There are dozens of good reasons to hesitate but only one that matters, and it’s Luke. If she proceeds along this path and she’s wrong, she could jeopardize their relationship to Graydon Pharmaceuticals forever. And Graydon has given her boyfriend more than just a sense of belonging. It’s sped him past the trauma he endured in the mountains above their town six months ago. If he loses his connection to it, will nightmares plague him and a sense of constant dread return?

And was that part of Cole’s plan all along? Tie Luke more closely to their operations so he might turn against Charlotte the moment she chose to defy Cole’s authority?

But there’s something else here. A kind of code Cole’s speaking in that’s taking its time to sink in.

You can find forgiveness, too . . .

She knows the real story of what Cole’s father did, and he didn’t find anything close to forgiveness.

Why would he tell her such a transparent lie unless he was trying to send her a message? And what’s the message? Don’t listen? Or at the very least, the people monitoring us, the people who might be solely responsible for this order, can’t be trusted?

She knows it could be wishful thinking, knows she’s looking for any excuse not to quit. She’s never met Cole’s business partners. Doesn’t even know their names, and she prefers it that way, so long as they let her hunt men like Mattingly. But right now, Cole’s frightened, too. Too frightened to speak openly with her on a line of communication his business partners are monitoring. And so, at its most basic level, his code can only mean one thing: Don’t listen to me. Something’s very wrong here.

But if she proceeds with what she’s planning, she’s got more to fear than the wrath of Cole’s partners. She and Luke will lose all contact with Cole’s immense resources. In the past, Bailey’s been able to work miracles for them when they’re in the field, but for the first time he’s laced into the center of Cole’s operations, and now he’s presumably being monitored by the same people monitoring Cole.

Typically, when you’re faced with this many fears at once, it’s hard to decide which one should guide your next steps.

This time it isn’t. There’s something she fears more than squadrons of pursuing helicopters and harsh discipline from her corporate overlords.

She’s afraid of letting someone die a horrible death at the hands of a man like Cyrus Mattingly.

Without another word or some gesture of defiance, she removes both TruGlass lenses and drops them on the floor. Then she takes out her earpiece and sets it next to them. She gently crushes millions of dollars of technology under one bare foot.

With a strength Zypraxon can never give her, she lifts her gaze to Luke.

If he’s surprised, he’s managing to hide it, but for an awful moment, he doesn’t move, and she’s afraid he’ll either refuse to join her or suggest they part ways, a delaying tactic for the former.

Then, with a small, satisfied smile that can only mean he’s impressed by her bravery, Luke removes his lenses and his earpiece and hands them to her.

“You really are something, Charley Rowe.”

16

Lebanon, Kansas

In the minute after Charlotte and Luke’s TruGlass feeds went dark, things got so quiet inside Kansas Command that Cole was sure he could hear little shifts in the walls of earth surrounding the bunker. Then came a jarring sound that reminded him of the noise Cyrus Mattingly’s wicked device made as it toppled. Only much louder and right behind him.

When Noah picks up the folding chair a second time and slams it into the wall again, Cole is stunned silent. He didn’t think the man capable of such a tantrum.

Before Cole can say a word, Scott Durham and several members of the security team are racing toward Noah like Black Friday shoppers through the just opened entrance to a Best Buy.

Noah’s expecting them, hands up, unwilling to fight. But Cole doubts his anger’s been purged entirely.

“Take him to his room and keep him there,” Cole says.

“On it,” Scott answers.

When the men seize him, Noah makes eye contact with Cole. “Coward!” he shouts as he’s led away. “Coward!”

With a dismissive wave, Cole turns his back.

He expected Noah to indict his character over this, but chair throwing—that’s new.

Noah’s loss.

Noah’s the one who just deprived himself of the opportunity to see what Cole plans to do now. Or what he doesn’t plan to do.

17

Off Highway 287

Luke’s right.

If they’re going to talk strategy, they have to leave the truck, even if it means losing sight and sound on Mattingly for a minute. They’ve got no idea how many cameras and microphones Cole’s people have planted inside of the thing, and trying to find them all, if they can even be found, would eat up precious time.

After she checks their captive’s restraints again, Charlotte follows Luke out the cargo door he left open. She tries for a ginger little jump, but she still lands with enough force to punch holes deep into the dirt with her bare feet. Luke leads her into the shadows far from the truck and a good distance from where he parked the Escalade. If Kansas Command can hear them this far from the SUV and the truck, then there’s no hope of secrecy and their only choice is to work against the clock.

“What do you think their response time is?” he asks.

“Depends on if they kept their word and didn’t have a team following us. Did you see anyone?”

“No one, but they could be good. I don’t know.”

“What’s the flight time between here and Kansas Command?” she asks.

“Maybe two hours by Black Hawk, two and a half.”

“How much time do we need?” she asks.

Luke pulls the stopwatch from inside of his shirt, shows her the screen.

Two hours, thirty-six minutes left on the clock.

“It’s not enough,” Luke says after she’s taken the number in.

“Not enough what?”

“To get to Amarillo.”

“What’s in Amarillo?” she asks.

“It’s where Mattingly was headed, according to Bailey.”

So that explains the look he gave her when she asked him if he’d talked to anyone during his drive.

“And how does Bailey know this?” she asks.

“He was speaking in code, and it’s not like I can ask him now, no offense.”

“There was no other way.”

“Not objecting, promise. Just pointing out that if this does take us to Amarillo, we might be out of the trigger window by the time we get there, and whatever we do, we’ll have to do it without Zypraxon.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” she says, “and it might not come to that.”

“How?”

“Cole might remote dose me.”

The last time Luke just stared at her like this was when she suggested they might be able to repaint the entire living room in just an afternoon. Without Zypraxon.

“Seriously?” he finally asks.

“Well, he won’t want me to die. I’m still the only test subject he has.”

“Or he might try to intercept us, especially if he knows where the truck was going.”