The Operator

Nodding, she drifted back, her fingers lingering on his until the last moment. She hadn’t pulled away first, and his heart ached.

Harmony had come forward and was tugging at Peri’s elbow. “Now,” she said tightly, and Peri looped her arm in hers, giving Silas a last look before turning and vanishing into the crowd.

Slowly Silas sat back down, calling himself a fool as he dropped his empty paper cup into hers. A couple pressed close, wanting his table, and he ignored them, jealous of their boring life, even if it came with cheap knockoff shoes and polyester suits. He’d lost her once. He’d do almost anything to keep her safe. Anything. And he’d just given her poison.

The couple inching closer protested as three men in identical suits pushed them back. Silas looked up, not surprised when three more flowed past him into Sim’s Mules. Steiner was right behind them, his pale face spotted red with cold as he halted before Silas.

“Where is she?” Steiner demanded, eyes on the two cups.

The couple fled. Silas put the flats of his arms on the cold cement table and leaned in, casually playing with the two nested cups. She had a thirty-second head start. He could buy her a few minutes more. “Who?”

Steiner gestured, and Silas jerked when one of the agents grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to his feet. People scattered, but the band was loud enough that they were hardly getting noticed. “Hey! Watch it!” Silas complained, shaking the cold coffee from his hand as Steiner’s face went red under his graying hair.

“I ask again, Denier,” Steiner intoned, standing too close with his agents hemming Silas in from behind. “You left Atlanta. Came here to meet her. Where is she?”

Silas tried not to smirk. He didn’t want to lose his lab access, after all. “Probably her old apartment two blocks over on Wright Avenue, seeing as I gave her the key,” he ad-libbed. “Harmony is with her of her free will. Neither one of them look fond of red tape. You might consider backing off and letting them do their job.”

Motion brusque, Steiner motioned for someone to frisk him. “What’s at her apartment?”

Arms out, Silas shook off the heavy hands, not liking the attention. “Besides memories?” he said as he fixed his coat. “Weapons, so be careful if you’re going to follow her there.”

“Then maybe we should put you at the front door.”

Shrugging, Silas started into motion, heading for the nearby street and the two black cars parked illegally at the curb. He could slow things down while still being cooperative. “Sure. I’ve done that before. I want a vest,” he said, knowing it would take some time to find one that fit him, and since he asked, they had to comply. Peri wouldn’t mind his showing them the apartment, seeing as she hadn’t lived in it for a year and it was likely occupied by someone else. Besides, the distraction of going through it might give her an entire day before they found her.

“Get him in the car,” Steiner demanded, and someone shoved him.

Silas caught his balance, careful to keep his eyes down and not looking for Peri. She might be gone, or she might be on a roof watching them. He didn’t want to give her away if it was the latter. He was confident the last place she’d be was her old apartment.

She’d left everything of her past behind, including him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Peri? We’re almost there.”

Harmony’s soft voice shocked through Peri. Her doze shredded with the jagged realization that she’d forgotten Harmony was driving the car—not Jack. That she’d nodded off at all was disturbing. But then again, she’d not had a chance to sleep for a while.

“Sorry,” Harmony said, and Peri took her hand off her coat’s pocket and the three pens of Evocane there. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Peri lied. “I forgot that it was you driving, not Jack.”

Harmony’s hands tightened on the wheel. The car still smelled like fast-food chicken, and with four empty coffee cups in the console, she wasn’t surprised at the faint need to use the bathroom. The bright center of Detroit was behind them, leaving only the grittier outskirts where old city sprawl met decayed suburbs. Having sacrificed the edges to save the center, Detroit had left thousands to fend for themselves or move inward. It always surprised Peri how many chose the former, fearing they’d be taken advantage of or believing if they stuck it out, their property values would again rise.

Not likely, she thought as she wiggled her feet back into her new boots before pulling her WEFT-supplied jacket tighter about her shoulders. Detroit was currently balanced with high profit. The few areas left to themselves due to politicking and corruption lingered, attracting gangs and low-end drugs.

Get in. Find Michael and Allen. Kill Michael—not Allen. Get out. Easy peasy. But a slight, unusual tremor shook her hands. With it was a rising need to do something, an itch very akin to the sensation of adrenaline crawling along her synapses. The feeling was familiar—she tasted it every time she went out on task. This time, though, it hurt, the ache reaching to the pit of her belly and cutting like a knife. Nausea oozed in behind it, and her legs hurt, as if she’d had a fever. It was a warning: withdrawal.

Her heart gave a pound, and her fingers stretched, touching her pocket again as she recalled Silas’s worry when he gave her the Evocane. His expression was nothing new. She’d seen it a hundred times before. But now, with the thoughts of their last year at Opti training ringing through her, that same look held new meaning. He’d loved her then. He loved her now. Seeing her younger self care for him, try to pull him from his depression and guilt . . . the lure to find some happiness with him was frighteningly strong.