Free Sealed with a Lie by Kat Carlton

(ugh) with a gray wool scarf, high-heeled black boots, and a grayish python-print hobo bag.
    I come out of a stall after changing, and Evan is standing there texting on his smart phone. I take three steps in the boots and almost fall—have I mentioned that high heels are not my thing?
    Evan looks up and shakes his head. “You really aregoing to flunk deportment, aren’t you?”
    I glare at him. “Did you know that high heels were originally invented—by some French douche bag, I think—for, men ?”
    Evan shrugs, then smirks. “Well, it’s a sign of intelligence, then, that we managed to pawn them off on women.”
    “No, I’ll tell you what it’s a sign of,” I begin, but he locks himself in another stall to change into his own disguise. And he makes the mistake of thinking that the walls are more soundproof than they are, because he also makes a call. When Matthis, who’s been washing his hands, turns off the water, we can overhear what he’s saying.
    “Cecily, I’m deadly serious.”
    I freeze. Evan is talking to my redheaded nemesis and his friend with benefits. And clearly she’s part of our current problems.
    “You’d better retract any statements you’ve given to management at GI,” Evan says hotly. “This isn’t about you or your ego—this is about getting a kid killed if you don’t keep your bloody mouth shut.”
    I feel sick. He means Charlie, that much is obvious.
    I realize what’s happened. Abby has confided in Cecily, of all people. Hoping to impress her. And Cecily saw an opportunity to score at GI; prove that she’s a badass just like her Interpol Agent parents. What damage is Cecily doing? And why?
    “Back off, Cecily,” Evan grinds out. There’s a pause.
    Then, “Are you really asking me that?”
    Another pause.
    Matthis and I look at each other.
    “Cecily, your parents may be the Superman and Wonder Woman of Interpol when it comes to crimes against children, but you yourself have no experience, and you are not going to acquire it at the expense of Charlie Andrews’s life. Understand?”
    Evan’s tone is scathing. He may be attracted to Roux (what guy wouldn’t be?), but he clearly doesn’t like her much.
    “Now. You’re going to go to the head office and tell them that you’ve made a mistake or gotten bad information. Yes, you bloody well are. Or I will reveal your colossal cock-up on the Renaud case to everybody . Really? Try me. This isn’t a bluff; it’s a promise. And stay the hell away from Abby. We all know you’re just using her, and it’s cruel.”
    There’s not much more to the conversation. I quickly turn on the water at a different sink and pretend to wash my own hands, pretend that I haven’t heard a word. I cast a sidelong glance at Matthis, and he nods once to indicate that he’ll play dumb right along with me.
    Evan emerges whistling from the bathroom stall a couple minutes later wearing a dark baseball cap, checked shirt over a navy tee, olive pants, and black snow boots. He looks like your average unremarkable Joe—the blue-blood Brit is gone.
    “Miss me?” he asks.
    I snort, but halfheartedly. My worry for Charlie is now off the charts. What if the kidnappers find out that Cecily has been talking? I tell myself that it’s unlikely. That they can’t have moles in GI.
    “If it’s any consolation, I think it’s going to be just as hard for me to toddle around in these snow boots as it is for you to walk in those heels.” Evan flashes me his innocent-as-the-Gerber-baby smile, as if he hasn’t been threatening and blackmailing someone only moments ago.
    “Huh.” I so don’t know how to feel about him. He’s keeping secrets from me. But probably because he doesn’t want me to worry. He handled Cecily flawlessly, but ruthlessly . . . and I don’t want to think about how else he’s handled her—up close and personally.
    I’m silent as we roll up our old clothes and mash them into the shopping bag. Evan hands me the artist’s