22. Thea
Chapter 22
Thea
I thought the swaying I was feeling was a byproduct of my lack of nutrition, but it turns out we’re on a retrofitted cargo ship out in the middle of an undisclosed ocean. I’ve always thought I’d cruise around the world, but this isn’t what I meant.
Right now, I’m standing on the top deck, the smell of salt water heavy in my chest, a cool breeze floating over my skin. We’re moving at a steady speed doing what one of the Phoenix agents calls gator squares. That basically means we’re traveling in circles with no real destination in mind.
Alexz says a moving target is a hard to hit target, and being out to sea is the best way to keep me safe. I agree. Nothing I’ve heard says The League has access to a fleet of ships, other than the yachts they party on, and the last place Malcolm or Felix Lazarro will think to look for me is in the middle of the ocean on a vessel that looks like a rusty container ship.
I grip the railing with my eyes closed. The familiarity of the sound of the ocean helps settle me. I’ve missed this feeling so much. Wolfe stands at my back, watching to make sure nobody approaches me. He’s not very trusting of the people around us, even though he seems to have worked with several of them before. I need to ask him about that, but I haven’t wanted to delve into anything serious. If I ask him to open up, he’ll expect me to do the same.
For now, I’m happy to pretend that this is another adventure I’ve chosen to embark on, and that there isn’t a mafia boss, an elitist prick, and an unhinged doctor on land probably looking for me. The Phoenix Foundation rescued me, but I’m far from safe. None of the men who held me hostage or their employees hid their identities, which means I’m a liability. There’s only one way people like that deal with liabilities. I sigh, letting that truth sink in. Just what I need. More enemies.
A shiver snakes down my spine. Not from the cool night air, but from the specter of death crossing over my proverbial grave. My life is officially over. I understand that. I can’t go back to Nags Creek or Canyon Falls. Those are the two places they’re sure to look for me, and mob ties always lead to Vegas. Maybe I can take my chances on the east coast. I’ve never been there before.
I turn, resting my back against the rail, watching Wolfe. I’m on the run, but what about him? He came out here for me, but I can’t drag him into this any more than I already have. I can’t expect him to float around the seven seas with me, or hide out in hostels when I get tired of playing pirate and need to step foot on dry land.
He turns as if he can feel my eyes on him. “You okay?” He asks, coming closer.
“Just thinking of how fucked up my life is. Just when I think it can’t get any crazier or crappier, the universe says, Here. Hold my beer. ”
“We’re gonna figure this out, Thea. Phoenix Foundation, they’re good at what they do.”
I bite my tongue instead of asking just how he got caught up with people in the same field as Andor Reese and The Guardians, after he told me to stay away from them.
“You ready to head in?”
I nod and make my way over to the hatch. We go down two levels looking for the room where the team leader for my recovery mission works. Alexz gave us permission to read the report, since I’m not even sure what happened.
I follow Wolfe through the corridors towards a room called Operation Center. He pushes into an office on the right. The guy at the desk looks up at us and frowns, when Wolfe says, “I want a copy of the report and the names of everyone involved.”
He exhales loudly as he pulls a tablet out of the drawer, handing it to Wolfe along with a sticky note. “Username and password are on there.”
Wolfe sits and logs onto the tablet. “You’re kidding right?” He scowls at the team leader. “There’s nothing here.”
“We’re still gathering information about what happened during the time Miss LaReaux was gone.”
“You rescued Thea two weeks ago.”
The guy gives me a pointed look. Who cares if they rescued me? I don’t know them, so I did what I do best. I kept my mouth shut. Wolfe turns to me, giving me a look that says he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Time to debrief, LaReaux. Tell me what happened.”
I’m shaking. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. I rake my hands up and down my arms. Someone yells, “Go get the doctor!”
“No!” I take a step away from them both.
“Miss LaReaux, the doctor will be able to help you.”
I grab a stapler off the desk. “I said, no!”
Wolfe is on his feet, standing in front of me. “She doesn’t need a doctor.”
“No offense, Beowulf, but she looks half feral and is in the middle of a panic attack, so I think she does.”
Wolfe ignores him, and says, “How about we take a seat, LaReaux. We’ll practice our breathing and just sit a minute. If the urge to staple his hands to the desk doesn’t pass, I’ll hold him down so you can do it.”
My eyes bounce over his shoulder to the guy holding the phone. I wheeze out, “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Of course you don’t. They’re idiots. They know nothing about you, and that’s why their brief is empty. Ignore them, Thea. Let’s have a seat and you tell me what you feel like sharing about your time away.”
I shake my head, refusing to take the hand he’s holding out to me. “I don’t want a doctor, Wolfe. No shrinks. I’m fine.” He doesn’t comment on me refusing his touch. “Okay. We’ll just talk like we always do.”
My eyes cut to the other guy in the room and Wolfe says, “He’ll be taking notes. Probably recording everything, so Moreau has a full account of what you say.”
I take a seat facing the guy whose office we’re in. Wolfe grabs the one right next to me. Keeping space between us so we don’t touch. “Breathe in and out LaReaux. You know how to do this. We’ve been here before.”
I do what he says, taking slow breaths in and out, matching the rise and fall of his chest. The buzzing in my ears and burning feeling on my skin slowly fades. When I feel more in control, I ask, “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know everything, but for the purpose of this conversation, let’s start at the beginning when you left campus. We’ll go over the things that you’re most comfortable sharing for now.”
The beginning? God, that was forever ago. “The beginning isn’t exactly where this part of the story starts. But I guess we’ll get there.” I avert my gaze and stare at the wall. “I’d just finished with my last exam and was heading to the dorms when I got a text alert for a challenge. The message was a set of coordinates and a riddle.”
Wolfe prompts, “So you accepted the challenge.”
I nod. “Just like I had every other challenge. The coordinates led me to Palm Springs, but it took me longer than I would have liked to figure out the riddle. When I came out of the flower shop, the cops were there waiting to arrest me.” I scoff. “I thought it was a joke, or another challenge. Until they mentioned why I was being arrested.”
Wolfe reaches for my hands, but I pull them away, placing them in my lap. He glances down at the now empty table and asks, “Arrested for what?”
My chest tightens. I tilt my head to look at him. This is it. This’ll determine if his acceptance of my violent streak is all bullshit, since he’s never actually seen me be violent. “The warrant was for the attempted murder of Michael Pearse.”
Shaking his head, he says, “Someone framed you. Michael was on a medical leave a couple of weeks before finals, after being mugged.”
I look him dead in the eye. Unblinking. Unflinching. Unremorseful. Letting the truth of my words show in my eyes, when I say, “I wasn’t framed. I gutted him like the pig he is, after he and a friend tried to finish what they started on Mayhem Night.” I shrug. “I came out on top this time.”
I wait for my words to click. For Wolfe to tell me I went too far, and he doesn’t condone extreme measures and all that. That I should have incapacitated my opponent instead of filleting him like a trout.
“Good job, Sweetness.”
My brows jump to my hairline. “You’re not disgusted that I plunged my knife in his gut and dragged it long and deep for his innards to run out?”
Wolfe waves his hand in the air. “Look where we are. Do these people strike you as the knock you unconscious type? When they rescued you, were stun guns involved?”
I swivel in my chair, narrowing my eyes at the guy typing up my statement. “I’m pretty sure I was tranqued, but I vaguely remember hearing gunfire before I passed out.”
The guy nods, and says, “It was for protection.”
“Yeah, I felt real protected being shot in the neck with a dart.”
He snorts, “I meant ours. We heard all about your tendency to fight back. No new neck tattoos for me, thank you.”