Atomic Beauty (6 page)

A few passed by before one seemed to take pity on her and stop.

“Hey, you forgot to wear your swimsuit today,” an older man quipped with a smile as he hopped out to open the door for her. She never knew what kind of driver she'd get in Vancouver, crabby or outgoing. Given her condition, she was relieved this one seemed to have a sense of humor. It would make the ride easier if she made a few jokes and he laughed instead of him asking questions.

“Yeah. I was fishing when I got too close and fell in,” she played it off.

He moved around to the trunk, returning with a thick cotton blanket. “That should keep you from catching pneumonia.”

She thanked him as he returned to his seat.

“What were you fishing for?”

“A man,” she said, breaking a smile and trying to stop her teeth from chattering.

He laughed, adjusted the rearview and eyed her again as he shifted into drive. “Where to?”

Erika positioned the blanket over her as cover, and then slipped out of her wet clothes. She pulled dry clothes from her pack and dressed. “Million Air field. You know where that airstrip is?”

He eyed her through the rearview as though assessing her mental state. It was obvious she had no poles or fishing gear and she didn't look like someone who could afford a private jet.

“Sure thing. You some kind of movie star or something? I don't get out to the movies much, so I wouldn't know.”

“No. But if you get me there quick I'll tip you like I am.”

He nodded, smiled and floored the gas pedal. “Deal.”

Erika's head shot back as she wrapped the blanket around her. Warm, dry clothes were the equivalent of the blaze of a nearby campfire.

The cab driver held up a coffee cup. “Just bought this. Looks like you need it more than I do.”

She thanked him graciously as she took the offering. Hypothermia was only one of her problems. Why would one of her own come after her?

The logical answer to why another officer would come after her was one she couldn't fathom. No way would Murdock mark her as a traitor and send someone to eliminate her. He knew her better than that. He was like a father to her, for fuck's sake. His devotion to Sanctuary was unmatched. He was one of the good guys. Period. Besides, he'd covered for her more than once. And yet, he'd sent her after Jace.

Totally different circumstances, she told herself.

Even so, she'd lay low for a few days while she figured out what was going on and who was involved. She knew just the place.

Erika tried not to think about the fact that she, like Jace, preferred hiding in plain sight over remote locations. Give her a spot near an airport, train station and bus lines any day over trees and open acreage. She'd been trained to survive under every condition and had no doubt she could. Still, if she had her pick she'd choose urban every time. Besides, she felt more like herself in a place where her black hair and blue streak fit in, even though both would have to go.

On the ride to the private airstrip, she verified Charlie would be arriving soon.

He confirmed.

If she were Jace, she'd go to Seattle, which was precisely the reason she'd decided on the desert.

Leaning deeper into the seat, she closed her eyes for the rest of the twenty-minute drive as she tried to get her body to stop shaking from cold.

The brakes groaned. The cab came to a stop. The airstrip was in front of her.

Charlie, a sight for sore eyes, waited on the tarmac.

Erika handed the driver a stack of twenties, tossed her backpack over her shoulder, thankful she hadn't lost it in the water, and climbed out of the backseat.

Her teeth had stopped chattering and her core body temperature had risen to a reasonable temperature. Even so, she was exhausted.

She walked toward her pilot, a civilian and one of the many connections she'd made in her eight years at the agency. He flew mostly film executives, actors and actresses. He took on the occasional side job to put his kids through Ivy Leagues in the lower forty-eight, grumbling about Canadian colleges charging pennies in comparison. His kids had grown up trailing their father everywhere and he loved all things American, so he'd said he had no one to blame but himself.

“Where to, love?” Charlie asked, extending his hand to reach for her backpack. “You look like you swam here.”

“South. And, thanks, but I got this.” He only ever needed a general direction. They'd worked out years ago that she'd give him the destination once they were in the air. She climbed the stairs to his jet. “And I feel like I did.”

He smiled and retrieved a bag from the cockpit. “I never know what shape you're going to be in. I've learned to be prepared for everything. Brought aspirin and a thick blanket.”

“Well, now you really are a Boy Scout,” she teased, grateful. She took the bag, thanked him and excused herself to take her seat in the back.

Emptiness settled over her as she buckled herself in the leather seat. Exhaustion won out and she tried to relax. There'd be no sleep, only a returning headache and a stack of unanswered questions.

Once they were stabilized in the air, she relayed her destination as Las Vegas.

Before she slipped over the border, which would be any minute, she needed to destroy her phone. No looking back.

In a moment of weakness, she decided to check her personal cell one last time. Even though it was for the best, her heart ached at the thought of breaking all connections with Jace.

For a long moment she stared at his name in her contacts list, her finger hovering over the envelope icon marked Messaging with a small number five on the top right.

Erika took a deep breath and touched the icon.

The first message read, “What the fuck?” The second read, “Why are you flipping out?” Her gaze moved to the third, hungry for answers. It read, “Is this about last night? Nothing has to change.” Was there any chance he hadn't made her? Could she have this plane turned around and go back? Had she acted too hastily?

By the fourth message, her resolve was shrinking. It read, “I know who you really are and I don't care. Be careful. This is bigger than you realize. Don't trust anyone.”

Heat washed over her, but it wasn't the heat of embarrassment that she'd been made, it was the flush of missing Jace. Her skin cried out to feel his body against hers.

His warning was timed to moments before she'd encountered Berlin. It was possible he'd been watching Jace and had discovered her. Berlin might not know who she worked for. He might've believed Jace was using her to store information in her place without her knowledge. When she bolted, Berlin might've thought she was in deeper.

Erika put her feelings in check and took a deep breath. Either way, she'd been made by Jace. Protocol required her to report it. And yet, she had to know what was on the file first. If she'd given this man a piece of her heart—and there was no question she had—she had to know what he'd gotten himself into. It was the only chance she might be able to help him get out. And maybe they'd both live.

The final message read, “Erika, please meet me on Mercer Island. Southern tip at the boat house. Four days from now. I'm in deep and I need to know how high up this goes. You're the only person I trust. Nothing is what it looks like. I had no choice but to hide before. I have something of yours to return and I need to see you.”

Why would he want to meet in four days other than to get back the files and then kill her? This had to be a trap, no matter how badly her heart wanted to believe Jace actually wanted to see her.

And he must know she'd transmitted the data to headquarters already. Or maybe he figured she hadn't had time.

If instructions or code had been embedded inside a photo, which was the most likely scenario, Jace had to know the receiver needed to know what they were looking for in order to find it. Decrypting or decoding a message could take days, weeks or months, even with the resources Sanctuary had. Even then, it wasn't a sure thing.

Erika took the SIM card and battery out of the phone. She pulled wire cutters from the pilot's tool box and destroyed the SIM, trying not to think about how badly she needed a drag off a cigarette.

Three hours later, the plane landed on a private air strip in Las Vegas, a city designed to accommodate people who needed discretion.

Charlie, who seemed to have sensed her bad mood, had kept quiet during the flight. As he set the plane down nice and easy, he finally spoke, “I arranged a limo for you this time.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything going on you want to talk about?”

“Work troubles.” Those pair of words didn't begin to cover the half of it, but Charlie was a need-to-know type. He wasn't a friend. Hers wasn't a life built around backyard BBQs and pool parties. And yet, her existence had never felt empty before. Not since she'd lost her mother did she crave the familiar like she did right now.

Those migraines must be screwing with her head. As it was, a vise gripped her by the temples.

“What's my cover story?” she asked Charlie as he docked the jet.

“You're an up-and-coming musician out of the UK”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Guess I look the part today.”

He handed her a half-empty bottle of vodka. “You will now.”

Taking a swig to ensure her breath encouraged the lie, Erika suppressed a cough. The burning liquid felt good on her throat. She wiped her mouth then poured a few dabs of liquor onto her T-shirt. She tied the bottom, revealing her toned abs. “Better?”

“Perfection.” He paused. “You need anything else? Want me to wait here?”

“No, thanks. You've been a huge help already. I'll give you a ring the next time I need a lift.”

He opened the door and let the stairs down.

“Did you get those other items I requested?” she asked.

“Sure did.” Charlie reached around to the side of his seat and pulled out a paper grocery sack filled with necessities.

Erika handed him twenty-five thousand dollars in cash and winked before descending the stairs. “Thanks for the ride.”

“My pleasure, love. You know my cell.”

A quick smile and nod backward came before she took the stairs one at a time, slowly, gripping the bottle of vodka in her right hand as she checked her balance with the left.

The musician idea was brilliant, and she had no problem selling it with her blue mood. A short bald man opened the door of a white stretch limo before driving her to the Cartier Hotel—a pinnacle of Vegas extravagance and showy lights.

Moving through the crush of people, bumping shoulders as she made her way toward the hotel brought a sense of normalcy to her life. The vertigo she'd been experiencing on the plane had nothing to do with her headache and everything to do with missing Jace.

Stopping at the concierge desk, she asked for a laptop to be delivered to her room. The man behind the desk nodded. She slipped him a stack of bills as a tip. Her choices wouldn't be questioned in a town like Vegas where the show wasn't limited to what was onstage.

Her suite was on a floor that could only be accessed with a special elevator key, a necessary precaution now that Jace Mitchell knew everything. His text message, his concern, was most likely a distraction meant to disarm her. She couldn't risk letting her guard down. And yet, her heart wished she could believe there was another reason he wanted to see her other than needing her for back-up. If she updated her boss, Murdock would send an assassin to Mercer. That would be the end of it.

She couldn't even allow herself to think about Jace dying or never getting her necklace back. Her mind couldn't go there, let alone her heart. She'd fallen hard for him. There was precious little left of her mother, especially since Erika's memories were fading.

Looking back wasn't an option. The past was pain.

The concierge had said he'd have a computer to her within the hour. That would give her enough time to shower and change before she started digging around for answers. She slipped off her boots, secured her weapons and undressed.

She popped a couple of pain relievers on her way into the shower.

Warm water sluiced her body and Erika practically cried with joy as the liquid eased her tense muscles. The past twenty-four hours had been both the best and worst of her life.

She gave herself the luxury of an extra five minutes in the shower before toweling off and opening the other bag from Charlie.

Scissors and hair bleach were her two new best friends.

By the time her laptop arrived, Erika was dressed and blonde with a pixie cut. She switched out the ID in her purse to match, and then headed downstairs to buy a hat, big glasses, a swimsuit and a sundress at the sundry shop.

Within fifteen minutes, she'd secured the items on her list and was back in her room with the laptop in front of her.

Even now, her body craved Jace's touch. And since he was most likely trying to set her up so he could kill her, seeing him wasn't a viable option anymore. Was it?

So, basically, she'd better get used to being alone. Damn, that word felt empty.

Now that she was cleaned up, she needed a good meal and some alone time with the computer. Her need to know exactly what Jace was involved in was more than professional curiosity at this point. A weak need from deep inside her wanted to be close to him. In some small way, a piece of her heart felt like these lines of code were the only connection she had to him.

It was important to keep up her strength so she ordered a BLT and soup from room service. Then, she retrieved the thumb drive and plugged it in, waiting.

The file labeled Pictures housed more than five hundred photos. She was looking for a needle in a freakin' haystack. Tech could be working on this for months if she couldn't give them better parameters, but another need caused her to examine every shot—a deep-rooted desire to know who else might be in Jace's life.