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SIXTY-FOUR

NATALIE

I’m trying to murder Julien with my stare while at the same time trying to pick my jaw off the floor.

This isn’t the Julien I know. Gone is his formal suit. He’s dressed in all black: tactical pants, long-sleeve shirt, army boots, and gloves. Gee!

He looks different, but it’s not the unusual outfit that makes no sense. It’s his expression. As he’s walking toward me, my brain whispers, “Hey, spot five differences,” and my jaw is still on the floor when Julien drops to his haunches in front of me.

The next thing blows my mind.

He shows his palms, his hands gloved—there’s something strange about people wearing gloves around here.

“I’m going to check your vitals, okay?” he asks in what could pass for a bedroom voice if this were that kind of scenario.

“Is this your idea of flirting?” I ask without thinking.

The corners of his eyes crinkle, but the smile doesn’t break, and I suddenly realize what’s so different about him—he’s concerned about me. He’s looking at me with care, and that—that!—is something Julien-Mister-Freaking-Warden has never done before.

“Natalie, I’m going to touch you, okay?” he repeats.

I nod. My head spins for a second, and I wonder if I should fake passing out, if he would give me mouth-to-mouth, if this cold-as-ice man is a decent kisser.

It must be the sedative still in my system. The thought is inappropriate and out of context. But when Julien reaches for my face and gently takes it between his palms, a pleasant shiver goes down my body.

Am I high? I am. Definitely.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Dreaming, obviously,” I say, not fighting him.

His expression softens even more. “Sense of humor is a good sign.”

I lean into one of his palms, not on purpose, but because my head feels like it weighs twenty pounds, and his touch is comforting.

“Hold still,” he prompts. “Look at me.”

I release a sigh. He sounds like a gentle warrior, and I’d really like to cuddle right now and sleep.

Julien tips my chin with his fingers. “Natalie,” he repeats softly, “look at me, please.”

I do. His hazel eyes are so close that it feels almost intimate. His thumbs reach for my eyelids and gently pull them up, opening my eyes wider, inspecting my pupils. He’s playing doctor, and I’m kind of liking it, though I’m not sure how he knows to check for signs of trauma.

“Is this your idea of foreplay or something?” I ask, my tongue still thick and heavy.

The corner of his mouth hitches in a tiny smile as he presses two fingers to the side of my neck to check my pulse, then lets go of me and stands up.

“She’s good,” he says, turning to Walter. “I’ll take it from here.”

Walter gets up from the desk too abruptly. “We don’t have the passkeys,” he says with slight hostility. “We can’t wrap this up yet.”

“We don’t have time,” Julien argues. “It’s now or never.”

“We have time! Leave her here, and we’ll carry on in the way we were supposed to.”

“You know what will happen to her then,” Julien says firmly. “We can’t.”

“We are aborting this because of her ?” Walter points a finger at me, his angry stare on Julien. “Are you serious ?”

“I am,” Julien says, his cold voice back. “There’s been enough collateral. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Fuck!” Walter throws his head back.

“What’s happening?” I ask weakly, rubbing my wrists.

Walter turns to Julien again. “We can make it look like she broke out of here and hide her elsewhere, get her off the property. We need time, man. We need to find the passkeys. We need to finish this. Otherwise, the entire year goes down the drain. It’s not just about us. Thousands of people will suffer.”

I close my eyes, trying to piece together bits of information.

“I know,” Julien says sternly. “I will copy the files onto the hard drive, then get her out of here, and we will execute the emergency plan.”

“How long?”

Julien pulls a phone out of his pocket and checks it. “The tracker says they left Manhattan about ten minutes ago. They’ll be here by ten. You do what you need to do.”

Is it ten in the evening or morning?

Walter shakes his head, giving Julien a murderous stare, then storms out of the guest house.

Julien takes a seat at the computer desk, retrieves a hard drive out of his pocket, and plugs it into one of the computers. The screen immediately comes to life, showing rapidly scrolling lines of code, flashing text, windows opening and closing.

I have so many questions. Why is Julien here? How does Walter fit in? Why are they dressed like that? Why is he copying stuff off Nick’s computers? Why does Nick have so many computers?

I silently watch Julien, waiting for him to explain, meanwhile observing his body language.

His elbows on the desk, Julien leans with his forehead onto his hands. He’s either deep in thought or in some kind of trouble. After a short while, he shifts and picks up his phone again. I can’t see what he’s doing, but when I hear the familiar voices coming from it, they make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“The dinner with the board went well, right?”

It’s Rosenberg’s voice.

No one responds.

“What now? IxResearch is public. It’s a done deal.”

Silence.

“Nick, when do I get the money?”

Silence.

“I’m getting the money soon, right? Like you promised?”

Then comes Nick’s voice.

“Shut the fuck up, okay? Let me think.”

I gasp in shock.

Julien tilts his head to the side, as if it helps him hear better.

“Once we get to the house, this little circus is over,” Nick says.

“What do you mean it’s over? I need the money you promised.”

“You will get what I give you. Everyone gets what they deserve.”

“No one else will get hurt, right? We are going overseas, right? Under new identities. You said that.” Rosenberg sounds hesitant, almost begging. “None of those women deserved it.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

“Nick! Let’s just go, like you said ? —”

“Oh, now you feel sad? Now you feel sad, you piece of shit? How about ? —”

There’s a loud thud, followed by a moan, and things go quiet.

Nothing about this makes sense. I gape at Julien, who presses the button on the mic clipped to his shirt. “Something else came up. I think Nick is going to get rid of Phil Crain… Yes, tonight. We can’t let that happen. We don’t finish this tonight, we lose him… We will try, yes.”

“Julien, what’s going on?” I ask.

“I will tell you later,” he says dismissively.

“No, not later. Tell me now. And tell me what I have to do with all of this?”

He turns to me slowly, his gaze sad. “Nothing, Natalie. Except that you might have just ruined thousands of lives.”