Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

I skirted Dane and rushed off, being quick with my packing because I didn’t want Dane to slip away without me. For my own good, he’d later contend. But I’d had enough of the separation. I wanted to be with him from here on out. Particularly during an emotional time such as this.

After I explained the situation to Rosa, I stalked down the hallway. My cell rang. It was Mikaela.

“Hey,” I abruptly said.

“Hi, Ari. I just wanted to thank you so much for inviting me this evening. For letting me know about Dane.”

I cringed. Christ, once again, she didn’t know the half of it. “I’m so glad you’re now aware he’s alive.”

“Can we get together tomorrow for lunch? I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me. Really. And the truth is, I’ll be out of town. We’re flying to Philly for an impromptu trip. But I’ll call you when we’re back.”

“Sure. Of course. Let me know what works best for you.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

I disconnected the call and tucked the cell in my bag.

I was actually kind of surprised when I found D

ane in the foyer, waiting for me. I preceded him out the front door, wondering briefly if he had a plan to ditch me before we even left the property. But he opened the door to the Mercedes McLaren he’d had restored following the harrowing day Kyle and I had needed to dump it in the forest when Wayne Horton had chased us up the hairpin switchbacks of Oak Creek Canyon, toward Flagstaff.

I buckled up and Dane climbed in next to me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m ready to bash in some heads.”

“That’s not exactly out of the ordinary for you,” I commented, hoping to lighten the mood.

He shot me a look. I smiled.

I couldn’t bait him, though. He remained grim. “This could get really ugly, Ari.” He started the sports car and backed out of the garage. “I’m not happy that you’re with me.”

“I’m done not being with you,” I countered. “I’m sick of us being torn apart at every corner because of this damn society. I want it all to end, Dane.”

“I understand that, baby. But just because we nailed the others doesn’t mean this new scenario is any less dangerous. I don’t know what Ethan is up to. I don’t know if Qadir and Nik are involved. I can’t believe it, but then again, if Ethan did remove files from my computer, if there’s something he’s trying to hide—”

Dane’s hands gripped the steering wheel a bit too tightly. I feared he might rip it from the dash.

“Maybe we’re wrong about this whole thing,” I offered. “It is possible.”

With a sharp shake of his head, he said, “NOS as the password for an encrypted thumb drive inserted into my laptop? When I specifically told Ethan I wouldn’t even send the FBI for it because I didn’t want the information compromised?”

“And he so quickly jumped on retrieving it for you,” I recalled with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Clearly, he wanted to know what secrets you kept.”

“Clearly, he wanted to know if they involved him,” Dane expounded. “Or if I’d inadvertently gathered information against the society that he didn’t want leaked—again because it would tie back to him.”

“So what, specifically, are we searching for in Philly?” I asked as the trees whizzed by at a rapid rate. The sky remained sparkly and unhindered by clouds. A break in the moody monsoon weather was a small blessing, since we’d be flying this evening. Unfortunately, that little tidbit did nothing to calm my frazzled nerves.

Dane said, “All of my father’s files are in a vault in the mansion. I’m the only one who can get in.”

“Have you ever looked at his files?”

“Never had a need. My father was a political strategist. A global consultant. While I was interested in his work, it wasn’t fully geared toward economics, which was always my focus. He gauged caucus climates and influenced politicians. My forte is financial forecasting.”

He delved deeper into the trending and bending of socio-poli-econ environments, most of it going over my head. But it seemed to keep him on a more even keel to talk, so I posed a question here and there to give him something to concentrate on, other than the dismal prospect of Ethan’s potential betrayal. Or an even sharper knife in the back if Dane’s own father truly had been a society member—and had turned to the dark side, along with Ethan and the others.