Authors: Chanel Cleeton
Between Shadows (17 page)
One of the associates leads us down the hallway to an elevator. Luke’s hand reaches out, rubbing against my leg, seeking my hand. We link fingers as he shifts closer, his thigh brushing against mine. I squeeze his hand.
The elevator takes us down to a private room, the journey full of hushed voices and extreme politeness. I’ve never been to Switzerland before, but it’s exactly as I pictured it—expensive, slick, fancy.
The ride is quick. When we reach our floor, the bank manager walks out in front of us, guiding Luke to another door. He enters a code while we wait. The door opens.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he announces before leaving us on our own.
I follow Luke into the room, trying to shake off my unease. There’s no viable exit point and this place is built like a fortress. The odds of us getting out of here if we’re walking into a trap aren’t promising.
“Is this a good idea?” I ask.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s a small room without any hope of exit.”
“It’s fine. Trust me, I doubt we’re the most disreputable people to enter this room, not by a long shot. They have clients with far darker reputations than ours to protect.”
“Have you been here before?”
“A few times.”
“Do you really have enough money to float us?”
I’m not stupid. Missions are expensive. And the Academy can’t pay
that
much. I barely make any money as an asset as it is.
Luke’s lips twitch. “I’ve done okay.”
“How?”
He leans forward, kissing my cheek. “Stop worrying. There’s no way the Academy knows we’re here. Even if they did know of my alias, which I promise you—this is my most closely held one—
they don’t
—this is a numbered account. There’s no way they’re going to trace me to this. I’m not stupid. I’ve always had my exit strategy planned.”
A discrete knock sounds on the door before it opens again. The same man who greeted us when we first arrived at the bank comes back into the room flanked by two guards, a large box, and black duffel in hand. He sets the box on the only table in the room.
“When you’re finished, just tell one of the guards outside.”
When he’s gone Luke pulls a key out of his pocket, flipping the lock open. He then enters another electronic code into a keypad on the box. He lifts the lid, opening it.
“Help me out here.”
I move forward, staring down at the box. It’s full of cash, passports, documents, and a few guns. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was prepared.
“What do you want to take?”
“All of it.”
We start emptying the box, throwing everything into the duffle.
“I have more stuff at my flat in London,” Luke adds.
It looks like he’s preparing for war.
He pulls a few guns and ammo out of the box, loading the guns, his motions quick and confident. He slips the weapons into his trousers, handing me a couple. “Take these.”
“I thought we were safe here.”
Luke tosses me a wry grin. “There’s safe and then there’s safe. We are sadly in the latter group.”
When the box is empty Luke zips the bag closed, lifting it onto his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
I follow Luke into the elevator. My hand itches to pull the gun out.
“Relax,” Luke murmurs.
The doors slide open in front of us, and we step in, my gaze fixed on the numbers lighting up as we climb floors. Seconds later, we’re back on the main floor. No armed men point guns at us; no assets wait to take us out.
I follow Luke to the street where a car waits.
“Come on. He’ll take us back to the airport.”
We don’t speak the entire ride to the airport. I’m pretty sure we’re doing the same thing—trying to figure out a plan that won’t end up with us dead. From the beginning they teach us to plan our own missions, but we’re still given parameters to work within and assistance from other Academy assets—tech specialists and the like. Assassins are often the point men, but we don’t run the whole show. This is a challenge.
We make it to the airport with little time to spare before our next flight boards.
“Just how do you plan on getting us through security?” I ask Luke as we make it through the entrance, our tickets and bags in hand.
“Watch and learn.”
He walks toward the security line. He pauses before picking the busiest line of all. I frown at him.
“Watch.”
One by one, people go up to the guy checking passports. He waves them through into various security lines. For as nervous as I am, Luke seems remarkably calm. I want to ask him what his grand plan is, but I know the worst thing I can do is draw attention to us. And I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of test—
It’s a game of chicken and him daring me to trust him, all rolled into one.
I hesitate before stepping up to the line just as Luke puts his arm around me, propelling me forward. He hands our falsified passports to the guy.
The officer flips through our passports, running them through a scanner. “Line six.” He points to the far line.
“Luke—”
“Don’t say a word,” he whispers, a broad smile on his face. Luke deposits the duffle bag on the X-ray belt, removing the rest of his stuff and passing it through the compartment. I do the same, my hands shaking slightly.
Luke grins. “Babe, I told you, it’s not going to be a bad flight.” He flashes a heartbreaking smile at the female security officer. “Nervous flyer.”
I’m not sure I look like much of a “babe” in my black trousers, black combat boots, and black leather jacket, but I get his point. I force my hands to stop shaking. A giggle escapes my lips.
“I know, honey. You know how scared I get.”
I can tell Luke wants to laugh for real. He steps toward me, pulling my body up against his. “You just need to trust me,” he whispers, loud enough for our audience to overhear. “I’ll always keep you safe.”
Somewhere in the background I can hear the female officer saying something about how sweet young love is, but it’s only a distant voice sounding in my brain. Because Luke starts kissing me—a full-on, toe-curling kiss. Some of the security guards start laughing; one even claps. Luke releases me with a wink and strolls through the X-ray machine. I hold my breath.
Nothing happens.
Instead the female guard smiles at him, waving him through. Our bag sails through the X-ray machine. Luke picks it up and hoists it on his shoulder, sending me an arrogant grin. He hovers right on the other side of the machine, waiting for me.
I walk through the line, waiting for the alarm to go off. But just like with Luke, nothing happens. The same woman that waved Luke through waves me through as well, although the smile she throws my way pales in comparison to the one Luke received. We walk away from the security line together.
“How did you do that?”
Luke grins like a boy showing off a new trick. “My watch.” He flashes me his wrist and the stainless steel timepiece. “It has a device inside of it that screws with the X-ray machine. Handy, isn’t it?”
“Who are you, James Bond?”
He laughs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Okay, fine. Plus I may have paid off some security people earlier. I’ve come through this airport a few times and we have a deal.” He grins at the annoyed look on my face. “Have I ever told you how much I want to kiss you when you’re surly?”
I roll my eyes. “Bite me.”
“We’ve probably made enough of a scene in the airport. We should save something for later.” He flashes me another devastating grin. “There are plenty of interesting places on your body that I wouldn’t mind a chance to nibble on.”
I trip over the carpet, my feet an awkward tangle. My cheeks flame; I don’t even have the good grace to recover smoothly.
Luke coughs, and I can see he’s trying hard not to laugh.
His phone goes off, saving me from even more embarrassment.
Thank god.
Luke scans the message quickly.
“Change of plans.”
“What do you mean change of plans?” I
need
to get back to London.
“Oscar came through.”
“What do you mean?”
“That guy in Tunisia. The former asset Oscar told us about.”
My heartbeat speeds up.
“He’ll meet with us. The only catch is—we have to go to Tunis.”
“I have to go back to London.”
“If you don’t want to go, I can do it on my own. You can go back to London, take care of Grace. I don’t blame you for wanting to be with your sister.”
I’m so torn. I’m dying to get back to Grace, but I need to see this through. It’s the only way she’ll truly be safe. I trust Luke, but I’m not used to giving control up like this. It’s as much my mission as it is his.
“Fine. Let’s go to Tunis.”
I wish I could enjoy it more. I struggle, exhaustion settling in. We’ve been traveling for days now, jumping continents at a pace that’s beginning to wear on me. I’ve tried to sleep on the flights as much as possible, but between my dislike of flying and the constant switching time zones, I’m running on practically no sleep at all. Luke seems to be doing fine.
The former asset, known only to us as Malcolm, is already sitting at the café when we arrive. He claimed a table in the back near an exit. He sits against the wall, his eyes surveying the room. I have no doubt he is as well armed as we are. Our carelessness in Havana won’t be repeated.
We slide into the remaining seats at his little table. Luke takes the spot next to Malcolm’s, his gaze trained toward the door. I’m left with my back to the entrance, but between the two of us, Luke is much sharper right now. We need him to be the point man.
A waitress comes over to take our orders, and I study Malcolm. He’s not particularly tall, but even in his casual shirt and jeans, it’s clear that he’s fit.
Really
fit. He looks to be about thirty. His hair is black and buzzed, his skin tan, his eyes so dark they look nearly black. He leans back in his chair, studying us, mimicking my perusal. His posture may be lazy, but I’m not fooled. He has an asset’s eyes.
“How can I help you?”
Luke leans across the table, careful to keep his voice low. “We have a mutual friend. Oscar thought you could help with some questions we have.”
Malcolm’s gaze flicks back and forth between Luke and me. “You’re the ones they’re looking for.”
My heart pounds as I shove my hand in my front pocket and grip the knife’s handle. So word of our defection has gotten out.
“What are you talking about?”
His gaze shifts to me. “I still keep up with news—”
“How?” I ask, curious to learn more about the Academy’s network.
“I have my ways.”
“What are they saying about us?”
“That two assets left the Academy in London. That they were spies. Nothing official has been released by the Academy. Just rumors filtering out.”
I’m surprised there isn’t an international alert out on us. They have a team of assassins stationed all over the world. Why aren’t they using them?
“What else have you heard?”
Malcolm laughs. “You think that’s how this works? You just come here and I spill all of my secrets?”
“I don’t know,” I snap. “You said you were willing to meet with us. Why? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know something. Clearly, you want something from us as well. You aren’t just doing this out of the kindness of your heart.”
Malcolm’s gaze shifts between the two of us. “You go first. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
“You left the Academy. And Ares. We want to know everything you know about them.”
Surprise flickers across Malcolm’s face and something nearly imperceptible happens at the mention of that word. But if I were betting, I’d say he looks angry.
“What do you know about Ares?” he asks.
“We know enough,” Luke bluffs.
Malcolm laughs again. It’s the kind of laugh that’s cloaked in darkness. “I doubt that. If you really knew about Ares, if you truly understood who they are and what they do, you wouldn’t be here.”
My patience is beyond thin. “So tell us.”
Malcolm’s eyes narrow, focusing first on Luke. “How long have you been out of the Academy?”
“A few years.”
Malcolm’s attention turns to me. “And you? You look too young to be out on your own.”
It’s hard enough being a girl in my line of work; my age doesn’t do me any favors. “I do just fine, thanks.”
Luke grins, barring his teeth in a feral expression. “Piece of advice? I wouldn’t needle her. She’s in a killer mood on her best days. We’re tired, the Academy is screwing with us, and we want answers. We flew all the way to Tunisia. Are you going to help us or not?”
Malcolm doesn’t respond. He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze calculating, before turning his attention to Luke. Classic stalling technique.
I have no doubt he’s a dangerous motherfucker.
“Ares runs the academies,” he finally answers.
Luke nods. “We know that.”
“They’re an international organization. They’re everywhere. There isn’t a country they don’t have their fingers in.”
“Who are they?” I ask. This shadowy bullshit isn’t getting us any closer to the truth.
“Politicians, world leaders, military leaders, financial leaders. Major power players.”
“Are most of them British?”
“No. It’s a mix.”
“Who’s in charge?” Luke interjects.
Malcolm’s gaze remains on me. “They operate with a twelve-man board. Membership rotates with three permanent members serving indefinitely. The academy heads report to the board. The board’s identity is highly guarded and protected. The members are untouchable.”
“How do you know so much about the board?” I ask.
“Because each member has a four-person security detail. I was assigned to guard one of the rotating members. I did it for two years. You’d be surprised what you learn.”
“Is this guy still on the board?” Luke asks.
“She. No, she isn’t.” His gaze flickers to me, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Women are just as capable of being ruthless as the men. Sometimes, more so. You should know that better than anyone.”
I ignore the jab, leaning across the table. “What’s their agenda?”
Malcolm’s eyes narrow. He studies me for a moment, not speaking. Under the table, Luke squeezes my hand. I can hear the silent,
be quiet,
just as clearly as if he’d spoken out loud.
Malcolm still stares.
There’s something about that stare. It’s not sexual or admiring. He’s cataloguing me, assessing me. The sensation is all too familiar. And yet—
His stare makes me want to squirm.
Malcolm breaks eye contact, rising from the table. He pulls money out of his pocket, tossing it next to his glass. He leans down, his face close to mine.
“Their motive? They kill. They’re powerful people and their only goal is to amass more power. They will take, and threaten, until they have everything they want. We’re just the tools they use to get to their endgame. And we’re disposable to them. All their talk about justice is just that—talk.”
“We know. We’ve figured that out. But we need more. Why do they choose the assets? How do they pick them? Why us?”
Malcolm’s stare bores into me. “I suspect some were born for it. And others are just unlucky.”
He pulls away from me.
“Wait. Is that it? You’re not going to help us at all?”
“I don’t need this. I paid a debt to Oscar, but you shouldn’t have brought this here.”
Luke’s eyes narrow. I can tell he’s thinking something, but instead of speaking he just sits there quietly, his gaze darting back and forth between Malcolm and me. Why isn’t he saying anything?
“Where would we find them if we wanted to?”
I can’t accept that we came all the way here for nothing.
Malcolm laughs. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about finding them. I suspect they’ll come for you. You’re already dead.”
A chill slides down my spine.
Luke rises, anger coming off of him in waves, his body poised, ready to attack. I reach out, grabbing his arm, holding him back, trying to keep him from doing something stupid. I know the look in his eyes. Right now, I’m worried he’s going to start something we can’t afford.
Malcolm seems to sense the dangerous shift in Luke at the same moment I do; he pulls back. A look of sympathy crosses his face. For some reason, the sympathy scares me more than anything else.
His gaze remains on me, but his words are for Luke. “You care about her. It’s obvious. But you have no idea what you’re getting into. You think you can save her, but you can’t. You can’t protect her. Not from this. She will destroy you.”
As he walks away he stops for a moment, turning back to face us. “They have an estate in England. In Surrey. The board meets there every few months. You want to find Ares? I would start there. They have a meeting coming up in a few days. But trust me, you aren’t going to like what you find.”
He walks away without another glance.
A minute passes and neither one of us speaks. Luke grabs his napkin, balling it up. He takes the little white paper, ripping it into shreds piece by piece.
I put my hand over his, squeezing. “Stop.”
“He’s wrong. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be safe.”
It’s as if he believes saying it enough will make it true.
“I don’t care if I’m fine. All I care about is Grace.”
And you.
“I care about you. I care if you’re fine. I’m not okay if you’re not.”
She will destroy you.
I hate that Malcolm’s probably right. We’re killers. I am a killer. Any excuse I used before to justify my behavior has been ripped from me. I am a monster.
Luke rises, his body tense. “Let’s go. We should head back to the hotel.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to figure out what set him off. He was fine and then he wasn’t. Our talk with Malcolm has left me frustrated too, but this is something else entirely.
He flashes me an easy—and wholly unbelievable—smile. “Sure. Just wondering if the hotel will have room service.” He kisses the top of my head, his lips brushing against my hair.
I nod like I accept his answer, but I can always tell when Luke is lying.
There is no “okay” for people like us.