37

37
Kyro

The island is basically just a strip of land in the middle of the ocean. Perfect for hiding—bad for living.

There’s one small house, and that’s all. 

“Safe House?” I ask.

She nods. “Which means we need to make our next moves quick. The SH will the first places they check.”

I sigh, holding the duffle bags of money. I set them down by the door, she shuts it behind me.

“How long do you think it’ll take them?”

Scarlett bites her lip, her hands out, as if looking for something. Her eyes dart around the living room—a bland, bare affair—before scurrying to a wall. She moves a painting, revealing a hidden door with a safe.

I cross my arms. “Question mark? Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, there’s a few closer—ones I frequent when things get messy. I keep it to about 5, just in case.”

I raise my brow and sit on the sole gray couch. I watch the twist of her hip when she leans all her weight on her left side.

“In case something like this happens. You keep a buffer. Nice,” I nod my appreciation, opening the drawer of the nightstand next to me. 

Scarlett throws me a grin over her shoulder. 

I bite my lip and look away. She’s cute for some reason. Should a spy be cute?

“Were you anticipating leaving?” I root through the drawer. An Austrilandian safe house. I haven’t seen much of them outside of torture rooms.

It doesn’t look much different from ours—the safe house. The bare minimum. Either you live and leave or whatever you were trying to escape kills you.

No need to get attached or comfortable in either case.

“So what’s the plan? You’re burned but I’m not, not yet. They won’t suspect I’ve gone rogue I don’t think,” I lay my head against the wall. “Just that I’ve escaped. I’ve done this before.”

Scarlett finds what she’s looking for and sits down next to me. “Good. Then at least we can play one side. I may be able to claim you kidnapped me and escaped but…”

Scarlett shrugs with a grin. “I’m thinking they’re not gonna buy it.”

I’m thinking that too.

I lean back. So we’ve got my contacts. The only problem is the old man.

“Thing is, they’re gonna hunt me down,” I murmur. “If I don’t get in contact soon, they will send the dogs after me.”

Scarlett shakes her braids out, taking them down from the ponytail they were in. I smile, and look away. 

“I mean it. Relentlessly.”

Scarlett whistles with a raise of her brows. “Big shot. I’d just get a shot to the head and a small bounty. It’s good not to be worth much.”

Something about that pisses me off, but I can’t place it. Something about her tone. Or maybe the words themselves?

“I’m not sure what that means…” I murmur, my fingers twitching.

“Oh!” She claps. “That reminds me.” She stands, rooting through the duffle bag. 

She pulls out a few things, but my eyes snagged on one.

Scarlett kisses my head, and slips the pen into my hand. “I took it with me.”

I close my hand around it, my heart drumming in my ear. It’s beating harder than I’ve ever felt. I’m swaddled in vanilla but then it’s gone, and she’s sitting down next to me.

“And as for me.” 

She pulls out her rolling tray, some nuggets and papers.

“Are you serious,” I snort. “You fucking pothead.”

“Hey, shut the hell up. If I wanted your opinion I’d ask.” She glares at me, before going back to rolling her joint.

“Why so uptight, Red? Is now the time? We need all our brain cells if we’re gonna not die,” I remind her, grabbing her grinder, smashing a few nuggets in.

“Which, I’m fine with.”

“Fuck all the way off. I can’t listen to you until I’m high.”

She’s snappy. I grin, and kiss her head. Red bats me away. 

“Can you—” she waves her hand in exasperation. “Do you see how stressed I am? Do you need attention that bad?”

I scrunch my nose and think about it. 

“Yes.”

Red just rolls her eyes. I chuckle, and let her go for a moment, resting my arms on either side of the couch. I’ll need to get in contact with my manager.

Fuck.

“Look, it’s clear we’ll have to use the Agency—my Agency, so I should tell you: my manager is…”

My fingers twitch. 

“Behind your ear,” she murmurs, tying off the joint. 

I brush my finger behind my ear. My pen. I’d forgotten I had back. I twirl it around my finger. “Are you done rolling?”

Red nods, and I slide my pen back behind my ear. 

She lights it, and takes a big hit. “We’re fucked.”

I shrug. “I told you to let me die there.”

Red passes the joint to me with a searing glare. “Not helpful.”

True though. So there’s that.

We sit there, passing the joint back and forth until the room becomes a haze of smoke, and we’re both stoned. We’re quiet, and her pinky is hooked onto my pinky.

I like it. Neither of us has much to say, even though we’re fucked.

Like super fucked. But that’s the thing about being a spy—you’re usually fucked. Getting un-fucked is what spying is all about.

“We’re Mrs and Mr. Barnam, now.” She says suddenly. 

I look over at her and knit my brow. “Are we?”

She nods resolutely. I press my lips closed and hide a chuckle in a snort. So cute.

“Our new identities. Mrs. And Mr. Barnum.”

“Shouldn’t it be Mr. And Mrs?”

“No. And you took my last name,”

“Why is this a part of the backstory,” I quirk my brow. 

She shrugs. “Character work is all about immersion. It’s acting, but worse. You have to become them. The small quirks, the little personality flaws, the daddy issues—it’s all a part of it.”

Her voice is strained now, and her pinky is holding tighter to mine. I move closer.

“In order to convince everyone else, you have to convince yourself.”

“So are we happy?”

“Hm?”

“Our characters. Are we happy?”

Red looks over at me. Her pinky leaves mine, leaving it cold and lonely. I frown, but then she puts her feet in my lap, and it’s fine again.

“Of course not. Nobodies happy.”

I nod because that’s true. “Fair. So we’re going into the suburbs. Classic. Are we getting one kid and a dog too?”

She snorts, her back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling. “Hell no. I hate mutts and I despise children.”

I’m inching my way into her. I wanted to know everything, and now, little by little, in little sudden ways, I’m consuming her.

She’s becoming mine. 

“Then a cat.”

Red thinks about it for a minute before nodding with a resigned shrug. “Yeah, I don’t mind a cat.”

But that won’t last long. Even with the monotony of the suburbs, I doubt we’ll be able to maintain that cover for long.

I’ll have to get in contact. I look over at her. My hands flex. Her feet are a little cold, so I put my hands over them.