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important to national security,” Malone is saying. “I’ll expect to see you at the camp in a few hours with them.”
    â€œAcknowledged. We’ll be home soon.” Cole breaks the connection and shuts down the laptop.
    â€œYou didn’t mention my screwup.”
    â€œYour screwup?”
    I swallow. “In the stairwell.”
    Cole’s eyes twitch toward the driver. “Everyone freezes up sometimes.”
    Everyone is not us. We’re special. But Cole is right—I don’t need to bring this up in front of the driver. I’d rather not have it brought up at all. I can only hope the fact that Cole didn’t mention it to Malone means he’ll keep it quiet.
    I’m sick of having my brain scanned and prodded, and if Malone suspects it’s continuing to malfunction, there will be no end to the tests I need to endure. The only question left will become—how am I treated between tests? Like a human who deserves respect or like a broken machine?
    I shiver, and the hairs on my arms rise.
    Cole rests his hand on mine and tells the driver to turn up the heat. I let him think that’s all it is. I live the lie. After all, I’m very good at that.
    The driver leaves us beside an SUV in a mostly empty commuter lot outside the city. That he isn’t tasked with driving us to the camp tells me he’s a low-level operative, not privy to the camp’s location in the Pennsylvania mountains.
    This is another test on Malone’s part—giving us a car and trusting we’ll use it to return. Although we’d have to be really stupid to run far with it. The car is undoubtedly loaded with multiple tracking devices. The first would be easy to find. The second would be significantly more difficult, giving us the confidence that we’d found the real one. A third would be hidden even better, so we’d never find it or bother searching. That’s how I’d do it, and since these people trained me, presumably it’s what they’d do.
    Actually, presumably, if this were a normal mission, we’d have our own trackers implanted. But if I knew I had a tracker in me, I’d be less likely to risk running. Malone wanted to give me every possible chance to defy him.
    Cole pops the hatch on our perfectly average, nothing-to-see-here-style SUV. We’re parked as far from the streetlamps as feasible, but the night is bright with light pollution. Spinning in place slowly, I check the lot for other people, but it appears truly deserted. The few cars are silent and empty. Satisfied, I grab the backpack from our vehicle.
    â€œI’m changing.” I’ve already removed my hairpieces and tossed the colored contact lenses from my eyes. I’m sick of the cold and want comfortable clothes.
    â€œSuit yourself.” Cole opens a rear door for me.
    I motion for him to turn around with my finger. “Can’t a girl get a little privacy?”
    â€œSure, if you can explain to me how seeing you in your underwear is different than seeing you in a bathing suit or seeing you in a sports bra and those little shorts during the summer.” He crosses his arms and grins.
    A gust of bitter wind blows hair in my mouth. Disgusted with it, I yank out my remaining bobby pins. “It is.”
    Cole rolls his eyes, but he turns his back to me. “You’re supposed to be more logical than that.”
    I am. I was. Once. Long before Cole kissed me. Before the way he started looking at me suggested he saw my bathing suit or my uniform or whatever I was wearing as an obstacle.
    In spite of the cold, heat flushes my skin. Secretly, deep down inside, I guess part of me doesn’t mind Cole’s interest. But this is the weird area where logic departs. Because Cole is smart and loyal and brave, and I don’t doubt for a moment that he wants to protect me and care for me. He’s undeniably good-looking too, with a strong jaw, broad shoulders and a