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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“I t’s Malcolm.”

Alyssa half expected Callan to walk out of his hotel room or ask her to leave when the call came in. But he just swiped to answer it.

Considering she was no less involved in this Ghazi situation than Callan, she stayed right where she was to hear his end of the conversation.

It didn’t yield much information. Callan was mostly listening as he tapped on his laptop’s keyboard.

Leaving her too much time to think.

Why had she told him about the fire? It was far and away the most embarrassing, most shameful thing she’d ever done. If the fire in the walls hadn’t been discovered, it could’ve smoldered for hours and set the entire house aflame.

Her whole family could have been killed because of her arrogance.

She would never forget the look on her father’s face that day as he’d surveyed the damage she’d done. Utter disgust.

Eighteen years had passed, eighteen years of trying to be better, of striving to succeed. But sometimes she still caught that expression on Dad’s face. No matter how hard she’d tried to make up for her shortcomings, she’d never been good enough.

When she’d graduated from Boston College summa cum laude, Dad had patted her shoulder and said, “Too bad you didn’t get into an Ivy League school, where it would matter.”

When she’d been hired by the NSA, Dad had said, “The CIA has high standards. The NSA is more your level.”

When she’d failed a second time to join the Agency, Dad had suggested that maybe the rejection was “a sign to aim lower.”

And when she’d quit her boring analyst job… She’d never forget his reaction.

“You want to own your own business? How will you ever make that work?”

As if the idea of her finding success was so far outside the realm of possibility that it didn’t even occur to him.

In Dad’s eyes, she was a failure and always would be.

“That makes sense,” Callan said to Malcolm, pulling her back to the moment.

He met her eyes, wearing a scowl that wasn’t meant for her. “No. That’s not going to—” He stood and stared out the window. “That’s the point,” he said. “Which is why she needs to get out of?—”

Well, this was frustrating.

She gripped his elbow. “Put it on speaker.”

He shook his head and walked toward the door.

She followed, getting more annoyed by the second.

Callan spun to pace back, nearly crashing into her. He scooted past and kept walking. “I don’t like it.” And then, “Me? I didn’t do any of—” And then, “Yeah, I see what you’re…”

If he didn’t finish a sentence soon, she would throw something at him.

“Fine.” Callan didn’t sound like he thought anything was fine . “We’ll get back to you.” He ended the call and tossed his cell on the bed.

“What?”

“I had a feeling Malcolm was going to…” He ran a hand over his short hair. “I was hoping I could make him see reason, but….”

It took all her self-control not to stomp her foot. “Use nouns, please. And verbs. And full sentences so I know what the heck you’re talking about.”

He took a breath, then blew it out slowly. “I knew when Malcolm insisted we leave the note… They want you to try to smooth things over with Ghazi.”

She dropped onto the bed. “You can’t be serious. We went out the window. We escaped. They want me to walk right back in and?—”

“No!” The word sounded almost angry. “You’re not going back. You’re not going anywhere he can get his hands on you.”

Thank God. She didn’t think she had the courage to return to Ghazi’s presence, voluntarily or otherwise.

“They want you to call him. They want you to keep him on the hook so he doesn’t realize he’s been compromised. You need to convince him you’re still loyal.”

She started to state the obvious, that he wouldn’t believe her.

But she didn’t. Because this was what she’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To be in the middle of the action. To have information nobody else had. To affect changes, to save lives.

To deceive enemies in order to gather information about them. To bring them down.

She wasn’t trained. She wasn’t prepared. But she was willing. She’d always been willing, even if the CIA hadn’t wanted to take a chance on her.

“Okay. What’s our story?”

Something flashed in Callan’s eyes. Surprise and…respect?

Maybe he’d expected her to refuse or at least put up a fight.

“The thing is,” Callan said, “even if he doesn’t believe you, he’ll try to convince you he does. He needs you to believe he’s not a bad guy. You need him to believe you don’t know he’s a bad guy.”

“We’ll both be lying, and pretending the other doesn’t know we’re lying.”

“That’s one way it could go. But maybe he’ll believe you. He’ll want to believe you because he needs what you have. You’re his best bet for gaining access to SJSS’s systems. Because of that, he should be more inclined to take you at your word. It’s the easier path for him, and people—even evil, homicidal people—tend to prefer the easier path. Does that make sense?” At her nod, Callan said, “But you’re going to have to sell it.”

“Okay.” She pushed to her feet and paced from the window to the door. “We went out the window. Trustworthy people don’t climb out the window.” Her pitch rose at the end, betraying her fear.

A few feet from Callan, she turned to pace back to the window.

He caught her hand. “I know it feels that way.” He tugged her around to face him. “It’s okay, Paris. I’ll be right here.”

He was too close, his gaze too intense, as if everything they’d pretended for Ghazi’s sake was real.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he dropped her hand. “We’ll come up with a plan.”

Right.

She needed a way to deceive a homicidal terrorist.

She did not need to think about her one-sided attraction for Callan.

She took a few steps back. “What if he doesn’t believe me?”

“No matter how well you sell it, he’s going to be suspicious. But hopefully, not so suspicious that he gives up his plan.”

“Isn’t that what we want? For him to give up?”

Go away? Leave the country and never come back?

Seemed like a good strategy to her.

“Unfortunately,” Callan said, “we need to figure out what he’s up to—and what Lavrentiy has to do with it.”

The Russian whose name she’d found but hadn’t given to Ghazi.

“For that,” Callan said, “we need time. And we need you to get as much information as possible from Charles ”—he emphasized the name she’d need to remember to use—“without going near him again. You need to convince him you’re still on his side, and that you’ll do whatever he asks. You’ll tell him that you’ll do it, and then you’ll show him you’re not afraid of him by being where he expects you to be.”

Realization washed over her.

Callan didn’t say anything, just gave her time to absorb the truth.

That Ghazi knew exactly who she was. He knew who her parents were. He probably knew her sisters’ names and where they all lived.

Just like when she’d nearly burned the house down, her family was at risk, and just like that time, it was all her fault.

Only this time, there’d be no firemen showing up to save the day.

This time, it was up to her.

* * *

The plan was crazy.

Alyssa and Callan had talked through it, and it was simple enough.

Callan had settled back at the little table in the cramped hotel room, which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller the more time they spent in it.

Alyssa couldn’t stop pacing. From the door to the windows, over and over.

She wanted out of the room. Out of the hotel. Out of this terrible situation. Just…out.

But out wasn’t an option.

What if she couldn’t convince Ghazi… Charles ? What if…what if she blew it, and her entire family paid the price?

“Stop overthinking it, Paris.”

She spun to face Callan, who’d somehow read her mind.

“I’m just thinking through what I’m going to say.”

“Right. Overthinking it.” He held out the hotel phone’s handset. “It’s time to practice winging it.”

They’d decided she should make the call from the landline. Charles had her cellphone, and she didn’t want to give him her new phone number.

It wouldn’t matter if Charles traced the call. They were a hundred and sixty miles from Boston, and even if he happened to have people nearby, she and Callan planned to leave as soon as the call was made.

They’d done their best to work through every aspect of this.

Callan set the phone in its cradle again, then held out his hand to her. “Come sit with me, please.”

She did, though she felt antsy and uncomfortable, like she needed to shed a too-tight sweater.

He took her hand, perfectly at ease touching her, as if it meant nothing to him, though she hadn’t grown nearly as immune to him.

“I’m going to pray, okay?”

“Good idea.” She should have thought of that. She believed in God, had surrendered to Christ when she was a child, but He felt distant and distracted.

She needed His help, and maybe, since the situation was so dire, He’d get involved.

Callan prayed that God would give her the words to say and the peace and confidence to say them well. He prayed that Ghazi would believe her, and that God would show her and Callan a way out of this.

“Protect Alyssa and her parents. Protect Brooklynn, Cici, Delaney, Kenzie, and the entire Wright family.”

She was impressed that he remembered her sisters’ names.

“Let none of this touch her family.” He squeezed Alyssa’s hand. “We trust You, Father. Be with us.”

At his amen, she looked up. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got this, Paris. I’ll be right here. If you start to feel panicky, find a way to end the call. Remember the plan.”

She’d already found Charles’s phone number on her laptop. Now, she took the landline’s handset and dialed.

No answer.

“Try again,” Callan said. “He just doesn’t recognize the number.”

She redialed. It rang four times, then went to voicemail.

Maybe this wasn’t going to work. Maybe Charles had already decided she couldn’t be trusted and had taken off, flown out of the country, never to be seen again.

Except Malcolm had sent a team to surveil the house, and according to the agents posted nearby, nobody had left.

She didn’t look at Callan, not wanting him to see her hope that he wouldn’t answer as she dialed again.

This time, the line connected. “Charles Sanders.”

“Charles, it’s Alyssa.”

A beat of silence followed her words. “I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again.”

“I’m so sorry. I never thought your guys would chase us the way they did. They probably thought we were intruders or something.”

Which of course they hadn’t, but she needed him to believe that she didn’t believe the guards would’ve chased her and Callan if they had known who they were.

Charles didn’t say anything, so she continued talking, not bothering to hide her nervousness.

“I have to say, Charles, I didn’t appreciate the way they tried to keep us from leaving. Caleb thought you’d try to stop us, and I assured him you wouldn’t. But even after the guards knew who we were, they still tried to detain us.”

Still, Charles said nothing.

“Look, you have to understand.” She blew out a breath. “Caleb swore he saw a camera in the hall. Like a small, hidden camera. It freaked him out, and he was so worried that, honestly, I started to think maybe he was right. You can hardly blame us. Your people were acting really weird, keeping watch on us all the time. And, I’m sorry to say this, Charles, but so were you. You asked me to come—no, you didn’t ask.” Her tone hardened a little. “You demanded that I come, and then you sat there and watched me work all day long as if you didn’t trust me. During dinner, Caleb went back to our room to use the bathroom, and he was cornered by two guys who basically threatened him and told him not to wander off on his own again. The whole thing was…disconcerting to say the least.”

“We are security-conscious, as we must be.” Charles’s tone was calm. “You can understand why my men were suspicious when your fiancé was wandering the house alone. And you can’t blame them for wanting to detain you, considering you didn’t exit the front door. They assumed you’d stolen from me.”

“I would never do that. It was nothing like that. It was just that Caleb was freaked out.”

“So you climbed out a second-story window? You left your phone and all your things and ran?”

“He thought we were in danger.”

“Did you think that, Alyssa?”

“What would you think if the situation were reversed? I don’t know what your family was like, but if my family invites someone home, we don’t assign guards to escort them from the bedroom to dinner. That is not normal behavior.”

“Perhaps your people are more trusting than mine.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant the words seriously or as a joke and decided not to respond.

“What does Caleb think about you calling me now?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I told him? He’d be furious.”

“Then why did you call, Alyssa? The truth now.” He issued that last statement as a command.

She let a few beats pass before lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “You know why, Charles.”

He said nothing, but she wasn’t going to speak again, not until he did. She’d babbled enough and didn’t want to lay the act on too thick. The goal was to make it clear to him that she knew she was trapped.

“Perhaps I do,” he said. “Nevertheless, I’d like you to explain it to me so I know if we’re on the same page.”

“Yesterday, when you suggested I’d probably broken a couple of laws getting information for you, you weren’t wrong. I’d assumed your lawbreaking was like mine,” she said. “Small potatoes. No big deal. But now I think maybe…”

When she didn’t finish her sentence, he said, “My potatoes aren’t so small?” He sounded almost amused.

“Look, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever it is you’re doing, okay? I can’t. My father is sort of a bigwig in the government, and this could look very bad for him. Not that I know what this is. I’m just saying…”

She paused, hoping Charles would jump in.

He didn’t.

“I just want your assurance that, when I’m finished searching for vulnerabilities at your company”—she was very careful to add the your —“then that’ll be the end of our…partnership. After that, I’m going to take some time off and…and you know what I’m saying, right? I want out.”

“I understand that, for a little while, you’ll be focusing all your time and attention on your fiancé and wedding planning.”

“Exactly. That’s exactly right. This has nothing to do with you.” And then she heard what he hadn’t said and added, “But what I’m saying is not…temporary. After I complete this job for you, I will sever my ties with you, and that will be that. You understand?”

“You’ll come back to my house today?”

“No!” The word came too fast. “I’m not…I can’t. Sorry, but no. And I don’t need to. I can do the searches on my laptop, and I won’t have to tell Caleb or anyone else what I’m doing.”

“Probably not the best way to treat the man you love, but alas, I’ve never been married. Perhaps a bit of deceit is necessary in a happy marriage.”

“I don’t want to deceive him. I just don’t see another option. He doesn’t trust you.”

“What does he think I’m up to?”

“He has no idea. I haven’t given him any details, and I don’t plan to. Which is why I can’t come back. I mean, we’re in Portland, a long drive from Boston. There’s no way I could come back without him knowing.”

They’d decided her best bet was to be honest with Charles about her whereabouts. The more truth she could share, the more likely he would believe her. “We’re going to his parents’ house tonight and to my grandparents’ anniversary party tomorrow. There’s no way for me to come back there. I mean, unless it could wait until Monday.”

Callan gripped her wrist to draw her attention, shaking his head vehemently.

She averted her gaze from the fear in his eyes.

The one thing he’d told her was not to agree to go back to Charles’s house under any circumstances, and she didn’t plan to.

But offering to felt right. She needed to sound as if she weren’t afraid of Charles.

Though it wouldn’t hurt to show a little fear, all things considered. It wasn’t like she had to fake it. The thought of going back to that house with all those guards churned terror in her stomach.

“And, honestly,” she said, “it wasn’t just Caleb who was freaked out. I’d rather just work on my own, like we’ve done for months. You know you can trust me.”

“Do I know that, Alyssa? After what you did last night, I’m not so sure.”

“What I did? You blackmailed me. You insisted I come to your house even when I didn’t want to. You watched over me as if you thought I was going to…I don’t even know what you thought. You treated my fiancé like a criminal.”

Charles said nothing. He was better at the silence thing than she was. But then, she wasn’t trying to prove to him that she was as clever as he.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t want to argue with you or cast blame, but if I were having this conversation with one of my sisters, I’d say you started it.”

She hated bringing up her sisters. But both Michael and Callan believed Charles knew all about her family. Mentioning her sisters would lend credence to the idea that she was being honest. That she had nothing to hide.

The last thing she wanted was to put her sisters on his radar. To make them into targets.

Please, Father. Protect them. For their sake if not for mine.

“Perhaps we were a little too protective,” Charles said. “Though I disagree that your behavior was equal to mine—running away like you did was extreme.”

She didn’t say anything. She’d made her case.

After a moment, he continued. “I will make you a deal. If you get me the information I asked for regarding SJSS and the name of the Russian I seek, then we can part ways as friends.”

She turned back to face Callan, who watched intently.

“You won’t ask me to work for you again?” she clarified.

“I won’t. But I need the information by the end of the day Sunday.”

“Sunday?”

Callan mouthed, more time .

“I have plans all weekend, so I’m not sure?—”

“Sunday, Alyssa. I trust you can make it work.”

She shook her head at Callan.

He held her eye contact a moment, then shrugged, telling her to say whatever she had to say.

“I’ll do my best.”

Callan lifted his phone and shook it, reminding her…

“Would you do me a favor, though? Would you have our phones and suitcases delivered to my fiancé’s office?” She didn’t know if Charles would do it, but under normal circumstances, a person would ask about their things. “I can reimburse you for the cost.”

“The cost is minimal. I’ll have your items delivered to where you are now, if you’d like.”

“That’s okay. We won’t be here much longer, and we’ll only be at his parents’ house overnight. And then?—”

“Tell me where you’ll be tomorrow.”

He probably already knew her parents’ address, but she wasn’t about to give it to him if he didn’t. “We have everything we need for the weekend. Just have our stuff delivered to his office.” She grabbed the paper where Callan had written the address of an office where Caleb Thompson rented space. “You can just have the driver leave the things with the receptionist in the lobby.”

“I will have it done this afternoon. Meanwhile, you will work on your assignments. I look forward to hearing from you by Sunday night.”

She hung up the phone and then plopped on the bed, exhausted.

They had two days to ferret out Ghazi’s plan and bring him down.

She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she failed.