Out of the Shadows Page 6

  Doubtful. More likely mosquitoes, snakes, and feral possums.

  “What are you thinking that’s making you smile like that?” Devon asked.

  I glanced over at him, realizing I was indeed grinning a little at my fanciful imaginary forest expedition.

  “Just thinking about what’s out there,” I said with a shrug, nodding my head toward the trees. “When I was little, I was always fascinated by the idea of monsters. Mythical creatures out there, evading detection and leaving only clues as to their existence. They could hide forever, it seemed.”

  “Monsters are real,” he said grimly, “and they do hide amongst us. Disguised as normal people you love and trust.”

  The darkness in his voice had me studying his profile. “You’re talking about Vega, aren’t you,” I said. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. “You told me once before that she’s the one who helped you when your parents were killed.” This time I waited, hoping he’d open up to me. It took several long moments, but eventually my patience paid off.

  “The murder of my parents had a profound effect on me,” he said. “I retreated into myself, turning into a sullen, angry, silent boy. A couple of years passed and I started getting into fights, trying to find an outlet for the anger, I think. I . . . beat one child so badly, he ended up in the hospital. He was all right, but I was to be removed from the orphanage and placed in a YOI, young offenders institute, which is much like your juvenile detention centers.

  “That’s when Vega appeared,” he continued. “I was fifteen and friendless. Smart, but unmotivated. If I’d been removed to the YOI, I am quite sure I’d have run away and become a full-blown criminal on the streets of London. She placed me in another location that I later was to learn belonged to the Shadow. I lived there, was trained there, for the next four years.”

  I did the math. “You were nineteen. So . . . then what did you do?”

  “I killed someone.”

  He said it matter-of-factly, but I could detect a hint of something else. Regret, maybe? Disillusion?

  “They’d trained me to be a ruthless killer, but also had taught me spycraft, and above all, unwavering and unquestioning loyalty to the Shadow. For the first few years, I did a lot of recce. After that first kill, it was easier, but assassinations didn’t come until later. I left a bloody trail in my wake and became Vega’s top operator.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. Congratulations wasn’t really what he was going for, I thought. His hand lay on the console between us, so I folded my palm over his. I stayed quiet, letting him say things I knew almost for certain he’d never told another living soul.

  “I did my job faithfully for six years. Excellently. Then I met Kira. It didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to be with her. We were in love.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “I was a fool.”

  Devon’s grip tightened on my hand.

  “Vega told me . . . she was the one who’d had Kira murdered.”

  I stared at him, both shocked and unsurprised at Vega’s actions. I remembered the easy, almost casual way in which she’d had Clive killed. How she’d spoken of giving Heinrich the whereabouts of Clive’s wife, Anna, which had led to her infection and tortuous death.

  I wished Devon wasn’t driving so I could put my arms around him, but I settled for squeezing his hand instead.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured.

  “I trusted her, obeyed her, gave my life over to her, for years,” he said. “And she betrayed me. What she did . . . what she allowed them to do to Kira . . . ” He looked at me and I sucked in a breath at the rage and pain in his eyes and on his face. “She’s the monster, Ivy. And we’re going to take everything from her.”

  The conviction in his words sent a chill through me. I understood Devon’s wanting vengeance, but I didn’t want him to die because of it.

  It was after midnight when we pulled into a motel in the middle of nowhere that looked like a reject from Psycho. Devon turned off the engine, but I made no move to get out.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  It would have sounded ridiculous for me to be all, I’m skeered, like a kid who’d watched too many horror movies . . . but apparently I’d watched too many horror movies.

  “Maybe there’s like a Holiday Inn or something a bit further,” I suggested. “I could drive, if you’re tired.”

  “Holiday Inns have records and computers and cameras,” he said. “This place does not.”

  “I also doubt they have running water,” I muttered as he got out.

  “Wait here,” he said before closing his door and walking into the dingy office to rent a room.

  “No problem,” I said under my breath, eyeing the flickering neon sign proclaiming “Vacancy,” except the N and C were both out, so it looked like “Vacay.”

  “Far from it,” I said to myself, remembering the wonderful hotel in Maui at which Devon and I had stayed. Although I had champagne taste on a beer budget (as my Grams was so often telling me), I didn’t think I was being all snotty about this place. Anyone in their right mind could see it was a total dump.

  “Should’ve bought Lysol at Walmart.” Oh well. I’d have to pick some up the next time we passed the ubiquitous shopping center.

  Devon returned a few minutes later, bearing a key. He drove us toward the end of the strip of rooms, stopping in front of number thirteen. I glanced at him.

  “Thirteen? Really?”

  “Surely you’re not superstitious,” he said, his lips twitching at the corners.

  “Why tempt the universe?” I countered. “We’re already on its bad side.”

  Leaning over, he pressed his lips to mine in a quick, hard kiss. His hand cupped my cheek as he gazed into my eyes. “I promise, I’ll protect you from the universe,” he softly murmured.

  My heart promptly melted.

  I followed him inside as he carried the duffel bag containing our clothes. The room was clean, but old. The linens thin and worn, the carpet stained in spots with God only knew what. I perched gingerly on the edge of the bed.

  Though I hadn’t done the driving today, I was exhausted. I swiped a hand tiredly over my eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Devon asked, his brow creased with concern.

  I smiled. “I’m fine. Just need to get some sleep, I think.”

  He seemed to accept that, turning away and bolting the door, then wedging a chair under the knob. I watched as he checked the windows, too.

  “Do you think anyone is following us?” I asked, the man from the parking lot coming to mind.

  “I think it pays to be cautious.”

  Abruptly I wondered what would happen if we did make it out of this. Devon had lived a life I couldn’t begin to imagine. Would he find the day-to-day normalcy of no longer being a spy boring? And what would he do if he decided he’d made a mistake and couldn’t live just a normal existence?

  I thought about this as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I stripped off my jeans, then inspected the sheets and bedcovers before climbing into them. Devon was checking his weapon and didn’t take anything off before settling down next to me.

  “Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?” I asked, bewildered. But he shook his head.

  “If I need to move quickly, I don’t want to take the time to put them on. Better to be prepared.”

  Well, that sounded alarming.

  “Should I put my shoes on, too?” I asked.

  “No, darling.” He drew me into his arms and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You sleep and don’t worry.”

  His arms were strong, the muscles hard, and it made me feel safe. His weapon was underneath his pillow and his right hand lay within easy reach of it. I relaxed, my body molding itself to his, and closed my eyes.

  I woke with a jerk, gasping as Devon bounded out of bed. In seconds he was at the door, and before I could utter a word or ask a question, he was outside.

  Confused and trying to clear the cobw
ebs of sleep from my brain, it took me a moment to get to my feet and follow him. That’s when I saw the headlights outside, burning bright enough to blind me.

  Devon was going somewhere without me?

  But no, he was there, and the car . . . someone was stealing it.

  Gunshots made me jump, my heart climbing into my throat. I couldn’t see, couldn’t tell what was going on, but then the car was tearing out of the lot, gravel spewing from behind its wheels, and Devon was firing more shots. I heard glass breaking, but then the car was gone, the taillights a dim red disappearing down the road.

  I stood in the sudden silence, still trying to wrap my foggy brain around what had just happened. Someone had stolen our car and Devon . . .

  I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and saw him. He was standing about ten yards away, arms at his sides and hand still grasping his gun.

  “Devon?” I asked, my voice cautious. “What . . .what’s going on?”

  He turned back to me. “Ivy,” he said, “do get back inside. I don’t think there are more of them, but you’re an open target, standing there like that.”

  I hesitated for a second, then stepped back into the dark room. Hurrying to the bed, I pulled on my pants and was tying my shoelaces when he came back inside.

  “So someone just stole our car?” I asked.

  “It appears so.” His voice was grim.

  “That’s so . . . random,” I said. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Exactly.”

  I hesitated, trying to decipher what he was thinking. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t think it was random.”

  Alarm shot through me. “You think they found us?” The thought of going back into that facility to be poked and prodded, separated forever from Devon, made me physically ill.

  But Devon shook his head. “If it had been Vega or the FBI, they wouldn’t have left us and taken the car. No, I think we’re dealing with a different element here.” He removed a box of bullets from the duffel and reloaded his gun. I was really glad he hadn’t left the bag in the car.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  He rammed the full magazine home and I started at the sound.

  “I’m going to get it back.”

  He headed out the door again and I jumped to my feet, following him. He turned around, but I spoke first.

  “Don’t even think that you’re leaving me behind in this creepy motel by myself,” I said. “No way.”

  My stubborn insistence softened the hard expression on his face. “I keep forgetting you’re not one to sit idly by and wait for life to suit you,” he said, taking my hand with his free one. “All right. You can come, but you must do as I say. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Unless he told me to leave him and save myself or something dumb like that, of course.

  The office door was unlocked when Devon pushed it open, a rusted bell announcing our presence. No one was behind the counter and it was quiet, the only sound that of the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead.

  Devon’s steps were silent and he squeezed my hand and let go, a glance telling me he wanted me to stay put. I stopped, watching him lift his weapon, elbows bent, as he rounded the counter to a door just beyond.

  Someone coughed and Devon paused, moving to the side of the door and waiting. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the door opened and a man stepped out.

  I barely had time to notice his scraggly beard, stained T-shirt, and lip and nose piercings before Devon had him by the throat and shoved up against the wall. The muzzle of the gun was pressed against his temple and Devon was in his face.

  “Where the fuck is my car?” he growled.

  The guy looked terrified, but struggled not to show it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” he said.

  Devon pressed the muzzle harder into his head, until he flinched.

  “I’ll ask you one more time, then I’m going to shoot you.” Devon’s tone was cold, and sweat broke out on the man’s brow. “Where is my car?”

  “I don’t know—”

  The gunshot made me flinch, but Devon hadn’t shot the guy. Instead, the bullet was lodged into the wall behind his head. Blood dripped from his ear, and I realized the bullet had taken a chunk of flesh with it.

  “Oh God! Oh God!” The guy was crying now, his hand covering his injury. “Please don’t kill me! I know who took it! I’ll tell you! Just don’t kill me!”

  “Then talk,” Devon bit out.

  “Th-they pay me a thousand bucks to tell them about any good cars. Then they come and steal them. I don’t know what they do with them, I swear.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know their names,” the guy said, his eyes swiveling to where Devon still held the gun close to his face. “They live about a mile from here, in the trailer park. They’re a bunch of meth heads and dealers, brewing that shit up and selling it.”

  “A mile in which direction?”

  “S-south,” he stammered.

  “Excellent.”

  Devon moved fast, the butt of the gun coming down hard on the guy’s head. His eyes rolled up and he dropped to the floor like a rock.

  “He’s not dead, is he?” I asked, eyeing the body.

  “No. Just out for a while. I don’t want him to warn them.”

  “Warn them about what?”

  Devon looked at me like I was an idiot. “That I’m coming.”

  “You can’t go take on a bunch of drug dealers alone,” I protested. “It’s just a car. We-we can rent a new one.”

  “Where on earth do you think we’ll be able to rent a new one out here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Okay, well he had me there. Maybe we could sneak into the park, find the SUV, and steal it back. No muss, no fuss.

  Yeah, right.

  I sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.” I pointed at him. “And no, I’m not staying behind.”

  “I wasn’t going to suggest you should,” he said, sounding affronted.

  I snorted. “Sure you weren’t.”

  “All right. Perhaps I was thinking it would be safer—”

  “We’re in this together,” I interrupted. “Where you go, I go. Whether it’s dangerous or not. We’re not separating.” I knew what happened when you separated. I’d seen enough movies. It was always bad. Like getting up in the middle of the night to check out the strange noise downstairs in a horror movie. Always a bad decision. “Agreed?”

  I waited, crossing my arms and staring at him until he finally caved. “Agreed.”

  Devon searched the clerk’s pockets until he turned up a set of car keys, which went to a beat-up VW Bug we found behind the building. I slid into the passenger seat and gagged on the overwhelming odor of weed.

  “Good lord,” I said, rolling down the manual window. Hadn’t seen one of those in a while. “Is getting high all he does?”

  “What else is there to do around here?” Devon replied, starting the engine.

  Okay, he may have had a point.

  We drove south, following the same direction they’d taken the SUV, for about a mile. I scanned the darkness ahead, then pointed.

  “There it is.”

  It was a dilapidated wooden sign proclaiming the entrance to “Hunter’s Glen,” and beyond it I could see the outline of trailers lined up in a row. At this hour, I’d expect them all to be dark, but lights glowed from so many windows, it was as though it were merely seven o’clock in the evening instead of only a few hours from the approaching dawn. Very weird.

  Devon pulled off the road and killed the engine. He handed me the gun Beau had left, racking the slide for me.

  “It’s loaded with a round in the chamber,” he said, “so be careful. Don’t point it at anything you wouldn’t want to shoot.”

  I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. If Devon did actually need me to help him, I hoped I could.

  “I want you to stay here,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest,
but he cut me off. “I’m going to do a recce, see what we’re dealing with. Easier and quieter with just one person. Then I’ll be back.”

  Okay, well, I couldn’t really argue with that, so I just nodded, but I wasn’t happy.

  Devon switched off the overhead light so it wouldn’t come on when he opened the door. When he got out, he didn’t slam the door shut, but pushed it lightly until it latched.

  The road was empty and silent, and I watched until he was swallowed by the darkness.

  God, I hated the waiting.

  My nerves were on edge and I started at every little noise. The smell inside of the car grew nauseating with each minute that passed, even with the windows down. Finally—afraid I was going to vomit from the sickly sweet odor—I couldn’t take it anymore. I got out the same way Devon had, making sure to be as quiet as I could.

  The weeds were thick on the side of the road and I tried to watch my footing carefully, not wanting to tumble down into the ditch. Walking a few yards down the road away from the car, I took a deep breath and cradled the weapon in my hands. Crouching down to better conceal myself, I waited.

  The humidity was thick, and sweat trickled down my spine, tickling me. The cicadas were out in force, their sound filling the night air. Grass moved off to my right and I prayed it wasn’t a snake. Though I’d grown up on a farm, I hated snakes.

  Then the sound of a scream split the air, followed by a gunshot.

  The scream cut off as abruptly as it began, and then there was a flurry of activity.

  I watched in horror, terrified that Devon had been spotted. Several men gathered in one area, talking animatedly. One of them pointed at a particular trailer and after a moment’s discussion, that’s where they went. I heard a screen door bang shut and more voices arguing.

  I waited for Devon to appear, sweat trickling down my back and mosquitoes feasting off my exposed arms. Surely he’d have heard the commotion and would be hightailing it out of there. But minute after minute passed with no sign of Devon. Anxiety and fear clawed at my belly. What if they had caught him? Killed him? Was that what the gunshot had been?