatience raged because no good ever came of a conversation like this one. Besides, the numbness was wearing off and her arm had started to hurt. So did her head.

He thumped the steering wheel. “Fuck. I didn't want to tell you like this.”

“Tell me what?” she parroted.

“You really don't know, do you?” The shock in his voice didn't exactly calm her fried nerves.

“You have five seconds, Jace. I'm not kidding. I'll jump out of this car and disappear if you don't start talking.”

“First of all, we're on the same team, so relax.”

“Relax? Are you fuckin' crazy?”

“Okay, point taken.” He checked the rearview. “I asked about the headaches before.”

“What do they have to do with anything?”

“Stay with me for a minute, okay?” The tenderness in his voice reminded her of the night he'd held her through one of her episodes. Damn that it penetrated the noise going on in her head telling her to get the hell away from him.

“Fine. What do you want to know about the headaches?”

“Are they getting worse?”

“Yes.”

“Do they fuck with your memory?”

“Yes.”

“How badly?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “You gotta give me something to hang on to here. All I'm getting so far is questions.”

“Fair enough. I'm just guessing that the headaches—or whatever the fuck's going on inside your head—is why you don't remember.”

She balled her fists and dug her fingernail into her right palm, wishing she had a cigarette. “Don't remember what?”

“You killed Sam Carter.”

Air whooshed out of Erika's lungs. No way could she have killed Sam Carter. She would remember. Wouldn't she?

She turned to face Jace. “Why would I do that?”

“You were sent by Murdock when I didn't get the job done.”

A memory came back in a lightning strike and with similar force, folding Erika forward. Air was so thin she could scarcely breathe, and the metal car felt like it was closing in around her.

Everything she knew about her world crashed down around her.

The nausea was relentless and banging noises pounded against her skull.

Deep inside her moment of pain, clarity struck. She'd slipped into the service elevator of Hotel Jacques with frightening ease. The sun had just gone down and her target was out to dinner with a woman he'd been seeing often in the days leading up to his death.

“Are you okay?” Jace's hand was on her back, rubbing her to calm her. God help her, it was working.

“Yeah. I just remembered something.”

“Fuck. I was afraid something like that would happen.”

Erika had kept her face angled to the side so the hallway cameras wouldn't get a good look at her. The photos would be grainy anyway, but
extra precaution
was her middle name.

Using the key she'd swiped two days earlier from housekeeping, she entered the suite. For a man on the run, he didn't skimp on luxury. Plus, carpet softened her step.

Once inside, she no longer needed to be quiet. But she was. Another precaution in case there'd been a miscalculation and someone was there, waiting.

“Pull over,” Erika demanded.

Jace didn't question her. He must've felt her body convulsing.

He pulled to the side of the road, put on the emergency flashers and stopped.

Before she could make it out the door, the first heave came. She pitched forward and a powerful hand grabbed her, stopping her from hitting the ground.

Her stomach revolted as he moved to the passenger side and helped her out of the car.

The warm hand moving up and down her back kept her rooted to the present.

She fought the memory trying to come back. She didn't want to know all the details of how she'd killed Sam Carter—a man working for the US government.

Questions assaulted her. Why had she done it? Was this her assignment or had she gone rogue? What had Sam Carter ever done to her to deserve this? Was he the reason her father was dead?

“It's okay,” Jace soothed.

God, his touch was the only thing keeping her sane as productive heaves started. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You're okay, angel.” He whispered other reassuring words, reminding her of the night he'd cared for her.

But could any of this be real?

He wanted something from her or he would've killed her already. Maybe he was setting her up or needed information about that night in Paris. Maybe he wanted to know who had hired her to do it?

Was she working for the mystery man? Was it possible she'd branched out for a freelance job?

Murdock wouldn't have sent her to kill an innocent man. Would he? The headaches had to be screwing with her head, creating blind spots a skilled operative like Jace could mess with.

She glanced up at him, at the seriously gorgeous man.

Another memory pierced her.

She'd been hiding in the back of Carter's closet, behind half a dozen dark suits, for three hours. Most people believed bullets won battles, but Erika knew differently. It was patience. Patience won wars. So, she stayed there, crouched, flexing her muscles to keep them from cramping. Silent. Waiting.

Carter showed up quarter past eleven, whistling. Freakin' happy.

Rage filled Erika at the memory.

Why did she hate Carter?

That piece was being stored somewhere else, locked away, because she had no idea why.

Erika pushed through the fog, wanting to know what she'd done. Maybe then she'd understand this whole fucked-up mess.

“We have to go,” Jace urged.

The timbre in his voice left no doubt he meant now. He helped her into the car after her last productive heave, and then handed her bottled water.

She rinsed out her mouth and spit. “Thanks.”

He nodded, smiled. And her stomach did that fluttery thing again, a welcome relief from the pain of everything she'd learned. Her dad had been killed for his involvement with CorMeds.

They were back on the road when the next memory hit.

Thankfully, her stomach was already empty because the recollection hit with the force of a physical blow.

Carter had been in the shower when she shot him, whistling.

Erika shut her eyes and blocked out the rest of the memory. “Do you know why I shot him?”

Jace didn't respond.

“Do you?” she repeated, as if he hadn't heard her the first time, rubbing her temples.

“At first, I suspected you were hired by Andrew Smith.”

That would explain his interest in her. Had he kept her close, toyed with her emotions, just to figure her out? A piece of her heart broke but no way would she show him. It made sense, though. If he were chasing down the silent partner, the trail would lead to her. She'd been naive to think she could play Jace when it was becoming clear the reverse had been true the entire time. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

“I tried to check into your background after that headache. Obviously, I didn't get far. That wasn't my first clue you weren't a freelance graphic designer. When I did more digging, I found out you were Agency and I got lucky from there figuring out your tie to Carter.”

“Now it makes sense why someone's been after me. It has to be Smith.” She opened her eyes, taking in all the greenery around her. Green had always been her favorite color. Murdock would need to be updated. Was that why Murdock had been after Jace for information? Was Murdock looking for the silent partner, too?