Page 39 of Destroyed With You

He studies my face, then nods. “Fair enough. I don’t blame you.”

I look away, uncomfortable with the intense way he’s looking at me, as if he’s trying to read almost five years of lost emotions in my eyes.

“There’s a tracker,” I say. “On Bartlett.”

“You’re serious?”

I nod. “I slipped it into his jacket pocket when I got to the bar. I expected he’d invite me to his room, but just in case, I wanted a backup plan.”

“Let’s go get the son of a bitch.”

“I can track him on my phone,” I say, turning toward the bathroom, where I’d left the leather tote I use as both a purse and an operational kit.

He follows me, and I sit in front of the dressing table and pull the tote onto my lap. My hands brush my gun.

“I’m carrying,” I say. “Glock 9mm.” I’m not sure why it seems important to tell him, but if we’re going in together, I want to show all my cards.

“Good for you,” he says nonchalantly. “Better than the rough end of a wine glass. Although you might want to holster it.”

I nod. “I’ve got a change of clothes in the back of my rental car. And we should get a new vehicle once we know where we’re heading. Odds are good ID-9 will keep tabs on mine.”

I’ve been rummaging for my phone, and I pull it out now, then open the tracking app. “Airport,” I say.

“Shit.”

“Airport hotel,” I clarify. “Probably booked on something tomorrow.”

“Come on.” He stands, and I glance down at the bathrobe I’m wearing. “Right,” he says with a chuckle. “Although I do like the way that looks on you.”

I point toward the dress I wore to the bar, now hanging on the back of the door. “Gimme,” I say, and he tosses it to me as I stand. “I’ll wear this now and change when we switch cars.”

I’m about to let the robe drop to the floor when I realize what I’m doing. “Can you—I mean, give me a moment, okay?”

“Right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Old habits.”

I smile weakly; I know what he means. It’s like muscle memory around Winston, and part of me wants nothing more than to give in to it. But I can’t. Because the past is gone. And there’s no way to go back to it. No way to move forward from that once upon a time when we were together and happy.

Those days are behind us, and the love we shared never really existed at all. The happiness we’ve both mourned so deeply is tainted with the stain of lies, both his and mine.

And I’m not sure there’s any power in the universe that can clean up a stain that dark.

* * *

“The bastard didn’t show,” I tell Collins.

“Am I on speaker? What the hell, Moon?”

“Cut me some slack. I’m in a bitch of a mood.” Not true, but I want Winston to hear Collins’ voice, too. If he’s lying or suspicious, I don’t want to miss those telltale tones.

“Don’t worry,” I add. “The phone’s a secure line, and I swept the room. No listening devices. I’m checking his suitcase now. I need both hands if I don’t want him to know I was here. I haven’t found the laptop. He must have it on him.”

Collins makes a grunting noise. “I want that computer.”

“But you want Bartlett out of the picture more.”

“No. Both. This is a two-prong assignment. You’re clear on that?”

“Crystal.”