The Conspiracy of Us (The Conspiracy of Us 1)

I leapt onto the pedestal and caught my balance on the slimy stone wall. I let my hair fall in my face and swung my hips to the music, which was muffled like I had cotton in my ears. Keep walking, I urged him with my mind. You were wrong about seeing me come in here. Just keep walking.

I hazarded a glance over my shoulder. Stellan strolled down the row, an outline in the steam.

Right behind me, his footsteps stopped. I glanced back once more, and his eyes bored into mine.

“What are you doing?” He reached for me.

The next song started, and a plume of sparks erupted behind me, blocking him. If I wanted to get away, it was my chance. I ducked through the waterfall, gasping as it doused my hair and ran down my shoulders.

I was standing on the end of the bar, hundreds of surprised faces turned up toward me. I dashed the water out of my eyes and looked around frantically, and, after a silent moment, whistles and catcalls erupted from all around. I tried to climb down onto a bar stool, and an overly tanned playboy type looked all too happy to set down his martini glass and grab me by the waist. He set me in the center of his group of leering friends, and I swatted a couple of grabby hands as I pushed out of their circle.

An exit sign glowed in a back corner. I dodged a waitress with a tray of shots and hurried toward the door as fast as I could without drawing even more attention. The door opened on a dark street, and cool air rushed over me.

I pushed it closed and ran. I bypassed hiding places that were too close and sprinted into a narrow alley across the street and around the corner. A nest of sleeping cats streaked away in flashes of gray and white and orange, and I huddled behind the Dumpster where they’d been, panting, dripping wet, shaking.

I heard an echo in the quiet night as the door opened and, a minute later, slammed shut again.

I let my head fall back against the cold brick wall and clutched my locket and oh my God the Circle and the mandate and the union and getting married and I was in so far over my head I could barely see the surface. I sucked in gasp after gasp of air.

A year and a half ago. I was fifteen and we were living in New Orleans. The emptiness was bad that year. Lane was a senior with blue-black hair and a lip ring he sucked into his mouth when he smiled. I was wary, sure, but I thought he was bringing me into his group of friends until he had me alone at his apartment and I said no, even though all the “army brats” were supposed to be slutty. He told me to let myself out. A year earlier, Kansas. Mila Anderson and her friends asked me to sit at their lunch table and invited me to a party and walked arm in arm with me down the halls until they finally ditched me at the liquor store in the middle of the night when they realized not every teenager from New York had a fake ID.

Way earlier. Five years old. Chicago. Two neighbors dared me to steal blue speckled bird eggs from a nest on the fire escape. I climbed out, they slammed the window shut, and it stuck. The ground was so far away, I hadn’t liked heights ever since. I’d huddled against the stucco wall and clenched my locket in my fist, and then my mom was there. She scooped me up in her arms and saved me. I remembered exactly how she smelled that day, like lavender and sunshine. Like home.

Now I’d flown halfway across the world on a whim, like a gullible idiot, only to find out my family would take advantage of me in a second if they discovered who I really was. Even my own father probably would, if I could ever find him.

I took one last panicked breath, blew it out through pursed lips, and then let my locket fall out of my hand. I was alone, in a wet cocktail dress and stilettos, in the middle of the night, in Istanbul. Maybe giving in to the panic and running wasn’t the brightest idea, but it was done. If I was going to fall apart, I’d have to do it some other time.

Across the street, an engine roared to a stop, and I pressed back farther into the shadows. Getting ready to run again, I peeked out and saw a motorcycle at the curb outside the service entrance. Its rider pulled off his helmet.

It was Jack.

CHAPTER 19

My legs were carrying me across the street before I could stop myself.

“What are you doing here?” My hands still trembled, and now I’d added anger and wariness to the toxic brew.

Jack whipped around and took in my wet hair and what I just realized was a wet white dress. I crossed my arms over my chest. His eyes widened a little, but he didn’t look as surprised as he should have.

“Get on.” He handed me a helmet and gestured to the seat behind him.

I pushed the helmet away. “You were planning to marry me off?”

He dropped his arm with a sigh and got off the motorcycle. “I personally wasn’t planning to, but yes, that’s what the mandate means. I was going to tell you, but you went off with Stellan after Prada.” He looked irritated, which made me even more irritated.

I pushed my damp hair behind my ears. “So are you here to kidnap me for the Saxons?”

“Avery, God, no.” He paused. “At least, not immediately—”

“Great. Perfect.” I stalked away into the dark, my heels clicking on the asphalt. Jack followed. “Leave me alone,” I said over my shoulder. Then I looked back toward the club, toward the dead end, toward the deserted, unfamiliar street. I swallowed.

“I know you’re mad.” Jack held out his hands like a peace offering. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you everything immediately. There was a bit of a time crunch, if you’ll remember. But I’m assuming you came to Istanbul to find Fitz. That’s where I’m going, too.”

He took one step closer, and I took one back. A garbage truck stopped down the empty street and lifted a Dumpster with its mechanical arm. “How did you find me?”

“With a tracker I put in your bag at prom,” he admitted without hesitation. “It’s how I found you at Prada, too.”

I threw up my hands. “That’s supposed to make me trust you more?”

He ignored me, glancing back at the club. “From the looks of you, I’d say you’re trying to get out of here, so let’s go.” He stalked to the bike and extended the helmet again. “I’ve already saved you twice when I should have been going straight to Fitz, so I’d really like to get there as soon as possible.”

I flinched like I’d been slapped. “Go, then. I never asked you to rescue me.”

Even as I said it, though, I knew it would be stupid to let him leave. Jack was by far my best chance of getting to Mr. Emerson.