For the past two days I haven’t stopped thinking about Nik porting out of the diner with Xane. Not for a single second. The pop of Xane’s arm, the evil sneer on Nik’s face, the fear that turned my stomach to liquid. What I haven’t thought about—purposefully pushed away every time it tries to creep into my thoughts—is the kiss I shared with Will. Sweet and gentle, and oh so very Will. I’ve always felt safe and warm with him, but this took that feeling to a whole new level. Now, it’s like we’re both operating on autopilot, our friendship running the way it always has. Like that kiss never happened. It’s almost too easy, yet almost forced.
“Hey, Mae, you all right?” Lilly says.
Holy cow, I’m thinking about it. I palm my knees, forcing them to settle and stop bouncing. The fact I’m jammed between him and her in Al’s truck isn’t good. Will knows my tics, and knee-jigging is almost as bad as thumb chewing. I don’t dare let my eyes move in his direction when I say, “Yeah, I’m cool.”
Lilly raises a perfect brow like she doesn’t believe me. Heck, I wouldn’t either after the way I reacted to seeing Nik. Lucky she doesn’t know the real source of this nervous energy. She’d have an opinion for sure. Damn it, I can’t think about this now. Not with a good possibility we’ll see Manvyke within the hour. Lilly’s probably freaking out at my unpredictability and I wouldn’t blame her.
“I can handle this.” I meet her square on and then look to Will, who eyes me over the soda can raised to his lips, his gaze skeptical. He doesn’t believe me anymore than she does. Well, so be it. I’ll prove them both wrong.
We’re on the side of the road outside Collective territory, hidden by the huge pine trees, which also block the view of the front gates that provide entry into their community. We should still see any vehicle that goes through them. Borrowing the truck was easy since it’s a reasonable time of the day. Lilly just asked Beau for permission saying we were going to visit Will’s folks, something we haven’t done in weeks and should. Just like I should have spent some time with Dad over the past week and haven’t. A tiny part of me feels bad, but I don’t have time to examine that either.
“I feel like the FBI,” Will says.
Lilly barks out a short laugh. “We’ve got more idea what’s going on than they ever have.”
“True.” He takes another sip of his drink. “If only they knew.”
“Indeed.” A lightness that’s returning more often carries Lilly’s voice.
I bump my shoulder against hers. “Love you, Lil.”
“What?” Her brow furrows like I’ve said the stupidest thing this side of ridiculous.
I shrug. “You’re a great friend, dragging your butt out here for me. You’ve been nothing but the best friend in the world since we met.”
“Hoi,” Will says. “Don’t you be giving my place away.”
Lilly’s mouth tips up, just a little at first, then into a huge grin. I can’t help the chuckle that spurts out of me, hers follows.
“What?” Will asks, his eyes meeting mine over the can again. Somehow, with that one sentence, I know that no matter what happens everything will work out just fine. We’ll always be friends over and above anything else.
Xane said Manvyke leaves every second today, and I hope to high heaven that today’s the right day. My nerves can’t take a second stakeout. Or maybe it’s not this, it’s all the caffeine. You’d think it was three in the morning rather than the afternoon by the amount we’ve consumed. I flip my wrist over and it’s now three forty-five. Getting closer.
Something warm closes around the hand at my mouth and I near jump off the truck’s bench seat. “Gosh, Will. Don’t scare me like that.”
“Well, stop doing that. You’ll chew right through your thumb.”
He tugs it away from my mouth and on the way down my fingers brush my pendant, sparking a thought. Will places my hand in my lap and I spin around to face him before he’s even let go. “Do you think . . .”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No way, Mae. It couldn’t.”
“It might.”
“What are you talking about?” Lilly asks. “Sometimes I swear you two have your own wavelength.”
Will peers around me. “The cover-up—”
“Do you think it might work over the whole truck?” I ask.
Lilly laughs, flat out laughs, at me.
“See,” Will says, “it won’t.”
“Do either of you know for sure?” I tug the brooch out of its permanent home in my jeans pocket. It’s a good place to keep it, better than leaving the thing lying around. After twisting the pin through the collar of my blouse, I plant a hand on the truck’s dash, glancing over my shoulder at Will. “Out you get,” I tell him. “We won’t know if it works if no one’s looking. Just stand away a bit.”
He raises a brow and gives me an incredulous look, but reaches for the handle then jumps out of the truck and lops around the front where he stands a few feet away, arms crossed. I run my thumb over both forget-me-nots. The sensation ripples through me and fabulous, that’s the sign I’ve turned invisible. Maybe Lilly too, since our thighs are touching and hopefully the truck. Will just stands there looking straight at us; my hope blooms. It worked?
Slowly, he moves his head left, then right. Damn it.
“Shoot. He’s on the move.” Lilly guns the engine and the tires spin up gravel. She’s right too. A dark blue SUV pulls out of the Collective community; not fast, thank goodness, but crawling out like the driver either isn’t paying attention, or is concentrating too hard, granny-style. Will runs, planting his palm on the hood just as the truck spins to the side. He nearly falls over, but manages to grab the open door as the vehicle slides back around. He tosses himself in, slamming his hip into mine and yanking the door closed only a second before Lilly hooks the truck onto the road and speeds off.
“Holy hell, Lilly,” his voice is breathy, “you could’ve waited for me. It’s not like we are the frickin’ FBI.”
“He’s moving, Will. A second’s hesitation and we’ll lose him.”
“Is that even him?”
“It’s four o’clock and it’s the only car we’ve seen come out of there since we arrived. It’s him.”
I’m not so certain, but logic says she’s probably right.
“Hey, invisi-girl.” Will bumps his knee into mine. “You’re making it look like there’s no one driving this truck.”
Imagining exactly what that would look like, I laugh. A driverless car is pretty darn funny, even though that’s a sure fire way to wave a red flag saying, I’m here. With a quick brush of my thumb, I deactivate the cover-up then pull the baseball cap down low over my head. Will and Lilly shouldn’t be recognizable, but Manvyke would know me with a passing glance.
Now that we’re moving, the truck putters along at a more reasonable speed, hanging back out of the SUV’s path. None of us speak; we’re all holding our breaths to see where this game of cat and mouse leads. And where it does lead is right out of the suburbs and onto the highway; heading back toward the city, the farm, and a million other potential destinations.
In just under an hour we’re off the highway again and on the exit that leads into the city. The high-rise buildings that mark its center slowly grow closer, and as they do the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. It sure looks like we’re headed toward the council building over by central park. Abandoned or not, we need to be wary, so I slouch in my seat and watch under the rim of my borrowed cap.
The SUV slows, passing the Collective’s city territory at the pace of a fast snail, but it doesn’t stop. Instead it continues around the park, pulling to a stop on the far side. I guess he could still be going back there. Just because he didn’t park right out front doesn’t mean anything, but then maybe he’s going somewhere else. Damn spiraling thoughts . . .
Shoving my ponytail into the back of my shirt, I say, “What do you—”
“Dunno.” Lilly pulls into a free parking space, hopefully far enough away to not be obvious. “Stay here.”
Will opens the door and jumps down out of the truck. Stay here while Will goes who knows where? Hell, no. I slide across the seat, but her hand snags my arm while Will walks away without waiting for me. And damn, the man who just hopped out of the SUV is Manvyke. That frame, that stance, all confidence and grace and don’t-mess-with-me-I’m-important. He slips around the corner of a connecting street and Will follows at a decent distance. The two of them being alone is the dumbest idea ever, so I reef my arm out of Lilly’s grasp.
“Mae!” She sounds angry but damn, so am I. I won’t be told to sit, stay, or heel. I’m not her pet dog.
“You’re not Will. Stop being so over-protective and let me go.”
“Listen to yourself,” she says. “You need to stay here. Will’s got less chance than you of being recognized.”
“And more chance of being hurt without anyone there to watch his back.”
She sighs and bounces her forehead off the steering wheel, but grabs my arm again. “He can handle himself.”
“It doesn’t matter how good someone is, Lilly, no one and I mean absolutely no one is invincible.”
All the color flees from her face leaving it more washed-out than my pale skin. Her hand drops from my arm and, crap, I’m such a cow. Garrett was the best.
Avoiding eye contact, I slink out of the car feeling worse than awful as I jog along the sidewalk. I should have stayed with Lilly and somehow made her feel better, told her how good Garrett was. But nothing can or will erase the pain of his death and right now, I need to watch out for Will. He’s been gone for maybe five minutes, totally out of sight with Manvyke, and that pounds my heart with fear.
Just before I reach the corner, I swerve to the left to avoid people on the street then glance up. Will strolls around the corner with his head down and the black baseball cap pulled low over his face. It’s a near miss when I swerve, but his hands clamp around my upper arms pulling me to a halt and turning me back the way I came. Concern reflects in his eyes. He slips an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side.
“Hi there, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.
What the heck? I stiffen because this is no time to be getting all touchy-feely. While I’m still trying to figure it out, a man rushes past us with his coat billowing behind him and fingering some kind of large coin. Will’s fingers press into my side and, damn, I recognize Manvyke: the square set of his shoulders, that red-brown hair the exact same color as Jax’s. My legs just about stop working. That man is responsible for so much, and now he’s close enough to touch I can’t even move.
Barely taking my eyes off the councilor, I let Will guide me back to the truck. He pulls the door open and I climb inside while he hops up next to me and slams the door closed. “What the hell, Mae?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, averting my attention from both him and Lilly because, yeah, that was pretty stupid. But Manvyke could have recognized Will, too.
“He just bought coffee,” Will says.
Lilly starts the engine and pulls out onto the street. Looks like Manvyke’s on the move again. A few cars ahead of us, the SUV sticks to the speed limit and indicates to the left. As we peel away from central park and its newly blossoming elm trees, I remember—once again—the night I was there with Jax. The memory doesn’t linger though, I don’t allow it. Instead, I memorize the license plates on Manvyke’s car: CLM-0001. Typical to think he’s number one. The letters could be Councilor Manvyke, perhaps, but what does the L stand for?
He drives through the city traffic with effortless ease. Way more smoothly than Beau’s old truck, which doesn’t weave between traffic at all. Lilly keeps a few cars between us and him, but boy, he’d better not be paying much attention to his rearview mirror. The old truck sure would stand out worse than a healthy finger next to a sore thumb.
Finally, just as the buildings start shrinking in size, almost back down to suburban level, Manvyke’s car hooks a right into a driveway.
“Shoot,” Lilly curses and there’s definitely a problem. The red taillights flick off as a metal door folds upward, allowing the SUV into an underground parking lot. No way will we be able to follow. I could curse too.
“It’s an apartment block,” Will says.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Lilly spins the wheel and coasts the truck into a side street where she pulls on the brake and parks.
Following him seems impossible, but giving up is not an option. It sure seems that wherever Manvyke is headed, it’s somewhere we don’t know about. Yet. And if he’s alone and skipping out on council meetings like Xane said, then no one knows he’s here. Maybe they don’t even know he’s offsite. Heck, maybe they don’t care.
Will’s door creaks open and he takes his sweet time climbing out. I give his back a little shove, but it’s like pushing a brick wall, one that can throw filthy looks at you. I shuffle out after him then crane my head back to get a good look at the building a block over. It towers above the surrounding structures and seems to be at least a dozen stories high. Smooth walls interspersed with flat windows give it a modern look. That’s probably enhanced by the glary afternoon sun reflecting in those windows. At the very top an entire side is nothing but glass. The glass wall leaves no room for a balcony like the floors below, and looking up even higher, the roof is completely flat. Probably has a pool or one of those trendy rooftop gardens. Disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach at the lack of outside fire stairs. This sure won’t be easy. Manvyke could be visiting any of the apartments in that building. I heave out a sigh.
Locking the car, Lilly comes around to meet us on the footpath. Her head falls back as she takes in our predicament too. “Sheesh, this is going to be a challenge.”
“Uh-huh,” Will says.
As we come around the corner, we hit a solid brick wall. Without a back entrance, that only leaves the back parking lot and even thinking about breaking into that makes my head pound. So maybe it’d be best to find the front door. I cross over and continue along the footpath, skirting the edge of the apartment complex. It seems like I picked the right side, because about halfway along a uniformed man with white gloves, and a look about him that marks him as a doorman, stands on the sidewalk. There’ll be no waltzing right on in.
“Watch and learn.” Lilly tugs her ponytail loose and tips her head upside down, shaking out her hair. Then she straightens and sashays up to the doorman who turns at the sound of her footsteps. Much younger than I expected, he’s kind of cute in a clean-cut, perfectly groomed way. A wide smile spreads across his face as Lilly circles around him and he watches her move. He spins to face her, his back turned to Will and I. Gosh, the girl’s good. I grab Will’s hand and touch both the pendant and the brooch, knowing this works because Jax and I have done it before. A tiny zap through my body indicates we’re right to go.
Pulling him along, I duck behind the man who’s nodding at Lilly telling him about her poor friend who lives on the second floor and is practically dying of the flu. Lil needs to get up there and check on her friend’s health, but of course said friend never gave advice about Lil’s arrival because, well, said friend is dying. The show’s so convincing I almost feel sorry for the poor person burning with fever in apartment 2b.
Inside the lobby shiny tiles reflect the light of the glass chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling; not intricate ones like at Manvyke’s house, but ones with long cylinders that look like wind chimes. This place is top-notch, right down to the fancy leather lounges arranged in small groups, perfect for conversation. The place reeks of five-star luxury. There’s no reception desk to be seen, but two shiny silver elevator doors stand side by side at the back of the empty lobby.
Empty, as in no sign of Manvyke.
Still leading Will by the hand to maintain invisibility, I’m acutely aware that he hasn’t threaded our fingers together. Instead, my hand presses against the back of his in an extremely platonic way. We’ve always held hands, but never like this. Even when it was strictly friendship it never felt this forced. My pulse beats through my fingertips . . . heck, can he feel that? It’s like my heart has taken up residence in the place most likely to give my thoughts away.
We head straight to the elevators where I reach out and press the button, smiling to myself when it lights up. Something about invisibility never grows old! It’d be pretty amusing if other people are in there. I’d love to ask Will how he thinks we should tackle this, but I’m not game to speak in case the doorman somehow overhears us. Another glance back to the doorway and reveals Lilly is no longer there, and Mr. Suave has gone back to his post as sentinel of the front doors.
A ping indicates the elevator’s arrival and I spin back around. Will tugs on my hand and takes a step forward just as the doors slide open to reveal an empty mirror-lined lift car. As we enter, I issue up a silent prayer to the powers that be that we find Manvyke.
The door closes behind us.
“Now what?” Will drops my hand. I don’t want to overthink that, so I grab it again and squeeze my fingers around his.
“Are you crazy? They’d have cameras in here. You can’t just reappear like that.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Oh yeah? My gosh, Will, think.” I draw in a deep breath. “We need to figure out where in this building he has gone.”
“That’s easy. He’ll be in the penthouse.” He jabs his finger at the round button labeled 13—the highest number on the panel.
I arch my brows. “Superstitious?”
Will chuckles. “Not me, but . . .” He pauses for a moment and gives my hand a tiny tug. “Nothing stupid, okay? If we find him, we’re not doing anything right now, all right? We’ll just gather whatever info we can and come back fully prepared.” His long fingers twist through mine. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Besides—”
The door slides open and I feel Will flinch. The surprise isn’t his alone though; my heart thuds so loudly I’m sure the couple walking in can hear it. Gripping his hand tighter, I shuffle out of their way. The woman’s pissed gaze lands on me, or at least it would if I was visible. Frick, frick, frick . . . can she see us? She stands only a few inches away, but then her glare swings to the guy who followed her. He stabs the G button and the doors close.
He turns around to face her. “Honey, I’m—”
“Don’t even talk to me,” she snaps. He takes a step forward and the woman jerks back, bumping into me. Holy, freaking . . . I bite down on my lip to stop from cursing aloud. She spins around, wide-eyed, then shakes her head. “Stay away from me.” She moves into the far corner, turning her back on both him and us. Is it me she’s telling to stay away or him?
“Hell,” the man says, “this stupid thing is going up.”
“You should’ve looked before we got in,” she snaps.
“You’re the one who stormed into the first lift that stopped.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and firms her shoulders, all stiff and annoyed. The man takes her hint and our little elevator falls silent.
Four, five, six . . . the light moves across the numbers indicating our climb, which feels like it’s taking for-freaking-ever. It’s probably made worse by my clammy hand in Will’s, thoughts of Manvyke chilling my blood, and holding in each breath so they don’t hear me.
Nine, ten, eleven. When we reach the thirteenth floor, Will and I need to get out, but these people are in the way. How the heck will we manage it?
“Stop looking at me.” The woman’s whine makes me jump. Pity the guy’s not looking at her. In fact, he looks peeved now, too—his back to her as he stares straight ahead with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched.
“Wouldn’t dare,” he says.
“I know you are. I can feel it.”
“I’m not looking at you, Elizabeth.”
I glance away like that will help because crap, she’s sensing us. She somehow knows we’re here.
Ping.
Thirteen, thank all things holy. Holding my breath I squeeze past him, but he turns, his focus snagging on the woman. His shoulder jams into mine.
“What the hell?” His scowl burns into me, stalling my breath in my throat. The dude somehow knows that we’re here. With my hand still clamped around Will’s, I dash out of the elevator hoping it closes and descends before the angry man has time to analyze what he did or didn’t feel.
It closes and my breath whooshes out like I’ve held it to within an inch of my life.
It’s weird that when you’re holding someone’s hand you can sense the change in their mood or stance without seeing them. Right now, I’m sensing that with Will. He was alert in the elevator, but now it’s multiplied by a million.
“Not a soul?” It’s Manvyke.
“As you ordered. Not a soul.”
My chest tightens and it’s near impossible to draw another breath. I’m almost too scared to look toward the voices because I know who I’ll see. The cover-up better be working. My heart races and despite the heat burning the backs of my eyes, I spin around and, disappearing into another elevator, is the man I hate. The back of his broad shoulders practically have a target painted on them, that’s how badly my hand twitches to grab for a weapon.
The other voice belongs to a man—perhaps security—sitting behind a desk. This one does look kind of like a hotel check-in. But why would there be something like that on the top floor and with another elevator across the way? With only one door here the rest of the space seems pretty small, so this must be the penthouse and we must be in a private foyer.
I tug Will over to the door and spy a gold plaque above a peephole that reads: Angora Suite. Not helpful at all, and since that’s not where Manvyke went it’s probably not our destination. Will leads me this time, over to the other elevator. It sports just one button, no down, only up. And the plaque above it reads: Penthouse Suite. We can’t exactly push it with that guard so close. He’s probably got orders to report anything out of the ordinary. Anything that reeks of tech use. Besides we’re not covered by a hide-all on Collective territory. CRAP!
Will pulls me back toward the elevator we rode up in. My hip brushes a potted plant and the guard’s head snaps up. We can’t stop. We’ve got to get this cover-up off as quickly as possible and high-tail it out of here. I catch a glimpse of the tray of disposable cups on his desk. I’ve seen that logo before . . . must be the coffee that was in Manvyke’s hand on the street.
By the time we reach the elevator the guard’s attention has gone back to whatever game he was playing on his cellphone, but I can’t stop looking at those cups. Will presses the button while the man’s distracted with his game and long minutes roll by.
As we step into the elevator it hits me. CityBoy. Those are the very same cups, I saw every weekend until I was nine. Unchanged after all these years, it was my mother’s favorite coffee house.
She’s here.