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Blake had always been good at chess. He read the board. Anticipated his opponent’s decisions three and five and ten moves out.
Except when it came to Ephraim. Blake sat across from his army buddy, the metal of the folding chair hot through his T-shirt. The table between them wobbled each time Ephraim set a piece on the chessboard.
“Have you heard anything about this Reagan woman recently?” Ephraim asked.
Blake studied him, expression blank, but suspicion ticking in his thoughts. “Nothing new. No.”
Reagan—he heard she was calling herself Alice now—was probably the one other person who could beat him at this game. She certainly had, in the real-life version, keeping him guessing up until the night she left. And nine times out of ten, he’d been wrong.
“Hmm. Let’s play,” Ephraim said.
Bringing Alice and then brushing the question aside had to be a tactic to throw Blake off his game. “You’re already pulling out the psychological warfare? You must be worried.”
For the first couple of months after Alice walked away at that remote gas station, Blake wanted a single answer, nothing more. He wanted to know why. Ephraim harped on him, calling him obsessed and addicted. After that, Ephraim had gone out of his way to change the subject whenever her name came up. Until today.
“Doing nothing of the sort. I’ll even give you the advantage—I’ll go first.” Ephraim moved a pawn two squares.
The possibilities for next moves ticked away in Blake’s mind, but he was distracted enough to let them run on their own. He made his move and waited.
Blake could count on one hand the people from who knew he was alive. He could have gone back to his old life the morning after Alice left. He knew the moment he returned to the car that she didn’t plan to come back. The money on the front seat was his first clue. Someone had seen her walking toward the trucks, but nobody noticed which she got into or which direction she went.
Ephraim moved his pawn diagonally, to capture Blake’s, then set the piece aside with a sigh. “First blood.”
“Don’t sound so thrilled.”
Ephraim looked at him. “What would you say if I told you she pinged on my radar today?”
“That’s nice.” Blake’s voice cracked on the casual dismissal. The fury and hurt slamming into him were difficult to hide.
If he’d turned the car around and headed home after he lost her, he could have gone back to the way things should be. Used the fact he knew Jabberwock’s identity to earn a promotion and metaphorical gold star. Told his boss Reagan was dead. Gone. Jumped ship. Whatever. The problem was he meant what he told her before she vanished. Not only that he cared—though he hated not being able to get over that—but that he was tired of what he was doing.
Playing the double agent as a top general for Jabberwock’s crime syndicate, showed him that the lines between that and being a government agent were so blurred, they might as well not exist.
“Where’d she show up?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He made his next move, but his mind wasn’t on the game.
“Hmm.”
A growl slipped out before Blake could stop it. “You brought her up.”
“I did.” Ephraim danced his fingertips above his pieces but didn’t move or focus on any. “I had to see how you’d react. I should have known better.”
The cooler in the window kicked on, fan blades groaning in chorus with the adjusting tin trailer. A musty scent brushed over Blake’s skin, drying the thin layer of sweat on his skin, but not cooling him.
“I’m not reacting. Whatever you’ve heard, I’m sure she’s moved on by now.” He forced calm through his veins, searching for that neutral expression that had served him for so long.
He could have vanished six months ago, the way Alice did. He was smart when he worked for Jabberwock. He’d stashed money in Swiss accounts—places his employer couldn’t find it and Jabberwock couldn’t get to it. Blake was set for life, financially.
“How about a wager?” Ephraim moved his next piece.
Blake raised his brows in question.
“You win this game, and I’ll tell you everything I heard.”
“Deal.” The answer burst out faster than Blake wanted.
Ephraim’s chuckle was flat. “Your move.”
Blake turned his focus inside long enough to lock away all distraction, then looked at the board. Even in November, Arizona wasn’t what he’d call a temperate place. A bead of sweat trickled down his back, and another along his cheek. Seconds ticked into minutes and crept on up an hour as he took each move, then waited for Ephraim to counter.
The board held only a few pieces now, and Blake scanned each, potential moves scrolling through his head without effort. No. He smiled and slid his bishop to take Ephraim’s knight. “Checkmate,” he said.
The elation that spread inside should be at beating his friend for the first time. Instead, Alice occupied his mind.
Ephraim scrubbed his face. “I’m not sure I should give you this.”
“A bet’s a bet.”
“You’re right.” He slid an SD card across the now-barren chess board. “She was in Las Vegas this afternoon. Made sure the cameras saw her and everything. She played a couple of hands of blackjack, then talked to a man with a blond ponytail before she left.”
Jabberwock. But that was hours ago, and if she left... The thought went nowhere. Blake couldn’t begin to guess what she was up to. The only thing he knew was when she said she intended to tear Jabberwock’s organization down from the inside out, the haunting tone in her voice was sincere.
He picked up the memory card and studied it. Did it have the answers he’d wanted for so long? No. Only she did. But it might point him in the right direction. He stood. “I’ll be in and out. You’ll see. If she’s not there, I’m done chasing her ghost. If she is, I’ll ask her my question. Either way, by tomorrow night, I’ll be on a plane to Fiji.”
Ephraim twisted his mouth. “I hope so. For your sake, I pray that’s exactly the way things go.”
The story continues in The Hatter and The Hare, available September 2017