Читать книгу Unbreakable - Elizabeth Norris, Elizabeth Norris - Страница 26

can’t fucking believe this shit,” Barclay says as he raises his hands.

From the stairs, I yell that it’s okay, that it’s just Barclay, but no one listens.

The Marines move into the apartment, sweeping into position to cover any possible escape and to make sure no one else is here. Their guns are pointed at Barclay, their eyes only on him.

Deirdre shouts at Barclay and advances on him swiftly but cautiously. The look on her face is absolutely feral—this is Deirdre Rice, FBI agent, and Deirdre Rice, widow and mother of two kids, all in one. Deirdre, who’s not about to lose anyone else. If I was Barclay, I’d be scared.

As she moves in, Barclay keeps his hands raised. He’s relaxed, but with a clear look of annoyance on his face, as if this is inconvenient for him.

He doesn’t even flinch as Deirdre moves in and disarms him, taking a gun from the base of his spine.

“Do you have any other concealed weapons on you?” she says, her voice thick with venom.

“Gun at my left ankle,” he says.

Without taking her eyes off him, she bends down to retrieve the backup gun, and once she has it, orders a Marine to move in and frisk him.

I can’t help holding my breath. I’m worried Barclay has another weapon. He’s the kind of guy who would have a backup for the backup and the kind who would keep something to use to escape. Plus, with the technology he has access to, he could have something innocent looking like a pen that’s actually a lightsaber.

The last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt—Deirdre, the Marines, even Barclay.

“Can we put some of the guns away and maybe sit down and have a rational conversation?” I say.

Deirdre doesn’t turn to look at me, but I can see the anger sweep across her face. I know how much she blames Barclay for everything that’s happened—because he betrayed the Bureau, because he lied, because he was, in a lot of ways, too late.

“Taylor Barclay is wanted for questioning,” she says. “And I plan on doing just that.”

I nod because I know it’s true, and if Struz were here, I’m sure he’d be going through the same precautions.

“Cuff him,” Deirdre says to the Marine who’s just frisked Barclay and come up empty.

I hear a creak from the hallway upstairs and look up to see Jared. “You okay?” I whisper.

He nods. “Are you?”

I couldn’t be more proud of him. Deirdre and the Marines are here because Jared used the walkie-talkie in Struz’s bedroom to get in touch with them. Jared reacted, even though no one told him to, and now he’s watching me with fierce protectiveness.

It’s a little like looking in a mirror.

“I’m good, I’ll be up in a minute.” Again he nods, and he goes without having to be asked twice. He’s going to be a great man someday—he’s going to be a lot like our dad.

When I look at Barclay, Deirdre is maneuvering him to the couch. His hands are behind his back, and he’s not actively working against her, but he’s a pretty solid guy, and he’s not exactly helping her either.

“Where have you been, Taylor?” Deirdre asks.

He snorts. “Not anywhere you’d be familiar with.”

“So you just went home to your own universe and left us to clean up the mess you left behind?” she asks.

Barclay’s eyes shoot to mine, and I see the flicker of surprise, like he’d assumed I’d kept the multiverse and everything that went with it to myself, before he covers it with a shrug of feigned indifference. “Wasn’t exactly my mess.”

“And whose was it?” she asks, even though I told her—several times—the same story I told Struz. She knows it was Reid.

Barclay smiles. “That’s classified.”

I’m not sure why he’s trying to piss her off, but when she backhands him across the face, he must know it’s working.