Free Beating Ruby by Camilla Monk Page B

for the best words to plead my case. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, I did , but I was upset by Thom’s death and also the way EMT was shutting down the entire Ruby program. And then I heard those rumors about someone cutting the power on the fifth floor at the time of Thom’s death, and how they didn’t have actual footage of him jumping . . . I just couldn’t believe it was a suicide. I wanted to learn more.”
    “That you did. Classified information, mostly, I’m afraid.”
    My fingers twisted in my lap. “I didn’t really hear anything. There was this huge rat in the vent, and I—”
    The Caterpillar dismissed my bullshit with a flick of his hand. “I’ll leave it to your boyfriend to hear this fascinating tale.” He flashed a pointed look at Alex. “I have other concerns. Tell me, Miss Chaptal.” He paused to take a long drag and blow a cloud of smoke through his nose. “When was the last time you left US soil?”
    Blood drained from my face, leaving an icy sensation underneath my skin. Did he know about March? Alex hadn’t seemed to be aware of his existence; all he had mentioned was my mother’s file. “I . . . Uh . . . My father took me to London in January. We spent a week there, together with his wife.”
    Yep, that trip to the UK three months ago was the last time I had legally left the country. My skin prickled at the memory of the fake passport March had purchased from his mobster friend Paulie to smuggle me out of the US during our hunt for the Cullinan.
    The Caterpillar appraised me with narrowed eyes for a good thirty seconds. I stole a glance at Alex. He was looking at me too, those soft cinnamon irises shining with something I couldn’t quite place, like a blend of tender amusement and pity. Inside me, something broke. He knew. He had known all along.
    The faint whisper of smoke being exhaled drew my attention back to the Caterpillar, who spoke in a suave voice. “Miss Chaptal, you’re being offered a parachute. I can only recommend you use it, as the opportunity might not present itself twice. If anything out of the ordinary happened in the past months, now is the best time to talk.”
    My breathing grew uneven, soon coming in shallow intakes of air. This choice of words sounded a lot like an explicit threat to throw me off a plane. I looked down, almost hypnotized by the ghastly pallor of my hands against the dark blue of my jeans. The choice itself boiled down to a simple alternative: telling the truth to save my ass, and betraying March . . . or lying for him, and facing the consequences. The only question was: How hard would I crash without my stars-and-stripes parachute?
    In retrospect, I wonder if I even chose. “I don’t understand what you mean. Are we still talking about what happened with Ruby?” I asked, swallowing a tremor in my voice.
    The Caterpillar straightened in his seat and reached for what looked like a black leather folder lying next to him on the seat. Alex shifted as well, inching closer to me. I clasped my hands so they wouldn’t tremble. I watched as the Caterpillar opened the folder to reveal a tablet. His fingers danced on the sleek glass surface for a couple of seconds before he handed me the object.
    I took it gingerly, and as soon as I registered what, or rather who was now pictured on the screen, I felt my stomach heave. Fine, angular features, forty at best, but with graying wavy hair. It looked like some kind of mug shot, and he seemed younger than when I had met him for the first time. The long scar on his left cheek, which had been inflicted by March in Colombia, seemed to be missing as well.
    Creepy-hat.
    Well, Rislow, to be precise—I never knew his first name. Sent by the Board to kidnap and torture me until I gave them the Ghost Cullinan, he had double-crossed them and teamed up with Dries instead. Bad idea. March put an end to a long-lasting feud between them by severing his spinal cord with a scalpel as swift retribution for