Page 51 of Destroyed With You

“I’ve spent a lot of time in small towns,” Winston said. “If nothing else, maybe whoever we find in that house will have some nice warm cookies for us.”

She laughed. “I think you have a very Norman Rockwell view of life these days.”

“Or you’re jaded.”

“With what I’ve seen, of course I am. I’m surprised you aren’t.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I am.” He reached over and gently touched her shoulder. “But I’m starting to learn that sometimes things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

She turned her attention away from the choppy road to meet his eyes, hers shining with something that might be hope. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I never thought—well, I never let myself think—that I’d ever see you again. Much less that you’d ever know the truth. Or that you could forgive me.”

“I have,” he said seriously. “I was broken after you died. And then you broke me some more when you came back. But I think I’ve been healed.”

She laughed. “The healing powers of sex?”

“The universal miracle cure,” he teased.

“That was only about five minutes ago. Are you sure you’ve been super glued together?”

“I’ve still got some cracks that need mending,” he said. “But I know you did what you thought best. And I believe you did it because you loved me.”

“I did.”

“And I’m sorry that the man you made that sacrifice for wasn’t the man you thought you knew.”

He watched as she nodded slowly. “Well, we both owe each other an apology for that. And I think that neither one of us can judge each other for the secrets we kept back then.”

“So here we are, moving forward, trying to extricate ourselves from the mess that lingers from the past.”

“Not just the past,” she said. “Look around. We’re in the middle of some deep shit, and it’s tied to Billy Hawthorne. And Billy’s trying to build up a network using the scattered remnants of the Consortium.”

“I know. And that’s why we’re out here in the middle of nowhere trying to find his accountant. More important, trying to find who on the inside is trading secrets with scum like Billy Hawthorne.”

She nodded, and they drove silently for a while, both thinking about their respective bosses and the possibility that either was dirty.

At least Winston assumed she was thinking about that. God knows he was thinking about Seagrave. He’d known Seagrave for over a decade now, and he had trouble believing the man would steal a stapler from the SOC’s supply room, much less national secrets.

“Collins is the one who pulled me out,” she said, and though it sounded like a random statement, Winston knew it confirmed that her thoughts had been running along the same lines as his.

“Pulled you out?”

“Yeah. I told you I was recruited from one of those career fairs, and that’s true. But what I didn’t tell you was that I was having a very hard time of it before that. I was flat broke and seriously considering dropping out.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “My childhood was a nightmare, so I was used to things being hard, and I was also used to doing whatever it took to get by. But I still wasn’t managing. I’d worked shit jobs for minimum wage to get my GED, then barely managed to cover tuition. I got some aid, but not much, and right before the career fair, I was at the end of my rope. Money,” she said, turning to look at him. “It drives people to do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“If Seagrave or Collins really is dirty, it’s because of a payday.”

She nodded, then cleared her throat. “Anyway, I was working three jobs, I was exhausted, and I was coming close to failing all of my classes. I knew how to survive on the streets, because that’s what I’d done after I ran away, and I started thinking that maybe the thing to do was quit my shitty waitress gig and just turn tricks.”

He tensed, hating that she’d even had to consider that. “Had you done that when you ran away?” He kept his voice steady, though he dreaded the answer.

“No,” she said. “But I had friends who did. So I figured it was an option. Either that or selling drugs, and that doesn’t sit with me at all. My body is mine to sell, but dealing drugs?” She shook her head. “No. I’d seen the effects on the street. No way I was playing in that sandbox.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “And you didn’t have to sell yourself, either, I assume. Because of Collins?”

“Yeah.” She smiled with the memory. “I was talking with this girl I knew about doing the escort thing. Better than a streetwalker, right? At least the clientele knows how to wear a suit. We were chatting on the quad, and this guy followed me after I left to go work my shit. He told me to stop, that he wanted to talk. I almost told him to fuck off, but then I realized I’d seen him before.”

“At the career fair.”