Page 31

CHAPTER THIRTY

Evangeline

Sunlight on my face drags me back to consciousness, and with it the immediate realization that Knight isn’t here. There’s a moment of panic while my sleep-sluggish brain thinks he’s abandoned me here, but then I spot his tablet on the table. There’s no way he’d have left that behind.

The relief that floods through me is unsettling. I shouldn’t care that he might have left. I shouldn’t feel safer knowing that he’s going to return. But nothing about this situation makes sense anymore, especially not my reactions to it.

The cheap digital clock shows 7.13 A.M. My body protests as I ease off the bed, muscles I didn’t even know I had aching from crawling through what seemed like miles of maintenance tunnels. The bandages on my wrists are going to need changing again, but I’m not touching them until he returns. I’m still too tired to defend myself against the biting sarcasm that seems to be his default setting, and the last thing I need is him getting irritated about amateur first aid attempts.

The lock clicks while I’m stretching and trying to work out the kinks from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, and I spin toward the door, heart racing. Knight shoulders his way in carrying paper bags and a drink tray.

“Breakfast.” He kicks the door shut behind him. “Try not to look so disappointed that I came back.”

“I didn’t—” But the protest dies as he sets one of the paper cups in front of me, and the smell of coffee reaches my nose. “You got coffee?”

“Liquid gold. One of the necessities of life.” He unpacks containers onto the table. “Wasn’t sure how you take it, so grabbed some cream and sugar.” He pulls out a carton of milk, and a sugar pot.

“Did you steal that?”

“The price they charged for the coffee, I prefer to see it as taking what I’m paying for. Eat while it’s hot.”

The styrofoam containers reveal pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Real food, not just drive-through burgers. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“Where did you go? Weren’t you afraid of being seen?”

"Little place three blocks over has terrible security and decent coffee," Knight says, settling into the chair across from me. "Owner hasn't updated their cameras since 1995." His attention keeps shifting to the window, something about his posture setting off warning bells in my head.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. Eat your breakfast.” He turns away, tapping the screen on the tablet, and sips his coffee.

The pancakes are surprisingly good, or maybe I’m just hungry enough that anything would taste amazing right now. Knight picks at his own breakfast, already absorbed in whatever he’s reading on the screen, and I find myself watching his hands, as he taps and swipes.

His head snaps up at a sound outside. It’s just a car door closing, but his reaction tells me everything I need to know about whether he feels safe here.

“We need to move soon.” His words confirm my thoughts, and he sets the tablet down. “This place is too exposed.”

“I thought you chose it because it was safe.”

“I chose it because we needed to get off the street, and your wrists needed attention. Different thing.” He checks his watch. “Finish eating. We have maybe an hour before we move.”

"To where?"

“Somewhere more secure.” His attention returns to the tablet, but his shoulders stay tense. “There’s a reason I own property under different names.”

“Because you’re a hacker, who breaks the law often, and should probably be behind bars?”

He doesn’t answer me. I think about it while sipping my coffee, trying to make sense of how my life has changed so completely in two days. From searching for Michael, to turning up at Knight’s apartment, to running from explosions, and now hiding in a cheap motel while he talks about secret properties. Somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, I ended up on the run with the man who took me prisoner. The thought makes me pause with my coffee cup halfway to my mouth.

“The police think you’re holding me hostage.”

“Anonymous tip about a dangerous fugitive.” His voice carries a hard edge. “Perfect timing, don’t you think?”

“But you did hold me against my will.” My voice is steady despite the memories surfacing. “That part isn’t wrong.”

“And you don’t find the timing convenient?” Knight’s attention doesn’t move from the tablet. “Someone calls in a tip right after the first explosion. Then I'm forced to run, which makes me look like what they’re expecting.”

“But they can’t even get into your apartment, can they?”

“They don’t need to. Running makes me look guilty, and you …” His eyes finally lift to meet mine. “You became the victim they need to rescue. Someone made sure every cop in the city will be hunting for me … for us. Use me as a dangerous kidnapper, you as a hostage in danger. Gives them permission to use whatever force they deem necessary to save you.”

A car pulls into the parking lot and passes slowly outside our window. Knight’s hand drops to his gun, and my pulse spikes until the sound of the engine fades.

“You said that the attack patterns,” the words sound awkward in my mouth, “have different styles. Could the tip have come from whoever helped create the virus?” I’m trying really hard to understand the bigger picture, to see what he’s seeing.

His eyes narrow as they meet mine. The intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. “What makes you think that?”

“You … you said there are two distinct approaches."

He’s quiet for a long time, sitting there, staring at me. I force myself not to look away. His scrutiny makes my skin warm. Finally, just as I think he’s just trying to make me uncomfortable, he turns the tablet so I can see the screen.

“These sequences.” He highlights sections of code that I don't understand. “The timing creates a pattern, but I can’t …” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration clear in every move he makes. “I need better equipment. The tablet’s processing power isn’t enough to dig deeper into it as quickly as I need to.”

I move around the table before I can think better of it. Knight shifts his chair, making room without taking his eyes off the screen. I’m acutely aware of how close I’m standing to him, of the heat radiating from his body. His focus is entirely on the data, but I can’t help but notice the line of his jaw, the way his T-shirt pulls across his shoulders as he leans forward. The hint of a tattoo peeking out from the neckline of his shirt.

“The attacks are hiding something.” His voice drops lower, and he sighs. “But I can’t see it clearly enough with this .” He waves a hand toward the tablet, and I almost laugh at the disgust in his voice for something that would cost me a month’s salary to purchase.

Another vehicle slows outside. Knight’s entire body tenses, and he closes the gap between us, one hand settling on my waist to pull me away from the window’s sight line. The touch sends warmth through me, despite the situation.

“It’s time to go.” He powers down the tablet. “Grab your things.”

“What things? All I have is my dirty clothes and what I’m wearing.”

“Then we can travel light.” He moves to check through the thin curtain. “We need to find a car without being seen.”

“You mean steal one?”

A smile lifts one corner of his mouth. “Let’s call it a backup car since I can’t go and get my own.”

Of course it is. He probably has backups of everything. More places like this motel room, more tablets, more ways to disappear. I should be terrified of going anywhere else with him, but right now his capability feels more reassuring than threatening.

He gathers up the few possessions he brought with him, while I stand there feeling useless. Everything about him is controlled. The way he moves, how his attention keeps shifting to the window, and I find myself studying him, noticing details I couldn’t see when I was just afraid of him.

“Ready?” He checks his gun with the same focus he applies to everything.

I gesture to myself. “This is all I’ve got.”

An expression crosses his face—frustration, irritation, regret?—it’s gone before I can identify it.

“We’ll deal with that later. Right now, we need to go. Stay close to me and do exactly what I tell you.”

I shouldn’t trust him. There’s no reason for why I feel safer knowing he has contingency plans. I definitely shouldn’t be noticing the way he moves, or how his hands look holding the tablet, or the intensity in his eyes when he’s focused on a problem.

But as he leads me toward the door, his body angled almost as though he’s protecting mine, I know it’s far too late for ‘ shoulds.’ I’m already potentially trusting him with my life.