The Operator

“You’re blaming me for this?” she said incredulously, then chuckled when she realized he was trying to be funny. “You are a lying bastard, Jack, and I don’t trust you.”

But she had laughed, and he shrugged, struggling with the cuff pin. “You can’t bring down a drafter without a lot of planning, and they caught us off guard.” His chest hurt, and he gave up on the cuffs, easing the strain on his ribs as he took a break. His thoughts drifted to Peri, and he sighed.

For a moment, Harmony was silent, her eyes flicking to his cuffs. “How long do you think they’ll keep us here?”

He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Until Peri shows. Then they’ll hurt or kill us to make her draft so they can scrub her.”

Harmony eyed him. “You seriously think she’ll show? She hates you. If it were me, I’d be halfway out of the country by now with my sexy psychologist.”

“You think Silas is sexy?” he asked as if affronted. “The man is all brawn and—” He hesitated. “Yeah, okay.”

She laughed, turning to take the cuff pin. In three seconds, it clicked open. Relieved, he took the cuffs off, biting his tongue when Harmony tucked them in her pocket along with the key. “She’ll show,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. “If only to kill me, she’ll show.”

And that, of course, was why Bill had stuck him here instead of killing him outright. His only hope now was to convince Harmony he’d done it for Peri. For love.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The soft alert ding from her car was as subtle as the predawn morning light, but it rang through Peri like a shot, jolting the mild highway hypnosis from her in a spark of adrenaline. Silas was asleep against the door, never having heard it. The last of the stars were fading in front of her, and she was beginning to smell salt. A steady hum from the engine had her in a light, meditative state, and she hadn’t even noticed when the GPS system had flicked on the car’s front display. But there it was, a bright pink line superimposed on the map to Newport.

“Prepare to exit right in one mile,” her car said, the male voice soothing in its proper British accent.

I didn’t set the GPS. Peri frowned, then hit a few buttons to pull the display back and see that her car wanted her to exit onto Gilbert Stuart Road instead of continuing on 138. ETA was eight minutes, but it looked like it ended at the middle of a wetland and nowhere near Newport. Concerned, she reached out and nudged Silas.

His soft groan was achingly familiar, and he stretched, his long legs jerking back when they hit the underside of the dash. “How close are we?” he asked, peering at the predawn sky, and then his watch. “I told you I’d drive the last leg.”

“Did you set the GPS?” she asked, pointing it out with her chin.

Silas exhaled heavily, still not fully awake. “No.” Thick finger extended, he toggled through the touch screen to find the destination. “And again no. Where the blazes is Nokewa?”

Lips pressed together, she drove past the exit. Her computer told her it would recalculate, and the screen shifted to show her getting off at the next exit.

Silas ran a hand over his sleep-mussed hair. “I thought this was an unregistered car.”

“It is,” she said, then jumped as her phone rang. Uneasy, she looked at the screen. The number was coming from . . . Uruguay? Clearly it was being rerouted to hide its location.

“You going to get that?”

“Reeves. Answer the phone,” she said loudly, and when nothing happened, she said it again, this time using a fake accent. “Reeves. Answer the phone.”

This time it worked, and her grip on the wheel tensed. “Hello?”

“Peri Reed?” a woman said, the sound of wind and ducks behind her.

Shit. “Sorry. Wrong number.” Peri reached for the disengage button.

“This is Helen Yeomon. Bill works for me,” the woman said, and Peri jerked her fingers back. “I’ve heard you’re wanting out and not averse to causing a significant amount of damage to achieve it. Would you be available to talk with me about it?”

His head going back and forth, Silas touched her knee.

“I’m not coming back,” Peri said, her voice holding all her determination.

“That’s why I want to meet,” the woman said. “I’m loath to lose you, but I understand that when it’s time, it’s time, and perhaps after we talk, I’ll be better able to convince Bill that this is the right direction for everyone. Do you have the morning free?”

Do I have the morning free? She looked at Silas in disbelief, but he was pointing at the screen. They’d found her car. Set her GPS. They couldn’t gain control of her vehicle, but clearly they knew where she was. “You want me to follow your bread crumbs so you can bury me in a salt marsh?” she said, sifting through the options. “Not a high enough payout for so great a risk.”

“Risk?” Helen made a disparaging noise. “If you want to risk Bill sticking his nose into it, we can meet at my office. I thought you’d prefer open space and many exits. Bill is unaware I’m meeting with you today, and I promise to keep it that way.”

But a marsh, a true marsh, wasn’t open or easy to exit. And still, even as she thought it, the curiosity wound through her. Hesitating, she looked at Silas for his opinion.

“We should stash the Evocane,” he mouthed, and she held down the toggle that would normally put her flashers on. The car’s onboard monitor whined, lifted, and slid back to show the car safe. Silas turned awkwardly in his seat to open the through-hatch to the trunk, pulling her short-job bag forward and onto his lap. There were only four doses left now, after she’d shot up last night at a rest stop.