Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
THEA
The car ride back to the house was excruciatingly quiet, the tension palpable between us, so much so that he didn’t even ask how today went for me.
Not that I need that from him, but it’s who he is.
It’s dark by the time he pulls into the driveway and rounds the front of the car to open the passenger door for me.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I step out, feeling much more steady on my feet.
Making my way up the sidewalk to the front door, he stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is quiet.
“For what?”
He scrubs his other hand down his face in a way that is so distinctly him.
“For kissing you earlier. For kissing you back. You laid out boundaries and I didn’t respect that.
I should’ve stopped it, stopped myself.” I keep waiting for the but that should greet the end of that sentence, but nothing comes.
He’s apologizing for something that I initiated. “It wasn’t your fault. I kissed you first despite my own rules.”
Yet, he shakes his head. “Like I said, I should’ve stopped it. It doesn’t help that you had been drinking, either.”
That earns him a small smile from me. “I hardly think two drinks counts.”
“Mm. Say that when you can walk upright after, next time.”
I scoff. “Bastard.”
He returns my smile before a level of seriousness crosses his face as he guides me to the door, and I swear I can hear him whisper something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like, You’re a damn siren.
He shuts the door closed behind me once we get inside and I can hear the television playing from the living room. “Claire?” I ask.
Nodding, he takes my purse and hangs it in the closet for me. “She’s been there all day.”
I can’t even judge her for it. She’s missed out on vital years of her childhood—television is probably the closest she can feel to normalcy right now.
“Hey, Claire,” I say as I walk into the living room and sit on the couch next to her.
“What are you watching?” It feels like I’m trying too hard even as the words leave my mouth. I have no idea how to connect with her.
She tells me as much with her retort. “You don’t have to do this, you know? It almost makes it worse.”
Taken aback, I pull at a hangnail. “Do what?”
“Make small talk, act like you care about me. I know this isn’t a permanent solution for me.
” Her tone is sharp as it cuts through the awkwardness.
She is so fucking hot and cold sometimes that it feels like nothing I say is going to be the right thing.
This is exactly why I was frustrated with Nathan when he suggested I try and get close to her.
I don’t fault her for it. Not after what she’s been through.
This is probably her factory setting, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting some.
“I don’t—” I start, but she cuts me off, shaking her head.
“Don’t lie to me. You don’t even know me, and I don’t know you. Stop acting like we’re suddenly family.” Her tone is so bitter you could choke on it.
Trying not to take it personally, I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We don’t know each other, and I can only imagine how…weird this is for you.” I avoid using the word difficult for a reason. “But if you’d be open to it, I’d like to try.”
Her eyes soften, if only a little bit, but it’s enough to tell me she’s at least open to the idea even if she doesn’t admit it as she focuses back on watching the screen.
I feel Nathan’s presence over my shoulder as I look back at him and he mouths at me to give her time.
“Are you ready to talk?” Anything to get me away from the awkward energy of this conversation, and he nods.
“Claire, we’ll be outside.” He opens the back door for me and I step out into the chilling air. My skin breaks out in goosebumps before I feel the warm material of a jacket wrap around my shoulders. Nathan walks around me and leans against the railing right after as I study the material. It’s his.
“Well?”
“I want to preface this by saying you are not obligated to agree if you have even the smallest hint of refusal through your veins, okay? But one of my colleagues reached out to me earlier with some information on Harrison Clark. Apparently, he’s hosting a gala next week in the form of a charity for at-risk youth.
” I snort and I don’t miss the way he raises an eyebrow in my direction.
I didn’t laugh because it was funny, but because of the irony.
“Sorry, continue.”
He tousles his blond locks where they are starting to fall over his forehead, the honey hair having grown longer in the short time I’ve been here.
“They want us to get a volunteer inside to gather information about locations, dates, times, things of that nature. The guise is that he’s sporting information through schools and certain programs that allow these kids to buy into false promises of job and education opportunities amongst others when in reality it’s their way of being able to traffic them. But…”
He trails off, clearly not wanting to say whatever he has to. “But?” I push.
“But, they want it to be one of us. Something about others, even well-trained, fucking it up somehow. Fletcher won’t do it and while I could do it, there’s a likelihood I’ll be recognized by the man himself because I haven’t aged a ton since the car accident.
It doesn’t help that I could be recognized due to the disguise I typically wear when infiltrating rings.
And Claire definitely can’t go in for obvious reasons. ”
What’s left unsaid is louder than if he’d said the words. “You want me to do it.” A statement. Not a question.
“I really don’t. But I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important. If I could think of anyone else I trust to be as capable as I believe you are. Like I said though, if there’s even a hint of—”
“I’ll do it.”
“W-what?” he stutters.
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
He stares at me in disbelief. “Are you sure? You don’t even know what it entails. There’s a chance you could be recognized, too.”
“It’s a gala, right? I’m assuming that means the general public will be there amongst the shitbags.
That means they can’t afford to misstep, especially if he wants to remain in the public’s good graces.
” I’m not worried about being recognized.
While the years haven't changed Nathan’s appearance much, it’s done wonders for me.
I’m no longer a skinny teenage girl who has barely grown into her own skin.
“Yes, but—”
I put my hand up to stop him. “This is about taking the fucker down who helped cover up Miles’ death. I want in, whatever it is.”
Resignation crosses his face with a mix of what looks like…
relief. “Okay. But, Thea, there’s still a chance you could get hurt if something goes wrong.
You’ll be acting as a volunteer which means there will be moments that you’ll have to be by yourself with these men.
Sure, they’ll have security but they’re likely bought.
And we do have a backup plan. We will have men and women right outside, myself included.
I just…want you to be sure before you jump into this. ”
“I’m sure, Nathan.”
He dips his chin once. “Then I need to contact Dyer so we can make a plan.”
If you were to ask me why I agreed, the obvious answer would be to avenge Miles’ death.
But on a deeper level, it’s because I’m tired of having my choices made for me.
I’ve spent so long following the script others have written for me.
Sure, I have no experience in this field and I definitely could screw it up as much as actual professionals.
Worse, even, I could blow the entire operation and not just screw up my life but everybody else’s that are involved.
Countless employees of the FBI and kids that we have the potential to save.
However, after we got off the phone with Dyer earlier, they didn’t seem to have the same impression of myself as I do laying here now, staring up at my bedroom ceiling.
What the hell did Nathan tell them to make them so confident in me?
I’m not stupid, though. I’m an easy target to wash their hands clean of, if they need to.
Not memorable. Not that I believe Nathan would ever allow that to happen.
Besides, this is for a good cause. At least that’s what I’m telling myself to avoid backing out.
I know it’s dangerous, and if it’s one of the last things I ever do, at least I can go out knowing I attempted to make a difference.
It’s more than I’ve ever done for myself.
I can live with that. Gone is the girl who played things safe and lived inside her picket fence bubble.
Starting tomorrow, I’m reinventing myself.