Shelooks like she might pass out, soIglance around and spot a metal supply hutch underneath a shallow shelf that is big enough for both of us to sit on, andIpull it out.Shesits on it like a bench, butIstraddle it soIcan better see her face as we talk. “RememberwhenIran into you at that outdoor mall?”
“Yeah.Itwas the day afterIfirst met you in that restaurant with my blind date.”
“Ourmeeting at the restaurant during your blind date was by chance.ButIwas at the outdoor mall to intercept a brush pass.Acouple of employees with high-level clearance at a legitimate company made the phenomenally bad decision to sell information about a weapon to some bad actors.Somehere, some abroad.”Idon’t think it’ll help to mention that they are terrorists, assassins, and rogue nations, soIleave it out. “Theymistook you for their contact and accidentally slipped the package into your purse.”
Inmy ear,Charlie, sounding a little panicked, says, “Areyou sure you want to tell her all this?”
Ido.Shedeserves to know.I’msureCharliegets it.
“Sothe guy who stole my purse was the bad guy?”
Ishake my head. “Thatwas us.Wehad to retrieve the package from your purse.”
“Sothey knew it was me that they accidentally gave it to?”She’slooking so bewildered, andIjust want to wrap my arms around her and tell her that everything is going to be okay.Butshe deserves the chance to feel what she’s feeling without me trying to make it go away.
“Notat first, but eventually, yes.Maybeas early as that night we got caught in the rain.”
Thechest slides a bit as the truck takes a fast turn, andIput my arms out to hold onto a shelf and to my bike, trying to keep us in place.
“Sothe bad guys could’ve gotten me at any point since then?”
Ishake my head. “No.Youwere always safe.WheneverIwasn’t with you, theFBIwas.”
Sheturns toward me, her hands in fists, and she pounds her forearms into my chest. “Whydidn’t you tell me?Ineeded to know to be careful!”
Ilet her pound until she’s finished, and thenIgently gather her hands into mine. “Becausethe best way to keep you safe was to keep you from knowing.Thereweren’t good cameras at the outdoor mall, so the bad guys didn’t have a goodIDon you.Theywere only going to believe that you weren’t the person they were looking for and had nothing to do with it if you were acting normal.Ifyou were hiding or being extra cautious, you would’ve been in more danger because that would’ve given them confirmation that they found the right person.”
Sheseems to understand because she leans into me, resting her side against my chest and her head against my shoulder.Iwrap one arm around her, put the other hand on the side of her head, and kiss her hair. “They’rein the middle of catching the bad guys right now.You’resafe.Weare heading to a secure location, and we’ll stay there while they get everything wrapped up.”
She’sstill for a long moment, pressed against me, as the truck rumbles down the street toward the safe house.
Whenmost people face something likeMackenziejust did, normal brain function slows as the body diverts all brainpower to actions that are going to aid in fighting or fleeing.Mackenziemust’ve gotten out all her fight because her brain seems to be churning a million miles an hour.
“Thatcreeper my sister noticed in a car outside our house?”
Inod. “Itwas theFBI.”
Shecocks her head slowly. “Butyou’re not with theFBI.”
Ishake my head.
She’squiet for another long moment, and then she pulls back and swings one of her legs over the chest, too, so she’s facing me. “You’rea spy!”
Thesentence shocks me.Okay, yes, we are in a mobile covert unit and there is field equipment covering the walls and shelves, andIdid just tell her that we intercepted a plot meant to get weapons in the hands of bad guys, butI’mstill surprised she figured it out in the middle of a stressful situation like this.
“I’mjust pretending to be one, like your blind date at that restaurant did.”
Shesmacks me in the shoulder with the back of her hand. “No, you are not.You’rea spy.”
“I’msorry to disappoint you—Idon’t have a badge.”
“Ofcourse, you don’t— spies don’t have badges.”Shecloses her eyes for a moment before saying, “Ican’t believe you’re lying to me.Thatyou’ve been lying to me.”
“Iam not a spy,”Isay with all the convictionIhave. “Aspy is an asset that an intelligence operative has turned.Theasset then goes and spies on their employer or boss or family member or whoever, then brings information to the intelligence operative.”
“Areyou seriously trying to get off on a technicality?”
Iopen my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.Shehas a right to be angry.IfIwere in her shoes,Iwould be, too.Andher accusation is right—I’vebeen lying to her.
