Finally they were pulling out—and at least it hadn’t been a total waste. Halfway through the penetration, as it were, Jim had sneaked off with the computer and his phone and made arrangements to rent another place in Caldwell.
There were advantages to having kept a couple of his homegrown aliases alive—and he and his three boys sure as shit couldn’t stay here anymore.
As the last squad car took off and the CSI van pulled out, Jim put Dog down. “I thought they were never going to fucking leave.”
The animal chuffed in agreement and sank into a big stretch, even though he’d hardly been traumatized: He’d slept soundly on Jim’s arm, draped boneless as a waiter’s cloth. Now, however, he wanted out.
Jim took a piss first, though. And texted Adrian that the coast was clear.
Opening the door to the outside stairs, he broke the nice official seal the CPD had put on things. “Oops.”
Carrying Dog down to the ground floor, he let the furry little guy do his thing in his favorite stretch of bushes.
Just as the animal trotted back and Jim started walking him back up the staircase, a car came tearing along the main road at the far side of the meadow, going at a dead run and skidding onto the lane that led to the garage’s front door.
Matthias was behind the wheel.
Jim could sense the imprint clear as day. And Ad was with him, as instructed—had been all along, providing a stream of text updates: apparently, the angel had trailed the guy from a meeting with Mels at a Barnes & Noble downtown to a car rental place where Matthias had gotten himself a shiny new Ford product…to outside that reporter’s home, as if the guy were doing a final check-in.
Certainly appeared as though Matthias had followed through on the XOps data dump, giving over the keys to Pandora’s box to his woman.
So…what the hell? If that was the crossroads—and it seemed logical it could be—at any moment the man should get subsumed into Heaven, the win complete. Instead, he was pedal to the metal, coming here?
Unless the reporter had to follow through before it counted?
No, that was her will, not his—and Matthias was the focus. What he did, his actions and choices, was the issue—Jim had learned that one in the initial round with the guy: When Matthias had pulled the trigger on that gun, with the intention of killing Isaac Rothe, that had been enough to condemn him—the fact that the kid hadn’t died had not been dispositive.
Intent had been the key.
Jim put Dog inside and jogged back down the stairs, wondering what the twist was.
The driver’s-side door opened before the car was in park—probably not a good sign.
Matthias jumped out and ducked under the police tape. “We were wrong.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The operatives were coming for you. They think I died—I saw it in my file. And XOps doesn’t waste time on the dead, unless they’re reclaiming them.”
Jim frowned. He’d assumed the organization believed he was taking a dirt nap as well. “They think I’m still breathing?”
“I went into the system, and it’s right in your dossier—status unconfirmed.”
“But you came to check on me.”
Matthias frowned like he was fighting with his memory. “I did?”
Well, that explained why the XOps record read as it had.
Matthias slashed his hand through the air like the particulars were the least of their problems. “Look, the assassins only came when we were together, and that first one may have seen me, but he was dead before he could pass the intel along. Think about it—they were coming for you the whole time.”
So what, Jim thought. It wasn’t as if they could kill him.
And then it dawned on him. “So what are you doing here? I thought you were leaving town?”
The man looked around, searching the shadows. “I wanted to make sure you knew so you’d watch your back.”
Jim shook his head slowly in disbelief. The old Matthias? This conversation never would have happened. Self- interest had been the name of the game.
“I always watch my back,” Jim said softly. “You should know that.”
“I guess I figure I owe you.”
“That’s not like you.”
“Whatever, I just don’t want you waking up dead one morning.” The man’s eyes kept roving, his vision clear, thanks to Adrian—who was hovering in the background, an invisible guard. “You saved my life a couple of years ago, and I didn’t think it was a favor. Now? It gave me…a priceless few days that are worth every torture I’m going to wind up with soon enough.”
“You sound so sure of that.”
“You’re part of this game—or whatever it is. You have to be. So you know where I’ve been. And as for XOps, in the next couple of days, maybe a week, everything is going to be over—you’ll know when it happens. Everyone will know. If I were you, I’d go into deep hiding and stay that way.”
Okay, this was all great, but where were the crossroads…?
“You came here just to tell me this?” Jim said.
“Some things you’ve got to do yourself. And you…matter. I can lose myself—that’s fine. Hell, that’s inevitable. But I’m not living with your death on my conscience. Not if I can do something to prevent it.”
Jim blinked, and was surprised to find some of the perma-pressure on his chest lifted a little.
God, he hadn’t expected to get emotional. Hadn’t thought that was possible anymore.
Matthias took a deep breath. “And I’d stay if I could, but I can’t. I’ve got to get moving—and besides, I know you have good backup. That roommate of yours is a hell of a fighter—”
Another car made the turn onto the lane and came flying toward the garage.
“What is this, a fucking convention,” Jim muttered. Except then he sensed who it was.
Not the cops. Not an operative.
“I think your girl is here,” he said to Matthias softly.
As the headlights of her mother’s car hit the garage in the woods, Mels’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Matthias was standing next to a sedan with Missouri license plates—clearly, a rental. At his side, Jim Heron loomed like a sentry.
Neither seemed particularly happy to see her, and tough shit with that.
Skidding to a halt on the far side of the police tape, she cut the engine and got out, marching up to the men.
In the tense moment before she spoke, she noticed for no good reason that the night sky was spectacular, glowing clouds streaking across the heavens, forming a shifting patchwork over the stars and the bright moon.
“I need to talk to you,” she said gruffly. “Alone.”
Matthias turned to Jim and spoke quietly; then the other man stepped away. The whole time, Matthias was looking at her face as if he’d never expected to see her again, his eyes roaming, drinking her in.
Mels fought the urge to do the same. God, she still felt a pull toward him and that was not just nuts; it was suicidal.
Crossing her arms over her breasts, she kicked up her chin. “Guess you avoided the cops—and intend to keep doing so.”
“I told you I was leaving.” His voice was rough. “What are you doing here?”
“I read through those files. Didn’t you think I’d have some questions?”
“None you’d ask of me.”
“Who better to go to than the primary source.”
As he met her eyes, his stare was steady and focused, like he was a man with nothing to hide. “It’s self- explanatory—”
“It was your baby, wasn’t it.” She nodded in Heron’s direction. “You ran them all—you recruited them, told
