SAFEHOUSE

My agent’s face was grim, nodding. “Too true, too true. Let’s keep the record going, shall we?”

He escorted me off the plane and we walked into the booming airport, filled with thousands of people running back and forth speaking a language I couldn’t begin to decipher. I sighed, already missing home.

We picked up the rental car that the U.S. government happily paid for on my behalf and took off into the night. I knew my body was tired, but my mind was buzzing full of hectic frenzy. I wasn’t willing to sleep anytime soon.

It didn’t take long for us to arrive at the small dingy hotel we were staying at for the night, and I was finally looking forward to relaxing. When we picked up the single room key, I was quickly changing my mind. The whole lack of privacy thing is a big issue for me.

“I know what you’re thinking Miss Jackson,” Agent Wilson said in a low tone, “but there’s nothing we can do. I have to keep a watchful eye over you, and I can’t do that if you’re in the next room over. As awkward as this will be, just know that I am trying to be professional here.”

I rolled my eyes at the use of my new pseudonym. Of course they would choose some stupid new name for me. Bree Jackson. I spent a few days fuming over that, once the detective that headed my case gave over my new identity file. Flipping through it made me feel like I was on the outside of my life, looking in. Of course I was grateful for the help—and for being under the protection of Agent Wilson—but all I really wanted to do was to get my mind off of everything that had gone down over the past few months.

“I understand. I just hope that you understand that you’re going to be sleeping on the couch,” I replied, shrugging. Professional or not, I wasn’t giving up the bed.

The room was in much better condition than the outside of the place. There were clean linens on the bed and newer furniture throughout the small space. I dumped my bag and suitcase onto the queen-sized bed and stretched my back. Sitting on that long plane ride and then immediately hopping into a car was not doing me any favors.

Agent Wilson went ahead and set up his part of the room, fluffing up the throw pillow on the couch before he laid out.

“I suggest you go ahead and get some rest. It won’t be that long of a trek to our destination, but I know how bad jet lag affects most people the next day. You’re probably up and raring to go at the moment, but before you know it it’ll be daylight and you’ll be tired and pretty cranky,” he insisted, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

I crossed my own arms and sat down on the edge of the bed, gritting my teeth. “You have no idea what I’ll be like, so don’t pretend that you know me. Because you don’t.”

Agent Wilson opened one eye, and regarded me for a moment before smiling. “You say that now Miss Jackson, but believe me you’ll be hating life in the morning. Why don’t you just make my life easier and go ahead and get some sleep?”

I huffed, pursing my lips. Agent Wilson had a bad habit of talking down to me. I got up to get myself a glass of water, firing off one last little shot. “I’ll go to sleep when I’m ready, thanks.”

I frowned, hoping that I wouldn’t have to deal with Agent Wilson too much longer. He was a nice guy and all, but he was a little bit of… a dick.

After a few minutes the soft snoring coming from the couch told me he was out. Well, so much for being on the lookout and whatnot.

I must have finally fallen asleep at some point in the night, drifting in and out of it. Before I knew it was daytime already, and Agent Wilson was dressed and waking me up.

"Okay Miss Jackson, it's time to get on up. We have some work to do. It's not gonna take that long to get to our location, but before we do that I just want to make you aware that we are under surveillance. I don't want to scare you or anything, but it's what we do. We have to make sure that everything is set up the way it's supposed to be. So what's gonna happen is when we go into the location—and I will give you more information about that on the way there—I will be going in first. And then after I ensure that the area is clear and safe for you, I will be bringing you in after me. It's that simple. Got it?"

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Chapter 3

The next couple of hours found me with my hand hanging out of the car window, letting the wind run through my fingers, the wide open sky looming above us. It was the first time I had a chance to breathe in I don’t even know how long, so I took as many deep and desperately needed breaths as I could get.

Agent Wilson kept glancing over at me from the driver’s seat. I knew I probably looked crazy, almost like a dog with its tongue wagging in the breeze. But I didn’t care.

I had to admit that the trip to wherever our final destination was, was a sight for sore eyes. The crowded lanes of traffic from the city had given way to twisty roads that seemed to go on indefinitely. The countryside was breathtaking—like something I had only seen in pictures and paintings. There were rolling hills topped with small farms and pretty little lakes that reflected the late morning sky. I couldn’t believe I’d been living in a city of concrete and metal when this whole time there was something out there that looked like this.

The roads were getting even narrower, and a few times Agent Wilson had to wait for others to pass the road on the opposite side, so as to not graze their cars. Those big honking SUVs that we love in America wouldn’t stand a chance around here, I mused.

A faint mountain range was detectable through the morning haze, way off in the distance. Mountains? I thought. I had no idea there were mountains in France, which made me feel silly and uneducated.

I watched as the edges of them became sharper in contrast with the sky, the clouds above them seeming to just sit there, without moving. I wanted to keep my eyes on them, but between the music that Agent Wilson turned on in the tiny car, and the abundantly clear jet lag I was suffering from, I could barely keep my eyes open.

By the time I did manage to open them back up, we were just getting ready to drive through an honest-to-God mountain tunnel. You know those ones that you always see in the Roadrunner cartoons—the ones that the coyote is always painting on the rocky mountainsides, hoping for the bird to crash into? Yeah, just like that, but without the wacky Acme products.

The lights that dotted both sides of the tunnel made me dizzy as we flew past them. I rubbed my temples, trying to fight the yawn that was coming. Jesus, how did anyone travel internationally and deal with this?

When we came out the other side of the tunnel I gasped. It was like being transported to a new world. The rolling hills were now paired with craggy rocks covered in the same moss and lavender that were also hanging from different stone buildings on one of the hills

ides. Off to the right of us was a tiny village, where all of the houses and a church had matching high-pitched red-tiled roofs. They looked as though they had been there for centuries. Perhaps they had.f

We were going down into the valley that lay between the smaller mountains. There were a few more farms there, spread out and covered in all sorts of different crops. Some had wheat fields, others had fields of brightly colored flowers. The cows that were moseying around one of the open grassy fields are what really threw me for a loop.