Blindsided (29 page)

“Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.” She’d tipped her head back onto his shoulder to whisper the words into his ear, and brushed a kiss on the underside of his jaw in the process.
 

All right. Maybe he could make it to the end of the evening without killing one of the dozens suitors who kept trying to lure her away. As long as she stayed close, her back snuggled up against his front like it was now.

He’d decided by the end of the first half hour that he was in love with the strappy little heels she was wearing. If they weren’t fuck-me shoes, he didn’t know what were. Regardless, the three-inch spikes put her at just the right height so that bending down to reach her mouth for a stolen kiss wasn’t so obvious, and sidling up behind her and pulling her tight against him, put her ass at the perfect height to cup the raging hard on he’d been suffering from most of the evening.
 

“When we get back to your place, I get to take off those shoes…and then the dress.”

She sucked in a breath, her hand clenching over his which was draped around her midsection. She tipped her head back again, beseeching him to lean a bit closer and whispered in his right ear. “And would that be because you wanted to? Or because we need to practice more?”

Hot damn. He opened his mouth to answer, maybe take a nip at that slim neck, but the com bud in his left ear crackled.

“Team tango, we have a Bryon spotting on the corner of H Street Northwest and North Capitol Street Northeast. Your little lady’s program picked him up a second ago on The World Bank’s feed.”

Tiegan pulled up a mental map in his head. Four blocks north. Too close for comfort. He straightened, propelling Aria along with his arm behind her back.

“What is it?” she asked, her steps quick and short as she scrambled to keep up with him in her towering heels. Why had he let her wear those heels? Sexy or not she couldn’t run in them if she had to.

“Bryon’s been spotted. Time to hand you over to Garret.” Having answered her, his thoughts returned to the heels and the slow progress they were making toward the back of the room. He couldn’t get her to ditch them here. They were strapped on tight and bending over and wrestling with them in the middle of the party would draw more attention than they already were. He didn’t want attention. He needed to get her out of here without anyone noticing and then hide her away.

“And what are
you
going to do?”
 

He didn’t answer.

She sucked in a deep breath, the air hissing through her lips. “You’re still planning on playing bait, aren’t you?”

Well yeah. Someone had to draw the bastard out. “Carthridge and Nolan both have my back. Morris is in the van with John, ready to move in if needed. Byron won’t get close.”

She jerked her arm free, rounding on him. “He doesn’t need to get close!”

“Aria, we don’t have time to argue about this.”

The ear piece crackled. “Wait…shit…”
 

Teigan pressed the small bud tighter into his ear. “Shit what?”

“He disappeared, fucking walked right off one security cam and vanished.”
 

The muscles around Teigan’s mouth drew tight. “Extend your parameter, he can’t have gotten far and this area is hot with cams. No way will he avoid them all.”

“I’m telling you he’s not here. I should have picked him up on the Government Printing Office feed, and if not there then from Community’s Group International across the way but… oh wait. I found him. Little fucker must have cut through. He’s on New Jersey Ave heading Southwest.”

Rather than panicking over the misinformation, Teigan mulled it over. Barring taking the underground utility tunnels, he didn’t see how Bryon could have made it that far in that short of time. “You sure it’s him?”

“Yeah I’m fucking sure,” John snapped back, obviously angered to have his competence brought into question. “Program says 92% probability. So unless your girlfriend isn’t the shit she thinks she is then…wait…No way.”

“John?” he asked, code for what the fuck is going on. He’d address the slight to Aria later, if and when he got a chance.

“Now he’s on Constitution Ave, heading east.”

Teigan instinctively jerked his head side to side, still dragging Aria through the crowded room. Past the exec area the place was a zoo of snack tables, decorations, and bodies and the going was slow. “There’s no way he could have crossed town like that. Constitution Ave’s two blocks south of here.”

“What the fuck? Now he’s on Columbus Circle.”

Fuck was right. Teigan ground to a halt, dragging Aria against him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Fully alert, he scanned the surrounding area, taking in every man that might possibly fit Byron’s approximate height and weight requirements. No one stuck out as a distinct possibility. “What’s going on, John?”

“Brilliant bastard.” There was a note of pure awe in John’s voice. “That’s what he is. He must have known we were going to use the security feeds to track him.”

“And? Where does it say he is now?”

“Take your pick. According to what I’m looking at, he’s walking west on Maryland Ave and north on 1
^st
Street and entering Union Square Plaza from Delaware Ave, oh and right outside your back door. Of course, in one of them it’s a starry night, and one the sun’s out.”

An icy bolt of shock struck Teigan at the base of his neck, radiating outward. Byron had outsmarted them. “Fuck.”

“Yup. Bastard hijacked the feeds.”

Teigan glanced down at Aria, her blind eyes staring sightlessly at his face. Vulnerable. “So where the hell is he?” he asked.

John let out a huge sigh. “I have no fucking idea.”

Chapter Nineteen

Teigan wasn’t saying anymore, which scared Aria more than anything else. His hand had tightened down on her arm to the point that it was actually hurting and he was all but dragging her through the crowded room. She decided not to ask him what was going on. The answer seemed pretty apparent: They’d lost Byron. But he was out there, somewhere. Maybe even here?

A tingle climbed up her spine. She sucked in a deep breath, drawing in the essence of the room, filtering the smells: perfume, cologne, sweat, spicy finger foods, fruity alcohol…No. Not here. She would’ve known. Beyond the enhanced senses, she and Byron had always seemed to know when the other was near. An instinctive bond had formed while sharing the womb, a mark of their genetic code. It went against any scientific explanation, but the truth of it could not be denied. And right now, she didn’t think he was here.

But you weren’t really searching for him before. Who’s to say your strange bond couldn’t have changed over the years?
 
She grumbled at her own logic. Willis would berate her for not giving credence to the mantra he’d drilled into her head since childhood: You can hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. And the worst case scenario would be if Byron were in this room right now, watching.

“Where’s Cathridge?” she demanded as soon as they broke free of the crowd. They entered a hall off the back of the ballroom, the press of bodies had been replaced by the press of cement and her heels rung like a staccato echo up and down the corridor. Not a publically used hallway, probably for employees.

“Behind the building. Nolan’s out front.”

So they were on their own between here and there. She valiantly tried to pick up her pace, only to slip and almost go down on the polished floor.

“Careful.” Teigan helped right her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Damn heels.”

Teigan made a sound like a suppressed chuckle as he started pulling her down the hall again. Ahead of them, a door squeaked open, followed by a waft of garbage heavy air. They both tensed, but Teigan immediately relaxed again, and she caught Carthridge’s distinctive scent mixed in with the stench of rotting food.

“This is seriously fucked up,” the V-10 commented as they drew near.

“That’s heartening, coming from you,” Teigan quipped back, sarcasm thick in his tone as he pushed her forward. “Get her out of here.”

Large hands grabbed her around the waist. She yelped, grasping hold of fabric and webbing as the V-10 hopped down off what she assumed was a loading dock. Another set of hands gripped her shoulders and she was unceremoniously pulled and stuffed into the backseat of a familiar Lincoln.

She slapped at the hands, kicked out with a leg, and received a pleasing grunt for her efforts.
 

“What was that for?” Carthridge growled.

“I’m not a sack of potatoes!”

Garret chuckled, and had the further gall to reach across her to pull the door shut. As soon as it clicked, Willis pulled away. At least she assumed it was Willis.

“Where are we going?” She twisted, straining to see something in the darkened alley behind them, but the little sight she had was useless in these circumstances. “You’re not leaving them here, are you?”

“We’re not going far,” Garret assured her. “Close enough to provide back up if needed.”
 

She could all but taste Garret’s agitation the mix of hormones was so strong. He wanted to be out there doing his thing, not stuck in here babysitting her.

The car stopped, probably waiting for an opening to pull out.

“I can take care of myself,” she told Garret. “Besides, Willis is here.”

She felt Garret’s attention shift forward, then back. “Not to discount Willis, but if I leave you here alone, Teigan will skin me alive. Not to mention that Bryon hopefully doesn’t realize Teigan isn’t me. I go out there and Bryon’s watching, he’ll know that for sure and the whole plan will be blown.”

“Damn straight!” Teigan’s voice erupted from Garret’s ear bud.

Garret jerked, practically propelling through the roof of the car. “Fuck, Teigan. Don’t yell.”

The bud crackled, lower, as if in Garret’s hand now, coming across distorted and weak in the free air.
 

“He’s just messing with us.” John’s voice. “Thousand creds says he’s not even nearby.”

Teigan grunted what Aria thought was an affirmative. “If he’s here, he’s hidden well. This mission’s a wash. Carthridge and I are heading toward the van now. Go ahead and take her home, we’ll regroup at the house.”

The muscles in Aria’s body went loose and she sank back into the seat. She hadn’t expected it to be like this…this chaotic, this scary. How did you fight what you couldn’t see?
 
It was a question that had plagued her all her life. And one she’d never been able to fully answer. You tried to compensate. Tried to come up with alternatives. But when those alternatives didn’t work?
 

What had happened with the face recognition program?
 
Had it developed a bug?

Willis pulled out, blending in with the whoosh and honk of commuter traffic. He made a left turn and picked up speed. With every passing second, Aria’s agitation grew. She gnawed on her lower lip. She didn’t like it. Something was off, besides the fact that Byron had somehow eluded her hacking system.
 

“Shit!” Willis exclaimed. The Lincoln swerved to the left, tossing her against Garret. The air erupted with screeching tires, blaring horns, a sickening thud. The car swung abruptly in the other direction and she was tossed into the door as Willis wrangled the Lincoln into a halt. She started to release the breath she’d been holding, only to be grabbed and pinned to the seat, head jammed into Garret’s chest.
 

Something smacked into them, followed by another impact that tossed them around the car like a couple of rag dolls. Where was the safety foam?

Pain exploded from the back of her head. Then nothing.

***

Garret woke to a world of disorientating sensations. Lights flickered on and off in his field of vision, sparkling pinpoints that left him blinded despite the fact his eyes were open. Similarly his hearing was useless, only the roaring of his own heart pumping could breach the high pitch ringing that went on and on and on. He hurt. Could taste and scent the copper of his own blood trickling from his nose, and the sharp smell of burnt polymer and…fear. His fear? It was a feeling he was unaccustomed to, having gone through life in firm control of his emotions, fear being foremost and paramount on the list of repression. But the fear he scented definitely had a tinge of “self” about it. The question was what had he been afraid of, and should he be now?

Sprawled in a supine position upon something uncomfortably hard and lumpy, he tried to roll, only to come up against something amazingly soft and warm, lying halfway on top of him. Aria! His hands reached for her, searching for injuries as he blinked in an attempt to clear his vision. He could decipher enough between the foggy image of his surroundings and the door handle digging into his kidney, that the car was severely crushed in on the front driver’s side and tipped on its side.

The last few moments replayed in his mind: Willis swerving the Lincoln, barely avoiding an oncoming shuttle that had just landed on a down ramp and was blasting through the intersection out of turn, horns blaring as the chauffeur made another frantic cut to the right. For a moment, Garret had thought the old man was going to pull it off, but then an earsplitting crash split the air, followed by a thump and more screeching tires on pavement. Next thing he knew, a dark shape was hurtling toward the windshield. He’d dove toward Aria, cupping her head in his arms and pressing her against the seat as he’d shielded her body with his own. He’d expected the impact, the jerk of the car as it was pushed back and crumpled from the top down. He’d expected the whoosh of the safety foam bursting and expanding around them. What he hadn’t expected was the simultaneous impact from the side, nor the fact that the safety systems hadn’t kicked in, leaving them unprotected against the shock of the double collision.