Page 43 of Guardian of Exile

He shook his head. “You can send one text. And only if I can read it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. If you were me, you’d be paranoid too.”

“So I’m allowed to send a text with supervision, and if they follow us, I’m fucked?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, but the problem with that is they’re going to follow us. One of my friends is a Hound, he will find us.”

Tristen appeared unsympathetic to her predicament. “Then I guess you’d better hope they’re good enough friends to stay put when you ask them to.”

A frustrated growl rose in her throat. She shoved it down and pulled out her cell.

“Where I can see,” he demanded.

“Oh for stars’ sake.”

He snorted. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

Yes, well, the stars were much nicer to curse by than most Earth things, and it let her reserve “For fuck’s sake” for special occasions. She stood next to him, holding her phone where he could see the screen, and started typing a text to Evra.

Going to talk with Tristen. As she typed his name, she realized he probably hadn’t gone by that for quite some time.

“Do you have a different name you go by here? Should I call you something else?” Clay Gales would be his name here, but she didn’t want to give away the fact that she’d read the public version of his life’s story in a newspaper.

“Tristen’s fine,” he said shortly, and whether it really was fine or he thought she was seeking clues to send to her friends on his Earth identity, she didn’t know. Whatever. She’d opened the door. If he wanted to be called Clay, all he had to do was ask.

She debated her next sentence for a whole one second before deciding she didn’t care if it hurt her cause. He’s paranoid, so my phone’s staying here, and if any of you guys follow us, his answer’s no. I’ll meet you back at the hotel in a few hours.

“Do I have your blessing to send it?” she asked.

He held out his hand in answer. She sighed and placed the phone in his palm. He read the message a couple times and then began rewording it.

Tristen and I are going to talk. He is understandably wary, so I’m leaving my phone here. If we don’t have complete privacy, any deal is off. Go back to the hotel and wait.

“Was my grammar not to your liking?”

“Just making certain the only message sent is the one I can read.”

It took her a minute to figure out what he was saying. “This isn’t an episode of Alias. I’m not a TV spy sending coded messages to my fellow agents. I thought we were developing trust.”

He gave her a deadpan stare. “Trust takes time.”

She gaped at him. “Did you just attempt to quote Alias to me?”

“What do you mean ‘attempt’?”

“It was truth takes time.”

He looked up, as if he was trying to see the scene in his head when CIA spy Sydney Bristow’s earrings had started emitting Morse code with a message from her mother. Finally, he shrugged. “Close enough.”

“I’m going to forgive fifty-percent of your obstinacy for being a nerd who can almost quote Alias.”

“Thanks,” he said drily.

She sighed. “Look, I am not a superspy. So could you just let me call my friends?” If she called, she could explain it and they’d give her the time she needed. She hoped. But sending a text? Even if they believed she’d sent it, they wouldn’t know whether or not it had been sent under duress. “I’ll put it on speaker if you want.”