He looked more relieved than he should have. “Oh.”
I glared. “I’ve never forgotten her birthday. I always call and send flowers. This is the first one I’ve missed. Ever. Ever, Vaughn.” I eyed him. I knew my disappearance would be enough to ruin her birthday, but this felt worse somehow.
“I’m sorry. I wish there was a way to tell her happy birthday, but there isn’t. It’s not possible.”
“I can’t even send a card?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Postmarks tend to be a problem.”
My brows knitted together. I tried to think of a way to make it up to her. A way I could send a message or a gift somehow, but there would be
an electronic trail. Anything she received from me would be scrutinized, and if she was cooperating with Agent Kenneth he would consider it as evidence.
I folded my arms and leaned into Vaughn again. He pulled me back under the covers.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll make this right,” he whispered. “I promise.”
I didn’t care if they were listening. I didn’t care if they were eavesdropping on this conversation. For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep knowing Vaughn’s promise to me meant more than anything he had ever said. Because he finally had a plan to free us and he was going to take Blackwing down. This was the last Saturday night we’d ever sleep in the flat.
We were going to make sure of that.
The first assignment had been completed. Sheldon was uploading and planting my new Instagram account tonight. The trail of photos would lead Agent Kenneth to Paris. That’s when the real fireworks would begin.
It turned out I wasn’t only good at decorating and throwing impromptu dinner parties, but also pretending that a charity ball was the most exciting thing that had happened in my life. It was humiliating that Blackwing thought this was what had become of my law career. That I was fulfilled by makeup and clothes. More concerned with how my nails looked than fighting for social justice. For some reason they believed my transformation. If they didn’t, Vaughn would have been called in for a meeting.
I was surprised when he announced over dinner that he had made a huge step with Paul.
“What kind of step?” I asked.
“After all the time I’ve spent dropping by the lab, he finally told me that he keeps most of his formulas in journals.”
“What? He hand-writes this stuff?”
Vaughn nodded. “He says it helps him to visualize the compounds if he draws them out. Everything he’s working on that he hasn’t shared with Mertech is in journals. And I know where they are.”
I couldn’t believe he was still trying to complete his assignment with Blackwing, but I couldn’t call him out for it. Not while they were listening. The truth was, I hadn’t thought much about his assignment. I was only focused on our escape.
“Where?” I asked.
“It’s going to take a few days, but I’m going to start transcribing. I want you to know where they are in case…” His voice faded.
“In case what?” My skin prickled.
“Em, this isn’t an easy job. If something happens I want you to give Eloise the files. Everything I have. Do you understand?”
I stared at him. It was the disadvantage of playing double agents in our own home. There was always a chance I would misinterpret the signal. I relied on our connection so heavily. I trusted that I knew him so deeply, on a different plane, a different stratosphere that we could navigate without language.
“Yes. Just show me. I’ll give her everything.” Was I playing along? Was I supposed to be taking better mental notes?
“Good.” He pushed back from the table. “There’s a closet behind the wine fridge.”
“There is?” I followed him around the island. “Since when? How did it get there?” I had a lot of questions.
The tall wine refrigerator was on wheels. Vaughn jiggled it before rolling it out into the kitchen. I gawked at the half door in the wall behind it.
“Everything will be in here.” He revealed the cubby hole. “The jump drives. The transcribed files. Everything Paul has on the formulas, the patents, his contacts, and the trials he has conducted. It’s all here. This is your insurance policy. Show this spot to Blackwing. They will know what to do with it.”
I watched as his muscles flexed when he shoved the wine fridge back in place. The bottles rattled inside the glass door. I thought I understood better what he wanted. Whoever was listening would know exactly where Vaughn stored Paul’s files. It would be the first place they would search when they realized we had fled Paris. At least, that’s what Vaughn was betting.