Page 100 of Amethyst Flame
That made him look. “Do you feel unstable?”
I rolled my head against the cushy seat back to stare at him over the tops of my sunglasses.
His jaw flexed. “We’re almost to Wikieup. We’ll stop there. I need to make a call anyway.”
A call he didn’t want me to hear, obviously, or he could’ve made it while we were driving.
Before we left his little HQ in Arbolito, he’d taken a phone call that left him even more grim-faced and taciturn than usual—which was saying something even if he wasn’t saying it aloud. I would’ve eavesdropped but the call was over before I had a chance to snoop, and he’d said only that he wasn’t able to requisition a private flight to Vegas.
And watching him load guns—and holy hell, was that a rocket launcher? I played fantasy adventure, not first-person shooters!—into the trunk of the Kidnapper explained why we weren’t flying commercial.
In the back seat, Jacob had headphones on, the faint tinny sound of EDM merging with his involuntary muttering as he hunched over his laptop. He hadn’t found any reports of a white Tesla or blue lightning.
“Since we’re apparently going all in with this trusting and sharing and shit,” I asked, “now’s your chance to be honest: Who do you work for?”
Dane kept his gaze forward, not that his grip on the wheel had ever wavered. “It doesn’t have a name. It’s a consortium—”
“Consortium?” I scoffed. “Why not just call yourself Acme Inc. Ltd.?”
“—of government officials, industrial leaders, scientists, academics, and private citizens who watchdog for potential emerging hazards that span international borders and must be managed more…creatively and judiciously than other authorities can handle.”
I tilted my head back to center. “So if you’re the dog, I guess I’m the hazard.”
“I’ve always said you were on the right side, even when you were being difficult.”
He’d never said thatto me, so he must’ve said it to people in this consortium. I almost felt warm and fuzzy. “Do you guys have a name?”
“No.”
Convenient.
When we got to Wikieup, Jacob and I went into the convenience store. I used the facilities and bought some more snacks. Stepping out, I squinted across the simmering parking lot. Dane was facing the burned-out trading post on the other side of the road, looking like a vulture/undertaker in his black suit.
Instead of interrupting, I dumped my goodies in the Kidnapper and called Mom.
She picked up instantly. “Imogen?”
“Hey there.” I kept my voice brighter than the glint off broken glass in the melted asphalt between the pavement cracks. “Just checking in, seeing what’s new.”
“Oh?” Suspicion oozed from the word. “Not much here. What are you doing?”
“Heading up Vegas way with Jacob and some friends from work.”
The line went very quiet. In a tight, hard tone I’d never heard her use, she said, “How many people are you going to kill this time?”
Like a dagger straight to the heart. “Mom!”
“You can still turn around. You can still come home.”
“And what about the person who has been kidnapped this time? And what about all the other people who could get hurt?”
“Agent Dane can take care of them. He’s trained for it. You are not.”
“But I’m the only oneequippedfor it.”
By now Dane was watching, listening in to my half of the conversation. His expression was stony, jaw set. Disapproving? Well, this might be the last time I spoke with my mom, so he could just go fuck himself.
“There are police,” my mom went on, “and armies, and all sorts of people skilled in combat. I assure you that Dane does not need an unqualified, twenty-one-year-old girl to handle any situation.”
