Only she could have gotten herself into this sort of trouble. A fluctuating shower temperature. An old malfunctioning relationship turned on its head, then turned anew. Flying across the country, and back, and sleeping and screwing in the bed of her ex-lover. Then current lover.

The current catastrophe with Beth . . .

No matter what, and how far she got into the weeds, when she found the path again, it always led back to that same conclusion. Beth, kidnapped. Beth, hours away from spending her life—however short they’d make it—as a sex slave.

Beth wouldn’t have the choice that Holly had made hours before. And she wouldn’t have the choice to get up out of the bed and walk away. Walk as far away as she’d like. Holly made the choice to do it for her, while she still could.

Under the cover of darkness, and under the deep drone of Logan’s snoring, she dressed silently and then snuck out of his bedroom, tiptoeing toward the door. She spent almost a minute in the hallway making sure the door closed as slowly and quietly as possible. Alone in the hall, feeling finally truly alone, she took one big breath and then set out on her way. Out into the early morning darkness.

The nights with Logan had been wonderful. The sex incredible. The possibilities endless. But she was finished waiting for help. She’d gotten herself into trouble in the past, doing things her own way. But it was also her only way to get out of trouble, too.

If she was going to sneak away from Logan, it would have to be while he was asleep. The sex helped that, of course. And God, she’d enjoyed it, too, despite the lingering guilt about her leaving. Her love for him was real. That was one sure thing. But so was the need for her to get moving on helping Beth.

She only hoped that Logan could understand.

Like everything else she tried proposing to him last night: If he loved her, he would understand why she had to do this.

* * *

Rachel opened the door, wide-eyed. Almost looking scared to see an old friend on her doorstep.

Were they even friends anymore?

Rachel smiled. “Holly, you’re such a fucking nutjob.”

Yep. They were still friends.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you,” Holly said, walking into her old college friend’s house. “I know it’s been . . . a while.”

“How did you even find me?”

“Take a guess,” Holly said.

“I’m guessing it’s the same reason why you’re in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble?” Holy said, trying on her best innocent smile.

“Of course you’re in trouble. The sun’s not even up yet.” Rachel showed her down the hall into her living room. “So who did you hack this time? The Federal Reserve?”

“No . . .”

“Was it activism or straight up criminality? Aren’t you with the CIA?” Rachel slapped her forehead. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Stop, it’s not that.” Holly looked back out the screen door, checking both ends of the street. Everything seemed quiet so far. “I just have to . . . I, uh . . .”

“You have to use my tech because you don’t want this traced back to you?”

“What tech?” Holly laughed. “You finally got some tech?”

“What do you need?”

“Your brain, your openness to ideas, and conspiracy theories.”

“Jesus, so it’s that bad, huh?” Rachel walked to the kitchen. “Let me get some coffee going.”

Rachel came back with the French press and Holly filled her in with the G-rated version of the current events, just enough for her to know the situation. There was no way she was putting anyone else in danger. Though, Holly supposed, she’d put Rachel in a little danger already, coming over like this. She would have to be brief, use her system, get in and out. Holly couldn’t help the odd look on her face.

The wide-eyed expression was back on Rachel’s face. “What? What is it?”

“I won’t lie,” Holly said, “Part of the reason for this, too, is because I always knew you to be a card-carrying NRA member.”

“Oh,” Rachel said with a laugh. “So it’s that kind of tech you want.”

“I figured you’d be carrying a lot more than a card.”

Rachel’s face went blank. “You seriously came to borrow a gun?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding,” Holly said, not really kidding at all.

After a pot of coffee and catching up, Rachel showed her to the work station. It wasn’t anything fancy, certainly nothing like the CIA or the wonders she’d witnessed at the DARC headquarters, but she’d be able to make do.

She took a USB stick out of her pocket and said, “May I?”

It reminded her slightly of the last night with Logan, only putting in the USB stick was far less exhilarating. She wondered for a moment about him, feeling terrible again. He would wake up to her empty space next to him. It wouldn’t be a nice way to start the day, especially after all the fun they’d just had. And especially after the words they’d shared. She could only hope that he would understand when everything was said and done.

She would do what she had to do to save Beth. And then he would understand.

Holly thanked her friend and then got to work on the file. With Rachel’s systems and her access, she knew she could make something passable. It didn’t have to be perfect, just enough to fool the virus and see what it really did.

“It’s all good,” Rachel said. “I’m planning on moving and changing careers soon, so . . .”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sure I’ll be accessory to something.”

“Accessory to rescuing my cousin,” Holly said.

“The sounds a lot better,” she said. “I’ll put on another pot of coffee.” She walked out of the room and left Holly to her work.

Holly was suddenly very glad to be alone, because what she saw on the screen disturbed her to her core. She blinked hard and looked again, trying to wipe away the blurriness of fatigue. The virus was trying to slice through the database, looking for records on undercover agents working in Russia—an NOC list.

Her first instinct was to get in touch with Tansy.

And then a stronger instinct. Logan.

While she was lost in thought, Holly’s phone vibrated on the table next to her keyboard.

An unfamiliar number.

Holly answered it, her eyes almost squinting shut as she winced and waited and hoped for the best. Please don’t let it be Andrei.

“Hello, Holly.”

His voice felt like a spider crawling around in her ear.

“It’s your friend, Andrei.”

No, a spider bite, stinging and burning.

“I’m not very happy.”

Holly tried saying something, but her voice croaked to silence.

“I’m sure you can understand why,” Andrei said.

She tried again. “What the hell do you want?”

“We’re moving up the deadline,” he said. “If you don’t meet me in Gary Johnson’s office in thirty minutes, then you can forget about everything. Including poor little Beth.”

Click.

Holly waited at the desk with the phone still held to her ear. From the kitchen, she could hear the kettle begin to whisper, then whine, then scream.