42
The shot rings loud in my ears. Glass shatters everywhere. A second shot follows. Then a third. A sob builds in the back of my throat, but I quickly realize that Dad is still squeezing my finger, still very much alive. Faustino Zanetti falls to the ground. Agent Sharp clutches his chest and falls over the chair, his body landing less than five feet from me. And Bruno’s back hits the wall and he slumps over. Miles shot one of them but what about the other two? Why are they down? How—the ringing in my ears feels like an object between me and the rest of the room. I blink. Shake my head. Then Miles sinks to his knees in front of me, sets his gun on the floor, his hands now trembling as they fumble with the cuffs linking my wrists together.
Seconds later, the metal gives, freeing my hands. The cuffs clank to the floor. I’m not sure if he grabs me first or I fall in to him first. Or we both move in synch, but before I can even take a breath, I’m clutching Miles, tears streaming down my cheeks, his face buried in my hair.
“I’m sorry, Ellie, I’m so sorry. I swear to God, I didn’t know about Sharp. I didn’t know,” he murmurs. “That was too close.”
“You didn’t know, either?” I ask, though it’s not really a question. I believe him. “But who shot…I mean how…”
Briefly, I glance behind Miles, watch Agent Beckett Senior shake off shards of glass. Okay, that’s who shot the other two. The black shoe soles against the window.
My knees dig into the hard floors, but I don’t move to sit or stand. Instead, I pull back enough to look at Miles’s face, to take in his now-haunted eyes. I lay my hands on his cheeks, steering his eyes to meet mine. Then I take in the body lying not far from us. This one dead by Miles’s hand. When I turn back to him, he’s pale.
“Hey…are you okay?” I ask him.
“I couldn’t do it,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t shoot all of them at the same time and that meant one of them might—”
He stops short and buries his face in my hair again. And I remember what Clyde said, that night in the cabin with Jack—you’re just a boy; you aren’t ready to kill someone—and wonder if he was right. If he’s still right.
“It was self-defense, Miles,” I say, hoping to reassure him.
He lifts his head, draws in a breath, and nods. “I know.”
His warm fingers slide across my cheeks, drawing me closer. His mouth meets mine, and we’re both a hundred miles away, alone in our own universe.
I hear someone clear his throat, and the moment bursts. Miles and I break apart, him climbing to his feet then holding out a hand to me.
“So I’m a little confused.” Considering my dad has never seen anyone shot before, he’s putting on a stellar performance of acting calm. “How do you two know each other?”
One look at my dad, and the fear and loss from only moments ago returns, and I’m fighting tears all over again. I squat down in front of him, attempting to unlock the cuffs, but footsteps sound behind me, and a hand touches my wrist, stopping me.
“No, Ellie,” Agent Beckett Senior says.
There is a hint of regret in his voice but also a firmness, reminding me that orders from a CIA operative are to be followed. He moves toward Miles, grips his shoulder, and silent words seem to flow between them before he says to Miles, “You did what you had to. You’ll be okay.”
And even I can see how much those words help Miles; the color returns to his face and he offers a firm nod.
“Eleanor,” Agent Beckett says, turning to me again. “In a few minutes, a team of agents will arrive, and it’s imperative that you aren’t here when they do. We’re still overturning names of dirty agents in Jack’s rogue group, and all of them seem to know you.”
“Me?” I ask stupidly. “Why?”
“It floated around with Jack and then emerged, probably with Sharp’s silent partnership in this job.”
“So you want me to go back to the hotel? With the Holden group?” Suddenly I remember the events before I was brought here to the fake agency. “Sheldon. She’s…she’s dead.”
I never really had an emotional connection to the woman, but seeing her die like that, my throat is thick with unshed tears.
“You can’t go back to the hotel,” Agent Beckett says. “Until they’ve been taken out, you need to lay low. Preferably out of the country.”
“Wait, wh-what?” I sputter, hardly believing this.
“Listen to him,” my dad says, as firmly as Agent Beckett. “He’s telling you that you aren’t safe, that this is going to happen again.”
Agent Beckett nods, a look of respect on his face. Respect for my father the criminal. “Clyde will meet you at JFK with everything you need. Understood?”
I look among my dad, Agent Beckett, and then at Miles. “What about you? They know who you are, too. Aren’t you in danger?”
Miles offers a sad smile. “Always.”
He doesn’t say it. Doesn’t need to. Simon left him a job, and he intends on finishing it. Even without me. My heart breaks into a million pieces, but I don’t let it show. He’s made his choice, and what am I supposed to tell him? It isn’t important? Run away with me? Loyalty is Miles’s middle name.
“Ellie,” he starts, looking as torn as I feel.
But I shake my head. I don’t want to hear it. Not unless it’s him saying he’ll stop this endless fight.
Agent Beckett glances at his son and then says, “We’ll give you a minute with your dad.”
They both disappear into the office, and my dad immediately reverts to his sarcastic self. “Think the Feds will let me share a cell with your mom?”
I expect to feel guilty all over again, sad even, but instead adrenaline rushes through my veins. Adrenaline and a plan. I wait for the office door to close, and then I snatch up as many stacks of bills as I can hold from the floor where Sharp dropped them. I quickly tuck them into my dad’s jeans and then grab the tool Miles used to free me and uncuff my dad. He wordlessly watches me, guessing my plans.
“Go,” I order. “Before I change my mind. Find that judge and get your wife back.”
He’s on his feet in half a second. “You aren’t coming with me?”
“No,” I say, glancing at the office. “I’m following orders. And I can’t tell you what to do or force my new right or wrong on you, Dad, but think about doing something better, something important with your skills.”
He hugs me, plants a kiss on my forehead. “Bye, honey. Be careful.”
“Tell Mom I love her and…” My voice breaks. “That I’m sorry.”
Three minutes later, when Miles and his dad walk out of the office, my eyes are dry and my dad has likely disappeared into a New York City crowd. CIA operative or not, I know better. They won’t catch him. And I doubt Agent Beckett will work too hard trying to, given his speech the other day about me still having time to back out of turning my dad in. I hadn’t wanted to back out then, but now, now everything is different. My dad redeemed himself in my eyes through all his effort to get my mom released. And I redeemed myself for attempting to turn him in by letting him go just now.
We’re even. Squared up in all the ways possible.
“What—” Miles starts when he notices the missing criminal.
Agent Beckett just stares at the spot my dad had occupied and the open handcuffs lying by the wooden beam.
“I turned my back and he was gone,” I say simply, knowing full well Agent Beckett can hear the lie in my voice. “I think he took a pin from my hair when I hugged him.”
“She needs to go,” Miles reminds his dad, worry all over his face again. “Like, thirty seconds ago.”
Agent Beckett shakes his head, hands me a fifty-dollar bill, and points to the door. “Grab a taxi to the airport.”
I chance one more look at Miles, the loss of him doubles, and I can’t bear to get any closer. I say the same words my dad said to me. “Be careful.”
And then I turn my back on him and thunder down the steps, taking them two at a time, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears fall.
Goodbye, Miles, I think, for me. For closure.