Illusive by Lloyd-Jones Emily

Author:Lloyd-Jones,Emily [LLOYD-JONES, EMILY]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9780316254564
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2014-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

19

CIERE

The drive back to Philadelphia eats up the rest of the afternoon. Kit takes care to avoid the highways and sticks to less populated areas. The sound of the wind blowing through the car makes conversation nearly impossible. Ciere doesn’t mind the silence. She spends most of the drive with her hand in her pocket, her fingers wrapped around Brandt Guntram’s business card.

They stop at a gas station on the fringes of Harrisburg. Kit chooses a location that looks a little too run-down for many people to frequent, and vanishes into the station to pay with cash. “I need to stretch my legs,” Ciere says. Magnus nods. He’s taken over driving from Kit and remains in the SUV, his hand resting on the steering wheel.

Ciere leads Devon around the corner and out of sight. The restroom door is rusty, and the faded picture of a woman hangs from a single nail. “Charming,” Devon says. His face shifts—he seems to gather himself. “You all right?”

“Fine.” But she doesn’t put any effort into the lie.

“Of course,” Devon says blandly. “We just tried to deliver the world’s most dangerous weapon to a terrorist group and nearly got nabbed by the feds. Kit got shot and Magnus looks like an extra in a slasher flick. I thought I signed on with a crew of competent criminals.”

She considers reaching up and smacking him, but she’s too tired. She also considers making a cutting remark, but she can’t think of one. Sleep deprivation must be getting to her.

Before she can say anything, Devon leans down and wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her into a hug. It’s awkward for one or two heartbeats, but then Ciere leans into his warm chest and lets herself relax for the first time since Baltimore. He feels familiar and steady—it’s easy to close her eyes and pretend for just a second that nothing’s wrong. That it’s just the two of them hanging out in Manhattan again, sitting in a park and discussing how to pick someone’s pocket.

Devon breaks the hug first. “Thank you for not getting shot and saving me from a lifetime of therapy,” he says sincerely. He straightens his shoulders and takes a step toward the restroom.

“We’re not here to pee,” Ciere says.

“Speak for yourself,” Devon replies, poking at the door. It swings open, and he makes a face. A horrible stench wafts out, and he takes a step back. “On second thought, you’re right.”

Ciere holds out her hand. “Cell phone, please.”

Still looking bewildered, Devon hands it over. She fumbles with the phone in one hand and Brandt Guntram’s card in the other. “Wait,” says Devon. “You’re calling him?”

Ciere ignores him and punches in the number. Swallowing hard, she tries to clear her throat. Confident. She needs to sound confident.

The phone rings once. Then a deep, accented voice says, “This is Conrad.”

It takes her a moment to remember him—Conrad. Guntram’s bodyguard. When she speaks, she tries to infuse her voice with a breezy boredom. “I need to talk to Guntram.

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