Page 21 of The Echelon (Spy Girl 7)
Instead, he hands me a towel. “You need to come downstairs. We’re having a party. You’re the honoree.”
“I’m not in the mood for a party, Daniel. I need sleep. But, before I do, I want to tell you something. Turn around, so I can get out.”
Surprisingly, he complies.
I dry off, and then he takes a fluffy white robe off the hook and holds it out toward me. I wrap myself in the robe, tell him he can turn back around, and then I sit on the edge of the tub.
“You saved us,” Daniel says softly, sitting down next to me. “Did you really drop from a helicopter onto the roof of the hospital?”
I let out a chuckle. “I slid down a rope.”
“From a military helicopter. There’s a lot you haven’t told me about your life. You’re CIA, right?”
I shake my head. “No, but my mother was. What started in Montrovia this week was supposed to have started six years ago. She had discovered the plot and was killed because of what she knew.”
“So, are you really Huntley Von Allister, or is that just your cover?”
“I thought it was just my cover in the beginning, but it turns out, Ares is actually my biological father. He and my mother were close friends. I was sent to a special school to continue the training given to me by her. I tried really hard not to lie to you, Daniel. I liked you right away. And sleeping with you that first night was definitely not part of my mission. In fact, I was afraid it would mess everything up.”
“What was your mission?”
“To protect Lorenzo.”
“Did you think it was dumb when I said I was going to protect you?” he asks seriously.
“No, it was sweet, Daniel. Do you think of me differently now?”
“Yeah,” he says, swatting my knee. “I think you’re a badass.”
I lower my head. “I had a little breakdown in Omaha and told your mother everything. Before she died, remember how she took my hand?”
Daniel’s eyes get misty as he nods.
“She passed me a note.”
“What did it say?”
I get up, walk into my room, and take the note out of my bag. Then, I go back into the bathroom and hand it to Daniel.
“Please save my son,” he says, reading it aloud. He stares at me, his eyes filling with tears. “When you left the country, I was mad at you.”
“I know, but I told you I was doing what your mother asked me to do.”
He pulls me into a tight hug. When I suck in a deep breath because my ribs on the left side of my body are quite sore, he quickly pulls his hands back, looking me over.
“You were in a fight?” he asks.
“I was in a few actually. I’m a little banged up.”
“And you did it for my mom?”
“I did it for both our moms. I did it for Montrovia.”
“And for Lorenzo,” he says. “He loves you very much, Huntley. He was just trying to do what was best for his country. All his advisors, all the proof—”
“I know.”
Daniel stands up, goes into my closet, and pulls out a dress. “Put this on. Your friends and family are downstairs, celebrating. And you, Huntley, are the guest of honor.”
The dress he has chosen is cute, but when I go into the closet to put it on, I don’t like the way it looks.
I don’t like the way I look.
And I should be feeling incredible.
I completed my mission. I saved the world.
And maybe it’s an after effect of being pumped up on adrenaline for such a long period of time, but I don’t feel like celebrating. All I feel like doing is crying.
I had my future all planned out when I left Blackwood Academy, excited to be on the first of what I hoped would be many missions. Now, I’m not really sure where I fit in.
Or maybe it’s that I don’t know what I’m going to do without Lorenzo in my life.
Because he should be here.
Not Daniel.
And I feel like my dream has officially died.
My closet is organized in color order by occasion. I’m drawn to the black day dress section, but the first two dresses I see are a gelato-patterned Dolce & Gabbana and a tea-length Marchesa that I’ve worn before.
Lorenzo pulled me as close as my hat would allow and said, “You know, every man at the Royal Ascot is going to be thinking the same thing I did when I first saw you in that dress.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious and wondering if my dress was appropriate for the occasion.
“That they would like to attempt to lick all that gelato straight off you,” he said with a sexy smirk.
I shake my head, getting the memories out. I grab both dresses and shove them to the back of the closet, hoping to never see them again. Or hear the memory of his voice saying, “You look delectable.”
Fortunately, I’m distracted by a sleeveless black crocodile-print leather Gucci shift with a tag mentioning that it’s straight off the runway. There are large GG gold metal buttons on the shoulders. And, with no waistline, I don’t have to worry about it hurting my ribs.
I carefully slip it on and then add a chunky black leather platform loafer with a square heel. I refuse to wear anything uncomfortable tonight. I look at myself in the full-length mirror, knowing I should probably at least put some powder on my face, but my heart’s just not in it.
“All right,” I say to Daniel. “This is as good as it gets.”
“You’re not touching up your makeup?” he asks, gently running his hand across my cheek. “Actually, I don’t think you should put any on. You don’t want those little cuts to get infected. How did you get all those little cuts?”
“I was thrown into a glass mirror.”
“Ouch,” he says. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are?”
“Daniel, I’m going to th
e party. You can stop sucking up.”
“I was actually serious about that,” he says sweetly. “When this all gets out, you’re going to be even more famous than me. I wonder if you get a gold medal when you save the world or, like, endorsements or something.”
“I really don’t want anyone to know, Daniel. Like, I really don’t.”
“Well, everyone downstairs knows. Your dad is crazy proud of you.”
“Let’s go get this over with,” I say, leading him out of the bedroom and down the hall.
As we go down the stairs, the group in the home’s main salon starts clapping for me.
Daniel lied.
This is not a big party.
It’s a simple gathering of friends and family—Ryan Spear, Mike Burnes, Blake, Ares, my grandfather, Ari and Allie, the Bessemers, Josh, Intrepid, The Bartender, Olivia and Terrance, and Belinda Smith.
Notably absent are Lizzie and Lorenzo.
“Where’s Lizzie?” I whisper to Daniel.
“She needed to spend some time with her family.”
“And how are the two of you?”
“We’re having a baby,” he says with a huge grin. “And, if it’s a girl, we’re going to name her Amanda.”
The little get-together does lift my spirits. If nothing else, through all of this, I have learned that it’s okay to love and to have emotional entanglements because that’s what makes life worth the risk.
It’s what makes life worth living.
I get hugs, congratulations, and am asked a million questions, mostly by my grandfather who wants a play-by-play of everything that happened after I left London.
I actually entertain them with a long-drawn-out version.
After that, the newly re-anointed president of the United States, Ryan Spear, and the director of the CIA, Mike Burnes, ask me what’s next—going so far as to offer me a job doing pretty much anything I want. My father beams with pride and makes me sound like a hero.
