“It was probably just some dumb kid looking to steal beer—”
“Immediately,” Jack bit out. “And if I don’t answer, you call Danny, Derek, or Ethan directly.”
“Or me!” Ben interjected.
“Not Ben,” Jack said with a smile so slight she wondered if she was imagining it. “He’s an asshole.”
Did the iceman just make a joke? “I promise,” she conceded. “But don’t expect to hear from me. And I won’t expect to hear from you,” she said. But she couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling that washed over her as she watched Jack and Ben climb into the car and drive away.
It was stupid, she told herself as she walked back into the house, the way seeing him left her with that strange, hollow ache. A faint yearning for him to stick around, for her to unglue her tongue and figure out what to say instead of her halfhearted efforts to push him away. A wish that maybe they could have… something.
Right, like that was possible, she thought, and gave herself a mental kick. What she and Jack had, so oddlyintimate yet so excruciatingly uncomfortable, could never be untangled enough to go anywhere good.
She drove Rosario back to campus and contemplated what to do for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe she should see if Susie was up for a movie, she thought, then quickly dismissed the idea. Talia was in a weird, melancholy mood and had no business inflicting herself on anyone.
Besides, she had only a few hours to kill before she had to work. Maybe she’d do some laundry. The house phone rang, cutting off her mental meanderings. She started to ignore it—anyone she knew would have called her cell. She picked up the handset to turn the ringer off, hesitating when she saw the number on the caller ID display.
Wireless caller.
Her brow furrowed as she recognized the Washington State area code and Seattle exchange.
Without thought, her thumb pressed the TALK button. “Hello?”
“Talia Vega?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.
“Who’s calling?”
“Is this Talia Vega?” he repeated.
Her grip on the phone tightened. “Who wants to know?”
The phone went dead.
Cold sweat filmed her forehead.
They’d found her.
Just like that, she was back down in that black hole of panic and fear, leaving the safe house only when necessary. Breath held, constantly looking over her shoulder, dreading the moment when he or one of his lackeys would snatch her from her bed or, worse, take Rosario and use her as bait to flush Talia out.
No, stop.
She took a deep breath, reminded herself that David was dead, his organization blown to smithereens.There was no more “they.” No one had bothered to come after her in nearly two years. Why would they now?
But whoever called knew her name, knew her phone number.
It wasn’t like she was in hiding, the rational, calming part of her brain argued. She’d kept her information unlisted, but she knew there were ways to find out that sort of thing if someone was motivated enough.
That last thought wasn’t at all comforting. She picked up the phone and brought the number up on the caller ID. She knew it was overkill, but she could call someone back at Gemini’s office and have them trace it. She didn’t want to bother Jack—
The phone rang in her hand. It was him again.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply.
“Talia Vega?”
She didn’t answer.
“Sorry about before. I went through a canyon and my cell dropped the call. I’m trying to get in touch with Talia Vega. Can you at least tell me if I have the right number?”
“And I’ll ask you again,” she said, irritation doing its part to chase away some of the fear, “who wants to know?”
“My name is Greg Fitzhugh,” he said. “I’m working on a book for
Seattle Magazine
about the fallout from the Grayson-Maxwell scandal—”
“I have nothing to say on the matter.”
“Please,” he said, “if it hadn’t been for you, no one would have ever connected him to Karev’s operation,” he said.
Talia
“Immediately,” Jack bit out. “And if I don’t answer, you call Danny, Derek, or Ethan directly.”
“Or me!” Ben interjected.
“Not Ben,” Jack said with a smile so slight she wondered if she was imagining it. “He’s an asshole.”
Did the iceman just make a joke? “I promise,” she conceded. “But don’t expect to hear from me. And I won’t expect to hear from you,” she said. But she couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling that washed over her as she watched Jack and Ben climb into the car and drive away.
It was stupid, she told herself as she walked back into the house, the way seeing him left her with that strange, hollow ache. A faint yearning for him to stick around, for her to unglue her tongue and figure out what to say instead of her halfhearted efforts to push him away. A wish that maybe they could have… something.
Right, like that was possible, she thought, and gave herself a mental kick. What she and Jack had, so oddlyintimate yet so excruciatingly uncomfortable, could never be untangled enough to go anywhere good.
She drove Rosario back to campus and contemplated what to do for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe she should see if Susie was up for a movie, she thought, then quickly dismissed the idea. Talia was in a weird, melancholy mood and had no business inflicting herself on anyone.
Besides, she had only a few hours to kill before she had to work. Maybe she’d do some laundry. The house phone rang, cutting off her mental meanderings. She started to ignore it—anyone she knew would have called her cell. She picked up the handset to turn the ringer off, hesitating when she saw the number on the caller ID display.
Wireless caller.
Her brow furrowed as she recognized the Washington State area code and Seattle exchange.
Without thought, her thumb pressed the TALK button. “Hello?”
“Talia Vega?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.
“Who’s calling?”
“Is this Talia Vega?” he repeated.
Her grip on the phone tightened. “Who wants to know?”
The phone went dead.
Cold sweat filmed her forehead.
They’d found her.
Just like that, she was back down in that black hole of panic and fear, leaving the safe house only when necessary. Breath held, constantly looking over her shoulder, dreading the moment when he or one of his lackeys would snatch her from her bed or, worse, take Rosario and use her as bait to flush Talia out.
No, stop.
She took a deep breath, reminded herself that David was dead, his organization blown to smithereens.There was no more “they.” No one had bothered to come after her in nearly two years. Why would they now?
But whoever called knew her name, knew her phone number.
It wasn’t like she was in hiding, the rational, calming part of her brain argued. She’d kept her information unlisted, but she knew there were ways to find out that sort of thing if someone was motivated enough.
That last thought wasn’t at all comforting. She picked up the phone and brought the number up on the caller ID. She knew it was overkill, but she could call someone back at Gemini’s office and have them trace it. She didn’t want to bother Jack—
The phone rang in her hand. It was him again.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply.
“Talia Vega?”
She didn’t answer.
“Sorry about before. I went through a canyon and my cell dropped the call. I’m trying to get in touch with Talia Vega. Can you at least tell me if I have the right number?”
“And I’ll ask you again,” she said, irritation doing its part to chase away some of the fear, “who wants to know?”
“My name is Greg Fitzhugh,” he said. “I’m working on a book for
Seattle Magazine
about the fallout from the Grayson-Maxwell scandal—”
“I have nothing to say on the matter.”
“Please,” he said, “if it hadn’t been for you, no one would have ever connected him to Karev’s operation,” he said.
Talia
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