Missing (19 page)

Sam stared down at the paper. “You have,” he whispered.

“So let me get you all the way out of it,” Josh murmured. “I don't think you've got a whole lot of other choices right now, man.”

That was all it took: the voice of reason. The voice that uttered the truth. He had no choice. He had to sign in to sign out . . .
out of jail, out of agony, out of the terrifying mess his life had become.
With a trembling hand (he didn't know if that was from trepidation or booze), he picked up the pen and signed his name. Twice. Both in and out of the chem lab, next to the time slots Josh had left open for him. Then he handed Josh the paper.

Miraculously, his hand stopped shaking.

“Thank you, man,” Sam said as Josh stood up above him.

“No sweat, Sam,” Josh replied.

“I owe you one,” Sam said. “Again.”

Josh smiled, folding the paper into a neat square. “I know, dude. But that's cool. I mean, I know you'd help me out. I mean, if I ever needed a favor from you . . . you'd help me out, right?”

“Of course I would,” Sam replied, without a moment's hesitation. But for some reason, that odd sensation was stronger than ever.

 

GAIA AWOKE TO FIND HERSELF LEANING
against the window in the backseat of a car. When she looked to her right, she saw her father, staring out the opposite window as a blur of French architecture flew by outside.

“Hi,” she said sleepily.

Her father's eyes lit up. “Welcome back,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“Ow.”

“Oh. Sorry. Are you all right?”

Gaia considered any number of witty retorts she could make to prove her nonchalance and her maturity . . . but none of them seemed appropriate right now. Her body ached too much. Her mind was
swimming with terrible memories and wondrous relief. So the most mature response was the simplest.

“I'm alive,” she said. “And I'm with you.”

He nodded.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I saw that you weren't in bed, so I asked the concierge. He told me Boulevard St. Germain.” A tired smile crossed his face. “Obviously I
can't
leave you alone for a few hours.”

Gaia laughed. “Guess not.”

“But it looks like I won't have to again,” her father said.

“What do you mean?”

Tom flashed her a grin. “The meeting with that contact . . . Loki's been secured. No technicalities. No escapes. It's official. We can go home.”

Gaia blinked, not comprehending. “You mean New York?”

“New York,” Tom confirmed.

“You and me?” A delicious warmth shot through her body. “To live?”

“To
live,
” he echoed. “I had them pack your things at the hotel. We're on our way to the airport now.”

She smiled. She and her dad. Back in New York. With Sam. With Ed.

It was ...perfect. It simply had no flaws in it whatsoever. It was Gaia's ideal existence. Yes, she'd thought she wanted to live in Paris for the rest of her life, but
her last experience had forced a rather large shift in her perception of the city.
Idealize anything too much and you're bound to be disappointed at some point.
Not that she wouldn't always love Paris, but she could certainly stand to be away from it for a long while. And what better place to be than her other favorite city, with her father, and her lover, and her true friend?

It was her first chance since her mother's death for an actual life. A delightfully simple and unremarkable life.
A home.

Gaia gave her father a nod. “I have no problem with that,” she said.

 

THE PRISON GUARD SLID HIS HEAD
slowly from left to right, ensuring that no other guards or inmates were in sight. He turned at just the angle so that his back obscured the view of the surveillance camera at the end of the long gray hall, and then he slipped Loki a note through the minuscule slot below the window of the solid steel door.

MEMO:

To:
L

From:
BFF

Date:
February 5

File:
776244

Subject:
Gaia Moore

Location:
Boulevard St. Germain

Subject attacked at 4:17 a.m., Paris time. Nearly raped. Eight assailants. Enigma provided combat assistance and rescue. Subject and Enigma worked in tandem to defeat assailants. Eight in police custody. Subject smiled, embraced Enigma, and collapsed. Enigma carried subject to black sedan and departed.

Awaiting further instructions. Please advise.

Loki crumpled the note furiously and dropped it to the floor, staring out the small window of his enormous cell door at that same damn dank gray wall that he'd been staring at for days. His head ached as he imagined Tom and Gaia fighting off a group of thugs in tandem like some damn comic book or cartoon.
A dynamic duo.
How very heroic. How very sickening.

I am the one Gaia should be embracing. Not him. Gaia belongs to me.

Tom might have taken Katia from him, but the chances of his taking Gaia as well were absolutely nil. Loki would see them all dead before he let that happen.

I'll destroy you, Tom,
he swore to himself, pressing his hands to the door.

He knew what was happening. Oh, yes.
He could analyze his own emotions as if he were his own psychiatrist.
The frustration of being locked in purgatory had finally begun to cut through his numb protective shell.

But my vengeance will be pure, brother. I will not make the same mistake twice.

Loki dropped to the floor of his cell and picked up the crumpled memo. He pounded viciously against the door twice, pouring all his frustration into his cold fist.

A pen slipped through the slot.

Grabbing the pen, Loki smoothed out the memo against the door and scrawled his response furiously on the wrinkled paper, dispensing with the formalities. Then he crumpled it again into a minuscule ball and slammed his hand against the door once more, slipping the note and the pen back through the slot.

MEMO: Not another word about their
smiles
or
embraces
or you will be
terminated.
Just confirm that the New York plan is still moving along smoothly.