Page 103 of Conrad

“You . . . you make me, I don’t know—forget it, I guess. Or maybe focus on something else.”

“Like my craziness.”

“Like you.” His gaze held hers.

Oh.

A beep behind them, and she looked back. They were blocking the road, halfway in the intersection.

He put the truck into Drive and pulled out. Seemed to nod to himself. Glanced at her with a look that turned her entire body warm.

“You.”

“I need a cookie.”

“Me too.” She sighed. He was heading west, out of town. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Duck Lake. I need to talk to Jack and figure out how much trouble we’re in. And to get a cookie.”

* * *

Emberly caught up with Declan and Stein on the corner of Rosselló and Gràcia, the blue sky arching overhead, the dawn bleeding in through the whitewashed buildings, the greening parkway, the temperatures brisk as Barcelona woke up.

This would work.

Four days of surveillance, and she realized it didn’t have to be that complicated. Could be easy, even.

As long as Stein didn’t recognize her. But really—three years and a lifetime ago, the world in chaos and the trauma of their disastrous escape should have knocked her out of his brain.

Except, of course, her exit from his life—as he lay in the rubble and bled out—must have imprinted on his brain.

She’d have to take her chances.

“Good morning.” She wore her short blonde wig from the reception, had donned a pair of leggings, a running bra, a pullover that suggested she worked out regularly.

Yes.Just not on the streets of Barcelona. She might as well be holding an American flag above her head. But it seemed no one noticed this morning, and the sidewalks felt almost empty.

The traffic, however, had started to build on the streets, bicyclists whizzing by in the bike lane between the sidewalk and the street.

She grabbed her knees as if breathing hard, waiting for the light beside Declan. She didn’t spare Stein a glance. Better to pretend he didn’t exist.

“Mornin’,” Declan said. He hadn’t shaved yet today, wore a hint of an exotic aura about him, his pale gray eyes casting on her as she stood up. It didn’t feel unusual to him at all that a woman might smile over at him, hope to catch his attention.

He smiled back. “Are you at the conference?”

She jogged in place. “Yeah. I caught your seminar on AI-Driven Decision-Making in High-Stakes Environments. I appreciated you adding the human element. Computers can make mistakes too?—”

“Only when they don’t factor in the nuances of human personality,” Declan said. Stein glanced at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

“They run scenarios based on outside factors—weather, tactics, mission success—but they forget the unpredictability of the human heart,” she said.

“Precisely. Who are you?”

“Avery McMillan. From the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Department head of computer science.”

He considered her for a moment, then nodded. “Right. I heard about your research into predictive analysis.”

“Absolutely. It’s about mapping the right factors, from health care to global threats.”

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