Free Touching Darkness by Jaime Rush Page B

obviously weighing how much to tell him. Finally, she stepped closer and lowered her voice. “My father called him when the Rogues broke into the asylum. All he told me was that he wasn’t officially CIA and that he cleans up messes to preserve the classified nature of projects. I saw him at the asylum once but never before that. How do you know him?”
    She’d given him information, so he’d reciprocate. “I’ve done salvage work for the FBI, classified recovery missions as a contractor. At least I thought it was the FBI. Top secret experimental stuff, and even though I saw the pieces, I couldn’t tell you what they were. Pope was the one—the only one—who approached me, supervised my search, and paid me. In cash. I only know him as Pope.”
    â€œMe, too.” She glanced at the door. “He’s very odd.”
    He was more than odd, but Nicholas couldn’t really explain how. Beyond his looks, which were unusual enough. He was at least six-foot-five, with a muscular body and light skin. His slick, shaved head set off dramatic features and eyes an unusual shade of violet-blue.
    Pope had approached him months before Darkwell had. If they worked together, why not tell him? Both had hired him for his skills, though Pope hadn’t said a thing about thinking they were psychic. Pope, like Darkwell, had required Nicholas to sign a sheaf of papers swearing him to secrecy, so Nicholas couldn’t even ask Darkwell about his connection with Pope. It was baffling. Disturbing.
    He was staring at the door but shifted his gaze to Olivia, because he couldn’t not look at her. He was tongue-tied. They were beyond small talk, and it would come off as phony anyway.
    â€œDon’t you want to know what they’re talking about?” he asked.
    â€œYes. But it’s none of our business.”
    â€œIt is my business. This whole project—”
    The door opened, and Pope walked out, Darkwell not far behind him. Nicholas would find out now. Pope would say something to him.
    But he didn’t. Pope gave him a look that shimmered through him, piercing him with those eyes, stilling his tongue. Nicholas could only watch him walk down the hall and disappear around the corner.
    He turned to find Darkwell glowering again and realized he’d been alone with Olivia in the hallway. They certainly didn’t look flirtatious, so hopefully Olivia wouldn’t get in trouble. Darkwell gave no indication that he expected Nicholas to know Pope.
    Nicholas, for his part, was more confused than ever.
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    Two nights later, Nicholas was trying to watch a Lost rerun in his room. Of course, the “lost” aspect of the series drew him, but his mind was on Olivia tonight. She’d obviously been avoiding him, as he hadn’t seen her since their encounter in the hallway. Which was good, he reminded himself. Very good. Now, if they could just avoid each other until he left…
    His phone vibrated. Twenty-nine minutes later, he closed himself in the bathroom and turned on the water to mask his conversation.
    Anyone can hear anything around here , a warning voice whispered in his head.
    â€œTonight’s the night,” a male voice said. Probably Rand.
    â€œBe careful. I overheard Jerryl and Darkwell talking about Robbins. I don’t know what’s going on there. Robbins has been nervous as a rabbit hiding in a wolf’s den.”
    â€œThanks for the heads-up,” Rand said. “We’ll be in touch once we’ve talked to him.”
    Nicholas flopped back on the bed and turned off the television. He kept Robbins’s face in mind. He would keep checking on him.
    At first he saw Robbins sitting at a bar sipping a whiskey. Thirty minutes later, the scene was much different: a scared Robbins hunched in the back of a car, flanked by Rand and Lucas Vanderwyck. Nicholas focused harder, trying to hear what was happening. He could barely make out the