“I’m an author!” Yes! That was it! That was—
“I think we need to go back to the part about the head wound.” Alex finally looked concerned.
But Zoe felt lighter than she had in days. “I have to tell . . .” She trailed off as she remembered the sight of Sawyer in that little park, covered with lasers. Sawyer surrounded by agents. She thought about screeching tires and the distant sound of gunfire and she lunged for Alex, desperate.
“Do you have a phone?”
“What?”
“I need a phone! If we get separated, I’m supposed to call and leave a message for him. I need to get to a phone.”
But Alex was going stiff again. “Call who?”
Suddenly, Zoe remembered that Alex didn’t know she and Sawyer were . . . well . . . whatever Zoe and Sawyer were. Allies? Friends? More? There were times when she caught him looking at her, when his lip quirked and he put his hand on the small of her back. . . . When he was kissing her and holding her and telling her that it hadn’t been a danger bang . . . When she let herself hope they might be more.
“Zoe!” Alex shouted. “Call who?”
But before Zoe could speak, a voice came floating on the wind, saying, “Me.”
He was a shadow in the darkness, but he was there. He was there and he was alive and he appeared to have most if not all his original parts. There were a few new bruises, maybe a little dried blood. But he was there. And Zoe forgot all the things that, moments before, she’d been desperate to tell him. She just ran and threw herself into his arms, felt her feet go off the ground as he held her so tightly that she could actually feel his heart beating against hers.
“You found us.”
“I found you.”
She kissed him once on the lips but that wasn’t nearly good enough, so she peppered more kisses on his cheeks and on his chin and that’s how she knew that he was smiling—because she kissed that smile right off his face.
“You found me,” she said on a sigh then pulled back. “Wait. How did you—”
“Your comms unit has GPS.”
“Oh! Fancy!”
“Zoe.” Alex’s voice was a warning, and Zoe felt her sister moving through the shadows, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Sawyer.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I saw all those laser guns—”
“That’s not what they’re called.”
“—pointed at you, and I wanted to help, but you told me to run, so I—”
He held her face in his hands—not like she was fragile: like she was precious. And Zoe had never been so achingly aware of the difference. “You did the right thing. Now, did you get it?”
“Zoe!” Alex shouted, but Sawyer’s face was just right there—so close. Kissing close. So she kissed him again because she could.
“Yes.” The word was a whisper against his lips. “I got it.” Then she stuck a hand down her shirt and watched him try not to grin.
“Need some help looking around down there?”
“No,” she chided then pulled the thumb drive free and handed it to him. His eyes went wide at the same time something else changed. Maybe the wind. Maybe the clouds drifting back over the moon.
But she felt Alex at her back, heard her low command. “Zoe, come over here. Now.”
And Zoe realized that they were still in the shadows—too far from the yellow ring of light to really see—so she took Sawyer’s hand and called back, “It’s okay, Alex. It’s just Sawyer.”
“Zoe.” Alex didn’t sound okay. “Walk to me. Now.”
“Alex.” Zoe tried to tease. “Sawyer’s on our side, remember? He’s CIA, too.”
Then Alex inched into the light and Zoe noticed two things: the gun in her sister’s hand and the look on her face as she said, “No. He’s not.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Her
Zoe wanted to laugh—would have laughed—if it hadn’t been for the look on Alex’s face—dark and cold. And the way she held the gun—like it was just another part of her, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.
“Step away from him, Zoe.” Alex’s voice was low and even. “Do it. Now.”
And still Zoe was the moron who asked, “Why?”
Alex looked annoyed. “So I can kill him!”
But Alex was wrong. Alex had to be wrong. “No. Sawyer’s on our side. He’s CIA. He’s . . .” She trailed off as she looked up at the man who wasn’t looking at her because his gaze was locked on Alex, mirroring her every move, like boxers in a ring. Circling. “He’s one of the good guys?”