Page 10 of Final Exit

“Why would you bother to seal the front door and leave a half-rotten door in the back?”

She was stalling for time, but was genuinely curious to hear his answer. She glanced at the bookshelves for some sort of weapon. But there weren’t any large, heavy books, and no paperweights here. Maybe that was why he’d forced her into the front room. It was safer for him than the back room with knickknacks that she could have used as missiles.

There weren’t any paintings or decorations on the walls. But there was a small photograph taped on the wall near the archway. It was a picture of him with his arm around a blonde who was cover-model beautiful. Both of them were smiling into the camera. And the picture was taken before whatever had caused those deep scars on the Ghost’s face.

The smooth, chiseled cheekbones and square jaw in the photo combined with a carefree smile contrasted sharply with the man in front of her. But it was the look of utter joy in his sparkling eyes in the photograph that provided the most startling contrast. The change in him seemed almost... tragic.

What happened to you?

“There’s a solid steel pocket door I can slide closed behind the French doors,” he said, answering the question she’d spoken earlier about security. “When I go to bed, I secure the pocket door. But since I was expecting company, I left it open.”

His voice had an edge to it that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. It was the same tone he’d used when they were in the woods. She studied him more carefully, noting the tiny lines of strain around his mouth and eyes, the whiteness of his knuckles that were tightly clenching the gun.

He was in pain. Had the walk from the other room caused his injury to hurt again?

“How did you know I’d hidden in the trunk?” she asked.

She noticed that his stance was slightly crooked, as if he were favoring his left hip. She may have just found her way out. Again. But she needed to get closer to take advantage. Would he be ready for her this time? Would he make the same mistake twice?

He shrugged. “It’s where I’d have hidden, if our roles were reversed.”

She slowly lowered her hands. When he didn’t tell her to put them back up, she shoved them into the pockets of her shorts, using the action to distract him from the fact that she’d taken a small step forward.

The fingers of her right hand bumped against her phone. She’d forgotten it was there. She suddenly wished that she’d smashed it before coming into the house. If she was captured and the Ghost got Hawke’s number, he might be able to use it to draw him into a trap. Assuming that Hawke had escaped the net closing around him tonight.

“If you knew I was in the trunk, why didn’t you open it? Why drive me to your house?”

She twisted around, glancing at the windows as if she’d heard something, again using her movements to cover that she’d moved closer.

“I didn’t want to risk you shooting me in the face if you’d managed to get a gun before getting into my car,” he answered amiably, as if they were just a couple of friends having a chat. He waved the pistol toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable while we wait for my team.”

She stiffened. “Your team?”

“The one from your house earlier. I heard a thump in the trunk on the way here and figured my theory was correct, that you were hiding inside. So I told the team to meet me here, just in case. Turns out I was right. Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait long. They’ll be here soon.”

She studied the play of light across the scars on his cheeks, which lent him a sinister cast. Or maybe it was the sudden urgency of her situation that made him seem that way. Escaping him, alone and unarmed, would be hard enough. Against an entire team, without any secret panels to slip through, would be nearly impossible. She had to get out of here. Now.

And she knew exactly how she was going to do it.

Chapter Five

Saturday, 2:45 a.m.

Bailey inched closer to the Ghost, instead of toward the couch where he’d told her to go. Hoping to distract him from that fact, she gestured with her hands toward the room at large.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

He frowned. “I’m the one asking the questions. But Iwilltell you this. The Enforcer program is over. You and your colleagues have to be debriefed, sent to a retraining facility to be reintegrated into society in a new capacity. Just as importantly, the government has to believe you aren’t dangerous, in order for the Enforcers to be allowed to go free without the constraints of EXIT Inc. or a similar structure. What my teams are doing, what I’m doing, is giving EXIT’s former agents a second chance. We’re saving lives, Enforcers’ lives.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Earlier tonight, you mentioned burying your friends. But no one that we’ve captured has been killed. Someone has been spreading rumors, lies.”

“Lies?” She laughed harshly. “Tell that to Sebastian and Amber. Oh, wait. You can’t. Because they’re both dead.”

“I don’t know who told you that but—”

“No onetoldme.” She risked moving a step closer, then another. “I went to their funerals.”

His gaze locked on hers with an intensity that was unnerving. “What are you talking about?”

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