Page 99 of Seven
I stared at my hands. They were shaking from all the lying. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I had to help her pack."
"You did well," he said, and I realized it was the first real compliment he'd ever given me. Unless, of course, those dry one-word praises he'd said during our park self-defense training counted.
I allowed myself to watch him watch the street before saying, "I think Mom guessed something is off and I'm sending her away."
"Elaborate."
"It's just the way she looked at me and the questions she suddenly asked."
"As long as she's going."
"She is." I paused, then asked, "Should we come back later, so I could take her to airport?"
"Too risky. I already arranged a ride. Just text her and tell her you might not be able to come and that you booked her a car just in case." He gave me the time and the car company name and phone number, and I did exactly as he said, sent Margaret a message that she didn't need to worry about getting to the airport if I couldn't make it on time. She replied almost instantly, asking me why I wasn't the one taking her. I had to lie again, stating I had an urgent task at work and the deadline was tonight.
"You alright?" Seven checked.
"Yes."
"We better go." He shifted the gear and pulled away from the curb.
In silence I watched the world go by in blurs. "Where are we going?"
"Safe house," was all he said.
We drove past the diners and half-built condos, past the river and the skyscrapers. I counted the stoplights, read the signs on the buildings, surveyed the sidewalks. I tried to understand how my life had turned into this—an action movie. How it went from quiet semi-comfort to noisy adventure I hadn't asked for, but maybe secretly needed.
"Are you hungry?" Seven asked.
"Not really."
"You sure?"
"With everything going on, food is the last thing on my mind."
"I understand…" Pause. "We're almost there."
I glanced ahead and saw a set of gray buildings coming into view. After a few minutes, Seven turned into an underground parking lot and we circled down and parked at the lowest level.
The safe house was in what appeared to be a converted industrial building—one of those loft-type places that looked glamorous in a magazine. The lobby was empty, and I suspected there were no tenants here but us. We took the freight elevator upstairs. It groaned under our weight and rattled with every floor.
When we got to the top, Seven pulled the scissor gates apart and we entered a windowless corridor. I looked both ways and saw a single door at the end. It had a keypad instead of the key slot.
"No one else on this floor?" I asked.
He shook his head and walked over to the door, my duffel slung over his broad shoulder. He punched in the code and then repeated it for me. I pulled out my phone to make a note, but he touched my wrist gently and said, "Don't leave a digital trace. Just memorize it."
I repeated the code after him several times before it finally clicked.
Inside, the space was huge, all exposed brick and concrete, with large windows. Metal bars covered the glass on the outside. There were no curtains. The furniture was minimal—a couch, a table, a couple of chairs. Kitchen, however, was nice with modern stainless steel appliances. There was another door in the corner and it was closed shut.
Seven set my duffel on the floor and stood in the center of the loft, spinning once to take it all in. It felt less like a home and more like a movie set. But the view from the windows was breathtaking when I approached. The city below spread out until I couldn't see. A mixture of buildings. Tall and short. Monotone and colorful. Palm trees stuck out here and there. And for the first time in weeks, I couldn't see any of the places that had broken my heart.
Seven hovered nearby. "You'll be safe here," he said. "Nobody knows about this place except a couple of people who work with me. Not even other operatives."
I swiveled to face him.
He pointed at the fridge. "There's a bit of food. Not much, but enough for today and tomorrow. I'll make sure to get you some more."
