“Something’s not right.” Reconsidering the robe, I pull undergarments, jeans, and a crew neck T-shirt out of the wardrobe.
Nico’s already half-dressed in the clothes he brought with him. “Carter should know what’s going on. Fagin can’t leave base without his permission, and he wouldn’t let her stray too far without knowing exactly where she’s going.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re pounding on Carter’s apartment door. While he’s not surprised to see us, he’s not thrilled at the intrusion.
“You better have a damn good reason to wake me before...” he checks the time on the personal CommLink panel on the wall, “before seven-thirty in the fucking morning on a Saturday.
“Tell us where Fagin is going and we’ll be on our way,” Nico says, leaning his forearm against the door frame.
“Ah, she called you.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. He nods his head a few times. “Fagin is going out of town for a few weeks. She won’t be in communication while she’s gone. She’ll check in with you upon her return. All better? Good.” He waves us toward the door, a stupid grin on his face. “I’m going back to bed.”
He tries shutting the door, but Nico blocks the closing door with his shoulder. “Yeah, we got that from Fagin.”
“Great, so you know all you need to know. She’s gone. She’ll call you when she gets back. What more do you want?”
“More than that,” I say. “Where’s she going? Who is she going to see? Will she be safe out there on her own? It’s only been two weeks since we almost died.”
Nico and I trade glances. “We’ll stand here all day, if we have to,” Nico says. “I’m sure your neighbors will love the sound of us pounding your door down for the next eight hours.”
He sighs and beckons us to follow. “This is not a hallway conversation.”
Once inside the apartment, he doesn’t waste time with niceties or play the gracious host. The place is almost barren—if architectural magazines had a template for ‘disorganized, sparsely-furnished bachelor pad,’ this would be it. “Ms. Delacroix is on assignment.”
“What kind of assignment?” I ask.
“Classified,” Carter replies.
“Where’s she going?”
“Also classified.” He yawns and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Is she going to see Isabella?”
Carter’s eyes narrow, he looks genuinely confused. “Who?”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know who Isabella is?”
“Should I?”
I gape at him, then turn to Nico, who also stands with his mouth open.
Either Carter is lying or he really doesn’t know about Fagin’s goddaughter. Nico puts a hand on my arm.
“Is Fagin safe out there on her own?” Nico asks.
“Safe is a relative term these days, isn’t it?”
“Carter, if you get her killed—” I say, trying to keep the panic rising in my chest from choking me.
“Relax,” Carter waves a dismissive hand. “She has a security detail traveling with her. She’s in capable hands.”
“We’re a team, Fagin and me and Nico. From now on, you don’t send one of us out without the others.” My tone is as authoritative as I can make it, but I know the implied warning is bullshit. From the expression on Carter’s face, he knows it, too.
“You’ve forgotten that the Agency owns your life until it sees fit to release you from the contract. Until that time, you have no say in who goes where,” he says.
“We’re stronger together,” Nico replies. “You’ve seen it. Don’t break up the band.”
“That’s true for you and Arseneau,” Carter agrees. “Where Fagin is concerned, there are extenuating circumstances.”
“Such as?” I say, holding on to the demanding tone.
“Such as none of your fucking business,” he replies, tersely. “This is degenerating into a whiny little bitch-fest and I haven’t had coffee yet. Time for you to get the hell out of here.”
He moves to the door, but I have one more question for him before he tosses us out on our asses.
“Why did you dump me in the kitchens at Greenwich in the first place?”
He stops, turns to gawk at me with a quizzical look.
“Let me recover from that stunning non-sequitur you’ve thrown at me before I answer.” He holds up a finger, shuts his eyes briefly and then opens them again. “There. Okay, ready for the answer? Also none of your fucking business.” He leans forward and smiles like he’s just delivered the punchline to a joke only he finds hilarious.
“Contract or no contract,” I say, “these are our lives on the line. If you’re not painfully transparent with us, there’s no telling what kind of mischief you’ll have to contend with. So pay now or pay later. Your choice.”
“You’re in no position to demand anything,” Carter says, his voice a low growl as he advances on me. Nico steps into the gap between us.
“Do you want to babysit us every minute of every day from here on out? Because I’m sure that’s exactly what your bosses expect of you, right? To keep us in line...under control? We could go to war with each other starting right now, or you can answer our questions when we ask them.”
Carter rubs his chin. I can see the wheels turning in his brain, weighing the choice before him: answers now or hell later.
“Okay. I’ll give it to you, this time. But next time I may not be able to answer your questions and you’re going to have a hard choice to make about what you do in that situation.” He nods, purses his lips, then speaks. “Command headquarters thought you might be too emotionally distraught to think clearly if you came face-to-face with Trevor. They wanted to give you time to see if you—”
“To see if I was on your side or if I had really gone dark-side with the Benefactors.” I say, flatly. How could I be so stupid not to see it? It was a test. They wanted to see if I would work with them to catch Trevor or work with her.
“That’s about the size of it,” he says.
“I’m getting really fucking tired of being set up.
