Cornered: Episode Two of the Sister Planets Series Page 5

  Norah nods. “Good. Who did you talk to?”

  She’s looking at me. I take another sip of water before saying, “Just about everyone. I got more retina cam pics than an A-lister on the red carpet.”

  Norah snuffs. “Pigs. Did you see Secretary Metross, Representative Carvehall, or Gwen Watson?”

  Crap. If she had a problem with me shouting at Greenstreet, she’s not going to like that I talked to Watson.

  I play with the fringe on one of the pillows. “All three.”

  “And?”

  “The secretary was unapproachable, Carvehall didn’t seem happy, and Watson looked like she wanted to eat Greenstreet like a popsicle.”

  I can feel Mika looking at me. Please, please, please don’t say anything.

  “Uh, Mav.”

  Damn you, Mika.

  Norah looks confused. “What?”

  I sigh long and loud. “I may have talked to Gwen a little bit.”

  Norah drops her hands and clenches her jaw. “You what?”

  “I thought it would be a good idea for me to be on her radar.”

  “Why?” Norah shouts. To hear such a loud sound come out of such a small lady startles me. “Why in God’s name would you think that was a good idea? That woman is dangerous. She is a King Maker and a King Breaker. One word from her and your life is on display for the world to see. And not just the good parts. She’ll dissect you, Maverick.”

  “Okay, and if she does, what will she find? Nothing I’m not already willing to share with the world myself.”

  She jumps out of her seat and comes at me, finger waving. “No, you incompetent little fool. I’m not worried about the real you. I’m worried about the fake you that we’ve constructed. Before now, I haven’t worried about filling in the gaping holes in your cover story. Now that you’ve pranced yourself in front of Gwen Watson, I have to make sure everything is airtight.”

  She’s in front of me now, her tiny frame vibrating with so much energy that I’m afraid she’ll snap.

  Despite that—maybe even because of it—the irrational part of me I fear lunges out.

  “This fool is your best shot at getting to Michael Greenstreet. Jacob and Esau explained to me how you’ve had nothing to get you on the inside up until now. I’m the perfect opportunity for you. Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m an idiot.”

  Norah’s scowl turns to a poisonous smile. “Did she give you anything?”

  “Yes. Why does that matter?”

  “What was it?”

  I grab my clutch from the sofa, pull out the metallic card Gwen gave me, and hand it to her.

  “Here.”

  Norah laughs, but not because she thinks anything is funny. “Not a fool?”

  She flips the card over. A scorch mark mars one side.

  “This was bugged. For sure location-tracking, probably a microphone and environmental mapping software. It’s charred because we rigged the car you were in to fry such things. If we hadn’t, Gwen Watson would be listening to everything we’re saying right now and everything you said in the car.”

  She grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me close to her face.

  “One more time, Maverick. That’s all you get. You mess up like this again, and I’ll have you killed. I will have someone drag you into an ally and put a bullet in your head. Do you understand?”

  For the first time in my life, I’m speechless.

  Chapter 8

  I don’t come out of the apartment the next day.

  Or the next day.

  Or the next day.

  I don’t let anyone come in, either. Not Norah, not Mika, not anyone. I’m in no mood to talk about any part of the assassination attempt. I disable the call feature from my top-of-the-line Net Mirror and turn away anyone who tries to access the apartment through the elevator.

  I’m doing my best to quell the embarrassment and anxiety taking up residency in my chest. Just when I think the tumult ends, it starts back up again. Sleeping helps, but that’s hard to do after three days of doing nothing.

  Rest is a relative term, though. I don’t feel rested. My body is caught up on sleep, but I feel stretched somehow.

  It’s not just embarrassment. Spending days by myself gives me time to stop and think about the mess I’m caught up in. And boy, is it a mess.

  Greenstreet is a traitor. Now that I’ve had time to process that fact, it both surprises me and makes total sense at the same time. Of course that selfish egotist would decide he was important enough to rule his own country. This is a man who puts kill-switches in his employee’s skulls and already manipulates the populations of two planets when it comes to the communication between Mars and Earth.

  At the same time, wow—he thinks he’s powerful enough to rule his own country. And I was his employee. One with a kill-switch in my head that he could have flipped at any time.

  Talk about a downer.

  Despite that, I’m calm. More relaxed than I’ve been in years. And it’s because of those kill-switches. Knowing they’re off and can’t be used gives me overwhelming amounts of peace. I hadn’t realized how tense those tiny machines made me. I’d forgotten how little I’d slept in the weeks after they were installed; every noise or headache had me convinced I was about to die.

  Today, instead of obsessing over the fact I could die any moment, I’m eating a bowl of cereal, watching a Net Mirror show about luxury life in a Mars habitat, and feeling sore that I made a stupid decision.

  The elevator dings, but the doors don’t open. Love that security feature.

  “Go away!” I shout.

  “There’s a delivery for you in the lobby, miss,” a man’s voice I don’t recognize says from the other side of the doors.

  “Send it up. Thank you.”

  “Uh, I can’t do that, miss.”

  I furrow my brow. “Why not?”

  “Well, there’s quite a few packages.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you own a music store or something?”

  I toss my bowl over my shoulder and dart for the elevator. I hear a loud clang-clatter-splat as my cereal bowl and its contents hit the floor.

  I slam into the elevator doors. “Are there instruments down there?”

  “Yeah, a whole bunch of them.”

  I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. “Okay, this is what I need you to do. Load up as many of them as you can, and send the elevator back up. I’ll unload them, send the elevator back down, and we’ll keep doing that until everything’s gone.”

  “Yes, miss. Uh, can I ask one question?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Uh, regarding a tip, if I won’t see you during this process …” He never finishes the sentence.

  My heart aches with sympathy. I know what it’s like to work for tips.

  “I’ll talk to Kate about getting you taken care of. Generously.”

  “Thank you, miss. I’ll send that first load right up.”

  I let out a squeal as I hear the elevator go back down. Ten minutes later, the elevator dings. When it opens, I scream with delight.

  Inside is Curtis the keyboard, The Cunninghams, Cody the acoustic guitar, Caleb the ukulele, Carl the banjo, Carlos the trumpet, Calvin the clarinet in his pillowcase, and The Children—a duffel bag with an assortment of percussion instruments inside. I yank them all from the elevator and drag them into the sitting room. I send the elevator back down and scamper back to my friends.

  “I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m so glad you’re okay. I promise I won’t leave you like that again. It was an emergency. I couldn’t help it. Let’s get all of you comfortable, and then we’ll do a roll call.”

  I take each of my precious friends to the bedroom and lay them on the bed. I hear the elevator ding again, and I sprint back to the doors. In the second load, I find Creed the accordion, Clive the flute, Carson the French horn, Caesar the pan flute, Cy the saxophone, Chris the trombone, Cedric the hammer dulcimer, Corbett the mandolin, Cooper the vio
lin, and Charles the standup bass.

  “Charles!” I run to him and hug his slender neck. “Come on in, I’ve got just the place for you.”

  I lovingly pick up each instrument in the second load and inspect them on the way back to my room. They all seem all right. No one looks like they were damaged in the move.

  “That’s everyone, isn’t it?”

  It’s only then that I see my instruments—juxtaposed between the extravagance of the room—are hunks of crap.

  They’re dull and dingy. The stringed ones all need their strings replaced, the brass ones have dents all over them, and I see Curtis for the ancient artifact that he really is.

  I sigh in anger and swallow my pride. “All right. I’ll do it for you guys.”

  I go to my Net Mirror and call Jacob. He picks up on the second tone.

  “Well hi there, stranger,” he says in his stupid, perfect voice. His face is healing, and he looks much like he did when I slapped him in that hotel.

  “Don’t be cute,” I say with as much menace as I can.

  He keeps smiling. “You get my presents?”

  I frown. “You mean my instruments?”

  “Yeah, I thought you’d be missing them.”

  “I was.”

  Awkward silence.

  “So, you wanna talk?” he finally says.

  “On one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “I want everything you delivered this morning tuned and repaired.”

  “What?”

  “This is the first time in my life my instruments have the chance of being maintained. I’m not planning on dying during this little mission of ours, but if I do, I want to spend the time I have left playing on new strings and with instruments that don’t look like they’ve been kept in a dumpster.”

  “That’s it?” Jacob asks.

  I’m confused. “Yeah. Why?”

  Jacob shakes his head, then looks at me. “Mav, you’re the least predictable person I’ve ever met. I’m coming over now to pick them up. I’m assuming you’ll still be there.”

  “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving without someone.”

  “Good. Plan on me staying. We need to talk.”

  “One more condition.”

  “What now?”

  “Bring cheeseburgers when you come.”

  He rubs his forehead but keeps looking at me. “You’re too weird.”

  The screen goes black, and I smile. Then I look down at my stained sweats and smell under my armpits.

  I sprint helter-skelter to the bathroom. I won’t look like a troll when Jacob gets here.

  * * *

  “What!” Jacob yells when he walks through the door. He hasn’t been to my apartment yet, so he’s freaking out the way I did. “Mav, this is extravagant!”

  “Merkatz money. Expectations, you know.”

  “Screw that. I’ve been with The Red Hand for a long time, and they’ve never treated me like this.”

  “That’s the point. You’re undercover, so you must be inconspicuous. Take off your shoes, and give me those cheeseburgers.”

  He pulls off his clunky black boots and hands me a bag adorned with an In-And-Out logo. I lick my lips. “Yeah, baby. Animal style.”

  I yank my burger out of the bag and plop down on the sofa. I’m in a new, cuter pair of pajamas that Norah gave me last week when we stayed in her house. I bathed, which also helped my overall appearance. Go figure.

  I look up to see Jacob gazing out the window. It’s midafternoon, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I can see across the city for miles and miles.

  “Here, sit down. I’m watching a show about people who try to live in a superstore without getting noticed.”

  “You mean Superstore Squatters?”

  “Yes! Have you seen this show?”

  He smiles, walks over, and plops down next to me. “It’s my guilty pleasure. Turn it up.”

  We binge watch Net Mirror shows the rest of the day. We watch Superstore Squatters for hours and hours, but I never get bored. We order a pizza that Jacob has to go down to the lobby and get. The delivery drones don’t come up this high. The sun has been set for hours before I realize I’m a little sleepy.

  I grab Caleb and pluck away at a tune I’ve had stuck in my head for the last couple of days. It’s moody, so it sounds a little silly coming from a ukulele. After a couple of minutes, Jacob turns to me.

  “I’m getting kind of tired, but there’s something I need to talk to you about while my head is on straight,” he says.

  I stop strumming. “What’s up?”

  “Norah wants me to go with you when you see the senator from now on.”

  My face gets tense and scrunchy. “Seriously?”

  He smiles. “That’s right. Until you can show us you won’t make stupid mistakes like talking with Gwen Watson, I’ll be your handler.”

  My vision goes a little red. He’s ruining a perfect evening.

  “Handler? Like a dog handler?”

  “Maverick, why in the hell would you go there? Stop searching for reasons to get angry.”

  His reprimand shocks me a little, but I’m not done yet. “I don’t need a handler, Jacob. I was masterful the other night. People loved me.”

  “I know, and that’s why we aren’t taking you off the mission entirely. The feedback was that you were the talk of the party.”

  I can’t help but smile. “So why do I need you?”

  “Because you make stupid decisions when you get cocky or bored. I’m going to be there to make sure you don’t jeopardize everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish.”

  I don’t have a rebuttal for that one, so I go a different direction. “How will you explain being there with me? You’re no Mika, and some random dude can’t walk around censoring everything I say.”

  “He can if he’s part of your legal team.”

  I make a bunch of noises that don’t translate to anything before I say, “What?”

  “Norah’s setting it all up. I’ll be a junior lawyer at her firm accompanying you on your trips to see Greenstreet. That way I can intervene if you do anything crazy again.”

  “Stop it!” I shout.

  We both recoil. I’m sure Jacob jumped because it was so unexpected. I jumped because my voice sounds so loud in this apartment.

  “Stop saying I’m crazy. I know crazy. I’ve seen it. I’m doing my best. I did everything I knew to do at the party. I didn’t try to mess things up.”

  Jacob places his hand on my knee. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry.”

  “I—I’m dealing with the stress as best I can, but it’s messing with my head.”

  “Hey, I get it. I’ve been in this for a year or so now. You’ve been in it less than a week. We threw you in the deep end. But you’re keeping your head above water. You’re doing well. Cut yourself some slack, and I’ll stop ragging on you too. Deal?”

  I grin and put my hand on his, which is still on my knee. He keeps looking at me with that gorgeous face and that sad smile.

  When we don’t break eye contact, I realize something is happening. Something is being communicated between us that stretches past words. There’s an invisible force bringing our faces closer and closer. As we lean in, my heart starts pounding and my legs start to tingle.

  I close my eyes. Our lips touch a moment later.

  The kiss is simple, but it’s long. He’s a firm kisser, which I like. He doesn’t try anything fancy with his mouth or his hands. Just a kiss.

  Our lips part, and we look into each other’s eyes again.

  “I thought you said you weren’t going to let me do anything crazy,” I say after a heartbeat.

  He smiles and gets up. “Only in public. Let me go grab your instruments.”

  “No, you can’t take my stuff now. Where are you going to put all of them?”

  He turns back to face me. “I was going to leave them in my car.”

  I gasp. “There’s no way in hell you�
��re leaving my things in a car overnight.”

  “What other option do I have?”

  “Just sleep here on the sofa and take everything in the morning.”

  “Mav,” he scolds.

  “What? I’ll be locked away in my room, and you’ll stay in here. I assume you’ll be a gentleman?”

  I shoot him a teasing look. He mimics it and says, “Only if you’re a lady.”

  “You have my word.”

  He gives me a half grin. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

  He rounds the corner and disappears. I hear the door to the bathroom shut, then silence.

  I lean back, smile, and bite my lip.

  “Do you want popcorn?” Jacob shouts from the kitchen a few minutes later. “I haven’t watched a movie and eaten popcorn in forever.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I say, throwing my hands in the air.

  We pop some popcorn, settle in, and start watching a show about botched vanity tech surgeries. Two episodes in, the watch on Jacob’s wrist vibrates and lights up.

  “Gotta take this. Pause it?”

  He gets up and hits a button on the side of his watch as he rounds the corner to the kitchen and bedroom. The transparent figure of a woman leaps up and hovers above the watch.

  It’s Naomi.

  As he disappears around the corner, Jacob says, “Hey, you.”

  The way he says it makes my scalp burn with anger. I strain to hear the conversation happening in the other room, but I can’t even hear murmuring.

  I sneak into the kitchen. Jacob isn’t there. I ease over to the doorway to my bedroom and hear voices. I peak through and see him talking to a hovering image of Naomi.

  “That’s sweet, Naomi,” I hear Jacob say.

  “No, seriously Jacob. I’ve missed you.”

  I clench my jaw and turn away. I walk over to the kitchen cabinets, fling one open, and grab a glass. I fill it with water and return to the couch.

  She misses him?

  Seconds later, Jacob returns. He plops down on the couch with a smile and grabs a handful of popcorn.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Naomi.”

  Interesting. I thought for sure he’d lie about who he was talking to.

  “So, what’s she been up to lately?” I sneer. “I haven’t seen her since the night we escaped.”