CHAPTER 14
It seemed a little odd that in a place this big, Cecily would have to share a room, but she wasn’t about to question the decision. You get too many unusual things together, and maybe they stop seeming so unusual.
If that was really true, Cecily was having the most normal day of her life.
Besides, Missy’s room was fabulous. It was a huge space, with lavender curtains and big, bright windows overlooking a patio space landscaped with orange-and-yellow striped tulips. The closet door was open, and Cecily caught a glimpse of several other jumpsuits on hangers, a pair of Missy-size shitkicker boots on the closet floor and one royal-blue party dress encased in a plastic garment bag along with a pair of pumps with kitten heels dyed the same color and embroidered with flowers. What appeared to be a crossbow was perched in one corner, and some sort of samurai sword hung on the wall. Before Shane, Cecily might have assumed they were props—fakes—but, oh, what a difference a simple little road trip with a mercenary could make.
“I’m guessing you have good hand-eye coordination,” Cecily said.
“Excellent,” Missy replied.
A gallery wall on the right was covered with photos, a mix of tacked-on snapshots and mounted photos in mismatched frames. Two long shelves were nailed into the wall above a one-tier bookshelf. The first shelf held a massive row of cigarettes and cigars, every single one a different brand. The second shelf was full of repurposed pharmacy bottles, each one carefully labeled with a code number instead of a name, holding just a few tablets or a small amount of liquid. There were also tiny boxes full of powders and herbs—Chinese medicine?
The bookshelf anchoring the bottom of the wall was packed with liquor, organized into an artistic display by color rather than kind, most of the bottles local artisanal brands with labels like Brooklyn Distillery covered in the spidery black ink of limited-edition production numbers.
On the other side of the room was clearly Missy’s queen-size bed, with a generous amount of space separating it from a twin-size bed, beside which stood Cecily’s suitcase. At one point she’d apparently purchased for herself one of those bed-in-a-bag sets in purple watercolors. The girlie effect was slightly marred by the addition of a square of wooly brown that was either a horse cover or a military blanket with some stenciled numbers and letters. It was folded carefully in half atop the crisply made bed.
The twin was made up with plain beige sheets, the kind of sheets you keep around as spares when you live in a place with lots of guys who probably don’t want to sleep in a bed full of purple flowers. On top of the sheets sat a Bankers Box.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stick me somewhere else and keep your privacy?” Cecily asked.
Missy shrugged. “I’m the only girl for miles; I’ve been looking forward to this. Besides, it’ll make Dex feel better.”
“I don’t think anybody could get past security here,” Cecily said. “I’m about as safe as I’ve ever been.”
“Now that you’re inside the Armory, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Missy said. “But as you’ve figured out, it’s easy to get lost. Easier to show you the ropes if you’re here with me.” She paused and then said, “You know about James now. Are you worried you’re not safe?”
Cecily hadn’t had enough time with the new information to process everything she was feeling, but she didn’t feel unsafe. Not here, not now. Not behind these walls. “Yes and no. I hope I never hear from him again. And given how many times he told me he could do better, it’s a reasonable hope that I won’t.” She didn’t mention how, when James got really angry, he’d make crazy threats. But that was before he knew she knew about him. Before she knew he was a Russian spy hoping to get info through her about Dex and the Hudson Kings, she thought he was just a possessive boyfriend. He didn’t know that she knew more. He didn’t know that she was at the Armory. He didn’t know that Dex and his friends had put all the pieces together. God, this was insane. The more distance she put between herself and James, the more she realized how little substance their relationship had ever had.
Missy nodded and started unpacking the box atop the spare bed. “Here’s your new phone. Some toiletries, just in case. A pair of unused but gently washed pj’s I got for Christmas last year from one of the guys, who apparently thinks every human being is at least five six and that I’m the equivalent of a thirteen-year-old boy.” She sighed and muttered, “Story of my life. If any of these guys ever bothered to try and take my clothes off, they’d know better.”
Cecily laughed and picked up the flannel pajamas. Little monkeys. Little monkeys all wearing different hats. “These are really, really bad,” she said. “Particularly as a present from a hot guy.”
Missy’s smile lit up her face. “You so get me.” She stuck out her hand. “Welcome to the Armory, Cecily Keegan!”
Cecily shook Missy’s hand. Things were definitely looking up. She’d still see Shane here at the Armory. She could look after her brother. She had a new friend.
“Oh, shit,” Missy said in mock horror. “Don’t cry on me. I don’t know what to do with that.” She paused and then added, “Which might have something to do with why I’ve got thirteen-year-old-boy pajamas.”
Cecily kept her warm-happy to herself and turned on the phone. “Already charged. You think of everything.”
Missy smiled. “Of course. Everything’s already been transferred. You’re good to go.”
“Thanks.” Cecily looked at the voice mail list and her blood temperature dropped a couple of degrees. James was listed over and over and over. He’d been calling her all this time—even though he had to figure she wasn’t getting the messages yet because he’d disabled her phone himself. Thinking of James at that level of desperation made Cecily queasy.
Missy was studying her face. “I’ll make you a drink. You put it on speakerphone, and we’ll listen together,” she said. “What’s your poison?”
“Is it all hard liquor? That’s a little intense for day,” Cecily said.
Missy looked over her shoulder. “Whatever you want.”
“Red wine? Merlot, if you have it.”
“I have everything.” Missy pulled a bottle from a closet Cecily had assumed held clothes. Of course, nobody needed as many closets as Missy had for clothes. They settled in on the couch set up in the middle of the room on an area rug with a small coffee table, which gave the effect of a comfortable lounge. Cecily pushed “Play” for each message left on her phone since the day she’d met Shane, and they listened together while Cecily drank wine and Missy sipped something from a shot glass that smelled hard-core strong.
When the messages ended, Cecily took back her phone, her cheeks flaming and her heart beating in all the wrong ways. The messages were obviously all made at a time when he still thought he had a chance to get her back, before she learned the truth. Listening to his lies now, the false charm in his voice was chilling.
“Well,” Missy said. “Several recurring themes. There’s ‘I love you, I adore you, I’m sorry, I suck,’ and then there’s ‘I’m working on myself, I’m fixing myself, I’ll do better, come back . . . ’” Missy paused and looked up at Cecily for a minute, like she was taking her pulse, and then finished with “And then there’s ‘I’ll come find you, we’ll talk, don’t leave me, you can’t leave me.’ He sounds . . . persistent.”
“He knows Dex lives in New York. He doesn’t like to lose. Oh, god. So many times I wondered if I should break up with him, but I never did. I think I was waiting for him to do it, and then I couldn’t wait anymore. I made myself such an easy mark,” Cecily said, wishing she could close her eyes and make this all go away, wishing she hadn’t been so stupid, hadn’t been so superficial. The more she had time to think about it, the more surprised she was by how easily James had taken her for a ride, and how easily she’d bought what he was selling.
Now, safe in the Armory with an increasing amount of distance between her new life and the one she’d shared with James, Cecily started worrying more than ever. She’d been naïve to think she could just walk away from a personality like that. And now she knew he also had an agenda. If he knew she’d discovered the truth, would he leave it at that? Or would he try even harder? The possibility that she was still on his radar . . . might stay on his radar indefinitely . . .
She covered her mouth with trembling fingertips, walking backward until her legs hit the bed, and then she sat down and took a gulp of wine. “Thank god he doesn’t know where I am.”
“We’ll get him before he gets you,” Missy said, getting up and moving one of the bottles so that the colors coordinated better.
Cecily stared at her. The girl was serious. How was this all happening? How did Dex find these people? “My brother never started a fight in his life,” Cecily said with a nervous laugh.
Missy raised an eyebrow. “I think we might know different versions of your brother. Besides, it’s not just Dex alone. He’s got a pack of brothers who’d be happy to throw punches at his side on your behalf.”
“I just got here!” Cecily said, unsure whether she was more unsettled by the idea of her couch potato brother turned into a fighting machine or by the idea that men she didn’t know would go after James on her behalf.
Missy echoed her thoughts when she said, “That’s just what we do. We’re in it together, Cecily. Get used to it. It’s one of the things I love best about being here. Knowing that there’s a family that’s going to look out for me as much as I’m going to look out for them.”
Cecily wanted to ask Missy about her brother, but she didn’t want to give Shane’s confidence away.
A knock on Missy’s door killed the opportunity anyway. Since the door was already opened, a head peeked round the corner. “Heading over. You coming?”
Missy looked at the time on her phone and grimaced. “Should’ve been there to help set up.” She stuffed the phone in her back pocket and headed for the door. “Rothgar’s going to want a debrief of your time with James. And your messages. There might be some good clues. Can I set that up?”
“Anything that helps give James what he’s got coming, I’m cool with,” Cecily said.
“Back in a bit, then. Make yourself at home. Oh. Not the second shelf, though, right?”
Cecily smiled at Missy, and the redhead disappeared out the door. She was alone in the room.
She pulled Bun-Bun out of her purse and stuck him on the bed. Then she picked up her phone, made herself comfortable next to him, and checked her e-mail. A massive column of e-mails from James. That sick feeling in her stomach returned as she skimmed through the same variations of the phone calls. Some just said, “Please call me.” As if he didn’t remember he’d messed with her phone.
And then something that gave her even more pause.
A small group of e-mails that weren’t from James. They weren’t unread. Stuff from a college friend, a reminder to pay for something she’d bought, an inquiry about freelance opportunities. It could be anything. Something that happened accidentally while Missy was setting her up with a new phone. But Cecily couldn’t shake the fear that James had been reading her e-mail while she was with Shane. And judging by the dates, he might still be doing it now.