Page 19 of Finding Fate

Fate

Before

"Nice ride," I say asthe tinted window rolls down, giving me a glimpse inside the massive SUV. "Did it come with the promotion?"

Mac stares out the windshield, officially ignoring me. Which is stupid since he’s the one who came to me, but the silence still grates my anxious nerves.

"Sorry I haven't called. I mean, it's awesome about your promotion and all. Do you like it?" Burying my hands in the pockets of Matt’s jacket, I rock back on my heels and wait for a response.

After a minute more of the silent treatment, he says, "Why didn't you tell me?"

My shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal shrug. "I knew you wouldn't approve."

"Hell no, I wouldn't have approved. You're setting yourself up for death just like she did. Don't you see it? You're too damn smart not to, Fate.” He turns from the windshield, looking at me with imploring eyes. “I can stop this. Just say the word and it's done. You still work for me, maybe not directly anymore, but you still roll up to me and—"

"It's already set in motion. I'm sorry—"

"You're sorry?" he yells and slams both fists against the leather steering wheel. The anger cautions me to step back from the SUV. In all the years I've known him, he's never, not once, raised his voice to me. Even though I’m positive he wouldn't lay a finger on me, it’s still intimidating to witness. "You used everything I taught you to put yourself in this fucked-up situation. I'll blame myself for your death. Do you really want to do that to me? Or do you hate me so much you don't give a damn?"

"Hate you?" Tears well in the corners of my eyes and slip down my cheeks. "How could I hate you? You're the only one who helped me track her. The only one who kept me from jumping out the damn window when we found out we were too late. You—" All the pent-up emotions from the past year pour out as I sob into my hands. "You're the one who found Mom when I was too scared to confirm the truth myself. Hate you? Mac, I love you so much that I'm keeping you away from the shitstorm my life causes people. If you're around me, you will be affected. I won’t let me be a curse to your life too."

The door swings open and strong arms wrap around my shoulders, crushing me against a broad, firm chest. In the background, dogs bark and cars pass through the parking lot as Mac holds me while my tears collect on his dark suit. His comforting touch shoots a sense of belonging through me, washing away the loneliness I’ve harbored the last twelve months and causing a whole new stream of tears to pour down my cheeks.

His large hands engulf my face as he wipes away the watery remnants. "You've lost weight," he whispers.

An unsure smile sneaks up my lips. "You look older."

He leans back against the black SUV with a huffed laugh. "I know." His almost smile fades. "I’ve worried about you, you know. Sometimes I check your work personally to know you’re still out there, still surviving. Then yesterday, someone alerted me that you’d requested a meeting with the CIA. I knew what you were doing but hoped I was wrong."

"They said yes."

The frustrated glare he gives tells me exactly how he feels about it. "I know. They had to get my permission first."

I shoot my brows up in surprise. "But Matt stopped by earlier—"

"I updated him on the situation after the meeting with the CIA yesterday. Needed to know if he knew what you were planning and chose not to inform his director of the rogue mission."

I turn my attention toward the open dog park, searching for Matt and Dobby. "He didn't."

"Why did you move to DC?"

"What did you say?" I ask, avoiding his random question. "When they asked for your approval."

Those narrowed eyes hold our stare. "I told them there isn’t a single person out there who could stop you."

**

DOBBY’S SOFT SNORESfill the otherwise silent living room from his position on the floor in the corner as I smile at the book in my hands. Halfway through the eighteenth rereading of the Harry Potter series, it's still as good as the first. The worn page flips between my fingers, eager to get to the next chapter.

Mid-page, an alert dings from the cave, pulling my attention. Too exhausted from the park, Dobby doesn't move as I push off the armrest to see what's going on.

Instead of donning the winter gear, I wrap a protective arm around my middle to stay warm. A few clicks on keys prompt the screen to my right to illuminate. After scanning the message, I check the time. Two in the morning. Sounds about right for him. At least this guy is predictable.

With a regretful sigh regarding my delayed reading time, I pull a laptop off the shelf and shuffle into the bathroom to get ready.

**

THE LONG BLACK WIGmakes my scalp itch like tiny ants are crawling around on it as I descend the stairs into the underground game room. Also known as the dungeon, nicknamed by me because of the lack of windows and freezing temperatures. My baggy black hoodie, black jeans and tall boots are to fit in and provide some protection against the constantly blowing AC. Probably to keep the slightly overweight twentysomething-year-old male clientele cool; despite the chill, they somehow still manage to sweat.

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