She pushed aside the uniform top and exposed the scar on her chest. “Not everyone.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for that.”
“I survived.”
He shook his head. “Not the bullet. The resurrection,” he clarified.
She was bummed about that, too. “I want the information from the lower levels.”
Charlie chuckled. “Ahh, the lost treasures of the bowels of Richter. They do not exist.”
“They do. I know people who have touched them.”
He paused. “If there was, at any time, this information, it is now gone.”
Bullshit. Richter had too many secrets to maintain.
“How many have come before me looking?”
“A few,” he said.
“And were they like me? Did they have the same employment?”
“Some.” He swallowed. “I did not know of the extent of Lodovica’s crimes.”
She wanted to believe him. “You know everything that happens on this campus.”
“Eventually, yes. By then it was too late for many of you.”
“But not all.”
Charlie lowered his eyes. “A cross I bear every day.”
“Then why did you stay? Why are you still here?” She removed the glasses that were no longer needed to shield her face.
“For you. And all like you. Those who come back deserve answers, and I do what I can to provide them.”
“Then show me the files.”
“What are you searching for?”
Again, Olivia exposed her scar and pointed to it.
Charlie caught on. His expression sobered. “The shooter was one of ours.” It wasn’t a question.
She gave one quick nod. “I need to know where—”
Charlie’s hand shot up, stopping her.
“Don’t tell me a name. Please. Just as I will never utter yours, do not tell me theirs.” Pure distress crossed Charlie’s face. That’s when the man looked as if he might have aged . . . just a little.
She constructed her words as carefully as she could. “If I’m to have a life—any life—I must remain six feet underground. I need some direction to find the person that put a hole in me. There is no reason for the bullet to have been personal. I must find who hired them. I need to know who else knows I’m breathing.”
At first, she didn’t think Charlie was going to offer anything. And then he opened his mouth. “There is a place in Hungary. Budapest. A sanctuary for a night. A place where one might have a conversation without risk of another hole in their body.”
She liked the sound of that. “Honor among thieves,” she clarified.
“I doubt anyone there looks like themselves. I have mentioned this location many times in my tenure at Richter, and no one has called me a liar. So I must assume it exists and is useful. And since only a select few graduates of this institution are privy to such information, I must assume you would know people who partake in the occasional libation without risk of being shot.”
This was perfect.
He told her the name of the pub and stood back.
She smiled at him for the first time. “Thank you.”
“I do not deserve your thanks.”
For whatever reason, she pictured Leo saying the same thing. “That may be true, but thank you anyway.”
He stepped away from the door.
She paused at his side, placed her hand on his arm. “And you’re lying about the lost treasure.”
He looked her dead in the eye. “In order to protect the innocent, you must sometimes protect the guilty.”
Again, Leo’s image jumped in her head.
She leaned forward without thought and kissed Charlie’s cheek before walking out the door.
The team was on point, working every angle they could to bring Olivia in.
How had this become his life? How had caring for others consumed so many hours of his day?
Neil sat in his home office watching his headquarters as his staff changed shifts.
Staff . . . Who was he kidding?
Claire and Cooper were on their way out the door, hand in hand. Neil was still getting used to the idea of his adopted daughter having an emotional connection with someone. Someone Neil had personally known longer than her . . . but that didn’t weigh in. Claire was an innocent teen when they’d met. Too goddamn smart for her own good. A prime pick for Pohl, or anyone to come along and turn her into what Olivia was now.
The shift changed and Jax lingered.
In a half an hour, the alarms at the Tarzana home where Claire, Cooper, and Jax lived would indicate someone had come in . . . and that alarm wouldn’t be set again until after Jax was home and everyone was safe. Jax staying behind at the office on a weekday meant she