Oblivious, p.12
Oblivious, page 12
To hell with it. As long as I didn’t stumble into Gideon’s room, I was fine.
I stepped into the hallway and scanned the open doors, spotting the bathroom across the hall and one door down. Easy.
Not wanting to wake anyone up, I carried my weight on my toes to keep my steps light. Despite my efforts, the floor creaked beneath me, and I paused, straining to hear anyone else moving around, about to encounter me in all my morning glory. When the apartment remained quiet, I kept going, making it to the first door.
So far so good.
But before I could relax, the floor creaked again as someone got up in the room beside me. I was too far from my room to dart back in and not close enough to the bathroom, leaving me trapped in the hallway as the door opened to reveal a sleepy, shirtless Gideon. In the second that passed before I fully registered my horror at being caught pantless and cottonmouthed, my brain took in his brown hair sticking up in bed-mussed spikes, the rough stubble along his jawline, the lines of muscle over his chest and stomach, the hardness of his arms and the leather bracelet around his left wrist, the grooves of his hips where they disappeared beneath the band of his jockeys… my gaze shot back up at the evidence of his morning situation.
His eyes grew wide at the sight of me, and I realized I wasn’t the only one getting a good look.
“Morning,” he said, his voice a grumbly bass that rattled its way down my stomach and between my legs. He passed a hand over his face and scratched his stubble. “How’d you sleep?”
“Can’t remember, so must have been well. You?”
“Good, yeah.”
God, we sounded as awkward as two teenagers who’d spent the night together and had no idea how to behave the next morning. And we hadn’t even had sex.
Nor will you, I reminded the deepest places in my body that had suddenly stirred to life.
In spite of myself, my thoughts flew to New York. How often had I seen him in a similar condition in our little hideaway of his crummy apartment? At the time, it had been nothing, a side effect of the way we’d spent our evening. Warm, sleepless nights filled with passion and laughter, the uncomplicated connection between two people who held the same values when it came to work and casual relationships.
It had been easy then. Now, I felt so confused about what I wanted and thought and felt that seeing him in his present state left me even more muddled. I had to get away from him. Clear my head and focus on the whole country-potentially-collapsing problem.
I half-turned towards the bathroom. “I was just…”
“Oh, yeah, of course.”
“Unless you wanted to…” I made a vague gesture towards his nether regions, and when his gaze travelled down, his cheeks turned pink and he cleared his throat.
“Uh, no. You go ahead. I can wait a minute. Thanks.”
He stepped back into his room and closed the door. The sound of the latch catching was followed closely by a thunk that might have been his head hitting the door, and I bit down on a smile as I closed myself in the bathroom.
My amusement withered as last night’s conversation with Madison came back to me. Sure, most of my evening was a blur, but that part stood out in word-for-word detail.
I wasn’t the type of woman who got sloshed and talked about boys. Never had been. Madison had caught me at a low point, and the discussion had been a waste of time. I scoffed as I peeled off my shirt and turned on the water in the shower stall. Forgive him. She couldn’t be serious. The man was a thorn in my side, and all I wanted was to resolve our problem quickly so he could go home and lie to some other poor girl.
But as I turned on the spray and stepped into the shower, moaning with pleasure as the hot water soaked deep into my muscles, I wondered if I should give Madison more credit. Had I been lying to myself? Yes, he had hurt me. Yes, it had been a shitty thing to do. But working with him again made me remember why I’d been drawn to him in the first place. He was good at his job, he was quick, he was brutal, and he got it. He got why the work was so important, and why being able to trust your team was the only thing that mattered when you poked your nose into the unknown.
That counted for a lot in my books. There was also a balance of evils happening right now. He had lied about his identity to shut down a supernatural smuggling racket. A shit move for a decent motive. Someone in my department was lying about their identity to earn some money while they watched their country fall to pieces. For now, I would choose the lying sack of shit who followed some kind of moral compass, however shaky.
So, fine, I would agree with Madison that far. But goddamn if I would acknowledge anything more than that. Not when the chances were so high he would screw me over again if he had to. Or that I would have to do the same to him. What kind of future was there for two people whose priorities were so often at cross-purposes?
I rested my head against the cold tile of the bathroom wall as the warm spray pelted my back.
Why did everything in my life have to be so complicated?
When this was over, I was taking a vacation away from everyone. No people, no problems—just a bottle of Jack and a New York-style cheesecake all to myself.
But first I had to survive the darkness to come.
***
Though my joint pain had eased by the time I got out of the shower, my head was no clearer, and my confusion only increased when my phone rang halfway through a heaping breakfast of bacon and eggs.
I didn’t recognize the number, but when I answered, Travis’s agitated voice said, “They’re calling for a protest.”
My brain rushed through the five W’s before I landed on, “Who?”
He’d jumped straight to the punchline with no setup. What had I missed in the last twenty-four hours?
Madison set her fork down and crossed her arms on the table, her gaze glued to my face. Gideon barely spared me a glance—had hardly looked at me since our run-in this morning—but by the subtle tilt of his head, I knew he was listening.
“Whoever’s leading the bitchfest,” said Travis. “Word came through the shop half an hour ago. They’re trying to draw more people in to fluff up the crowd or some bullshit. I guess some of the local busybodies held a meet last night and voted to march on Parliament Hill. People from all the surrounding areas. Calling for the protection of supe rights, slamming the queen for being useless. Fucking asshats.”
I took a second to take in what he was saying. Protests had popped up across the country since the de Lauer attack. They were a big publicity draw, but we had the same right to gather as any other group. The perception filters that covered anything magic-touched would prevent the mundanes from seeing details they shouldn’t, and the prime minister would get an earful. Interesting, especially about the anger towards Meril, but hardly enough for Travis to set aside his loathing and give me a call. “What else?”
He paused and his voice dropped, growing muffled as he spoke closer into his phone. “Could be something is set to happen while all those people are there.”
The suggestion between his words, the warning in his tone, was enough to make me sit up. Madison’s brow furrowed and Gideon pushed his plate away, his shoulders tense, ready to get up and run if I gave the order.
“What exactly have you heard?”
“Nothing specific,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t know. But SMOAC must have heard something, too, because they beefed up security around the Hill. I know because Dawn—my wife—she works downtown. She’s in a shop on Sparks, and she’s been watching these agents prowling around.” I heard the first hints of concern in his voice. Whatever rumours had reached him, he wasn’t bullshitting me. “She’s worried, and fuck if I’m not scared for her. Protests can be good for business, but if someone’s planning to cause trouble…”
A grinding screech echoed down the line, and images filled my head of car parts and heavy machinery warping out of shape with Travis’s rising anger.
“I’ll get down there and see what I can find out,” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
He hung up without saying anything else, and I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth as I set down the phone.
The other two stared at me, waiting for me to share, but I was already busy trying to piece together a plan of action. I would have to get downtown without being recognized, avoid security, and put a stop to whatever might happen, all without creating a panic in the crowd. How the hell was I supposed to do that on my own?
Madison broke first. “What is it?”
I pulled my thoughts back to the table, no closer to an answer. “Rumours. Nothing concrete, just words circulating and making everything worse.”
Following rumours was how I’d wound up here—half my squad dead, on the run from my superiors, and under suspicion of murder—left with two friends to watch my back and no idea who else to trust. Travis sounded sincere, but how much did that count for? How could I be sure his source was any good? Would innocent people die if I acted on his information, or would the greater evil be to ignore him?
“I don’t understand,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “He’s talking about someone making trouble at a protest. Does that sound like something a drug-dealing syndicate would do? We talked about the unrest being part of O’Malley’s plan, a distraction for the news to cover up whatever his actual goals are, but this kind of public show? Why? Security will be there. My team is supposed to be there. They’ll step in to prevent any disturbance and haul away anyone who tries to cause it. Where is the benefit to O’Malley except to lose some lackeys?”
“Maybe he thinks your team won’t be fast enough to catch them?” Gideon suggested.
“Possibly, but for what? To hurt civilians? Draw more mundane eyes our way? How does that tie in to ghost dealing and money laundering?”
We were missing something. A large, blurred patch in the middle of the picture.
“Unless…” Madison started, then she shook her head and sipped her coffee.
“What?” Gideon asked, beating me to it.
“It’s just a theory,” she said.
“That’s all we have to work with right now,” I said. “Maybe one more will clear the haze.”
She shifted in her seat, her gaze moving from Gideon’s to mine before dropping back to her mug. “What if their purpose in stirring up discontent is darker than using it as a distraction?”
I tried to guess where her thoughts had gone, but the path forward was too murky. When I looked at Gideon, he shrugged and shook his head.
“We assumed this was all about the ghost, or the money the ghost earns,” Madison said. “The labs, the bombs, the Kingston rumour. Everything we’ve followed has been the drug trail. What if the ghost has nothing to do with it? What if it’s the convenient hot topic that draws the right kind of headlines and sets off the right type of groups? The type that makes noise, that forms mobs. What if the riots aren’t intended to cover the movement of the ghost, but the ghost is being used to set off the riots?” She looked from me to Gideon, seeing if we were following.
At first, her logic escaped me, but as I formed the question, the horrifying possibility pooled at the base of my spine.
“They’re trying to cause chaos,” Gideon said, voicing my fears. “Destabilize the balance of the country.”
“That’s why they’re targeting Meril,” I said. From the start, I’d been curious about the sudden open hostility towards the queen considering no one had heard from her in decades. “Causing trouble between both sides of the wall. To cut us off from each other? Channel power somewhere?”
Madison nodded. “What if whoever’s signing these briefing notes and shutting down projects isn’t working for the syndicate but working with them?”
I swallowed around the rock in my throat. “If so, we have to assume Travis’s information is good. Something is going to happen at the protest today. Up until now, they’ve been using Dougall to attract attention…”
Madison blanched. “They wouldn’t. A ghostbomb near all those people?”
Gideon scowled. “Right now, I think we need to plan for the nightmare scenario.”
As much as it turned my stomach, he was right. “Let’s hope we get lucky. If they’re planning something that huge, whoever’s behind it will want to be close enough to watch the fallout.”
Maybe we would end this before anyone else got hurt.
Chapter 14
Jet
The weight of Madison’s theory crushed all speech for a good minute, but as soon as the shock wore off, a heated argument began that left my blood buzzing with no way to vent the excess energy except to take it out on the table lamp in the corner.
“Of course I’m going,” I said, astounded it was even a question. The lamp rattled against the wall. “And I’m going alone. You can’t be seen in public, and I know this city. I can get around more easily if I’m not worried about watching out for you.”
“Not a chance in hell,” Gideon said, bracing both hands on the counter. “You shouldn’t be within a fifty-block radius of that crowd. They’re searching for you, Jet. Have you forgotten the little thing about a murder investigation? Where would you even start? You have no idea what sort of trouble they’re organizing. If there’s another ghostbomb in the middle of the crowd, what would you do? If whatever happens turns a peaceful protest into a fucking riot, you’d wind up trapped in the middle of it. Stay home. Call it in.”
My thoughts flew to Eric Sampson, my lieutenant. At any other time, he would have been my go-to in a situation like this. Someone I trusted with my life. Zeke, Ellison, Sara—a week ago, I would have counted on any of them. Now Zeke was in hospital, Ellie was dead, and Eric and Sara probably agreed with the majority that their dear packleader had lost her mind.
Gideon was right that I should call to warn them, but would they listen? I suspected they’d give it as much weight as an anonymous tip. Until we shut down O’Malley and anyone working with him, I had lost their trust, which meant I couldn’t be sure they would take me seriously. What if they did a half-assed sweep to appease their grief-stricken captain? What if they ignored my report altogether, assuming it was more of my paranoid ravings, and missed the signs of a planned attack?
I would call to make the report, but there was no way I’d take the risk of a potential threat being overlooked.
“This isn’t my first protest,” I said, “and if it goes that way, it won’t be my first riot.”
Gideon opened his mouth, no doubt to spout something sharp and witty, but as the lamp on the table grew rowdier in response to my rising anger, Madison stepped between us.
“What is your plan? I know you’re not thinking of walking in and seeing what happens.”
She wasn’t siding with Gideon, but by the satisfaction on his face, he certainly thought she was. And, frankly, it was hard not to feel attacked.
I set my hands on my hips and focused on Madison, willing the lamp to sit still so it didn’t give away my uncontrolled frustration. I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t sorted out the details yet. Though now that I’d been put on the spot, ideas fluttered through my head, organizing themselves into the most practical options. Fourteen years of experience had given me that advantage at least. I might not have a team behind me, but I could come up with a dozen battle tactics in a three-minute span.
Another spasm of pain around my heart stole my breath. If I had played things differently, I would probably be corralling what was left of my team right now, patrolling Parliament Hill, preparing for the protest. I would be on the inside, with the full strength of SMOAC resources behind me.
But if I’d gone that route, Gideon would be locked in a cell at Carstairs’s mercy. Madison would be at risk of Dougall using her to make a fake political point to follow through on a fake threatening note. I would have to walk around with a smile on my face as though I didn’t suspect every person I crossed to be in league with the syndicate. And I wouldn’t have had the forewarning that something might go down at the protest.
I’d made the only decision I could, and though it hurt like a son of a bitch to be out here on my own, I had to work with what was available.
My emotions tried to get the better of me, so I cleared my throat and focused on logistics. “My primary mission will be to observe. If Michael is organizing security, he’ll do a thorough job of it, especially if they receive word of a potential attack. Likely I won’t have to step in at all. Our security team is good, and my task force is the best. I know how they’re trained. They know what they’re looking for and how to be discreet. I’ll set up on a rooftop, somewhere out of sight.”
“To what end?” Madison rested her hand on my arm. “I know you want to help, but it won’t do us any good if you’re found. We have a better chance of protecting ourselves by figuring out the connections and significance behind these briefing notes.”
My gaze shifted to the papers piled in the middle of the dining table. Madison had stacked them by month. A chronological view of all the ways someone had messed with our community. Hundreds of documents, and those were just the notes Madison had been able to pull before IT blocked her access. We only had a snapshot of how far this corruption went back and how widespread the problem had become, and of that brief glimpse, we’d only begun to dig into it.
She was right. Paperwork was tangible evidence, and therefore had to be the priority… but the idea of being cooped up inside reading page after page of bureaucratic bullshit created knots in my stomach that squeezed my lungs and guts.
“I can’t do it,” I said. “I have to see with my own eyes that security downtown is ready for any possible outcome. My troops are good, but they don’t know about Dougall. Would you have believed Dougall was the Ghostmaker?” I posed the question to both of them but didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides, I can’t—fuck.” I bowed my head, hating what I was about to say. “I can’t trust that the right people are calling the shots.”
