Chapter Thirteen

We were holding a meeting to conspire against an international ring of criminal spies on a giant Ferris wheel. Admittedly, before I knew anything about espionage, I would have pictured these types of meetings to occur in obscure passageways or the rare books sections of Gothic libraries. But no, Julian rented a private capsule on the London Eye. There was champagne on ice and an array of imported chocolates. We officially had two rotations on the wheel to plot exactly how we might save our lives.

“Look at this view!” Julian pointed as we dangled forty stories above London in a tourist trap sponsored by Coca-Cola (there were red logos everywhere). “I would have been remiss to let you miss this experience.”

I leaned against a curved glass panel. We were hovering in a futuristic bubble above the River Thames, its water so russet it reminded me of the muddy Charles back in Boston. The day was clear, a forecast so unusual that Julian broke nearly every speed limit to get here to ensure the unobstructed streaks of sun didn’t suddenly disappear.

I gazed at Big Ben on the opposite bank, the iconic structure glowing in the salmon light. A fuzzy reflection of the clock tower, and its adjacent Parliament buildings, shone in the water. Red double-decker buses whizzed on top of bridges as ferries shuttled underneath. For a moment, I was reminded of Venice, of Craig Bernard diving onto a ferry and tumbling into the current. His body was never recovered, and I knew he was still out there. It was one of the reasons we needed this plan to work.

“It’s pretty amazing,” said Charlotte as she bit into a strawberry smothered in dark chocolate.

“Are we sure this is safe?” I rested my forehead against the curved glass, hands gripping a metal railing as we ascended. Below us, I could see another glass pod full of tourists snapping pictures. On the ground, people were scurrying along, buzzing between a hot dog vendor and a McDonald’s restaurant, from the aquarium to the movies. It looked so peaceful from up here.

“I assure you there has never been an accident on the Eye,” Julian replied as he adjusted his designer shades. The setting sun was bouncing off the river so intensely it created a glare I didn’t know London could muster. It made me squint. “There’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not worried about the Ferris wheel falling apart. I’m wondering if it’s safe to talk here?” Somehow an assassin in Boston knew Keira and I were planning to run and hide, a decision we’d made an ocean away only a day before Tyson’s death.

“I made the reservation under a fake name,” Julian reassured me. “And I had my security team sweep for bugs.”

“We still haven’t found anything at his flat,” Charlotte interjected.

“If Department D knew you and your sister were going into hiding, if that was what prompted the message to your friend, I don’t know how they uncovered the information.”

“But it’s definitely safe to talk here today,” said Charlotte.

They were finishing each other’s sentences. Last night, I watched Charlotte order Julian’s favorite Indian as he taught her how to pair the perfect wine with her chicken tikka masala. (He recommended pinot noir.) Earlier today, he made her coffee without her even asking—milk and two Splendas. I wanted Charlotte to be happy (God knew, she deserved it), but it felt like I was losing her or like I was losing every connection I had to my old life—starting with Charlotte and ending with Tyson and Regina.

“I promise we will have no breaches in communication today, at least not electronically,” Julian insisted. “Feel free to speak your mind.”

I think Keira already got the ball rolling there. I stayed up half the night repeating every word she’d said to me, and I’d come to one conclusion—she wasn’t being fair. Everything I did was for her. I gave up high school. I sold our brownstone. I moved to Europe. I fought assassins. All for her. Now she was complaining that I didn’t listen to her enough. Yes, I trusted my gut more than I trusted hers, but that was because her choices got us here, and her choices currently had her flirting with a guy who worked for the enemy.

I looked toward Keira as she huddled near Antonio. I knew he was Marcus’s brother, and Marcus loved him and trusted him. But I had reasons to be suspicious, only instead of understanding my very logical reservations, I found myself standing alone on the opposite end of a capsule watching Marcus, Antonio, and Keira share a laugh. A surfboard-shaped bench separated us; it was only a few feet long, but it felt like miles.

“Trust me, I’m an expert,” Antonio bellowed, lifting a full bottle of champagne in one hand and a triangular cake knife in the other. “Mira esto!”

“I don’t think you use a knife to open champagne.” Keira sounded like this was a very bad idea.

“Yeah, don’t you wrap it in a towel first?” Marcus offered.

“Sí, if you suck,” Antonio mocked.

“Seriously, I think you use your thumb.” Keira looked to Julian for confirmation, her eyes begging for help.

“Yes. Please, allow me.” Julian approached the group, hands outstretched, prepared to show his wealth of experience with high-end beverages.

Antonio snarled as though he’d fling the bottle at Julian’s head if he took another step. “I got it,” he insisted. Julian stopped.

“Okay, hermano.” Marcus clapped with encouragement. “Let’s see you do this.” He was smiling with deep dimples, eyes so full of awe, it looked like he was about to watch his brother throw the opening pitch at Fenway, not open a bottle of wine.

Antonio exhaled in a puff, pumping his broad shoulders and bouncing on his toes to rev himself up. Then he raised the thick bottle, his tattooed arm outstretched and nearly touching the pod’s ceiling. The heavy silver knife was clutched in his opposite fist, poised to smack the cork into the air.

Suspense sizzled through the capsule.

“Omigod, omigod, omigod…” Keira wriggled, wrinkling her eyes like she was afraid he’d chop off his hand (which was a possibility I wasn’t entirely rooting against).

“Uno, dos, tres!” Antonio counted.

Then in one massive swoop, he swung the knife in a hard upward slice toward the cork, only instead of sending the bulbous top flying, a loud crash echoed off the walls. We all watched, in slow motion, as the bottle shattered in two and a wave of white fizz exploded.

“Aaah!” Keira yelled as foam spouted from Antonio’s hand like a fountain, hitting himself, the white ceiling, and everything around him. The top half of the green bottle clattered to the floor while the bottom half stayed clutched in his thick fist. Antonio’s dark jeans and white T-shirt were soaked, dripping with bubbles, and everyone erupted in laughter.

Including me.

“I should have recorded that!” Charlotte cried, snorting.

“Bravo!” Julian clapped.

Antonio hung his head, chest shaking with hysterics, as Marcus patted his back. “That was awesome!” he congratulated his brother, and even I couldn’t help but smile wider.

“I swear I have done it before,” Antonio defended, still laughing, dimples in full force, matching his brother’s.

“I completely believe you!” Marcus cheered.

“And I can’t say I hate the wet T-shirt,” Keira teased.

“I did it all for you,” Antonio offered, blowing her a flirty kiss. Then he grabbed my sister in a champagne-soaked hug, and she pretended to flinch from his sticky embrace, squirming as he squeezed her tighter, rubbing his sopping beard in her hair. I knew she was loving it, which was why it froze the grin on my face. She was falling for him.

“It’s okay to laugh.” Charlotte nudged me. “Antonio just made a complete ass of himself.”

“I know,” I replied, my expression melting to a frown.

Keira molded her body into Antonio’s, kissing him sweetly.

“Or you could ignore them and enjoy Buckingham Palace!” Charlotte darted to an interactive touch screen that labeled every building in view. Julian instantly rushed to her side, displaying the techno gadget. They were completely in their element.

And I was completely alone, a “them” once again.

A body pressed behind me, a hand on my hip. I knew his smell; even through the fog of champagne on his now-damp clothes, I could have closed my eyes and known it was Marcus—that unique mix of leather and sweat. I gazed at the tangerine sunset creating a black silhouette of the historic British skyline. It was a romantic moment, a honeymoon moment. I knew this in my head, but I couldn’t feel it. Not like my sister. Not like Antonio.

“Deep in thought?” Marcus whispered in my ear.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Sí. Want some champagne?”

“No.” I continued staring at the sky as it shifted to a dusty rose.

“I’m sorry about Tyson. I wish I could have gone with you.”

I nodded, the back of my head brushing against his chest.

“I know you miss him. I know you cared about him, but you don’t have to be miserable all the time just to honor his memory.”

What?

I pushed off the window, spinning around to glare at Marcus. He’s going to tell me how to feel about my dead best friend? He’s going to explain grief to me? The look on my face made his eyes widen.

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Marcus backed away. “But death can also remind us we’re alive.”

“So it’s a good thing?” I snapped.

“No, of course not.”

Where was this coming from? Antonio? I didn’t remember Marcus wearing YOLO T-shirts before. Sure, maybe I’d go bungee jumping and hang gliding when this was all done, but before then, I was busy not being killed by spies.

I walked toward Charlotte, toward the only person left who still understood me. “Can we discuss the plan?” I asked.

“Sure.” She nodded, her eyes flicking toward Marcus and seeming to read our mood. She gave me a concerned look, and so did Julian. Then they both pulled tablets from their shoulder bags.

“Okay guys, we have some names,” she announced.

“Cross sent over a list of five,” added Julian.

“Now we need to figure out who’s going where and how.” Charlotte plopped onto the wooden bench, pulling her feet crossed legged, exposing a stringy hole in the knee of her jeans. Julian sat beside her.

Antonio quickly stepped forward, leaving Keira behind as he tried to read off Charlotte’s screen, almost a bit too eager.

“We’re still doing research on the families,” Charlotte explained.

“The list is diverse.” Julian swiped at his screen. “Of the names Mr. Cross provided, three are related to Dresden employees, but two have no familial connections to the company. Instead, they were clients whose families were destroyed by Department D—even worse than mine.” He sounded oddly impressed.

“Bueno. Let’s hear them. Where are we going?” Antonio smacked his lips.

So now he’s on board? Yesterday, he acted like I was an evil traitor trash talking his benevolent parents. He said my plan was ridiculous and unnecessary. Since when did he become my champion?

An uneasiness moved through me as I eyed him. “Um, maybe we don’t need the names right now.”

Our pod hit the apex of our climb, a weightless feeling rushing over me. It lifted my stomach.

“Porque?” He looked my way.

“Charlotte said they’re still working on the details. We should wait,” I lied. For some reason, I now didn’t want him to know too much.

And he knew it.

Antonio thudded toward me. “Do you think I still work there?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. It’s just—” My stomach continued floating in space.

“Anastasia, he quit.” Marcus said it like it was simple, like he was offended that I didn’t miraculously trust his brother. His own parents badmouthed him (which was rather messed up), and yesterday he did nothing but criticize Cross’s plan. Now Antonio was suddenly first in line to get to work?

“I’m sorry.” I shrugged, though I wasn’t sure I meant it. “But you used to work for these people. You’re connected to them.”

“Aren’t we all?” Marcus eyed me with a look that seemed as confused as it did hurt. “Will you ever trust me?”

Of course I trusted him; it was his brother I didn’t trust. How many different ways could I say that? This wasn’t about him or us.

“Anastasia, I get why you’re nervous,” Keira conceded. “But his past gives us some inside information.”

I dug my hands into my hair, wanting to shout, What if he’s their inside man? “Your parents still work there.”

“Do you really want to talk about parents?” Antonio shot me a look.

“Yes! My parents suck, and if they were here, I wouldn’t trust them, either.”

“You don’t trust anyone,” Antonio spat, then he looked at Marcus. “I don’t know how you deal with her…”

What did he just say?

“Pause!” Charlotte hopped up, jumping between us before I could take that comment and shove it down Antonio’s throat. “If we even want to attempt this plan, we need to stick together. There are six people in this pod. Six. That’s it! We need to add to that number, not subtract from it.”

“Tell her that.” Antonio pointed to me, then knocked back a glass of champagne in one gulp.

I guess they figured out how to open a bottle when I wasn’t looking.

“What do you want to do?” Charlotte asked me, and I heard Antonio grunt like she was giving the rookie the ball on the final play.

I was tired of defending myself; it was my life, Keira’s life, on the line.

I turned to Julian. “Look, let’s be honest. When we first met, I knew you had your own motives, your own reasons for being here, and you understood why I held back, didn’t you?” Julian nodded, his turquoise eyes full of more kindness than anyone else in the pod right then. My gaze shifted to Marcus. “Everyone here proved themselves in Italy.”

“So it’s my fault I wasn’t there?” Antonio gawked at his brother. “Are you really going to let her blame me because you chose to let me keep working for that organization even after you found out it kidnapped family members?”

“No one is blaming you,” Marcus said, his eyes screaming apologies, on my behalf, like I was so embarrassing. “And I tried to contact you. You never called back.”

“I told you the truth about my job the second you found me,” he hissed.

“I know you did. But you didn’t see what she went through.”

Finally, Marcus was defending me. At least someone understood, at least someone had my back.

“Are you seriously taking your girlfriend’s side over mine?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Marcus retorted.

My heart slammed into my throat. What? Only I knew what he said. I could see the words floating around him in dark little clouds. She’s not my girlfriend, she’s not my girlfriend, she’s not my girlfriend…

The insult hollowed me out, scooping everything I felt for him, everything I thought we felt for one another. I shifted to the window, hiding the tears that were building inside. Do not cry. Do not cry in front of him. A sour taste filled my mouth, heat rising in my cheeks. Sure, Marcus and I hadn’t made any “official” pronouncements. We hadn’t had that talk, but I didn’t realize it had to be said. I’d assumed we meant something to one another. After everything we’ve been through…

“It’s not like that.” Marcus stepped to me, hands outstretched. I jerked away. “I didn’t mean it that way. It came out wrong.”

I felt our pod slowly moving back toward Earth, our ride ending.

“He’s my brother,” he added.

I guess I knew where I stood, what he really thought of me. I wasn’t going to argue my way out of rejection. I wasn’t going to beg him to care about me. If he didn’t want to be my boyfriend, fine. I’d gone my entire life without one; I could do it again.

Tears pushed at my lashes as I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing the ache in my chest. I’d never meant anything to him. It was all in my head. How could I have been so wrong? Did he care about me in Italy? He had to have. It felt real.

I cleared my throat. “Keira and I will go together to find the first kid.” I looked only at Charlotte. “Antonio stays here. He can keep you and Julian safe while you continue researching the other names. I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”

All politeness was gone. He worked for Department D, maybe he still did. Or maybe he would scare off a bunch of kids whose families were destroyed by the organization. I didn’t know. That was the point.

“What about me?” Marcus asked, reaching for me, sounding almost as pained as I felt.

Oh, don’t act hurt now.

“One of the names that Cross sent over is a kid in the UK,” I explained, and Charlotte nodded in confirmation, her eyes dripping with sympathy, with pity. I gritted my teeth. “You can get him on your own.”

“You’re sending my brother alone?” Antonio yelled like he wanted to shake me.

“I’ve seen your brother in action. He can handle himself.” My tone was as cold as I felt.

“Anastasia.” Keira looked like a disapproving mom. “You’re my sister. I love you, and I know you’ve been through a lot.” She eyed Marcus like she wanted to toss him off the Ferris wheel. That, I appreciated. “But you know this isn’t right. Maybe you and Marcus could go together, and Antonio and I…”

“No,” I cut her off.

“I guess she tells you all what to do. Great girlfriend you got here!” Antonio quipped, nodding to his brother and knocking back another swig, bubbles dripping down his hand. Then he looked my way. “Oh, I forgot, she’s not your girlfriend.”

I wanted to punch him, and I was pretty sure he wanted to punch me, too. Then Marcus cut between us.

“It’s okay. I’ll go,” Marcus said. “She’s right. I can handle it on my own.”

“The Dresden Kid we’re sending you after is only fifteen years old, and he’s a short train ride from London,” said Julian, sounding afraid to enter the conversation. “I could go with you if you want.”

“No, Anastasia’s right.” Marcus looked at me, his eyes full of apologies I didn’t want to hear. “You need to stay with Charlotte and find out everything you can about these families so there are no surprises.”

“Yeah, like someone attacking my brother while he’s off alone.” Antonio glared at me.

I hugged my chest tighter. I was sending Marcus to meet a potential member of a criminal family, with no backup, all because he hurt my feelings. I couldn’t do this. I shouldn’t do this.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Marcus said as if reading my mind. “Lo siento. I don’t know why—”

“Don’t.” I held up my hand.

He stopped talking, and our pod returned to ground level. We all moved toward the exit and stepped off of the still-moving tourist attraction.

The Ferris wheel never stopped turning.