“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just call me in an hour. From a random person’s phone, do you understand?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t go confronting your fears again. Brave is great. Brave and dead is stupid. We are up against heavy opposition and we need to be smart.”
“Who? Up against who?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Now do as I say—get rid of your phone right now, and call me in an hour.”
chapter
twenty-six
LIVIA
Livia parked the Jeep at the north end of Georgetown Playfield park. She saw Carl immediately—he was straddling the bench at a picnic table under an awning, casually scanning the area. Her heart started beating hard and she felt a surge of irritation—at him, and even more at herself for the effect he had on her.
Just before she cut the wipers, she saw him spot the Jeep. She flipped up her hood, got out, and started toward him. The park was empty, and everything was muted by the soft patter of the rain. He stood and watched her, grinning like an idiot.
She came in under the awning and pushed back her hood. She had no idea what she was going to say. “What are you doing here?” is what came out.
“Labee,” he said, shaking his head. “God, I missed you. I’m sorry, I promised myself I wasn’t going to say anything mushy, and now I’ve gone and blown it.”
I missed you, too, she thought. But it didn’t come out.
“Damn it,” he said. “This is unbearable. I’m just going to hug you for a minute, all right? You know you don’t have to hug me back.”
“Carl,” she said, but he already had his arms around her and had pulled her in close. She felt that surge of irritation again, and something hot like anger, and she was aware of his warmth, and the feel of his body, and his smell. One of the jets from nearby Boeing Field went screeching overhead, obliterating the sound of the rain. And then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Hard. And her anger boiled over.
She shoved him away. “Stop. We have to stop. What is going on?”
He shook his head, whether to indicate he didn’t have an answer or to clear it, she wasn’t sure. The roar of the jet receded, and the soft drumbeat of rain faded back in. He did another quick scan of the area. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I . . . damn. You want to sit?”
She glanced back at the empty parking lot. “How did you get here?”
“Took a cab.”
“From Freeway Park?”
“No, from farther out. I’m with Larison, and now this new guy Manus, too, and after the park we decided to get clear of the city. They dropped me off at SeaTac. I didn’t want to ask them to come all the way back. Just in case.”
“A taxi driver could remember you.”
“Ah, you know me. Not that it’s easy, but I can be unmemorable when I set my mind to it.”
“Did you not know you don’t sound like you’re from around here? Diaz certainly noticed.”
“Good news,” he said, replacing the Texan with something as ridiculous as it was unspecified. “I made sure to address the driver in the humiliating accent I’m using with you right now. If you find it sexy, though, I’ll keep doing it.”
He stood there, grinning at her. She almost said, What am I going to do with you? but realized he would probably offer at least several answers, none of which she was ready to deal with.
They straddled the benches on opposite sides of the picnic table. The table was good—they could each see behind the other. With one leg in and one leg out, they could move quickly if necessary. And she needed some distance, the presence of something solid between them.