Hard to Trust (11 page)

Instead of thinking about her troubles right now, she forced herself into a sitting position with more effort than she cared to admit, poured water from the pitcher left by her bedside, then gulped one cup after another in rapid succession. For some odd reason—more than likely her imagination—it mitigated some of the ache invading her body.

As she eased out of bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom, she couldn't help but wonder where he'd gotten the clothes he'd laid out for her. What she'd last had on had been bloody and tattered, as she recalled.

But there was a woman helping him. She worked on Tessa's body, taking her pulse then sticking acupuncture needles in various parts of her body. They didn't hurt. But a kind of warmth spread through her with each breath she took. It felt good. Relaxing.

She turned on the shower, letting the steam loosen up her aches and pains. Every hit of the spray seemed to bring a hint of relief. No doubt she'd stayed in there longer than she should have, but the warmth felt so wonderful against her skin. An indeterminate amount of time later, she emerged into the steamy bathroom.

She wiped off the mirror to examine her face, already knowing they'd done some damage to her last night…this morning…yesterday–whenever that happened. It was impossible to know how long she'd been out of it, as she'd lost all track of time.

"Ouch." The word slipped through her lips as she looked in the mirror. No wonder she felt like hell. She glanced at her body displayed in bright light and noted the host of bruises lining her torso, as well as her arms and legs. With a finger she traced the black and blue skin surrounding the needle hole where they'd injected her with a drug she couldn't begin to identify. There were new and improved street drugs coming out every day, each more dangerous than the one before. Who knew what they injected? She could only thank God it hadn't killed her.

Still, the sight of the bruises and swelling gave her some pause. She touched at her swollen skin, remembering now that Jake had tried to put ice packs beneath her eyes, but she kept pushing them off. While she didn't know him well, he seemed like the epitome of in charge and in control. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. The flashes of memory she had seemed to confirm that.

After drying off with a towel and brushing through her hair, she opened the package of new underwear and slipped them on. The bra had been a sports bra, which worked fine considering the circumstances. Whoever bought them, they went high end, as the fabric felt soothing against her damaged skin. Next she pulled on the sweatpants and sweatshirt, even while her achy muscles started to rebel. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, she found an unopened toothbrush and a bottle of Motrin.

Nirvana.

By the time she opened the door from the bathroom, he was standing inside the bedroom. Resisting the wild urge to apologize for him risking his life to get her back had been on the tip of her tongue.

 Before she could form the words he spoke. "Feeling any better?"

"My whole body feels like it's broken, but I think that might be an improvement." Her brain still felt a little fuzzy, like she had to concentrate on the conversation. Still, the fog seemed to be lifting little by little. "What day is it?"

"Monday afternoon." He folded his arms across his chest. "Did you notice any blood when you…ah…peed." If she didn't know better, she could have sworn he blushed.

"Just a bit."

"Are you sure?" He cleared his throat. "My sister was worried you might have injured your kidneys, so told me to ask."

She arched her brow. "I've injured my kidneys before, and there was a lot more blood. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Promise." She couldn't help but smile. "Mom."

He shrugged. "You don't know my sister. She's probably left a half-dozen texts for me to make sure I check this or that. She thought you should see a doctor, but I didn't think that was a good idea considering the circumstances."

"She was the one who brought the clothes and did the acupuncture, wasn't she?"

He nodded. "Yep, that was Sabrina." He glanced at her face and tsked. "Do you know the guys who were holding you?"

"You mean the circus performers?" She grinned, thinking about that crazy trip they'd sent her on with their drug of choice.

"Circus performers?"

"Yep, that's what they looked like to me—the tall man on stilts, the clown, and the trapeze artist. That was some trip I was on."

"Can't say for sure what they gave you, but my guess would be an ecstasy derivative."

She nodded. "That's what I was thinking, but they injected it." She bit her tongue to avoid sharing her thoughts on the hybrid drugs the CIA had used for years on people, which brought her back to the conclusion it was the CIA.

"Now what?"

"Care to elaborate?'

"Any idea what they're after?" He gave her the look that said, before she even spoke, he knew she was holding back. Like he expected her to hold back. Maybe he'd press her on the issue. Maybe he wouldn't.

"No clue, but they'll figure out you're a part of this eventually."

"I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed. It's only a matter of time before they figure out who I am. I heard them talk about facial-recognition software from the train station in Virginia."

"I guess it's good to know they're the same guys who ransacked my house. Sweet gun and nice shooting, by the way. I'm pretty sure I'm impressed, even if I can't remember much. All I know is there were three men wanting a piece of me, and then they were writhing on the floor."

"Figures my all-star moment is forgotten with that patchy memory of yours."

"Even if I hadn't run away, they would have put two and two together from the other night and would have tracked you down eventually." She shrugged. "Except now you're in their crosshairs." She stopped and chewed her lip as the memory flitted back through her mind.

"You mean their Russian crosshairs? What's that all about?" He stared at her as if looking for confirmation.

She shook her head. "This memory thing is weird. It sort of flits in and out." For some odd reason, she resisted corroborating his story. "Russian?"

"Are they connected to one of your CIA operations? Maybe Afghanistan, like you mentioned earlier?" His voice reflected the skepticism she spotted in his eyes.

She hedged, partly because she didn't trust him, and partly because she had no idea who was after her or why. "I'm not sure. Let's just say it's within the realm of possibilities."

He ran his fingers through his long hair. "I don't get it. What are they after? And why do they think you can lead them to it? What did you hide in your computer they couldn't get at? It had to be important." He narrowed his eyes. "They were implying you stole something. And they had to have employed a sophisticated method to track you. Did you take something of theirs?"

"Why do you think I stole something?"

"That's the only thing that makes sense in their ability to pinpoint your location. Twice now."

"Maybe it was you they were trailing. You're a liability."

He held up his hands. "Why don't you trust me? Let's not forget I managed to get you out alive with some fancy skills, if I do say so myself. Besides, this is not my first rodeo. I'd know if I were being followed." He sucked in a breath. "Do you think they were watching your friend Nick's place? Is that where they picked up your trail?" He cleared his throat. "I guess the better question, is do you think they killed Nick?"

"You know about Nick?"

He nodded. "How do you think I spotted you in that cafe not a block away from his place?"

"That was stupid, but I was so…unnerved. They sent me a message with Nick. I knew that." She took a breath and tunneled through thoughts of whether or not she should be forthcoming. "In training, Nick, Alex, and I talked about outliving our usefulness and how we would be eliminated. We joked that it would be a staged suicide attempt." She shook her head. "Not so funny, right?" Through an act of sheer will, she fought back the tears wanting to fall. This was not supposed to happen. "I wish I knew who they were and what they were after."

"Yeah, I've got a little bit of bad news about the Nick situation."

"He can't be deader, can he?"

"No, but they have a photo of you from the security camera outside his apartment. Somebody remembers a strange woman walking inside, and your photo is splashed across this morning's paper. The police are looking for you in connection with Nick's murder."

"Oh, great. The fun never stops when the CIA is involved."
"Except someone from the CIA hired me to keep you safe."

"But they didn't give a name. Sounds fishy to me." Thinking of her current powerless position gave rise to a swell of depression. She touched his hand, and it didn't feel all that weird. Considering the guy saved her life, a little touchy-feely shouldn't be weird. "I need to go at this whole thing on my own. No sense putting you in jeopardy."

"Too late for that. After the other night, I'm pretty sure I'll be on their radar within a day or two. Before you know it, they'll know everything, including my shoe size." He sat down next to her on the bed. "Considering I risked my life for you yesterday, can you throw me a bone, and tell me what all this is about?"

"All I know is I came back from Afghanistan and walked into the mess of being followed, then people trying to kill me, and you hired to keep me safe. None of it makes sense."

"Is Afghanistan where you got the bullet in your shoulder?"

She nodded. "Yep. They left part of the bullet inside—something about deep into the tendons or something. Wasn't supposed to bother me much, but most times it hurts like hell." Admitting she was a bit of a wimp at times felt good. Keeping up the tough-chick persona was wearing thin, especially after the last few days.

"I say the CIA wants to help you. You say they want to kill you. How do we figure out which is right?"

"I have no idea. That's the hard part of this whole thing."

"I've got a simpler question. Did they take your C-4?"

She nodded. "Yep, I checked the bag. And I feel positively naked without it. Which reminds me, I've got some stuff I need to get at. Where did you stash my bag?"

"I'll tell you if you let me help you." He gave her a goofy smile. "I've got mad skills."

"I'm sure you do, but I don't want to get you any more involved than you already are."

"Don't you think it's a little too late for that? They'll figure out who I am pretty soon."

She knew she had to tell him something, since he'd been sucked into the situation whether he liked it or not. The thought of having another body on her conscience did not make her feel any better. "I know something I'm not supposed to."

"What?"

"I don't know." She chewed her lip as her mind went through some possibilities, coming up with zilch. Except for the cryptic note, she had nothing.

Not necessarily true. She had something, but it was stuck inside her brain somewhere. And the memory of Alex pleading for her life was nothing more than she would have expected from a best friend.

"You've lost me."

She huffed. She needed to break this off with him, and go on her own. It was the only safe way to play this. Being alone had always been how she did her best work. "Pretend you didn't find me the other night."

"Yeah, that whole rescuing thing was a figment of their imagination. Too bad there's a couple of bad guys with some major knee problems to discount that theory." He eyed her as if waffling over what he wanted to say. "I had the clean-up crew get rid of the evidence, but there's going to be some fallout, and it's going to happen soon. I've already packed your backpack and my go bag for a road trip."

"Taking me with you on this excursion will be a liability, believe me. While I still haven't figured out who these people are, I know their type. They'll be like rabid dogs once they've got the scent."

"If it's not me, they'll hire somebody else from The Alliance to help you out. And I don't like to brag, but I'm the best of the lot. But don't tell my sister." He glanced around the room. "I'd tell you to pack up your stuff, but luckily you and my sister are about the same size, so I asked her to bring some stuff, and she already put them in your backpack. No sense wasting time by stopping at the store."

"I guess this means you're saying we're stuck with each other until I die, or until we figure this whole thing out."

"You're not going to die, and neither am I."

He said it with such conviction she almost believed him.

"Hungry?" Jake thought she still looked like hell, but at least she was alive and moving, which was better than she was twelve hours ago. He hoped she wasn't lying about the blood thing.

"Starving, but give me a minute or two to dry my hair a little."

"No problem." He walked with her into the bathroom and pulled the dryer out of the cabinet. "You look like you're feeling better." The deathly pale that had usurped her complexion had dissipated. Maybe it was still the glow from her thirty-minute shower, but her face had color again.

"Like a new woman." She smiled. "Even though I have some aches and pains, I found a couple of Motrin in the cabinet after my shower, and now I'm good to go. But a little shaky."

Her hair flew all around her as the dryer did its job, before she pulled it into a braid.

"You probably need something to eat. I cooked some eggs when I heard the shower go on, but put them in the warming drawer. Which is good, since you were in there pretty much forever. Are you up for that and some coffee?"

"Sounds wonderful."

"Do you want to eat in the kitchen, or do you want me to bring it in here?"

"Kitchen. I'm moving kind of slow, so it might take me some time to get there."

After he helped her onto one of the stools aligning his kitchen counter, he pulled both their plates from the warming drawer, put some English muffins in the toaster, poured coffee into two large cups, and placed them on the counter between them.

"I'm curious. How did you end up at the CIA?"