Chapter 23
CHARLIE
Beep-beep-beep.
They’re well worn, these sworn enemies. Stored in a box at the top of my closet, I couldn’t leave them behind.
They’re a part of me. Is this how an addict feels?
It’s so easy to make the wrong choice, the bad decision.
So close to getting that runner’s high once more.
The action that you know will hurt you. And yet . . .
The irony of my life is that the things everyone else is prescribed, I’ve been told to avoid.
I guess I’ve been feeling it for a while. Sensing it was time to try again. Yesterday, being locked in that storage unit made me realize I can’t spend the rest of my life being afraid of my own body. Weak and cowering.
I pull the box open and peek inside. There they are: bold blue with pink accents worn from hours in the sun.
The smell hits me first. The distinct odor of every puddle of rainwater they’ve been through, of the mud caked on, dried, and flaked off.
My sweat mixed in with each aroma. To me, it’s a smell of freedom.
Of a defined trail through the woods that demands my presence, my commitment.
The tingle at the start line knowing I’m about to push myself again.
The dopamine rush when I cross the finish line.
It’s a dangerous aroma. Like a grieving ex-girlfriend who breathes in her lover’s cologne. The sense-memory too strong.
I slip on my old sneakers and promise myself I won’t push it. Won’t fall over into my old ways. Just one mile. Just one run. I’m a recovering type-A athlete. Can I really limit myself ? Only one way to find out.
A text from Ana flashes on my phone.
Ana Alonso
I’m outside.
She graciously agreed to join me after I texted her last night about my plan to run this morning. Thankfully, her apartment is down the block from mine. Very convenient for early-morning runs or emergency outfit sessions.
After so much back and forth with travel, we haven’t had a chance to catch up.
And if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m scared.
I’ve always been aware that running alone as a female has inherent risks, but after being shot at and then locked in a storage unit, I’m on edge.
Even though these attacks were likely targeting Declan and his operations to thwart the Order, I don’t like being in the crosshairs.
I put in my contact lenses and lock the door behind me.
“I’m re-evaluating if I want to be friends with you,” Ana grumbles as she hangs sleepily on the railing in front of my building.
Her long dark hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, showing off her ripped shoulders from her hours preparing for body-building competitions.
Not everyone who works for FIRE does endurance events, but ninety percent of the employees are competitive in some kind of sport or activity.
For Ana, it’s lifting, flexing, and posing.
“You agreed to join me,” I remind her.
Ana rolls her eyes. “Yes, and that version of me was not thinking about how much I would miss sleep this morning.”
Even with her protests, we start out with a light jog, keeping in step.
“OK, this is better than the gym,” Ana offers as we turn onto Bayshore Boulevard. The bright orange-pink of the sky greets us.
I smile as we run in silence for a moment, our feet tapping out a beat on the sidewalk.
The early-morning air is cool, if not muggy.
We’re nearly twinning, her in a bright pink sports bra and high-waisted black shorts, me in matching shorts with a maroon top.
I’m sure our ponytails are swaying to the same rhythm as we settle into our cadence.
There are some universal truths: running hurts, but the feeling of accomplishment afterwards is a drug. Oh, and, total creeps will honk at you. Not even half a mile in and two different trucks honk and catcall us.
Excuse me, it’s 6:15 a.m. CALM. DOWN.
Ana mutters some curse words under her breath as they pass. I’m grateful she’s with me, to have the two of us against the creeps of the early morning.
My mind switches into deep thought. I have a few things to mull over and a run always helps me clear my head.
For starters, the storage unit. Who locked Declan and me in? Who even knew we were in there? And what was this person getting into?
Also, yesterday left me feeling weak. I’m always erring on the side of caution.
Forcing myself to hold back. And I’ve become inept because of it.
I have to be able to find a balance between strength and endurance.
Between too much physical stress that could wreck my health and throw me into another flare and the need to be able to move my body and be confident I can protect myself. I’m not a damsel.
I force these thoughts from my mind and focus on the view before me.
The sunrise is morphing the color of the sky, the bright colors turning to a more subtle yellow, then light blue.
Next to me is the Hillsborough River. I peek over and check for the manatees I’ve heard frequent this stretch of water.
I remind myself of the real puzzle I need to piece together. Think. Think. Who could be the mole?
Celine is giving off villain vibes, but maybe she’s just a mean girl?
Ahmed is strong and has access to all of our logistics, but he seems like such a teddy bear. Or is that just a well-played disguise?
Trey has access to everyone’s personal information to be able to book travel. Date of birth, credit card loyalty member logins. But he’d be more likely to run a scam to get everyone’s frequent-flier miles than leak information to the Order. Right?
Ana? I steal a glance at my running partner out of the corner of my eye. She’s focused on the turnaround point just ahead. No way! In the movies the least-suspected person may often be it, but this is real life, and she is way too kind to ever side with the Order.
Declan? My mind stops at the thought of him being the one to betray his own missions.
The footage from the yacht trip was lost. He was there and could have done it.
Hmm, and he was close to Xander. Could he have planted the explosive to take X.C.
out? Declan is so obsessed with rooting out the mole – maybe he’s trying to throw suspicion off of him?
Something in my gut tells me that’s wrong, though. The pain in his voice yesterday when he told me about how much of a mentor Xander had been to him; there’s no way he could fake that.
Ana interrupts my thoughts. “So you and Declan were MIA esterday,” she says.
“He took me to the storage unit. I needed to grab some items for Celine,” I explain.
“Oh really?” Ana asks, her gasps for air punctuating her words. “Because it was Celine who called it to my attention that she couldn’t find you.”
“What is her problem?” I mutter, pushing on.
“Hold up.” Ana waves her hand. “Let’s walk a bit,” she requests.
I hadn’t noticed how much my pace had increased, how I had slipped into my faster gait without even thinking about it.
“I only do cardio, like, twice a month,” Ana reminds me.
She takes a gulp from the water bottle in her hand and I do the same.
“Celine’s problem is you. She definitely has the hots for Declan. ”
I’m not following. “And?”
“Remember, this girl does not like competition,” Ana reminds me.
I don’t know what to make of this comment. Celine is jealous of me because I spend time with my coworker doing our jobs? “If she likes him so much, she should ask him out. Or fetch her own items from storage instead of dumping it on my desk.” I roll my eyes and stretch my arms.
Ana shrugs.
I change the subject. “Speaking of asking people out, how are things with your ex? Or is Lucy not an ex anymore?”
Ana’s grin confirms the latter. We turn and jog back the way we came at a pace that allows Ana to give me the details of their latest exchanges and how this time it might stick. I love to hear her romantic optimism. I can’t help but feel a little envious, wanting someone of my own to gush over.
Before I know it, we’re back at the entrance to my apartment complex.
It was a relatively quick mile, even with our brief stop.
I could go another round. I’m no closer to figuring out who the mole is.
The facts aren’t coalescing the way I would like.
But I’m energized by the burn in my muscles right now.
The taste of salt on my lips reminds me I’m sweating; my body is tired and exhilarated in equal measure.
Another loop could clear my mind further, but that is a dangerous exception to make on day one.
Ana waves and finishes her water bottle. “See you at the office.”
“Coffees are on me,” I call out as she walks out of the front gate.
“You know it,” she retorts.
I head inside to shower and get dressed for work. I love that no matter what today throws at me, I’ve already crossed off the hardest thing on my list. I leave my running shoes by the front door and head back out into the beautiful morning before the humidity and my newfound anxiety settle in.