Liquid Lies (39 page)

“So you took him because of that?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That first meeting, he and I hashed out a plan to go in and get you without involving the Board. He’s good. Really good. Ex-military, obviously. I was supposed to go back to San Francisco, make up some excuse for my absence, then rendezvous with him again. But once I was away, I knew having him around us wouldn’t work at all. He’s the Primary who kidnapped you, for chrissakes. No one would ever believe he’d switch sides. No Ofarian would allow him in. So I had to make like he gave me the tip but that I didn’t trust him. So right before we were supposed to go in for you, I had him ambushed.” He gave a short laugh. “Can’t say it didn’t give me little bit of satisfaction.”

Reed had to be seething. Enraged at Griffin’s duplicity and furious at Gwen for ever dragging him into this. She couldn’t be more grateful for Reed’s trust and his risk, and look how she’d repaid him. One good thing about it, though? At least now he was out of bounds for Tracker.

“Did he say how he got away?”

Griffin grinned awkwardly. “Said it wasn’t too difficult. Bribed the guy who was supposed to have pulled the trigger.”

Of course. Those guards were all Primary misfits. Frank the Fingerless was probably hiding from something, like Reed.

“When we get the slaves out,” she said quietly, “I’m taking Reed with me.”

He just stared. “Are you forgetting something?”

“What?”

“Reed
knows
. About us, Gwen. He’s a Primary.”

She straightened. “You wouldn’t. Not after how he helped me.”

“I wouldn’t?” But even he didn’t look so sure.

She wanted to lie down right there on the cracked vinyl, close her eyes, and wake up a week ago. If she’d known then that all this would happen, would she have let Reed pull her into his arms on the sidewalk?

Yes. Yes, she would have.

“Tell me you didn’t know anything about the slaves,” she said.

“God, Gwen, no. Not a thing. I mean, I knew where the Plant was for security purposes, but as far as production went, I knew as much as you.”

“Do you think my dad does? Know everything, I mean.”

He shifted on his seat, his gaze dropping.

“You do, don’t you.
Shit,
Griffin. He can’t.”

“‘Can’t,’ Gwen? Come on. Of course he can. And he does. You just don’t want to believe it. Don’t be stupid.”

She chewed on her lower lip, her mind ping-ponging, her senses in hyperdrive. The smell of burgers on the griddle assaulted her nostrils. The stickiness of the tabletop permeated her skin. The lights glared harshly and the inane chatter of the late-night crowd poked a headache into her skull.

“I’m going to end this,” she said, “and I need your help.”

For the first time in her whole life, she saw fear darken Griffin’s eyes. “That’s treason.”

She unzipped her sweater a few inches, reached inside her bra, and whipped out the photos she’d stashed there. She tossed them in front of Griffin. “And that’s slavery.”

He looked at them. Recoiled. “Jesus.”

“Take them.”

To him they were poisonous, and his hands hovered inches above the images. “What do you want me to do with them?”

She told him her plan.

The horrible consequences of that plan flashed in Vegas lights across his face. If they failed, they’d face a punishment worthy of treason. A
nelicoda
overdose at the very least. Banishment from Ofarian society. Possibly death. Griffin’s whole life had been service. He’d trained incredibly hard to rise as high as he had. And she was, for all intents and purposes, an Ofarian princess.

She hoped against hope that he’d see things her way.

“I’m sorry, Gwen.” He pushed the photos back to her. “I can’t.”

THIRTY-SIX

“There’s been a mistake.”

One Ofarian soldier in black fatigues stood in the shadowed corridor next to the double doors, ignoring him. Reed tapped his wrist restraints against the bars, aggravating the throbbing at the back of his skull. That’d been a good hit. Solid, on the mark. The men at Griffin’s rendezvous had taken full advantage of the element of surprise. He’d suspected Griffin might double-cross him, but at least not until after they’d rescued Gwen. This had to be some kind of colossal mistake. Griffin hadn’t been at the rendezvous. Somewhere wires had gotten crossed.

Reed had to get out of here. Had to get to Gwen.

He tapped the bars again. The lone soldier dismissed Reed with a quick side glance, then shuffled a half step away.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Get Griffin.”

“Griffin who?” the soldier smirked.

Reed growled in frustration. “Jesus. I don’t know his damn last name.”

The soldier grinned. His top two teeth slanted slightly inward. “Orders came straight from the captain. No mistake at all.”

Mother
fucker
. The bastard took him on purpose. He’d believed everything Reed had to say about Gwen then locked him up for it. Cocky, jealous asshole. What was Reed thinking, telling Griffin everything? What was Reed thinking, believing Gwen when she said Griffin was the key to getting her out and the start to sorting out this whole mess?

“Face it, Primary,” came Xavier’s monotone from behind him. “She used you.”

Reed turned his back to the bars, pulsating scalp grinding into the iron, to face Xavier, who was sprawled against the far wall. The sickly green overhead light bathed his pale hair and skin, making him look demon-like.

When Reed had first come to, he’d had no idea where he was. One look at Xavier’s tormented expression and Reed figured out he was in the Plant.

“She screwed you,” Xavier said. “Literally and figuratively.”

She didn’t. She didn’t. She didn’t.

“You think she’s really going to come back for you? For us?” Xavier’s eyes went frighteningly blank. A shudder coursed through him. “She’s a liar. This whole time, she lied to both of us.”

Reed shifted his gaze to Adine and Nora, who huddled in opposite corners. Nora was shooting eye daggers at Xavier. Adine looked, well, hurt. And lost. Like she’d been betrayed by her best friend.

“Don’t feel stupid.” Xavier’s clipped tone stabbed at Reed, hard and sure. “She screwed us, too.”

“What did she promise you?” Reed asked.

Xavier’s eyes swept across the green-gray walls, but he didn’t answer.

“To end this,” Nora sneered. Her little backbone was made of steel. She sat perfectly upright, cross-legged, hands on her knees. “She lied. She’s made of lies, from blood to bone.”

Reed pulled away from the bars. “How is this any worse than what you did to her?”

“Nora, she tried,” Adine said shortly. “She really did. You didn’t see her down there with Genesai and the ship. She honestly wanted to help him, to help us.”

Reed had never seen Adine snap at Nora like that. As the two women glared at each other, he said to Adine, “I noticed you don’t call Nora Mom.”

Adine shifted, eyes on the floor. “No. Not for a long time.”

Nora sniffed and fixated her stare on Xavier, as though this was all his fault. Maybe it was. If he’d actually pulled the trigger instead of handing the gun to Frank, none of this would’ve happened. Reed wanted to tell Xavier that he’d done the right thing, but had he? If Xavier had followed Nora’s orders, the slaves might be out by now…but Gwen and her people would still be in danger.

Was trading the safety of one race for another the only way?

Gwen hadn’t believed that. Reed wouldn’t either.

He crouched in front of Xavier. “We can still try to get out of this.”

“We have nothing.” The desolation in his face echoed that statement.

“Not true. You have me.”

Xavier’s head came away from the cinder block wall.

Reed rattled his cuffs, lowered his voice. “This little green light doesn’t do shit for me. It’s an opportunity. When they move us…”

Xavier laughed though it was devoid of anything but hopelessness. “You really are nothing but muscle. You’re not getting out of here, away from
them
. You know what they do to Primaries who find out about them?”

Reed glanced at Nora, who turned her superior gaze toward the bars.

“You don’t, do you?” Xavier sat up, his bitter face inches from Reed’s. “They kill them. Anyone who’s ever gotten a whiff of the Ofarian world dies. Aside from protecting Gwen, that’s Griffin’s
job
.”

Reed’s mind circled back to the scene in the alley. If he hadn’t shown up, the Japanese guy would’ve died. That’s why she hadn’t wanted to call the cops; she was biding her time to wait for Griffin to arrive.

But Gwen wouldn’t’ve told Reed all that she had, knowing that would be his fate. No way. She hadn’t
wanted
to tell him; she’d held out until she had no other options. He’d witnessed her desperation. By nature, she wasn’t deceitful. She’d convinced him she wasn’t using him. He had looked into those beautiful, beautiful eyes and believed her.

He swept to his feet and surged toward the bars.

“Hey,” Reed called out again to the soldier in the corridor. “Does Gwen know I’m here?” The soldier raised an eyebrow. “Gwen Carroway. Contact her directly. Ask her if I’m supposed to be here.”

With a roll of his eyes, the soldier peeled away from the doors and went to a corner to mumble into his shoulder radio. Reed couldn’t hear a word of the exchange. Xavier smirked on the floor. The whole thing took forever. If Reed had had hair, he would have been gray by now.

The soldier sauntered back, stood right in front of the bars. “Well?” Reed demanded.

“Ms. Carroway says you’re exactly where you belong.”

Reed felt as if a giant, invisible football player had tackled him from behind. His body hit the concrete floor with a terrible force his numbed nerves didn’t feel. As his eyelids dropped, his last thought was of his mom and dad and Page, and how devastated they would be when he didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.

Gwen swept through Company HQ. Coworkers, kinsmen, and
friends swarmed her, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth. Despite her sick heart and the spiked ball of dread slowly dragging its way through her veins, she was genuinely glad to see them. She spoke to each of them, sharing tears and hugs. But when she pulled back, looked into their happy faces, and then glimpsed their computer screens or the stacks of paper on their desks, all she could think was:
You don’t know what you’ve been perpetuating.

“Gwennie!”

Dad.

The Chairman stepped from the boardroom at the far end of the corridor. The crowd around her parted. In that moment he wasn’t anything but her father, and the need to go to him was instinctual. She hurried toward him, the weight of their past hardships and present problems trailing just a nose behind. He was sobbing as he pulled her into his big dad bear hug. Too tight for comfort, but too wonderful to matter.

“I thought I’d lost you, too,” he murmured, only for her ears. “Oh, Gwennie, I didn’t know how I’d go on. Your mom, Delia, you…”

“I’m here, Dad. I’m okay.”

When he stepped back, his hands firmly on her shoulders as though she might disappear again, she saw the extent of his grief. Uncharacteristic stubble dusted his chin and cheeks. His Italian suit was rumpled and he smelled faintly like the cabin of an airplane. But the most disconcerting detail of all was the fact that he wasn’t using
Mendacia
.

There he stood, Chairman Ian Carroway, laid bare with his own face and wearing his grief, for all the Company to see. He took her face in one hand and nodded toward the boardroom. “You don’t have to do this now. You can rest—”

“No.” She
definitely
had to do this now. Reed was trapped in the Plant with the Tedrans, and Griffin feared committing treason. She was the last fighter standing, and she was going in with weapons hot.

The whole Board waited inside. She noticed, as she crossed the threshold into the boardroom, that the waterglass had already been activated. How long had they been all together, waiting for her?

As the door closed behind her, she made the rounds, clasping hands and accepting gentle embraces from men and women she’d long considered superior. Despite their caring words and benevolent smiles, a chill hung in the air, enhanced by the consistent murmur of the waterglass.

At last she shook Jonah’s hand. She flashed back to seeing him in the Plant, when authority and tension had buzzed around him, and he’d glossed over the Tedrans as though they were unfeeling machines. His grip on her hand was disturbingly normal, though he held her eyes for a beat longer than he ever had.

“Welcome home,” Jonah said. “We’re glad you’re back.”

And she thought:
But you were the reason I was taken.

Her father patted the chair next to him and she sat, gazing over the group of men and women she’d once longed to be a part of. Was that only a week ago? A week and a lifetime ago. A week and
thousands
of lifetimes ago, because that’s what had been wedged between her and her former aspirations: the truth behind thousands of Tedran and Ofarian lives.

She sifted through everything she’d learned and everything she thought she knew. If she was the last warrior capable of doing what’s right, she wouldn’t back down, even while being hopelessly outnumbered. She thought of Xavier and how he’d offered her a place on Genesai’s ship. He hadn’t done it to hurt her; he’d done it because deep down he believed in her. What she did now, she did to erase the reasons why he’d flinched from her that day in the Plant.

She took her dad’s hand and squeezed it once. He looked at her questioningly, the curve of his wrinkled mouth troubled.

She faced the Board and announced, “I know about
Mendacia.
”

Inside her fingers, her dad’s hand went slack. “What do you mean?” he asked, and his voice sounded lower than she’d ever heard.

“I mean I know everything. Where it’s made.
How
it’s made.”

As she spoke, the story of the Plant came out true and hit its mark. She looked every one of the Board members in the eye and related the horrors she saw. The most satisfactory part was the sheen in her father’s eyes. She hated to take solace in his devastation, but his reaction was exactly what she’d needed to see. He wasn’t heartless.