Traitor Games Page 10

  They’d been cooped up together for days. Some time apart was good.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out, the unknown number taunting him.

  He tapped the answer button and pressed it to his ear.

  “Noah? Lillian? Who’s there?” Andy panted into the phone, out of breath.

  “It’s me. What ya got for me?” Noah pushed to his feet and paced toward the front of the house.

  “I saw the news.”

  “Us, too.”

  “Is Lillian with you?”

  “She’s upstairs.”

  “You need to get to London as soon as possible. There are three flights left going out today. How close to the airport are you?”

  “We could be there in an hour. What’s in London?”

  “Long story. SICA isn’t exactly a secret problem. Our allies know, too. When Carol and I ran the way we did, it put us in contact with people who wanted to help. The only problem was that they needed proof. We’ve been fact finding, building our case.”

  “I know that much.”

  “It’s time to present the evidence. The rest of us can’t show our faces. We need Lillian to do it.”

  Noah stared up at the ceiling. As if she wasn’t in enough danger, the instant she became the face of this operation was the day her value as an informant went up. People would pay money to get their hands on her and what she knew. “You sure about this?”

  “It’s the best plan we’ve got. Sarah and Rand have cut off all communication. Carol and I are already moving shop every thirty six hours. We can’t risk being in one place for as long as this security summit is going to take.”

  “What kind of risk are we looking at? And how do you even know we can get out of Canada?” Noah wasn’t going to place her at the center of everything without a full rundown of what they were looking at.

  “You trying to say you aren’t up to the job?”

  “Fuck you. This is a shit show, Andy. I don’t like it. My job is to keep her safe and you want to parade her around in front of more people?”

  “The only way for her to be safe is to eliminate the threat. Take the fight to them finally. We can’t do this alone. We need support. We have to win over these delegates.”

  “What if I don’t bring her? What if I say this is too much of a risk?”

  “It’s not up to you. It’s Lillian’s decision.”

  “What if I don’t tell her? What if I take her somewhere safe and stash her there? What then?” It was a crazy, unrealistic threat. Noah wouldn’t do it. Would he?

  “What’s up with you? What happened?”

  Noah paced into the living room where he could see the stairs, front door and into the kitchen. He couldn’t let Lillian risk herself unless he knew he could protect her.

  “Noah? You there? You made it to the safe house, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re here. For now.”

  “Are you seriously talking about abandoning us?” Andy’s voice was low, deadly.

  “I want to know that you’re thinking about everyone involved and not just your girl.”

  Andy cursed. “Look. She’s our best hope. She knows all the players, all the pieces. It would take the rest of us weeks to prepare for this. Besides, what’s safer than sticking her in a room with the heads of six different intelligence agencies? Huh?”

  That did sound more promising.

  Noah glanced up at the ceiling once more. This was what she’d signed up for. Her words. “When’s the second flight leave? We need to repack and prep.”

  “You’ve got four hours. Think you can do it?”

  “We have to. These guys are too close as it is. I assume this number won’t work again?” Noah took a step toward the stairs.

  “No. And get rid of yours. There should be burners with the gear our guys dropped for you.”

  Noah ended the call and pulled the pieces of the phone apart without looking at them.

  “Lillian? Lily?” He climbed a few stairs, then paused to listen.

  The silence wasn’t right.

  He reached around behind him and drew the handgun from the back of his jeans.

  The bedroom door was open, the contents of the bags strewn around the floor. But that could have been Lillian searching for hair dye. There hadn’t been a scuffle, the alarm system hadn’t gone off, nothing.

  Light shone from under the bathroom door, but he couldn’t hear movement or the faucet.

  Noah hugged the wall and reached toward the doorknob, praying Lillian was okay.

  He twisted the door and shoved it open, aiming his weapon at the open space.

  Lillian stood at the vanity with scissors in hand. Water ran down her cheeks and her shirt was almost soaked. She must have been lightning fast. Her hair was now a darker tone. The brown dye job was splotchy but it worked. She didn’t look at him or acknowledge that he was standing there.

  “What’s wrong?” Noah set the gun on the vanity and stepped into the bathroom. “Lily?”

  “I’m being completely ridiculous.” She braced her free hand on the countertop and swayed forward. “It’s stupid, I know. It’s just hair, but…”

  “But what?”

  She lifted her chin and stared at him in the mirror.

  “When I got my first apartment I was so excited to go shopping for furniture. I wanted a red sofa. Cherry red. And teal pillows. I didn’t even get to go shopping before my sister took my keys and explained that my home wasn’t mine. That it had to reflect the company.” She swiped at her cheek, drying water or tears, he didn’t know. “I can’t buy a goddamn pair of running shoes without her telling me how it makes the company look.”

  “That’s pretty intense.”

  Lillian’s laugh was bitter. “Welcome to being a Matthews.”

  He didn’t say anything, choosing instead to listen. She blew out a breath and straightened, her eyes drier.

  “I think she wanted me to be a carbon copy of her.” Lillian cleared her throat. “A few years ago I switched salons because I got tired of her telling the stylist what to do with my hair. I’m not a fucking doll. My sister hates my hair. Hates it long. Hates the highlights. But I did it for me. Because I wanted something to be mine.”

  Noah wrapped his arm around her waist. He wasn’t going to pretend to understand the rules by which she lived or the importance of hair, but he got that it was important to her.

  She leaned against his shoulder, water dripping onto his shirt.

  “Think of it as another change. For yourself,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I can.” She squeezed her eyes shut and rotated around to face him. “It’s hair. It’s silly. I know, but…”

  Noah gave her a squeeze. “Give me the scissors.”

  She held tight to him a moment longer before drawing back. He tugged the scissors from her hand and waited for her to turn away from him.

  “It’s just hair,” she chanted.

  “It is.” He lifted his hand and stroked the length of her hair.

  “It’ll grow back.”

  “It will.”

  “And then I can dye it something really crazy just to piss my sister off.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He smiled at her in the mirror, his heart squeezing at the watery gaze staring back at him.

  She was made of strong stuff, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  “How short?” He moved to stand behind her, trapping her between the vanity and his body.

  “Whatever you think works.” Lillian closed her eyes. “Surprise me.”

  He gave her shoulders a squeeze.

  “Keep your eyes closed, okay?” He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the weight of it, the silky texture.

  “I can’t just wear a wig?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Just checking.”

  Noah picked a point at shoulder length and cut as straight a line as he could across the back.

  He had to say something. Lighten the mood. “You know, I
used to cut my hair back in the day. I’m decent at keeping things even, but I can’t promise the cut will be stylish.”

  “Maybe we’ll start a trend?” The corners of her mouth quirked up. There was his resilient girl.

  “Bathroom cuts?” He shook his head. “These days I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  He sectioned off more hair, and using the previously cut bit as a guide, made another snip, then another.

  “You ever cut your own hair?” he asked.

  “As a kid.” Lillian laughed. “I think we all do that, right? I gave myself bangs that were so short they stuck straight out.”

  “Oh, I bet that was cute.”

  “My mother was horrified.”

  “Did you do it again?”

  “When I was a teenager. I wanted swoop bangs, but my mother said no.”

  “You’ve always been the rebel of your family, haven’t you?”

  Bit by bit, he trimmed away almost a foot of hair while she regaled him with stories from her youth. At the end, she was facing him, arms crossed over her chest, that dazzling smile of hers in place.

  “Well, how do I look?” she asked.

  He leaned back, surveying his work.

  Just like he’d suspected, there was no way to make her any less beautiful. The change of hair was only window dressing. In fact, he kind of liked her with the dark hair.

  “You want to look at it? Tell me what you think?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I haven’t had dark hair in years.” She sighed. “If we’re going this far then I should have bangs. They’ll add five pounds to my face, but whatever works, right?”

  “You okay with that?”

  “Can you do a sort of long fringe?” She wiggled her fingers at her face.

  He picked up a comb and pulled the hair forward until he had some to work with.

  “I’m sure we can find someone to tidy this up later. I talked to Andy. We’re going to fly out in a few hours.” He spoke softly as he continued to shape the hair hanging over her face. “They want to do a security summit. You know about this plan?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think we were ready for that yet.”

  “Andy says you’re running that rodeo. Irene and Mitch can’t come. Rand and Sarah have gone off the grid. Andy and Carol are in enough hot water. That pretty much leaves us.”

  “Do we know if Donovan will be able to be there?”

  “Andy didn’t mention him specifically.”

  “He should be. As long as there isn’t another emergency somewhere else I think we can expect him to show.”

  Noah focused on evening up the fringe framing her face. Neither spoke while he finished the trim. Overall it wasn’t bad, but he doubted this was a style someone would ask for.

  “Okay, ready to look?” He set the scissors down and brushed the tiny bits off her sweater.

  “No.” Lillian opened her eyes finally and looked up at him. The dark strands framing her face softened her appearance. He wanted to cup her cheek, kiss her.

  “Here goes nothing.” She blew out a breath and turned to face the mirror. She blinked rapidly, turning her head left and right. “Bangs were a bad idea. Whatever. It’s hair. It’ll grow back.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think they look nice.”

  “Brown feels so drab.”

  “It’s a color. You’ll blend in better.” He ran his fingers through her hair, more because he liked the sensation than anything else.

  Lillian leaned toward him, taking some comfort in the feel of fingers in her hair. “Thanks. Sorry I wimped out on you.”

  “Hey, we all have a breaking point.” He set the scissors on the vanity and looked down at her.

  “And mine was hair.” Her lips quirked up.

  “I knew a guy who lost it over mac and cheese once.” His mouth was working, saying the right things while he couldn’t look away from her mouth.

  “Really?”

  “Stress does weird things to people.” His gut tightened, his mind trying to capture this moment in detail. The way her bangs made her eyes seem so much larger, the color in her cheeks, her damp skin, those parted lips. He wanted to hold all of this for the rest of his life.

  Lillian stared back at him. The air in the little room grew warm, the humidity from the shower sticking in his lungs. Last night he’d fallen asleep holding her hand. He’d meant to comfort her, but after she’d fallen asleep he’d done it for himself. Because he could. Now they were in some kind of gray area he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

  Her hand slid up his chest to his shoulder. He didn’t move, fascinated by the way the light caught in her pupils, making them seem like warm pools. She lifted up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. That contact broke the spell. He tightened his hold on her, dragging her closer. Her kiss grew needy, hungry. He rocked forward, caging her in.

  He tasted her need and desperation. It echoed something inside of him. Her hand tangled in his shirt, the other in his hair. She nipped his lower lip and his jeans became uncomfortably tight. Her hips pressed to his. He groaned and gripped her waist, far too aware of his sudden arousal. Her whimper cut through the sudden fog of lust, reminding him where they were and that time was not on his side.

  If he was going to protect her, he had to get her out of the country.

  He gentled the kiss, even as her nails dug into his skin.

  “I wish we had more time,” he whispered against her lips. “We need to be on a plane soon, or God help me…”

  Noah forced himself to take a step back, greedily eating up the picture of her with swollen lips, flushed skin and dilated eyes. She was temptation, and deep down he knew the real reason he hadn’t wanted to kill her.

  He wanted her, and that scared him.

  …

  Wednesday. Washington, D.C.

  Dave pressed the phone to his ear and pasted a smile on his face. Days like today were exceptionally tricky. He had sensitive projects to move along for his CIA duties, and a manhunt to run for SICA.

  His assistant kept staring at him.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry.” The young woman scampered out of his office. She was a temp, and an obtrusive one at that.

  “Close the door.” Dave leaned back in his chair and focused his attention on his cell phone. Demetrius had better have a good reason for calling him directly. “Well?”

  “I tracked them to a safe house—”

  “Where?” Dave jolted to his feet. This was huge.

  “They’re already gone.”

  “Fuck.” He paced the office.

  “There’s nothing but tire tracks here. I’d guess they’re either hitting the road, or getting on a plane. You wouldn’t have anything that can help me with that, do you?”

  Demetrius’s slow drawl was getting on Dave’s last nerve. The guy was good though, he had to give him that. “I do. Stand by. I’m going to have my man Hector work with you on this.”

  Dave hung up and blew out a breath.

  Today was full of frustration. First, the team searching for the baby reported that the location they’d been watching was empty. They’d missed the targets by hours, if the accumulated clutter was anything to go by. Now, they’d let the girl in the middle of it all slip through their fingers.

  Dave would work with the tools he had. There wasn’t another choice.

  He swiveled to his computer and toggled to the virtual desktop that mirrored his CIA machine, only this one was plugged into the SICA network. They had the resources to locate the targets, it was time they were running short on. There was never enough time.

  …

  Wednesday. Toronto Pearson International Airport, Canada.

  Lillian sat hunched in the seat at the gate, staring into her coffee. The next flight to London would begin boarding any minute now. They’d tried, and failed, to get on a previous flight.

  She darted a quick look across the way at Noah doing his best college bum impersonat
ion, nose stuck in his phone. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot and she fanned her face with the cardboard sleeve from her drink. It almost felt like she was going to be sick, except she knew better.

  That moment in the bathroom still had her all wound up. She could feel his lips on hers, the scrape of his stubble, his hands.

  Shit.

  She needed to think about something else.

  The longer they were stuck in the airport, with all those cameras, the bigger the risk they were taking. If they didn’t make this next flight she was fairly certain they’d take anything that would put them in the same time zone as the summit.

  That was what she should be thinking about. Not…him.

  Lillian darted another look at Noah.

  They’d barely spoken. After she’d dyed her hair they’d hustled out of the house and to the airport, where they had foregone their plans of traveling as a married couple. If security was looking for a pair traveling together, then they had to be separate.

  It was also a convenient way to avoid each other after that kiss.

  He’d kissed her before, but it had been different. Either he was annoying her or comforting her. What had happened in the bathroom was different and her fault, but he’d kissed her back. She’d been emotional and he’d been understanding. Patient even.

  The Noah she’d kissed wasn’t the same one who’d dragged a body into her conference room. That man had been an obnoxious hard-ass who held himself away from everyone and everything. The man she’d kissed had given up everything for her. Why? There was still so much she didn’t know about him.

  The attendant at the gate spoke into the speaker, announcing that boarding would commence soon.

  Lillian picked up her phone and tapped the three texts. She hadn’t seen them come in, that was how up in her own head she was.

  Stop looking at me.

  What?

  Is something wrong?

  She winced at the set of messages and tapped out a reply.

  Nothing is wrong. Tired. We getting on this flight?

  No sooner had she hit send than she got another message.

  Meet me by the bathrooms.

  Lillian got up and stretched. With any luck, she’d spend the next seven hours on the plane trying to focus on the summit. If Andy followed protocol—which he always did—he should have decrypted her data packet and either printed her materials or prepared a tablet for her. Something she could put her hands on or reference in the moment. What they were about to do was no small matter. She’d be meeting with the heads of some of the most influential intelligence agencies asking for help. They might be America’s allies, but they had their own set of problems to think about. Especially if what Andy had sent her was true.