Chapter 34 Madison
Madison
Caught like a rat in a trap.
Wesley is hiding something. The thought is twisting in my stomach, filling me with anxiety. It’s all I could think about every time I saw him yesterday or this morning—the look of surprise on his face when I opened the door. Like he’d been caught.
There’s something in that book he doesn’t want to show me. Maybe he didn’t even want me to see the book at all.
Why won’t he let me help him? Surely he knows that two heads are better than one? There’s so much data on that drive, it would take him the rest of his life to go through it all by hand. I know he’s writing a program to sort it for him. I know he knows that’s firmly in my wheelhouse.
So why is he keeping me at arm’s length?
I don’t know how to reconcile the two sides of him.
There’s the part that holds me tenderly, fucks me roughly, croons praise into my ear in the worst Spanish accent I’ve ever heard, and makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
And then there’s the part that looks at me with a kind of shuttered fear, like he’s some kind of crone who’s seen into the future and doesn’t like what happens.
That part of him is too far away for me to reach, like the top cabinets in that ridiculous kitchen where they haven’t gotten a stepstool because “no one has needed one.”
I don’t care if he thinks he’s protecting me. I don’t care if he thinks he’s taking care of me. I want to know. I want to help. I want him to treat me like an adult and stop assuming he knows what’s best for me.
And I really want to know what’s in that notebook.
I wait until he takes a trip to the bathroom and slip inside his office. Some Bills greets me with a trill and winds through my legs. “Not now, buddy,” I whisper, feeling weird for sneaking around like this.
Tossing a look over my shoulder to ensure I’m alone, I creep towards his desk.
I don’t remember which drawer he put the book in, so I try a few near the top.
Normal office supplies—pens, paper clips, a tangle of USB cords that came with electronics but are too short to be useful—and no notebook.
When I get to the top middle drawer, I realize it’s one with an extra compartment at the top. A secret compartment.
A locked secret compartment. It doesn’t budge when I jerk on the handle lip.
“What are you doing, Madison?”
My heart leaps into my throat, and my head whips up to find Wesley in the doorway. He’s got a fresh can of energy drink in his hand, so I was apparently wrong to assume he was headed for the bathroom.
Caught. Caught like a rat in a trap.
And what does a rat do? It attacks—it bites back. “Why is your desk drawer locked?” I accuse.
He frowns and crosses the room, setting the can down on his desk and standing over me. He’s already almost a foot taller, but he seems bigger right now for some reason. Maybe it’s the shame of sneaking around that makes me feel smaller. I square my shoulders and lift my chin.
“Madison, why were you trying to get into my desk?”
“Oh, we’re doing a question for a question?” I ask, setting my jaw. “What was that black book I saw yesterday?”
His eyes drop to the drawer, a pretty clear tell. “Notes. I told you—”
“Why do you keep notes locked up?” I interrupt, feeling my indignation rising as his expression closes off.
He opens his mouth, then blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Habit, I suppose.”
Not good enough. I ask what I really want to know. “Why are you shutting me out of this investigation?”
He frowns. “Madison, I’m not. I told you I was going to get a computer setup for you—”
“So you can sit in here and only feed me the pieces you want me to see. I’m not stupid, Wesley.
You want this to be like how it was, when you were the one in control, managing everything from the middle of your web—when you didn’t have to tell me anything and I just did whatever you wanted. That’s not how it is anymore.”
“Madison, calm down,” he says slowly.
Oh, he did not. He fucking did not.
I take a deep breath, knowing that the calmer and more rationally I lay out my feelings, the easier it will be for him to hear them.
“Do you remember what you said at Sunset Hills? I was ready to handle this myself, but you said we could track the General down together. You said I can’t do this without my favorite spider. ”
He reaches up and tugs at his hair, clearly hating this confrontation. “It’s easier for me to just do it. Only I know what to look for.”
“So tell me and we can do it together,” I suggest, waving my arm for emphasis. “Divide and conquer—it would be a pain at first when you had to explain it, but ultimately faster.”
“It’s… not that simple.”
“Then explain it to me!”
“I…” he sighs in exasperation. “I know you’re trying to be helpful, but I don’t need your help—I only needed your information. I’m sorry if you feel misled.”
The anger that’s been steadily rising towards a boil nearly spills over.
I scowl at him. “You’re sorry if I feel misled,” I say with a shake of my head.
What a bullshit apology. “Well, I do. I feel misled. Why am I even here, Wesley?” I ask, shifting away when he reaches for me, responding to the hurt in my tone. “Why did you bring me here?”
“You were in danger,” he replies instantly, the excuse locked and loaded. “This is the only place I could keep you safe—that we could be together and not have to worry about other assassins or attempts on your life.”
“That we could be together,” I repeat, feeling like the words are somehow hollow. “Oh, I see. I’m here to be your little sex doll—stress relief for you. I’m good enough to fuck, but not to tell the important stuff.”
His face twists, and I realize how horrible that was.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. You don’t treat me like a doll. You never have.” I sigh, feeling even worse now. His face is still a mask, hiding his genuine emotions behind the excuses and deferrals. “Just… be real with me. That’s all I want. Tell me what changed?”
“Nothing changed,” he argues. “It’s never been safe for you to be part of this. Your work has exposed you to certain things, but it’s different on this side of it. Nicole and Eleanor understand—”
Having their names thrown at me in this moment of anger is what does it. I snap. “What if I don’t want to be like Nicole and Eleanor? What if I don’t want to be just some helpless damsel, sitting uselessly on the sidelines of my own life—”
“Wow.” The word is a soft exhale, and we both spin.
Nicole is in the doorway of the office, hand poised like she was about to knock. I don’t need to ask how long she’s been there, because the wide-eyed look says it all. She heard what I said in anger, completely out of context.
Fuck. Fuck!
“Nicole—” I start.
She turns her head to the side, avoiding eye contact as she clears her throat. “Um, Dimitri asked me to come get you for training. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him you don’t need any of us.”
“Nicole!” I beg, feeling hot, prickly tears behind my eyes. I’m torn as she turns to leave, wanting to chase her and explain myself, knowing it probably won’t matter, and feeling tethered because this isn’t over with Wesley yet...
“Fuck! That’s just… great. Perfect. Just another reason to hate bitchy Madison, who thinks she’s better than everyone else.” I press the heels of my hands to my eyes to try to hold back the tears.
I wanted to like it here. I wanted so badly to be part of something, to have friends, to be one of the members of this tight-knit group. I even kind of thought this time it could work out because I had an in—I was Wesley’s girl.
But apparently I’m not. Or, I can’t be fully. Just like everything else, it has to be on his terms. And I’m not part of the group, either—I’m stuck outside, saying all the wrong things and making people who already don’t like me even more pissed off.
To make it all worse, it’s my own fault because I let my guard down. I let myself believe it would work.
This is what happens when you care about what other people think. They make you feel stupid for it.
I feel his hands on my shoulders, a clumsy comfort. “Stop,” I grit out, pulling away. “I won’t be with someone who doesn’t care what I want because they think they know better. So either tell me what’s going on, or I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” he repeats, voice dropping. It’s like a question and a warning all at once.
“I’ll go sleep outside with George,” I threaten.
When he smiles at that, I almost slap him across the face. It’s full of relief, not humor, and I realize he thought I meant I’d leave the mansion. And that just makes me mad all over again. “Oh, don’t worry, Sir,” I hiss. “I’m not going anywhere. You made sure of that.”
I whirl and storm out of the room.
“Madison!”
“Don’t follow me!” I call back.
He calls after me once more, but gives up when I don’t even pause. He probably realizes I need to cool off. And honestly, if he did try to come after me right now, I probably would slap him.
Not that I condone violence against your partner. Just… I’m all fired up and not feeling very rational.
I glance out the kitchen window, finding George’s doghouse on the other side of the pool patio.
He’s asleep, head resting on his front legs.
Despite the swirling anger and hurt, I smile to myself, remembering my threat.
Maybe it’s not such a bad idea—that house looks roomy. Plus, I need to lick my wounds anyway.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it from my pocket. It’s an… alarm notification from my security app. When I swipe over to the live video footage to see what triggered it, my stomach and jaw both drop.
Is that… Todd? Is that Todd hefting my desktop computer over his shoulder and trying to sneak out my front door? What… the… fuck? What the fuck is he doing?
My feet start moving immediately, Wesley’s name forming on my lips, but I stop myself.
Todd works for SmarTech. He’s got a connection to the company we know is part of this. Maybe he even is the General…
That one almost makes me laugh out loud.
There’s no way Todd is the General—the one with a network of hitmen at his disposal; the one not even SpyderMan could find.
My dumbass neighbor, who can’t even come up with insults that hit?
That just… doesn’t fit. He doesn’t have that reach.
He’s not capable of that kind of cunning and skill…
But he’s just stealing my computer for some reason.
And while it’s definitely the most valuable thing in my apartment, it’s the only thing he’s taking.
That computer has all my private files and years of stolen intel, including everything I took from SmarTech.
If the General works at SmarTech and I became a target after I stole that data, it seems logical to me that the guy wants it back.
And Todd has ‘disposable henchman’ written all over him.
Or maybe Todd is just being a douchebag.
Either way, the point is, if I tell Wesley, I won’t get to find out what’s going on. The fact that there’s a connection here to SmarTech and the General means that I get cut out for my own safety.
But… if I check it out myself…
A plan starts to form, and I know I need to act quickly.
If I can catch Todd red-handed, it would be best. Since Tío already faked my death, I probably don’t have to worry about assassins hanging around my place, but the police think I’m missing, so I can’t be stupid.
I need a disguise, a car—Eleanor probably won’t mind if I borrow hers—and a gun.
A loaded gun.
I fly up the stairs to the room I’ve been sharing with Wesley and change into some different clothes.
First rule of a disguise is not being recognizable, so my usual uniform is out.
I shuck on some of Wesley’s sweats, trying to ignore how tight they are across my hips.
I look like a curvy teenage hoodlum. If I grab a hat from the coat closet downstairs, and some big shades, it won’t be immediately obvious who I am to any of my neighbors, let alone strangers on the street.
Checking the hallway to ensure I won’t get caught sneaking out, I descend into the foyer and pull what I need from the closet.
For the most part, this place keeps people out—but I’ll need a code at the gate.
Lucky for me, Eleanor is the type who uses the same code everywhere, and I watched her type it into her phone the other day.
So I grab her keys from the communal dish by the door and waltz out to the garage, feeling like I’m breaking all kinds of laws. My heart is racing.
The car starts with no issues, and I barrel down the drive. Holding my breath, I type Eleanor’s code into the keypad. When the gate swings towards me, I bite down on a smile.
While I make the drive back across the city, I consider my plan. Getting inside the building will be easy enough, but to be most effective I’ll need to surprise Todd. That means breaking into his place. I don’t know how to pick a lock… so how do I get in?
I find a spot right out front, check my reflection in the mirror to ensure the hat covers my hair and the glasses are doing what they should to hide my face.
Satisfied, I trot up the front steps. Going to my own door is an autopilot response, so I force myself to walk to the next door down the hall. And I stare at it.
I mean, I could just knock… right? I could cover the peephole and point my gun at him when he answers the door.
But there are lots of ways that could go wrong—he could see it and scream for help, he could slam the door, he could be overly cautious and open it with the chain so I can’t slip through, he could be wearing headphones and not hear my knock…
Or… I eye the door handle. It can’t… it can’t be that easy, can it? No way that douchebag sits in his apartment with the door unlocked—
The knob turns in my hand.
Fuck. Yes. Badass spy Madison, reporting for duty.
Since the immediate living areas are empty and our apartments have the same layout, I know exactly how to get to his bedroom.
I find him in there, sitting on the floor with a screwdriver, my computer propped between his legs.
He looks up when I step into the doorway, and his face turns bright red, then pales out completely.
“M-Madison?” he croaks. “You… you’re supposed to be dead!”
I grin, because he genuinely looks like he’s seen a ghost, and lift my gun. “Boo!”