Page 13 of Matrix

“Get in bed.” I point toward her bed. When she starts to balk, I add, “We dragged it in here. From now on, you’re with me. Don’t get any cute ideas, or I’ll kill you myself. Are we clear?”

She nods meekly before climbing onto the sheets. I’m not fooled for a second. Although I should try to get some shut-eye, I can’t trust her. I’ll have to sleep with one eye open, but that’s fine. She’s been a pain in my ass for months. Now, she’ll actually be useful.

I can’t wait to get started.

Chapter 4: Daisy

Sleep eludes me. Although my eyes feel grainy, as if filled with sand, I don’t dare close them. I don’t know exactly what was said or who said it, but someone in this club saved my life. I think Matrix stuck his neck out for me. I can’t imagine who else would have done it. The temptation to ask him keeps bouncing around in my head, but I stay silent because I can tell he’s in one of his moods. He’s not sleeping any more than I am. I’ve glanced over several times only to find him watching me.

“What?” I finally ask.

“You’re still awake.”

“Not tired.”

“Me either.” He swings his legs over the edge of his mattress. He’s still wearing the clothes he changed into after we got back to the clubhouse. I haven’t traded my winter gear for anything more appropriate. Running away in pajamas in the dead of winter isn’t a good plan. I don’t know when or if I’ll get the chance to run, but if an opportunity presents itself, I want to be ready to bolt.

My stomach rumbles loud enough for him to hear it.

“It’s lunchtime. You’ll cook for the guys while I watch to make sure you don’t try to poison us,” Matrix says.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I say truthfully. There’s no way I’d attempt something that stupid. Poisoning five grown men would be tricky. They wouldn’t all go down at once. Someone would figure out what was happening, and then I’d be a dead woman.

“Let’s go, then.”

As we walk toward the kitchen, the muffled sound of a television carries from somewhere down the hall. The other guys must be in their bedrooms because the living room is empty.

“What do you want to eat?” I ask.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Kid’s food?”

“Yeah. So?” He leans against the counter, watching me gather the ingredients.

“Just an observation.”

“Are you good at that, watching people?”

“I like to think so. I wouldn’t be an effective agent if I didn’t pay attention.”

“You must have overheard some stuff over the last few months. Things you shouldn’t know about.”

I turn the knob on the gas stove. It clicks twice before flames lick out. After setting a large pot on the burner, I dump several cans of tomato soup into it. Normally, I’d cook from scratch, but I can hardly see straight, let alone whip up something gourmet. It’s a good thing he wanted a simple lunch because I don’t think I could manage anything else right now.

“Well?” he prompts.

“I know a little bit. I don’t know where Max is, but I’ve seen him at barbecues.”

“Did you report it to your SAC?”

“No.” I fire up a frying pan so I can cook the sandwiches.

“Why not?”

“He seemed happy. I know all about his case. You did the right thing.” I butter several slices of bread before adding them to the pan to toast them.

“The Feds would have put him in foster care.” The bitterness in his voice surprises me.

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