Page 87 of Ravens
I raise my gun in Carter’s direction without looking and pull the trigger twice. From the corner of my eye, I watch him drop in a heap on top of August’s body. “I’m perfectly capable of killing each and every one of you. I’ve told you once, but I’ll remind you. Whatever you think you know about me is only half of the truth.”
They stand there for a moment, both of them focused on the newest corpse on the floor, and I wonder how close any of them really are . . . how expendable they are to each other.
“We needed Carter.” York’s attention shifts to me. “I liked him.”
“No,” William says as he stares at Carter’s body a moment longer. “We can make do if she learns his job. Hope that’s not a problem, honey, but you just volunteered yourself.”
“No, it won’t be a problem.” I step forward, leaving just inches between us. I push the gun into his firm stomach and stare up at him. “I can learn everything he knew with a bit of time, practice, and light reading. In fact, I could say that about the two of you, as well. So, if you keep fucking pushing me, I’ll take over this whole operation out of spite.”
“You’re in, then?” William asks, leaning in closer to my face.
“Why was the Agency really after me?” I whisper, distracted by the closeness of his mouth.
“When we began executing the contract from The White House, we had limited information on each Raven. But when Babylon and Carthage were killed, a contract for the rest of you came up from Wainwright himself and we snatched that up too. It contained everything we needed to find each of you and led to discovering you.” William says, gaze burning into mine. “I think he did it because he thought someone was killing them off to get toyou,so he decided to cut his losses rather than risk you being grabbed.”
“So no cover up?”
“Oh it was a cover up,” York supplies, “But they were trying to cover up you, not the program.”
I take a step back from William, clearing my throat, but William’s gaze doesn’t leave me. I feel it burrowing into my skin with a heat that makes my stomach twist in need, even as I look at York. “Russel hired the same company to kill me that was already hired to kill him.” I could laugh.
“Yes.” York reaches out and slips the gun from my hand, flipping the safety back on and ejecting the round from the chamber. I don’t fight it. “You belong to us now, Theresa, whether you like it or not, and the only way out of itwill beto kill us.” He runs a thumb across my jaw. “But something tells me that's not what you want to do, not tous.”
The way he says that confirms he knows about William and I, and I could laugh again, but I don’t have the energy. Was that planned too?
I take York’s hand from my face. “Not today,” I correct. “But someday? Maybe.”
“Perfect,” he whispers and smiles. “That’s exactly the kind of excitement I need in my life.”
William produces my passport and holds it out to me. I takeit. Everything is so fucking twisted now. I pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment as I try to get my head back in the game.
“Take some time. A break,” William suggests. “We’ll contact you when we need you.” He holds out a phone. “Keep it on you at all times. If you don’t answer when we call, we’ll come looking.”
Dropping my hand, I look at him and then York. “You know I like to be difficult.”
“I’m counting on it,” he says and then turns, picking up the plastic bags from where Carter dropped them all.
“I’m looking forward to it,” William adds as he watches York shift Carter’s body. “You want to run, and I want to chase . . . so please, don’t disappoint me when the time comes.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, William.” He raises a brow at me, and then I face York. “Just leave the bodies and turn the thermostat to eighty-three on your way out.”
I don’t explain myself before I turn and walk back down the hallway.
Climbing the stairs, I go to my childhood room and scoop up the envelope of cash from the floor, and then go to my current room and grab my shoulder bag from the floor beside the duffel.
I drift out the front door of the house, lost in a fog of thought without another word to either of them. I fire up the stolen van and speed down the deserted street.
Thirty-Seven
The unrelenting sun never grows old. I sink my toes in the sand and shield my eyes as I look out over the water. The color of the sea here is mesmerizing. I let out a long breath and continue down the beach. The white, sun-baked houses built into the hills above the water are as pretty as the water itself, and I divide my attention between the two like I have every other morning this week.
It's been a month since I last saw York or William, although my phone rang a couple of days ago. I promptly turned it off. I’m still not over it . . . any of it. It’s been difficult to digest, let alone accept that they played me as hard as they did . . . that I fell for as much as I did. It’s made me lose confidence in my ability. To say nothing of the fact that August and Carter are dead, and York and William didn’t seem broken up about it at all.
That alone makes me feel insecure. I’d be worried about my own expendability if I didn’t already know I was literally priceless to them. I open the burner phone I bought when I arrived and type1114before sending it off and squeezing the phone in my hand. I wish this bikini had pockets.
An hour later, I’m walking into the villa I rented, dropping the white bikini on the floor and changing to go for a jog. The streets here are challenging, hilly, and winding. There is so much to see though. From beautiful architecture to the people and the landscape. The views from high in the hills are incredible too, but I don’t get to see them daily.
Each morning, the course I run changes out of prudence, just in case. My walk on the beach has been the only routine I’ve had, and I get out there well before the tourists do, ensuring I disappear before then too. It’s been lonely, and I’ve been lying low, but I’m grateful all the same. At this point, I’m afraid to meet people. The thought that they might not be who they claim to be always invades my head, and then I start worrying about hearing their names and having to go down that rabbit hole over and over again . . .
