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Blake pressed the button on the water fountain more out of habit than because he expected it to be turned on. There was no shock when water didn’t come out. He was far more surprised the rest-stop bathrooms were unlocked and the toilets working.
While he waited for Reagan, he wandered to the picnic table at the edge of the property. Splinters of paint bit through his jeans when he sat on the bench. He pulled out the phone they used for navigation. Between the two of them, they’d set up the Wi-Fi on the device to constantly be searching for new hotspots. It would piggyback on one, ride it to the next signal, and hop several more times before connecting to the internet.
The device should be untraceable as theirs, but if someone did manage to figure out who owned it, they’d have a hell of a time finding out where it was, before Reagan and Blake moved on.
The bitter air chapping his face had him concerned. They’d picked up winter coats and warmer clothes when they hit southern Indiana, but the bite in the wind held a threat he knew from childhood. He slid up the weather for the region. The line-drawing cloud with flakes falling from it made him scowl. It wasn’t enough information.
The -7 F next to the icon was more telling. He clicked through, for details.
“What’s up?” Reagan’s question jarred him, and his hand flew to his holster out of instinct.
He should be keeping a better eye on his surroundings, but this was bad. “There’s a blizzard blowing through. We need to find a place for the night, and soon.”
“No.” She slid in next to him, her arm pressing against his, and took the phone. “We’re so close. We push through.”
He was fine with her being confident and headstrong, but this was something he wouldn’t budge on. “Have you ever driven in a Midwestern blizzard?”
“I’ve driven in a Utah one.”
“Would you do it willingly?”
She stood, and he fell into step beside her, as they returned to the car. “I’m not doing most of this willingly. It’s more of a need than a want,” she said.
“Fair point.” He wouldn’t ask if that included his company. “This has the potential to make what you’ve seen look like a couple of flakes. Six feet overnight isn’t the kind of thing you fuck with.”
She stopped at the passenger side and rested her arms on the top of the car to look at him. “I hate how long it’s taking to get there.”
“If that safety deposit box has sat untouched for five years, it will still be there if we take an extra day or two to get to it.”
“It’s snow.”
He swallowed a snarl. “And you know how to drive in it. Good for you. It’s not just the snow that’s the problem; it’s when it stops. If we get stuck in it, and the clouds clear out and the wind kicks up, negative seven will sound like paradise.” He wished he were exaggerating.
She sighed in frustration and tossed him the keys. “You win.”
He’d pick another time to be smug. The clouds overhead didn’t look forgiving, and the closest town was fifty miles out.
* * * *
WIND HOWLED OUTSIDE their hotel room. Blake sat on the bed, back to the wall and legs stretch out in front of him. Reagan lay on her back, head on his thigh, alternating her gaze between the ceiling and him.
“You seemed pretty emphatic about the weather.” Her tone was pleasant and soft. “Firsthand knowledge?”
Instinct and years of experience glossing over the details of his past wanted him to say, I’ve heard and didn’t see any reason to risk it. He didn’t have to do that with her, though. Though he didn’t completely trust her motives, there was a lot he was okay with her knowing. More than most people ever learned about him. The realization struck him. “I grew up in Elmhurst. It’s a suburb of Chicago.”
A tiny smile played on her face, and she twisted her head in his direction. “Will we drive through there on our way?”
“Probably not. It’s not directly off the freeway.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Do you miss home?”
“Sometimes.” A frown flickered in before vanishing. “But it never felt like home after Alex was gone. It’s as if... Never mind.”
Ice pelted the windows, and the lights dimmed before staying on bright and strong.
Blake brushed a strand of hair off Reagan’s forehead. “As if what?”
“You’ll think it’s stupid or that I’m broken, or something.”
“I doubt that.”
She pushed into a sitting position, crossed her legs, and looked at him. “Sometimes I feel, until six months ago, I was wandering lost, not really belonging anywhere. I’m not saying I love the life I live now, but at least I’m the guiding force, rather than being tossed about by the wind.”
“I get that.” He gave her a sad smile. “And no, I don’t miss home. I miss the memory of what it was when I was younger, but that place doesn’t exist. Maybe it never did, the way childhood-me sees it.”
Wind whistled through cracks in the door, shrill and icy. Fortunately, the extra blankets the hotel gave them sat tucked at the foot of the bed, waiting for use.
“Did you really want to be Spiderman when you grew up?” she asked.
He’d forgotten he told her that. Those first days in the diner, when he was still a double agent, seemed like a lifetime ago. “I did. Though it turns out I’m allergic to spiders, so I might not have survived that first step toward great power.”
“I never liked Spiderman. No offense.”
“None taken. I’m not him. You more of a Wonder Woman girl?”
She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t mar her smile. “I tended toward Spawn. Azrael. Constantine. The Crow.”
“Avenging angels?”
“And damned souls. They always felt more real to me.” Her laugh was tinged with something dark. “As real as a guy returning from the dead to wreak havoc on those who wronged him can be.”
“We’re actively trying to destroy a man who named himself after a fictional character from a children’s book. I don’t see why they can’t be real.”
She crawled forward on the mattress, to sit next to him. When she leaned her head against his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her. He wasn’t sure why this always felt natural, but she never pulled away, and he never second-guessed it.
Silence descended over the room, interrupted by the occasional shrill of the storm trying to get at them.
“Is that why you enlisted in the Marines?” she asked. “Closest you could get to being Spiderman?”
“More or less. I’m not drawing the same parallel for you. Code-breaking and hacking don’t fall in line with avenging angels.”
“Really?” She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. “After everything I’ve seen and said and done, you don’t think vengeance is involved?”
He did. It was the biggest concern he had, and what kept him from placing more faith in her. The knowledge knocked his thoughts off kilter. “Do you want my super hero response?”
“No. But go ahead.”
“If getting back at Jabberwock is the only thing keeping you going, what do you do when he’s gone?”
“How did you go from Marine to NSA?” she asked.
He bit the inside of his cheek at the way she dodged his question without hesitation. He wouldn’t push, because that would make her close off further. “The scars on my shoulder? I caught stray friendly fire when I was in Afghanistan. It sent me home, earned me a discharge, and cost me my direction.”
Saying the words clenched around his heart in a way he didn’t expect. It had been years since he talked about this. It shouldn’t still bother him. He forced down the reaction. “I was lost and spending a lot of time online, and I discovered the deep web. I’d seen evil before. Hell—I fought it face to face.
But then I saw things for sale. Drugs, money, guns, people...” He shook his head, but it didn’t clear out the creeping darkness. “I started figuring out how to track it. Digging. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Learning to trace IP addresses. Setting them up to be arrested. I sucked at hiding myself, though.”
“You?” Teasing lined her question.
“Give me a sniper rifle and a good spotter, and no one will see me. The NSA watched my activity. I inadvertently made it easier for them because I did a lot of it from VA computers. They approached me. Told me they had resources if I was willing to learn. I was.”
“Your cause sounds a lot nobler than mine.” She snuggled closer and pulled his arm tighter around her.
It had been. Until he figured out the bad guys walked both sides of the line. Until he saw what some of his colleagues were willing to do for results—the lines they crossed and the collateral damage they caused. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”