Free Betrayals (Black Cipher Files series Book 2) by Lisa Hughey Page B

grid several years back.
    And one final person identified only by the initials A.D.A.
    That was all the information I had right now.
    “Passengers may now begin boarding. Please have your passports and tickets ready.”
    I heaved up from the hard plastic chair and shuffled toward the line of passengers, trying to quell my thumping heart. I had two more gauntlets to pass before I was back in the States. Getting on the plane was first. Going through customs in Pennsylvania was second.
    Gripping the cheap metal cane in my uninjured right hand, I dragged my sore leg behind me. My cane had been checked thoroughly by the swabber.
    No explosives on this baby.
    The deep contusions from the wrist manacles looked like age spots on my arms increasing my look of frailty and adding to the image of an older woman.
    I waited patiently in line, pretending to stare out at the shimmering tarmac and watching the airport personnel inspect each passport and person cautiously. When my turn came, I presented the papers to the woman with a steady hand and smiled politely.
    I readied my muscles to run if they challenged me. But I knew that with my damaged toe and scarred leg, I couldn’t outrun even the fat security guards.
    My five-minute mile had clearly suffered in the past month.
    The woman nodded and reached for the next person’s credentials.
    As I walked down the gangway, I kept my pace sedate, almost leisurely, the thump of my cane and the rustle of cotton a steady rhythm. Inside I was singing.
    One step closer.
    One step closer to finding out who set me up.
    One step closer to revenge for the condition of my body after suffering the indignity and agony of torture.
    One step closer to discovering the real meaning of Department 5491.
    One step closer to retribution for Fariya. For her death, for her sacrifice.
    The gangway sweltered as the humid heat seeped through the partial seal to the plane. I picked up my pace, eager to get settled in my seat and get home.
    As the last of the ticket holders straggled onto the plane, I strapped in and observed the other passengers carefully.
    The couple across from me, unabashedly making out, were either on their honeymoon or married to other people. I felt sorry for the guy in seat A who had to sit next to them for the next few hours.
    Unable to bear watching the couple and yearning for something I would never get back, I lounged in my seat, tipped the straw hat down to cover my face, and closed my eyes.
    The spurt of envy surprised me. Jordan and I had never made out in public. We’d never get the chance now. I’d been too cautious, too concerned about the CIA finding out about him.
    Even though we’d conducted our entire relationship in secret, it had still felt damn real. I’d thought we were on the verge of something important, something scary.
    He didn’t understand how much I’d hated to deceive him.
    I hadn’t explained. There were rules to be followed, and I’d taken care to not break those rules while treasuring him as my own personal secret.
    Maybe keeping him a secret and keeping secrets from him had been the wrong thing to do, but for once I’d wanted someone, something just for me. I’d been fighting the good damn fight for so long, and by the time I met Jordan, I wondered if I’d made the right choices.
    I was so very tired.
    The toll of the last few weeks had beaten down my natural energy. My left arm lay on the arm rest, the bone and muscle throbbing with the exertion I’d used to get my bag to the airport.
    The murmur of passengers, the scuff and slide of luggage being moved in the overhead bins, people shifting in their upholstered seats lulled me into a slight doze.
    A passenger rolled a carry-on down the aisle, one of the wheels squeaking in stops and starts. The passenger bumped into my seat, jarring my still-healing arm. I stifled a small scream.
    “Bless my soul,” the woman said in a soft, Southern drawl. “I’m so sorry.”
    I waved away her concern, but the pain