One woman asks what Goodman is going to do about the slum lords in Denver who keep raising prices and stopping maintenance.

  And I must answer with, "I will make note of your concerns and take them to the Senator. Then we'll get back with you hopefully in two weeks." Goodman, I know, will want me to write a letter that's all talk and no action. He probably takes donations from the slum lords this woman is talking about.

  I've been on the wrong side of that before, and I want to vomit, knowing I'm the one delivering this message.

  The hours drag on. Goodman is on the Senate floor tonight, which means I don't have to see him much. But that also means that Beatrice is working just feet from me, and Amelia must stand with a male guard named Kevin who also doesn't speak much. I only get twenty minutes to rest once all the video calls are over and I have an extensive file of notes on my laptop that won't do anyone any good, except for the person I'm planning to have killed.

  And then Beatrice, who has been deadly silent all day, whispers from the corner of her mouth again.

  "Can't wait to go sneak around with Jeremy?"

  Her words slither around me like a snake, but Amelia and the other guard don't move. Once again, they haven't heard what only I and Beatrice can right now. Her whisper is so low that it's barely a movement of the air particles.

  Sneak around?

  It's nothing. She's trying to get to me.

  "Having some interesting adventures?"

  I swallow. That's still vague. Beatrice has nothing to use against me anymore. Or does she?

  Has she been following me around? No, our security has been almost perfect. Goodman doesn't want anyone following us as he's way too careful. She'd have to be able to read his mind to guess the guards' schedule, and she'd have to read mine to know that me and Jeremy are vanishing for long periods of time inside random buildings and restaurants.

  Poker face, Ember.

  No. Do a victory face. Beatrice used to crush on Jeremy, and that's my weapon.

  "Jealous?" I ask, knowing which direction I can turn this. "We go and have fun every night. Want the juicy details?"

  She grabs the desk and squeezes, burning holes in her laptop with her gaze. A tingle of satisfaction runs up my spine, even if Jeremy and I haven't had the chance to get to that. And that chance might never come.

  What if she knows something?

  Goodman's clicking, ominous footsteps approach, and he strolls into his office. He adjusts his black tie and sweeps his dark hair, which is slightly messy after a night of political backstabbing, to the side. "Ah. Long night. Did the video calls go well?"

  I study him for any signs that Beatrice has planted any seeds of suspicion. But I find nothing. Yes. She's just trying to make me look paranoid and get me in trouble.

  I hope.

  "They did," I say, going over the fake plans I've been feeding to Goodman about the plot against Warrington. I don't like that I'll have to go to the Freedom Center before somehow breaking away from the guards and coming back to the Young Center to participate in Goodman's demise. So much could go wrong, and Goodman hasn't given me the full details of my expectations yet.

  I hand him the notes, and he looks over them briefly. "Ah. Good job. I will let you know what to write back, but we have bigger things to discuss on the way back to the residence." He fixes me in that terrifying, icy stare, and I know he wants to talk when we're safely in the guarded SUV.

  We pack up, and my thoughts spin with how the hell Wesley is going to play Musical Convention Centers on Saturday night. The whole plan relies on him, and I hate that. So much could be out of my control. And those thoughts follow me into the SUV.

  We get moving as the sky takes on the faintest gray. "It's almost the big night," the Senator says, starting the conversation.

  I'm supposed to respond. The silence gets heavier the farther we get from the office building. "I've been going over my plans in my head all week." And that's the truth.

  "Recite them to me." I sense incoming judgment in Goodman's words.

  I tell him again about how I'll use Wesley to break into the Freedom Center. How I'll force Wesley to cause technical difficulties with lighting, cameras, and promo materials. And I tell Goodman how Wesley will lure Warrington, Scarborough, and a few other Hearts into the new wing near daybreak. And at last, I tell Goodman how I'll make Wesley kill them both after he has a few people open the blinds at the right moment.

  It's almost exactly what I did to Zara.

  It's the seventh time I've told Goodman about the fake plan, and I'm sick of it, because he's trying to find something that's wrong. And every time I tell him my revised plan, he criticizes something else.

  "Who are these hired hands?" Goodman asks, his voice rising to a snapping inferno. "And why should we trust them?"

  "I don't know yet," I say. "I thought that two of our guards could do it. Remember when I told you about Wesley and I letting them inside once I can get the codes from him?"

  "Yes. But how will they dodge the cameras?"

  "There is a secret tunnel system in the Freedom Center.” I’ve found it on the maps, and I’m guessing those tunnels, which run behind the walls, are used to snatch panelists slated for death.

  Goodman can't find anything to say to that, but I sense he's about to make my actual plans more complicated. I mentioned guards. And that means he's about to—

  "I will send four familiars with you and Wesley on Saturday night. I will also send Beatrice. She needs to prove she has cut off all loyalty to the Hearts."

  Beatrice.

  No. She's the last thing I need, and the familiars are bad enough. I'll have to break away from all of them and go back to the Young Convention Center to await Warrington's arrival there, and then the bloodbath between Goodman and her.

  Because I am going to witness this monster's end.

  Or kill him myself.

  "I agree. We need to know that we can trust her," I say, wondering if Goodman is sending her to monitor me. He must have some idea that we don't like each other. Or if I'm supposed to monitor her.

  Her comment about me and Jeremy sneaking around comes back, and Goodman lets another pause drag out. Pauses can mean anything with this man. He uses them for dramatic effect in much the same way Jeremy does, but not in a good way.

  "After Warrington's death, and Scarborough's death, we will have eliminated two of the most powerful Hearts," Goodman says, letting a smile creep onto his face. "President Haywood will feel relief, and will hold yet another party for campaign donors, as he will have better prospects about winning his second term."

  I tense on my seat as we roll to a stop at an intersection. "Do you have a plan for that?"

  His grin curves upward. "I believe you could parade Wesley around as a prize at that party, which should take place shortly after the deaths. Show Haywood that the Goodman family conquered his worst rivals. Deepen his trust. And of course, continue to get closer to Jeremy. Eventually, Haywood will let down his guard enough for something to happen."

  My words flee me. I stare at Goodman, unable to stop my mouth from falling open.

  That's when he wants to strike.

  And Wesley will play the part of the vengeful Heart, letting us off the hook. All I'll have to do is take my eye off him for a few moments, to let Jeremy know there's no need to be jealous, and then Wesley will have to—

  "Do you understand?"

  "When do you think we'll go to this party?" I must know how much time we have. Panic swirls through me, but I swallow it.

  "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps a week after Saturday or so, two at the very most." Goodman folds his hands over his lap. "Victory is finally near."

  The rest of the work week is hell.

  Goodman's office is so busy that I have no time to go off with Jeremy during that time. I must focus on the idiot tasks he puts me on, but at least they don't involve spying on anyone or breaking into offices during dangerous times. Goodman himself is quiet, and he doesn't speak much about my fake plans that I've given him.

  I nearly lose my temper multiple times over a few more video calls. I'm not pissed at the concerned citizens of Colorado and even a few other states who want Goodman to push for, say, healthcare they can afford. I'm angry at the Senator, because I know he's ignoring all these pleas for help while telling me to pass along the word that he's trying to do that. He also tells me to make sure these people blame the Hearts if that doesn't work.

  He's already setting everything up to defeat them in the Presidential election.

  I want to throw up.

  I've had enough of all this political backstabbing.

  It's all about revenge now.

  And worst of all, the week is so busy that I'll have no time to visit Jeremy until almost the end of Friday night, where we work for a half shift. And that scares me, because we need to talk to the Diamonds about how all this is going to work.

  Beatrice is very silent through the week, too. And I don't like that. She's even stopped glaring at me, as if she's just waiting for something. And that bothers me, considering we'll be expected to help with Wesley's plan together. Goodman hasn't even told me what Beatrice will be expected to do, even though it's obvious my role will be to keep Wesley in line and work in the shadows to help him screw the schedule up. I'll have to be his eyes and ears. And probably, so will Beatrice.

  And at last, Friday night arrives, and I get through my duties quickly. With a bad taste in my mouth, I rise from my desk as I finish typing the last, I'm pretending that I care letter.

  "Finished," I tell Goodman, who has just arrived in the office to go sit at his workstation. "I need to have the rest of this night to clear my head." I don't say the rest out loud. I need a night to make sure I'm rested for what I must do tomorrow.

  Goodman nods and continues to type on his own laptop. "Of course. I told Haywood to let his son know you would be free around this time." Then he shoots me a warning glare. I can’t utter a thing about this plan in front of Jeremy. "Have fun for now. And stay quiet. We can bring him up to speed on the happenings within the next couple of weeks."

  Beatrice bristles at her desk as she continues to type. I'm glad she's stuck here, having to work longer hours. Then I walk to the door and wait next to Amelia and a male guard, who stare straight ahead while Goodman works.

  Is he trusting me?

  Well, he does like Jeremy and probably wanted to nab him for his acting skills. Or maybe Goodman is just a fan of theater. It makes sense, with all the stage paintings on the walls.

  So yes, I'm the key to Jeremy, and he doesn't want any animosity between us until it's a sure thing I'll survive the attack on Warrington. He knows Jeremy wouldn't want me to get in trouble. Yes. He just doesn't want Jeremy to interfere with the plan.

  Jeremy waits down at the corner of the hall as I leave, and I'm glad to see Nathan with him. He holds out his hand, and I take it, and he sweeps me out of that stifling Senate building in no time and away from Goodman's corner office.

  We say nothing until we're in the SUV. "We have two hours," Jeremy says as he closes the door behind him. "No time to go anywhere and no time to get to the Diamond HQ and back. Nathan, park us somewhere romantic, and then leave the vehicle but stay close."

  "Yes, sir," Nathan says as my body tingles in shock.

  I look at Jeremy as we get moving.

  And he shoots me a wicked grin.

  "Seriously?" I breathe.

  Then he holds his finger to my lips, and the contact sends a mini explosion of tingles across the sensitive flesh.

  I know what I want, and he knows what I want, and we've cleared things up with each other. There should be nothing standing between us now, especially when we're about to try the most dangerous thing we've ever done. There's a chance we could both die from this crazy plan, or worse—that we could both get forced to kill.

  After that, what the hell will we even see in each other?

  Will Jeremy even love me anymore if I'm no longer a thorn in this system's side? Will our relationship turn into a carnal one only?

  But before I can ask, we get moving through the night, and then Nathan pulls us into a small park that's up against the banks of the river. There seems to be no one here now, and the place is open—too open. But the lights reflecting off the river light the air above it, and I can see every detail of the reflected buildings on the other side.

  I snuggle up close to Jeremy, and then Nathan does something unprecedented.

  He gets out of the SUV and leaves the two of us alone.

  The agent vanishes from sight and stops somewhere to the left. The sound of the wind tells me we're at the quiet side of a restaurant, and in an alley no one ever visits. With Nathan being as careful as he is, I'm willing to bet there are other agents just inside the building, waiting to come out and protect me and the First Son if something goes wrong.

  I stiffen, waiting for something to happen.

  We’re alone.

  And for the first time since I got rescued from Goodman's mansion.

  "Is this a dream?” I ask as a fire ignites inside.

  We could die tomorrow, or worse.

  I want to have Jeremy, no, Justin. And I want to be Ember for him. Only Ember. Cassandra is a monster and a fake.

  Jeremy grins. "Not if we’re super sneaky. We have to have a meeting over video chat with the Diamonds about tomorrow."

  "Shit." I want to hit something.

  “Wait.” Jeremy grins again. "It’ll all work out. It’s the meeting we have to be sneaky about. We can’t look like we’re having one. And we have tinted windows. If any humans walk past, they will not see a thing."

  “We need a cover for the meeting, then.” That means doing something expected of couples who park in quiet places.

  I take a sharp breath. But Jeremy fishes a tablet from the seat in front of him, from the pocket. He turns it on, puts in a code, and he clips it to the back of that seat.

  It shows Coffrey, Mike, and Senator Voss. They're each in their own box, and Jeremy's face shows up in the corner.

  I slug Jeremy on the arm.

  Mike is at this meeting.

  This will not work.

  "Hey," he says.

  "My brother," I silently say to him. What is this? A cruel joke? Ugh, if Mike sees any public displays of affection, even a kiss, he's going to go through the roof.

  "Is she with you?" Mike asks.

  "Ember's right here," he says, motioning towards me. "Say hi."

  "Hello," I say, half-grumbling.

  Coffrey frowns at Jeremy, the only one who fits in the camera box on screen. "We should get started. Jeremy, disable your video, and we'll still be able to hear the two of you. We want no one to see us on your screen just in case the worst happens."

  Then he looks at me and nods, a sly gleam in his red-streaked eyes.

  He taps a camera icon on the screen, and it goes black. "Hear me?"

  "Yes. Your signal is a bit garbled, but we need to get started."

  He lifts one eyebrow at me.

  They can't see us.

  Or hear us all that well. Well, Voss might, but—

  This could be our only chance.

  I slide my hand up Jeremy's chest, and then slip it inside his suit. He leans in and kisses me right where my shoulder meets my neck, as silent as the dark, and he says, "What's the timing for tomorrow night?"

  His breath caresses my earlobe, and I press my body against Jeremy's, glad for any window of privacy. I swing one leg over his lap, sliding onto him, not caring that the top of my head brushes the ceiling of the SUV. I want Justin. This might be the last chance, the last night he'll be Justin Loftis. And this could be my last night as Ember Vonk.

  "Ember," Jeremy breathes, looking up at me.

  Coffrey coughs. "You, Nathan, and Mike will pick up Ember from the Freedom Center at eleven P.M sharp near the garage entrance. That should give her enough time to make it look as if she and Wesley are working together, and enough time for her to get away from Beatrice and Goodman's guards."

  I've got to pay attention. At least my sharpened senses allow me to absorb every word.

  "Got it," I say, but Jeremy seizes my shoulders and pulls me to his lips.

  We mold together, and I wrap my knees around his torso, holding him in place. He sucks the air from me as I run my hand through his hair, seizing it, then letting it go again. Our chests rub together, faster and faster—

  "We will be in a teal pickup with four seats."

  "Roger that," Jeremy says, coming up for breath.

  "Are you paying attention?" Suspicion drips off Coffrey's words.

  "Loads," I say as we go for Round Two. “Teal pickup. Eleven sharp.”

  “Good,” Coffrey says.

  Mike clears his throat. "You're not making out, are you?"

  Damn it. I can't go any further with my brother on the other end of that video call, even if he is somewhere underground. I take my lips from Jeremy's and face the screen, feeling like an idiot.

  "Nathan's right here," Jeremy shouts, working his jaw.

  My frustration only makes the fire burn with more intensity. Jeremy tenses under me, and I know he's getting the same. I'm still on his lap. Straddling him. We're close, with just a few layers of fabric between us.

  This might be a tease, but if we move quickly enough, we can have the reward.

  "Good," Voss says, all no-nonsense. "I got into Goodman's small party tomorrow. He considers me a friend. Someone he trusts. I'm under the pretense of asking him to help me find a new assistant, after he took Amelia."

  "Makes sense," Jeremy bites out. "Then you'll let us in."

  Let us in. I want to let Jeremy in, and I want to do it now.

  "Yes," Voss says. "Through the side door. It will be my last night being Goodman's friend. He must die, or we will. Ember, aim to have Warrington show up quickly after you leave the Freedom Center."

  "I will," I say, using the fewest words I can.

  "What else is there?" Mike asks, clearly trying to stall. He knows we’re in the back of the SUV. "Jeremy, you had better not be up to anything."

 

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