Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
She rubbed her gritty eyes, trying to figure out where they were.
When she’d asked him where they were headed, he’d said, “working on it.” Maybe he hadn’t figured it out yet.
Maybe he was intentionally keeping her in the dark.
It didn’t matter. At this point, she had no choice but to follow his lead.
She’d left her car in a remote parking lot at Ricketts Glen and ditched her phone.
She’d followed orders like a robot, the pain of his betrayal leaving her numb.
Sleep had helped. Now, curiosity nipped at her.
The truck was stopped on a dirt road. The headlights illuminated a steep hill to the left and a sharp drop to the right.
It was hard to see in the darkness, but the few trees out her window appeared to be growing sideways, giving her a sense that the road was too narrow for the truck.
At any moment, it seemed they would tumble over the edge.
She gripped the armrest as if her fingers had the power to hold the tires to the road.
In the rearview window, there was nothing but black.
The quiet of the forest around them was ominous. This place felt unwelcome.
Of course, maybe it was the giant fence topped with wicked-looking barbed wire blocking their path and the huge No Trespassing sign that was creating the vibe.
“Wait here,” Aleksei said as he jumped out of the truck, leaving the driver’s door ajar.
Cold air nipped at her face while she watched him jog to the side of the road and fiddle with a square metal box on a post. Worried that her wig might have shifted while she slept, she flipped the visor down and ran her nails under the edges, giving her scalp a good scratch before ensuring the wig was straight and firmly in place.
A soft creak brought her attention to the road, where the fence was parting in the middle, swinging inward.
Aleksei hopped back in, an expression of relief on his face. “I wasn’t sure if that was going to work. If it didn’t, we’d be making camp right here on the road, and Virus would be pissed. Scratch that. More pissed than usual. His everyday mood is pricklier than a puffer fish.”
She rubbed her eyes again. He wasn’t making any sense. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was still groggy from sleep or he was talking nonsense.
“What didn’t you think would work? And did you say Virus? Is that a person?”
He laughed as the truck engine roared to life. It was a deep, warm rumble that made her think of morning-after breakfasts and kisses over coffee. Her mind jumped away from the image like a hand that got too close to a flame. Her subconscious needed to stop filling her head with romantic images.
“Sorry. There’s a fingerprint sensor near the gate. We’re in Trout Run. Virus is a friend of mine. He’s not particularly friendly, but he is a friend. We can trust him.”
He’d said we, not I. As if they were a couple.
Head, not heart. Focus on the facts.
“Where’s Trout Run? Why are we here? And if this guy is so unfriendly, do you think maybe you should avoid calling him Virus?”
More warm rumbling laughter turned her bones to marshmallow, but the sound was shorter this time.
Aleksei’s hands gripped the wheel firmly, and he continually scanned the sides of the road.
The ground to her right slowly leveled out as they drove.
Now she saw only thick trees on both sides and the dusty gray-brown road that cut through them.
“We’re about seventy miles west of Ricketts Glen, but it took us several hours to get here because I took all the back roads.
I wanted to avoid cameras on the highways.
The route I took is rural, so we won’t be easily trackable like we would on the highway.
We need a safe place to rest and regroup, and I don’t think anyone will think to look for us here—at least not for a few days. ”
“And Virus?” she prompted.
“His real name is Petros Grigoris. When I finished ITC, he was in the unit I was assigned to. He’s one of the toughest guys I know. Fiercely loyal. Not much of a talker and has no patience for bullshit, but a good friend.”
“He has no patience for bullshit but is fine with people calling him Virus?” she asked.
His cheeks lifted, but the smile disappeared quickly, replaced with alert concentration.
“It was his nickname when I met him. The story goes that the first day he arrived for ITC—that’s what they call special ops training—he was sick as a dog.
Pale, fever, puking. The way the guys tell it, they make it sound like he was half dead.
He didn’t want to get behind, so he wouldn’t go to the infirmary and wouldn’t sit out.
Apparently, he had some super contagious flu, and nearly everyone on base ended up getting sick.
One of the SOOs started calling him Virus, and it stuck. ”
Warmth seeped through her chest. It was a nice story. Funny and personal. She liked hearing him talk about his past.
Then doubt chilled the heat. Was the story part of the role he was playing? An anecdote intended to relax her, to gain her trust?
“Is it true?” she asked.
“Is what true?” he asked, his tone distracted.
“The story about Virus. Is it true or is it another lie? An interesting personal story meant to lull me into a sense of comfort.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “I never lied to you. There were things I kept from you—serious, important things I should have told you a hell of a lot sooner—but I never lied to you. Everything I said about my life, my family, Phillipe, and myself. It was all real.”
Her ribs felt constricted, like there was a boulder on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She didn’t know what to believe. She didn’t know if it mattered what she believed. What she did know was that she didn’t want to feel like a fool again.
“I made a gesture of faith by coming with you. Now you need to do the same for me. Promise me there will be no more lies. No more omissions. Big or small. Going forward, I want you to be completely honest and upfront with me. If you can’t do that, I’m leaving.”
She meant what she said. Staying with Aleksei until the danger passed was the safest thing to do, and she wanted to be safe, but she could not handle being lied to and used. If he couldn’t promise honesty, she’d face this thing on her own.
“All right. I promise. You can ask me anything, and I’ll tell you the truth.”
“I want more than that. I don’t want to have to ask. I don’t want you holding back information and then using the fact that I didn’t ask a question there was no way I could know to ask as an excuse. I want you to tell me everything. Everything. Keep me fully informed.”
Her voice sounded harsh and angry. It should.
She was furious. But deeper than her rage was a sorrow so strong, her stomach ached from it.
The butterflies of joy and excitement that had danced inside her during the past week lay still and bleeding, cut down by betrayal.
Hopefully, her anger masked her suffering.
She didn’t want him knowing how much he had hurt her.
“I promise.”
He spoke the words like a vow. His voice shimmered with guilt and regret, seeping through her own anguish, igniting her instinctive need to comfort.
She clasped her hands together in her lap, fighting the urge to reach out and lay a reassuring hand on his muscled thigh.
To get through the next few days with him, she needed to keep that innate desire in check.
She was with him for protection, not to build a relationship.
That thought, and the raging heat in the car, was making her nauseous. Aleksei had turned up the heat to battle the chill that filled the truck while he’d opened the gate, and now she was sweating.
Her scalp twitched.
She glanced at the dashboard. It was 4:00 a.m. Other than the short break at the cabin while she cooked, she’d been wearing a wig for more than nineteen hours straight.
She’d never worn one this long. Putting the wig on was normally the last thing she did before leaving the house, and she took it off the minute she got home.
The twitch was now an itch. Itches, really.
Several of them. She pressed her fingers to the sides of her head, but instead of soothing her scalp, the pressure set off a chain reaction of prickly, itchy sensations that made her want to jump out of the truck and chuck the wig into the eerie dark woods.
“Would you turn off the heat?” she asked.
“Sure,” he answered as he adjusted the knob. “Are you okay?”
She was now gripping the console and the overhead handle so tightly that her fingers were tingling.
“Yes. Just a little carsick,” she lied.
There was no way she was telling him what was really bothering her. From now on, she was communicating with him out of necessity, not desire. She’d already shown him too much vulnerability. She wasn’t making that same mistake again.
* * *
Aleksei knew Rose was lying to him, but he didn’t have the right to demand the truth.
He'd fucked up. Really fucked up. He could hear her distress in every word she spoke. Pain she was trying to hide from him. Pain he’d inflicted.
He’d been so focused on his goals, driving the train down the tracks, zooming right past flashing lights and warning signals.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her.
He hadn’t intended to start dating her. He hadn’t intended to trick her with romance.
His plan had simply been to meet her and then make it up as he went along.
He hadn’t expected to be attracted to her.
He hadn’t expected to feel that instant spark of connection.
But he had. And when that happened, he should have changed direction. But he didn’t.