completely shut down. He may’ve been a lying jerk, but she was lying by omission. And what she knew could be highly dangerous to not just the government, or Garret, but her as well.
“That’s it.” He grasped the hand that had been laying over his on the table, pushed back his chair. He had to get her out of here. He didn’t know who had told her about the murders, but whoever it was had to be involved. And if they told her, it had either been a major slip up and they were sweating bullets now, or they were using her as bait. Either way, they both were in danger right now.
“What?” The startled question spilled from her lips in a gasp as he yanked her out of her chair.
“This place isn’t private enough for this discussion.” He dragged her through the trellised archway leading to the parking lot and the ex-V-10 hiding in it below. The fact that Garret had been out there watching over them this whole time was a little reassuring, but not completely.
“Let me go,” she hissed and jerked her arm.
He held firm, down the short flight of concrete stairs toward the pavement with her in tow. It wasn’t a graceful descent, given that she was pulling against him, but he succeeded in keeping her from falling down the half flight.
“No. We’re going someplace that’s private enough to really talk. And you’re going to tell me everything you know, because you sure as hell aren’t telling me everything right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she hissed.
“Like hell you’re not.”
“Garret. Let me go!” She pulled again, almost breaking his grip.
He turned toward her, intent on tossing her over his shoulder if need be. Panic was settling heavy between his ribs and he wanted to get her tucked away somewhere safe—with at least two or three V-10s around her—before they discussed anything more.
He didn’t have time to register the swing of her free arm before the fist connected to his solar plexus. The blow was stunning, knocking the air right out of his lungs and jerking him off his feet.
Holy shit! His grip broke and he landed unceremoniously on the pavement. The first thing he noticed—after the world righted in some semblance of order—was their little struggle had attracted attention. Couples peered over the vine-covered fence at them, among them their waitress who then disappeared. The second was that Aria was standing there above him, staring straight ahead, a stunned expression on her face.
“You’re not Garret.” She started backing away, her hands outstretched and searching. Her head shook back and forth, back and forth. “You’re not Garret.”
“Jesus.” He finally managed to draw air, expelling the expletive as he pulled himself to his feet. He wasn’t Garret. He was Teigan. A normal, albeit athletic, man who had no chance of standing up to the punch she’d just delivered. She was one of Viadal’s. But just as obviously, she was blind as well. Otherwise, she’d be turning and running by now. Not fumbling around and stumbling on the uneven ground.
A little mewing sound erupted from her throat. He realized that despite her strength, her blindness made her highly vulnerable. And now she was scared because she didn’t know who he was or what his purpose had been in deceiving her.
Tentatively, he moved toward her. “Aria. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re a liar!” she spat out under her breath. Her hand found the hood of a car. She followed it around, away from the restaurant. Why? She must realize she was moving further from the possibility of aid. He let her go.
Jogging back to the table, he pressed his wrist unit to the tab meter in the center of the table to cover the bill, keying in a healthy tip. A last minute thought had him grabbing up Aria’s baton and purse—he’d completely forgotten them before. He ignored the uneasy stares. Most likely they would brush it off as a lovers spat. She hadn’t screamed for help.
“That’s it.” He grasped the hand that had been laying over his on the table, pushed back his chair. He had to get her out of here. He didn’t know who had told her about the murders, but whoever it was had to be involved. And if they told her, it had either been a major slip up and they were sweating bullets now, or they were using her as bait. Either way, they both were in danger right now.
“What?” The startled question spilled from her lips in a gasp as he yanked her out of her chair.
“This place isn’t private enough for this discussion.” He dragged her through the trellised archway leading to the parking lot and the ex-V-10 hiding in it below. The fact that Garret had been out there watching over them this whole time was a little reassuring, but not completely.
“Let me go,” she hissed and jerked her arm.
He held firm, down the short flight of concrete stairs toward the pavement with her in tow. It wasn’t a graceful descent, given that she was pulling against him, but he succeeded in keeping her from falling down the half flight.
“No. We’re going someplace that’s private enough to really talk. And you’re going to tell me everything you know, because you sure as hell aren’t telling me everything right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she hissed.
“Like hell you’re not.”
“Garret. Let me go!” She pulled again, almost breaking his grip.
He turned toward her, intent on tossing her over his shoulder if need be. Panic was settling heavy between his ribs and he wanted to get her tucked away somewhere safe—with at least two or three V-10s around her—before they discussed anything more.
He didn’t have time to register the swing of her free arm before the fist connected to his solar plexus. The blow was stunning, knocking the air right out of his lungs and jerking him off his feet.
Holy shit! His grip broke and he landed unceremoniously on the pavement. The first thing he noticed—after the world righted in some semblance of order—was their little struggle had attracted attention. Couples peered over the vine-covered fence at them, among them their waitress who then disappeared. The second was that Aria was standing there above him, staring straight ahead, a stunned expression on her face.
“You’re not Garret.” She started backing away, her hands outstretched and searching. Her head shook back and forth, back and forth. “You’re not Garret.”
“Jesus.” He finally managed to draw air, expelling the expletive as he pulled himself to his feet. He wasn’t Garret. He was Teigan. A normal, albeit athletic, man who had no chance of standing up to the punch she’d just delivered. She was one of Viadal’s. But just as obviously, she was blind as well. Otherwise, she’d be turning and running by now. Not fumbling around and stumbling on the uneven ground.
A little mewing sound erupted from her throat. He realized that despite her strength, her blindness made her highly vulnerable. And now she was scared because she didn’t know who he was or what his purpose had been in deceiving her.
Tentatively, he moved toward her. “Aria. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re a liar!” she spat out under her breath. Her hand found the hood of a car. She followed it around, away from the restaurant. Why? She must realize she was moving further from the possibility of aid. He let her go.
Jogging back to the table, he pressed his wrist unit to the tab meter in the center of the table to cover the bill, keying in a healthy tip. A last minute thought had him grabbing up Aria’s baton and purse—he’d completely forgotten them before. He ignored the uneasy stares. Most likely they would brush it off as a lovers spat. She hadn’t screamed for help.
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