Читать книгу Infamous: the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël - Alyson Noel, Alyson Noel - Страница 16

Compared to the last several weeks of her life, her new room with its single brass daybed, wall-to-wall shag carpeting, and en suite bathroom with the rust-stained tub and Pepto-Bismol pink tiles was nothing but luxury.

Still, Madison couldn’t wait to break free.

Paul had a plan; a lead even. According to him, he was working hard on tracking it down and would divulge all the details if and when it panned out.

But Madison was tired of depending on Paul. It was his job to protect her from the very thing that had happened. She’d paid him a lot of money over the years to handle every aspect of her security detail, and her trust had never once wavered. She’d actually felt lucky to have the best in the business at her disposal. And yet, he’d gone and failed her in the worst way imaginable. She was far from healed, but she would no longer surrender her will.

She scowled at her ankle. Paul swore she was on the mend, but to her mind, it wasn’t healing quickly enough. She missed her mobility, missed her luxurious home with its fantasy closet and infinity pool. She wondered idly what had become of it.

Were the gardeners still coming once a week to trim the rosebushes that lined the long drive?

Was the pool man keeping the saltwater levels properly maintained?

Or was it wasting away from neglect—becoming decrepit and overrun with weeds and fallen palm fronds languishing in the deep end?

And then there was Blue. Paul had assured her that her assistant, Emily, was looking after him, but the news didn’t sit well with Madison.

Madison looked at Paul and said, “I want my dog back.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, though it was the first time she’d voiced it in a way that was more insistent than whiny.

Paul lowered his phone and shot her a considering look.

“And don’t even try to deny me. I’m in no mood to listen to your endless list of excuses for why I can’t have him. No one loves him like I do, and I’m sure he misses me as much as I miss him. I want you to get him.”

It may have been a bit melodramatic, but Madison set her face in a way that proved she’d meant every word. Her rescue mutt Blue was everything to her. Her dog, along with Paul, were the only things that connected her to her true self—the girl she kept hidden—the one no one would guess at. Which explained the nagging guilt she felt over the way she was using him.

Paul considered the request. “About that, I’ve been thinking . . .”

Madison sat up straighter, watching as he swiped a meaty hand across his chin. At first sight, he resembled an ordinary schlump stuck in a boring midlevel job. The kind of guy who after yet another long, soul-sucking day at the office returned home to a crappy apartment and an indifferent cat, only to eat a microwaved dinner in front of the TV. Though the quilt of scars crisscrossing his knuckles hinted at a much darker existence.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Madison froze, afraid to so much as move lest he sense her real reason for asking. As good as she was at reading him, he was far better at reading her.

“I’d like to stay put until you’re back on your feet. So as long as you promise to stay out of sight, I can’t see why you shouldn’t be reunited with Blue.”

“Seriously?” Even though she had other motives for asking, the thought of seeing her scraggly mutt brought tears to her eyes. Though sadly, the reunion would have to wait. Madison had more urgent matters to deal with. “Because if you’re not serious, if you’re just trying to—”

Paul raised a hand to silence her. “You have my word. I was thinking I’d pay Emily a visit anyway. May as well return with Blue.”

“Emily?” Madison frowned at the mention of her assistant’s name. “I thought you said you didn’t know where she was.” Her voice rose with suspicion.

“I didn’t. She went AWOL for a bit. But I just heard she landed a new assistant gig.”

Madison was in no mood for the hesitation she sensed in his reply. “Yeah, with who?” She studied him shrewdly.

“Heather Rollins.”

Madison started, her face taking a comic turn with popping eyes and a dramatically dropped jaw. If she’d tried that on a film set, any director worth his salt would yell Cut! and pull her aside to talk. But in real life, she truly was shocked. “Seriously. Emily is working for Heather?” She shook her head. Most of the world considered her dead, and yet Heather was still competing against a ghost, trying to claim bits of Madison’s life for her own.

Once upon a time, they’d been friends, though it didn’t take long to notice how Heather was always trying to best Madison by going after the same parts, the same clothes, the same agent, the same boys—what a bore. Of course Heather never actually attained any of those things, and Madison had chosen to ignore her lame attempts, even felt sorry for her. How exhausting it must be to always yearn for the peak when the spot was clearly reserved for someone more deserving. It wasn’t long before Madison grew tired of her games and cut Heather off.

And now Heather was poised to claim the space that had once belonged to Madison. She had Emily, access to Blue . . . it stung in a way Madison refused to tolerate.

“I want my dog. Now.” Madison fixed her gaze on Paul. “I don’t want her anywhere near Blue.”

The thought of Heather so much as petting Blue was intolerable. Then again, Blue had much higher standards and probably wouldn’t allow it. He’d never learned to like Ryan, and always used to growl whenever he came around. Blue was a dog of great discernment. The thought brought a fleeting smile to Madison’s face.

“Rumor has it Heather is now dating Mateo Luna.”

Madison watched as Paul slipped a tweed blazer over his pale blue button-down shirt. Outside, the temperature soared to the triple digits, and yet Paul dressed like he was off to the bank to ask for a loan.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Madison frowned. She was mainly surprised Heather wasn’t dating Ryan Hawthorne. It would only make sense.

“Mateo used to date Layla Harrison, who is now dating Tommy Phillips.”

Madison turned the information around in her head. It was interesting, in a minor, D-list, gossipy sort of way. But it hardly seemed worthy of discussion. Was Paul interested in this stuff? Because Madison no longer was.

“Heard she’s working on getting him a part on her new show.”

“How do you know all this?” Madison observed him from under a skeptical brow.

“It’s my job to keep abreast of anything connected to you. However tangentially.”

Madison cocked her head and gathered her hair into her fist. “Cable or network?”

Paul looked at her.

“The show—is it on cable or network?”

Madison starred in movies—big-budget Hollywood movies. She had no time for small-screen nonsense. And yet, it was no secret that the paradigm had shifted, and now loads of A-list actresses were clamoring for the good, juicy roles that the smarter TV shows offered.

Was it possible Heather had scored such a role?

One that might’ve gone to Madison had she not been abducted?

She was seriously working herself into an agitated state and was growing increasingly annoyed with the way Paul was hedging the answer. It was a simple question. What the hell was he up to?

When she caught his amused expression, she flushed with shame. Yep, he could read her like a book. Heather wasn’t the only one who got competitive. His look reminded her as much.

“Network,” he said, chasing it with the kind of teeth-baring grin he rarely indulged in.

Madison rolled her eyes and mumbled unintelligibly under her breath. She knew she was acting awful and spoiled, but she hated the way her life was on hold and seemingly no longer hers to control. Still, it was a relief to know Heather hadn’t scored a big, splashy cable gig. If nothing else, it assured Madison that she hadn’t fallen too far behind while she’d been off the radar.

“So, back to Blue.” She adopted a steadier, more serious tone. “How soon can I see him?”

The question was more loaded than it seemed on the surface. Paul kept a number of safe houses stashed in remote areas of California and beyond, including a few in and around LA. On the drive over, he’d made her hide beneath a blanket in the back, thereby prohibiting any chance she might’ve had to see where they were going. From the moment they’d arrived, she wasn’t allowed outside. She hoped his answer would provide some insight into their general whereabouts.

If Blue was with Emily and Emily was working for Heather, then that meant Blue was in LA. The amount of time it would take Paul to make the round trip might clue her in as to how far away they currently were.

“I have a few other things to take care of first, so it might be a while.”

That didn’t help.

“Though I promise to have you two reunited by the end of the day.”

Madison fought to maintain her composure. “That would be great, really great.” She cringed a little when she said it. It sounded false and ingratiating, but Paul didn’t seem to notice. “Just as long as you’re sure you can pull it off without raising suspicion.”

Paul lifted a brow, and Madison fell silent. Not once since she’d known him had he ever had a problem getting what he wanted.

Madison rubbed her fingers over the burn scar on the inside of her arm. There was a new scar just above it, from where the tracker had been torn from her flesh. Whoever had done it had clumsily stitched her up again. So by the time Paul had found her, an infection was setting in. Luckily, Paul knew his way around such things and got her cleaned up and restitched. He must’ve done a good job, since all her various wounds seemed to be healing a lot faster than her ankle was.

The tracker had wound up next to a body so ravaged by coyotes that everyone had at first mistaken it for hers. Apparently, Layla, Tommy, Aster, and Ryan had been out looking for her. How funny it would be when she managed to track them down first.

“You going to be okay, staying here alone?”

Madison struggled to a sitting position, making it appear so much harder, and much more painful, than it actually was.

“I’ll be fine.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “But maybe you can give me another pill?”

Paul rubbed at his chin, looking conflicted. “They’re highly addictive.”

Madison groaned. “Fine, then. Leave me alone for hours on end with nothing to do but think about how much pain I’m in so I can relive all the terrible things I’ve been through.”

Without a word, he brought her two tablets and a tall glass of water. “Four hours between these. No sooner.”

“You’re going to be gone that long?”

Where the hell were they?

“Probably not,” he said. “But just in case.”

She placed the tablet onto her tongue and went through the motions of pretending to swallow.

When he finally grabbed his laptop, pocketed his keys, and headed out the front door, Madison reached for her crutches and rushed toward the window, where she watched through the curtains as the tires crunched over the gravel and the car backed down the drive. Once he’d pulled onto the unpaved road and driven out of sight, Madison hurriedly changed into one of the disguises Paul had brought along in the event they needed to go out in public.

With her wig adjusted and makeup in place, Madison stood before a mirror and searched her reflection. She had no idea if it would work, but she was committed to trying.

She made for the safe and punched in the code. All that time pretending to sleep had paid off. Paul grew careless when he assumed no one was watching, making the combination easy to crack. Inside, just as she’d hoped, she found an envelope stuffed thick with cash, the key to the old Jeep he used for local errands and stored in the shed, a burner phone, and a gun.

She reached for the pistol and curled her fingers around the grip. The weapon felt big, weighty, but reassuring all the same. She lifted her arm, aimed the barrel toward the opposite wall, and feigned pulling the trigger. Thanks to Paul’s training, she was more than capable of handling it. Madison was far more adept than most people realized when it came to such things.

She was just securing the money and gun into her bag when she noticed a plastic ID card hidden under a stack of fake passports.

It was from West Virginia, and at first she wondered if it might be her own, or even Paul’s.

But as soon as she flipped it over and saw the face and name labeled on the front, she had all the proof she needed to know she’d been right all along. Paul had been lying when he claimed he didn’t know the first thing about the man he’d murdered.

Madison studied the man’s face and realized she’d never really forgotten him. What memory—perhaps in an effort to protect her—had relegated to a blur, was now staring right back at her.

This was the man who’d found her in the middle of Death Valley.

The one who’d dragged her back to his shack and tried to assault her, until Paul came along and planted a bullet in the side of his head.

Even on his ID, he looked dodgy, seedy, and yet vaguely familiar.

Although she didn’t recognize the name, she knew better than to pretend the West Virginia ID was a coincidence.

Now more than ever she was convinced that everything that’d happened to her was directly related to what had gone down one decade before.

The past never really stayed buried.

And now hers was rising up to haunt her.

After memorizing the face and corresponding stats, she carefully placed the ID in the center of the safe, so Paul would know without question that Madison was onto him.

She struggled to her feet and took a few tentative steps. Her ankle was tender, but she was determined to manage without any sort of crutch, literal or figurative. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she limped out the front door, more than ready to reenter the world.