41
“Right on time,” Sharp says, then he turns to Miles. “That’s one benefit of military school, I guess.”
Oh God, maybe he did know about Sharp?
It takes everything in me not to shout out loud to Miles. Even without him looking at me, I can see the command in his eyes, the thoughts in his head. Stay calm. Don’t give me away.
But did you give me away? Did you just hand me over to Sharp, knowing he was in Jack’s group?
My dad doesn’t hear or see this at all. He looks at Miles, his face twisted in anger. “You’re working with these guys?”
Miles looks at him and shrugs. “You’re the one who told me you don’t work with outsiders. Sounds like that rule should have stayed true.”
Even I react at the venom in Miles’s voice—it feels so real.
The office door opens and Bruno exits. His arms are filled with stacks of hundred-dollar bills bound with twine. “Thirty-five bank withdrawals, but I think we’ve got it all.”
“Good,” Sharp tells him. “Because thanks to Miss Informant, we’ve got to split sooner than planned.”
“You sure the security override worked?” Bruno asks Miles. “All this money coming out of the bank will have the Feds on alert.”
“Hear any sirens?” Miles snaps at him. “If you do, I’m sure it’s because your idiot criminal family can’t walk into a bank without setting off alarms.”
I look from Bruno to Miles to Sharp, trying to figure out what each knows about the other. Sharp doesn’t appear to be aware of Miles and me knowing each other. Which means he likely doesn’t know about Miles’s semester at Holden.
“All right, boys,” Sharp warns. “Play nice.”
“I didn’t sign up for this,” Miles tells him, gesturing a hand toward Bruno and Faustino. “I was told I’d work with respectable government agents, not mobsters.”
Sharp is now busy counting a stack of bills. “And I wasn’t informed of what a pretentious, entitled kid I’d be forced to partner with, but we can’t always have our way, can we?”
“Why are you working with us now?” Miles asks Sharp. “What happened to Lewis?”
“Dead,” Sharp says, his tone flat. “He was about to run—scared of those idiots apparently.” He nods toward Bruno and Faustino. “I couldn’t let him take off with all that information.”
If this shocks Miles, he hides it well, taking a moment to scrutinize Sharp as if trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth.
But this might mean that he didn’t know about Sharp. If only I’d talked to Bret more; he knew about Sharp. We could have put things together sooner. My stomach churns with regret.
For several minutes, Sharp talks all of them through plans on moving the money silently, getting out of New York separately and without leaving a trail.
Dad takes advantage of this meeting and leans in close to me again. “Got any hairpins? A pen?”
I shake my head. “They have guns, Dad. You can’t just pick a lock and escape.”
He’s silent for a moment, and then he speaks in a different tone, a sad one. “Was it Harper? You think I should have gone after her? Is that why you wanted me…” But he doesn’t finish.
There are no words that will make my betrayal any better, and I can’t tell him I’d do it differently. New York, yes, but Charleston? I’m not sure. He did turn his back on Harper all those years ago. He took her from me, and I wanted her back. But I should have just asked. Should have trusted that he knew I needed my sister and he’d let me go.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. Then I say, louder, to Sharp, “You’re wrong about me. Being invisible. What about Holden? They know me; they know where I’m at. They’re going to look for me, and unless you’ve cleaned up perfectly, all roads will lead back to—”
“True, true.” Sharp nods. “And they’ll uncover the truth. That you vanished with the mysterious boy who’s been lurking around the hotel. Your teacher even spotted him calling your name the other day. Oscar, I think?”
Color drains from Dad’s face. I know what he’s thinking: He sent Oscar to that hotel to follow me. And this is a side of my dad I’ve never seen before—worried about me, worried for my life. It’s so big it overpowers the hurt I saw moments ago.
“Five hundred thousand,” Bruno says to Sharp.
“Should have been a million,” Sharp tells him, then shoots me a look. “But it’s good enough to grow. Overseas, of course.”
“That’s my area of expertise,” Miles says. “Want me to get started on that?”
“Hold your horses, rookie.” Sharp lifts a hand. Then he nods in the direction of Dad and me. “First order of business…”
He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to. The lighting is dim in this room, but I swear I see Miles go pale. Dad shifts even closer to me, his side brushing mine. A gun lifts, the barrel aimed at Dad or me, it’s hard to tell. But it’s all familiar, too familiar.
Except this time, instead of sitting beside me, Miles is the one pointing a gun at me.
“Doing okay?” Sharp says, taunting Miles. “You know there is nothing I love more than a straight-as-an-arrow CIA operative with a kid willing to wade in the murky water. Especially one from Marshall Academy. But time is money, kid, prove you’re worth the trouble.”
“Wait,” Dad pleads. “Ellie will give you her word; she won’t speak of any of this to anyone. Just let her go.”
Sharp attempts a sympathetic look. “It’s hard for me, too. I like her. Most of the agents in my organization feel the same way. But it’s too messy, letting her back out into the world.” Sharp spins to face Miles. “Him first. The save-my-daughter plea is getting to me.”
Dad swallows, tugs pointlessly at his hands cuffed around the wooden beam. “Ellie…”
“I should have trusted you,” I tell him. It feels like I have to.
“I should have told you my plans,” he says. “Should have gone after your sister. Or given her my blessing to leave.”
Miles’s hand is steady on the trigger, but he hesitates. Sharp releases a groan. “Ten seconds, rookie. Or Faust will do the job for you, and that’s not great for your rep.”
My fingers find Dad’s, our pinkies linked together. And I think about Dominic and his family, how little they know their son, how they’ve not taught him anything, how little parenting there is in that relationship. And even though I don’t want my family’s way of life anymore, I can’t say truthfully that my father doesn’t love me, doesn’t know me better than I know myself, because it’s clear on his face, in this air between us.
My eyes meet Miles’s, and I think the words I can’t say aloud. Don’t do it. Let someone else. Not you. Anyone but you.
“Come on, Beckett!” Sharp barks. “Five, four, three…”
Faustino Zanetti raises his gun.
Dad squeezes his eyes shut, squeezes his finger tighter around mine. I stare hard at Miles, my insides frozen. Then I watch his gaze flick for a second toward the giant window to my left. My heart gives two quick beats. Miles’s finger presses against the trigger. A shadow falls over the window, and suddenly two black shoe soles appear. I suck in a breath.
“Now!” Sharp shouts at Faustino.
Miles’s arm swings right. And he pulls the trigger.