Page 5 of Tango
“I don’t know that I believe they ran off together. Something about that theory just doesn’t sit right.”
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t have at least packed a suitcase if they’d left voluntarily.”
“Exactly.”
“Unless they left in a hurry.” I consider. “Two people, relatively high up in a cybersecurity company that protects information requiring top-tier clearance levels to even breathe on, disappear without a trace, and the company is quiet about it,” I say then decide to ask the hard question. “Do you think it’s possible that they were involved in something illegal?”
Bradyn considers, his expression hardening. Neither one of us would ever want to deliver that news to Frank. It would destroy him. “I hope not. But no matter what the outcome is—or who it will hurt—we find the truth.”
Chapter 3
Alice
With a groan, I pour another round of rubbing alcohol into the refusing-to-heal bullet hole in my arm. Unfortunately, with every day that passes, the injury just gets angrier. Even now, I can smell the infection that’s taking root.
Since I can’t go to a doctor or risk the police getting involved, it’s back-alley medical care for me at the moment. I can’t even go back home because Web Safe has my apartment being watched. That, or there are two walls of muscle in black suits who just happened to move into a black SUV in the parking lot the day after Ramiro was killed.
Seriously, could they be any less discreet? They might as well have had a bumper sticker on the back that says, “Alice, stay away.”
“Okay, that should do it.” I gently apply a fresh bandage to my arm then hop off the bathroom counter and store my supplies in my backpack. Armed with a worn Bible, my laptop, a gun with no bullets, and now some medical supplies, I step out of the bus station bathroom, ensuring the baseball cap is low over my face.
I’m dressed in baggy clothes I bought from a secondhand store after I barely escaped my apartment with what little I could carry, so my hope is no one will recognize me. Especially since I tucked my black hair beneath the baseball cap.
I need to be invisible. It’s the only chance I have.
After handing my ticket to the bus driver, I move down the aisle and take a seat in an old pungent-smelling striped bench at the back of the bus. My arm aches, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as badly as my heart does.
I lost my best friend.
My home.
And all of my belongings in a matter of hours.
All because of someone’s greed.
I’ll find the truth, Ramiro. And I’ll fix everything. The weight of my grief is crushing, but I refuse to live in that pain. To find the truth, I need my head clear. The time for crying will come after, when I’m standing at Ramiro’s gravesite.
I keep my head down as a man sits next to me. The bus is relatively full, so it’s not unusual, though there is at least one seat toward the front that’s empty.
My heart rate quickens.
He leans in. “I have a gun aimed directly at your gut, Miss Sterling. Scream or do anything except what I explicitly tell you to do, and I’ll shoot first and ask questions later. Got it?”
“Yes,” I reply softly. My pulse is deafening, and I turn my head to look at him. Silver eyes are narrowed on my face, and his hair—a bright gold—is cut short on the sides but longer on the top. He looks like a clean-cut businessman, but I’m guessing he’s never carried a briefcase in his life.
No, this man is a killer.
Hired to finish what Darren couldn’t.
Lord, help me.
“I wonder what your plan was,” he says softly as he uses the hand not currently holding the gun in his pocket to shove a handful of peanuts into his mouth.
“Run. Isn’t it obvious? Or are you all muscle and no brains?”
He jams the barrel of the gun into my side. “Did you forget I’m armed? Irritate me, and I won’t deliver you in quite as good of shape as I promised.”
“Deliver me to who?”
