Chapter Twenty-Five
ANGEL SINCLAIR
I was looking forward to Saturday and our trip into town more than I’d thought I would. I needed a break from all that was UTOP, even if it was for just a little while.
The bus dropped us off on Main Street and the driver told us they’d be back for us in four hours. Frankie and Wally tried to talk me into seeing a movie, but I really wanted some alone time.
When we got off the bus, all of us scattered. The air was cool but not cold. My blue sweater kept me comfortably warm, so I walked around for a while, enjoying the fresh air and figuring out what was available in the town. Virginia’s fall foliage was in full display, in gorgeous shades of red, gold, orange, and brown.
All the buildings were in the colonial style, and I felt like I’d stepped back in time. A pretty redbrick courtyard with benches and a statue of a former local politician completed the look. The courtyard was relatively empty, so I sat on one of the benches and called my mom. We spoke for a good thirty minutes, mostly with me answering her questions the best I could without violating my promise of secrecy regarding the specifics of what I was doing. I promised to call her again soon, and she hung up happy.
I stood and decided to return to a cute little bookstore café I’d seen earlier. A tinkling bell sounded as I opened the door. Books of all shapes and sizes were crammed into heavy wooden shelves and took up nearly every inch of wall space. There was a small fireplace and a couple of warm, cozy armchairs facing it. The entire room smelled like coffee and chocolate. It was fairly crowded, but the line was only three people deep. I stood in line, drooling over the croissants and delicious-looking pastries before making my selection.
“Hot chocolate, large, and a chocolate croissant,” I said when it was my turn. I dug into my purse and suddenly realized I’d forgotten my wallet. I closed my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I forgot my wallet. Please cancel my order.”
“Not necessary,” said the person behind me. It was an elderly gentleman, dressed in a gray sweater and holding a cane. He had twinkling blue eyes. “It’s on me.”
I shook my head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t,” I said.
“You can.” He handed the cashier the money. “I insist. My treat.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” I said. “I really do have money, I just forgot it.”
“It’s no problem.”
The cashier handed me a hot chocolate and a croissant on a plate. I thanked the man once more, and carried my goodies to a small empty table near the fireplace. I’d just sat down and picked up my hot chocolate when Jax stood behind the empty chair at my table holding a cup of coffee.
“Hey, Red. Mind if I join you?”
I almost spilled my drink. Had he just appeared out of thin air? I was pretty sure I would have noticed him before this, but apparently not. That didn’t speak well to my spy abilities. “Um, sure, have a seat. What are you doing her, Jax?”
“The same thing as you.” He slid into the chair and lifted his cup in a mock toast. “But, unlike you, I brought my wallet.”
“So, you saw that?”
“I did.” He grinned, his dark hair windblown and cheeks ruddy. He blew on his coffee and took a sip. “You know, you intrigue me. I can’t figure you out.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a mystery to me.”
That was weird, because I’d thought the same thing about him. But now my curiosity took over. “Why would you want to figure me out?”
“Why? You know why. It’s smart to keep an eye on the competition. There’s just something about you, Red. I can’t put my finger on it, and that bugs me.”
“Maybe you haven’t met anybody who can resist your charm,” I said drily.
“Ah, so you admit I’m charming.”
My cheeks heated. “I’m not admitting anything.” But his smile widened, and I hated that my heart did a little leap.
“So, why didn’t you go to the movies with Wally and Frankie?” he asked.
“How did you know about that?”
He leaned across the table, lowering his voice to a whisper, his face close enough to mine so I could feel his breath against my cheek. “Spy school, remember?”
I rolled my eyes at the dramatic tone of the whisper. “Well, why didn’t you go to the movies?”
“No one asked me.”
“Oh.” I fell quiet. I’d always been on the outside, and now that I wasn’t, I’d forgotten about those who were. I wasn’t sure what that said about me.
He wrapped both hands around the mug, watching me thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you did in the maze. Sacrificing yourself for your friend…that took guts.”
“Not really.”
“Yes, really. Didn’t peg for you that, which is part of your intrigue. You’re not going to quit the trials, are you?”
His question made me wonder why he’d asked. “Why would I quit the trials? I’m not a quitter. They’ll have to boot me out first, which I admit could happen. Are you quitting?”
“No way. I wouldn’t give up. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get kicked out.”
“Why would you get kicked out? You’re probably the best suited of any of us for this kind of work. You don’t seem intimidated by anything.”
“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow. Pushing aside his coffee mug, he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “What else have you noticed about me?”
“You’re not afraid to challenge authority, you’re smart, quick on your feet, and you have a loose code of honor, which is probably a good thing for an operative. You’re also physically fit and not bad-looking, either. Seems a perfect fit for the criteria of an operative to me.”
He laughed. “Really? That’s what you see in me? Most of the other candidates would say I’m a troublemaker.”
“You are. Kind of.” I lifted my hands to soften the blow. “You purposely seem to look for trouble. Why?”
“It isn’t hard to find trouble when you don’t have to go far to get it.” His voice was light, but I could hear something else just below the surface.
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. I think that’s just an excuse. In fact, there’s something about you I can’t put my finger on.” Having played back his own words, I gave him a self-satisfied smile.
He seemed impressed, and his smile widened. “Touché.”
Taking my croissant, I split it in half, handing a part over. It was a peace offering of sorts. “Here, have some.”
He reached out and took it, his warm fingers brushing mine. “Thanks.”
He took a bite, regarded me thoughtfully. “So, you’re good at math, and even better with computers. What else can you do?”
“I like chemistry.” I took my own bite of the croissant and chewed before speaking again. “How about you? Other than math and engineering, what’s your specialty?”
He finished off the croissant. He’d left a little spot of chocolate on his lower lip. Not that I was staring at his mouth or anything.
He looked around the café and then lowered his voice. “My specialty is deception. And because I’m so good at it, I’m also excellent at spotting spot deceivers and liars.”
I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or serious. “That’s definitely a useful skill to have if you want to be an operative.”
“Yes, it is. Let’s just say I have a good understanding of human psychology. Within a minute, I can tell a lot about a person—marital status, occupation, hobbies, desires and needs.”
“That’s a pretty bold claim. You sound like an armchair psychic.”
That made him chuckle. “I can back it up. Let’s take you, Angel Sinclair. Red hair, the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, a cautious nature, and a mind like a steel trap. That’s a lot packed into a small body. You’re a careful observer, but you don’t say much. Add to that, you have unswerving loyalty, naïveté, stubbornness, and a logical perspective on the world. You’ve also got a temper when pushed—the red hair gave that away—and you’re slow to trust.”
“Wow.” I clapped. Definitely an armchair psychic. “Anyone can play that game, Jax. But you get points off because the red-haired claim is stereotypical.”
“Okay, then tell me it’s not true. Just remember, I’m good at spotting liars.”
I pursed my lips at him and stayed silent.
He grinned. “But you…what is it about you, Red?”
“You may not be as good at psychology as you think. I’m an open book.”
“Not completely. I’m exceptionally sensitive to moods, facial expressions, and even mutual feelings of attraction. But there’s a wall around you.”
I let my gaze rise to his, meeting the fiery green of his eyes. “What do you really want from me, Jax?”
He finished his coffee and set down the mug. “I’m not sure yet. But trust me, when I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”