even bother to contradict him. He merely burst into laughter.
Reilly didn’t seem to share Night’s humor. “I can only begin to guess what Cassandra is doing to those women.”
Jon glanced once again at the picture of the young girl. “Reilly, I really can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“Jon, you and Night could enter that compound tomorrow with very few questions asked. Hell, your mother would roll out the red carpet for you. We’ll never get an agent near that place in less than a year. How many women will be raped and sold or possibly murdered in that time? And what about the children?”
“I’m a teacher, Reilly. My James Bond days are over.” Carly had told him he looked like the superspy. Little did she know how close to the truth she’d really come.
“Your what?”
“Nothing. My answer is no.”
In uncharacteristic anger, Reilly grabbed his folder as he stalked to the front door. “Then God help the young girls at your school because you can be damn sure more than a few of them will suffer for your decision.”
With that parting shot, Reilly slammed the door—on Jon’s house and on his normal future.
Chapter Six
Monday came too early. Jon struggled to focus on the lesson he was teaching. He and Night had spent most of the evening reminiscing about their days with the agency and catching up on the past year and a half. Both of them were careful to avoid any mention of Cassandra and her newest project. He knew Night was anxiously awaiting her call, desperate to get back onto the compound to exact his revenge once and for all.
He also suspected Reilly knew a hell of a lot more than he was sharing with them. It wouldn’t be the first time their boss had strung them along with only bits and pieces of the puzzle. And if Reilly was correct, what would Jon do if and when his mother called? The mere thought of setting foot on the mountain again made him want to throw up.
The day had been long. He was physically and mentally exhausted. The image of Trisha Jackson’s empty desk had haunted him since third period. Where was she right now? What was happening to her? Glancing at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes, he finally threw in the towel.
“Let’s call it a day on grammar, eh?” There was an audible murmur of approval until he added, “Get out your literature books and turn to page seventy-two. Begin reading the short story. What you don’t finish is for homework, along with the questions at the end. And folks, when I say answer in complete sentences, I mean the kind with a subject and a predicate. Got it?”
Stumbling to his desk, he tried to concentrate on grading the essays before him. He hadn’t made one mark when the final bell rang.
“Bye, Mr. Walker.”
“See you tomorrow, Paula.”
He watched the petite blonde girl meet her best friend in the hallway. The two girls put their heads together and immediately started chatting and giggling. Reilly’s words from the night before drifted back to him. As painful as it was for him to admit, he knew it was only a matter of time before more young girls were dragged to Cassandra’s so-called retreat by their desperate mothers.
Glancing out the window, he noticed the storm clouds that hovered all day had gotten even darker. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to ward off the headache that had grown worse as the day progressed.
“Knock, knock.” He turned toward the voice and it felt as if the sun had finally come out.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Looks like you aren’t exaggerating. What’s wrong? Headache?” Carly asked.
“Just a little one. Shut the door and come here.” He stood up and crooked a finger at her.
Grinning, she followed his orders, practically skipping across the room to throw herself into his arms. Dipping his head, he met her lips in a pleasant kiss.
“I missed you today,” she said.
“Sorry about lunch. I worked through it.” Usually he took his sandwich and ate with her
Reilly didn’t seem to share Night’s humor. “I can only begin to guess what Cassandra is doing to those women.”
Jon glanced once again at the picture of the young girl. “Reilly, I really can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“Jon, you and Night could enter that compound tomorrow with very few questions asked. Hell, your mother would roll out the red carpet for you. We’ll never get an agent near that place in less than a year. How many women will be raped and sold or possibly murdered in that time? And what about the children?”
“I’m a teacher, Reilly. My James Bond days are over.” Carly had told him he looked like the superspy. Little did she know how close to the truth she’d really come.
“Your what?”
“Nothing. My answer is no.”
In uncharacteristic anger, Reilly grabbed his folder as he stalked to the front door. “Then God help the young girls at your school because you can be damn sure more than a few of them will suffer for your decision.”
With that parting shot, Reilly slammed the door—on Jon’s house and on his normal future.
Chapter Six
Monday came too early. Jon struggled to focus on the lesson he was teaching. He and Night had spent most of the evening reminiscing about their days with the agency and catching up on the past year and a half. Both of them were careful to avoid any mention of Cassandra and her newest project. He knew Night was anxiously awaiting her call, desperate to get back onto the compound to exact his revenge once and for all.
He also suspected Reilly knew a hell of a lot more than he was sharing with them. It wouldn’t be the first time their boss had strung them along with only bits and pieces of the puzzle. And if Reilly was correct, what would Jon do if and when his mother called? The mere thought of setting foot on the mountain again made him want to throw up.
The day had been long. He was physically and mentally exhausted. The image of Trisha Jackson’s empty desk had haunted him since third period. Where was she right now? What was happening to her? Glancing at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes, he finally threw in the towel.
“Let’s call it a day on grammar, eh?” There was an audible murmur of approval until he added, “Get out your literature books and turn to page seventy-two. Begin reading the short story. What you don’t finish is for homework, along with the questions at the end. And folks, when I say answer in complete sentences, I mean the kind with a subject and a predicate. Got it?”
Stumbling to his desk, he tried to concentrate on grading the essays before him. He hadn’t made one mark when the final bell rang.
“Bye, Mr. Walker.”
“See you tomorrow, Paula.”
He watched the petite blonde girl meet her best friend in the hallway. The two girls put their heads together and immediately started chatting and giggling. Reilly’s words from the night before drifted back to him. As painful as it was for him to admit, he knew it was only a matter of time before more young girls were dragged to Cassandra’s so-called retreat by their desperate mothers.
Glancing out the window, he noticed the storm clouds that hovered all day had gotten even darker. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to ward off the headache that had grown worse as the day progressed.
“Knock, knock.” He turned toward the voice and it felt as if the sun had finally come out.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Looks like you aren’t exaggerating. What’s wrong? Headache?” Carly asked.
“Just a little one. Shut the door and come here.” He stood up and crooked a finger at her.
Grinning, she followed his orders, practically skipping across the room to throw herself into his arms. Dipping his head, he met her lips in a pleasant kiss.
“I missed you today,” she said.
“Sorry about lunch. I worked through it.” Usually he took his sandwich and ate with her
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