Hello! So I wasn't gonna write more till after my AP test next week, but I got bored of studying and really wanted to, so screw Euro. You just get to that point where you can't study and wanna kill everything so whatever. Anyway, so here's the next chapter. I can't wait until the exciting stuff starts happening! Hope you enjoy this and please shoot me a comment :) they mean loads to me, I love to know what you guys think. Now Imma go maybe study (more like eat that ice cream that's been calling my name) Adios!
Gracias! <3 vb123321
Chapter Four
Apparently Spies Shop At Walmart Too
There are moments in life when you really wish dramatic music could blast in the background - for instance, during that car chase would have been pretty sick. Another would have been as we walked across the Walmart parking lot, our hands buried in our coat pockets and our heads bent against the icy wind, the two guys surveying the area sharply. I thought it really called for some epic panorama music.
But instead some random pop song played in the background as we walked into Walmart, our feet squeaking a little on the floor from parking lot slush. Patrick snatched up a basket and tucked it under his arm as we made our way into the store and into a random aisle. Zach still looked pukey-nervous, his face pale as he scanned the faces of passersby.
"What're we doing?" I asked, trotting after their long strides. "Should I tell my mom?"
"Yeah, you probably should," said Patrick, stopping in front of some cereal boxes and glancing at them. "Just don't tell her about that car chase, okay? Speaking of which..." He tugged out his phone. "I should probably call Jer."
"What?" Zach's eyes popped. "No!"
Patrick gave him a flat look. "I can't just not tell him that some of Pazzini's men popped up in this area, dude. We're trying to find him, remember? If they're around, he probably is too. I won't mention your name, cool?"
"We don't know that Pazzini's around here..." Zach faltered at Patrick's raised eyebrows. "Well, okay, it's probable, but how did Jer not know he'd be around here? Since this is where" - he glanced at me - "you-know-who is supposed to be."
I gasped so dramatically that both guys whipped around with startled expressions, their hands flying suspiciously to their coat pockets. When they saw nothing, they looked at me in confusion, and I said in a hushed voice, "Voldemort is back?"
Patrick stared at me before breaking into a wide grin. "Yeah, Nat. Better watch out."
"I'm being serious," Zach said with irritation. "Pazzini wants you-know-who, and I thought Jer did, too."
"Do you know who Voldemort is?" I asked him, frowning.
"Are you kidding me right now?"
I shrugged. "You didn't know The Lion King. I had to check."
Patrick shook his head, picking up a random box of cereal as he kept an eye on the camera screen above. "Look, Sullivan, I agree with you, but you don't even know that you-know-who's actually around here right now, and I'd be willing to bet Jer knows more than you do." And as Zach made a skeptical noise, "Besides, why do you think I'm still in Michigan?"
"To watch out for her."
"What, because you decided to run away?"
Zach's jaw clenched, his good hand clutching his casted arm. "Right, because I had loads of options sitting in handcuffs."
I frowned. "Wait, watch out for who?"
"You," snapped Patrick, shoving the cereal box into the basket. "Yeah, maybe Jer told me to look out for her, but that's not the only thing I'm supposed to be doing right now, Sullivan. I'm definitely not supposed to be aiding and abetting one of the people Jer's been looking for these past two weeks."
"Jer told you to watch me?" I repeated indignantly. "What am I, six?"
"If he's looking for you-know-who, he'll find me too," said Zach, ignoring me as he glared stubbornly at Patrick. "I'm not going back to FBI or CIA or anything until I find -"
Patrick exhaled loudly. "I know about your obsession with finding Pazzini! But don't you understand other people are trying to? People who are loads more capable than you are?"
"People who don't have the same connections as I do!"
"Excuse me," I interrupted, holding my hands up. "Y'all need to calm the heck down for a moment and explain what's going on. Patrick, why were you watching me?"
The blond agent waved a dismissive hand. "I wasn't watching you, Nat. Jeez, that makes me sound like a creeper. Jer just asked me to make sure no one goes after you and stuff. It wasn't a big deal."
"Except it kinda is a big deal." Zach's voice was strained. "What if those guys had found her house when we weren't there, Ryan? Would you have been there?"
Patrick's face softened. "Look, buddy, I already said it wasn't your fault that Pazzini knows who she is. If it took them two weeks to even think about driving past her house, it was probably because of me and you showing up there, not because they're interested in her."
"Yeah, but they knew..."
With more guts than I thought I had, I reached out and touched his arm, trying to offer him a smile. "Patrick's right, Zach, it's not your fault. If you hadn't told him, he would've killed me, remember?"
A passing woman gave Zach a weird look as he closed with eyes with a pained expression, and I remembered then that we were having this heart-to-heart in Walmart. I let go of Zach's arm, feeling awkward, until the woman disappeared down the next aisle.
Patrick let out a breath. "Okay, guys, let's remember where we are, okay?"
"Are you gonna call Jer?" Zach asked quietly, his eyes back on the ground.
"Dude, I have to, okay?"
"Right, well..." Zach pushed his good hand deeper into his pockets and began to backpedal down the aisle. "I'll find my own way there."
"You're leaving?" I asked, bewildered. "But why?"
Zach looked at me, his eyes flinty. "I'm not sticking around for your brother, Nat. I've had enough of them in the past few years to last me a lifetime. You can tell him hi from me."
Letting out an exasperated noise, Patrick reached forward and snagged Zach's shoulder, dragging him forward. "Will you please stop being such a drama queen? You're going nowhere, idiot. You didn't sleep out in my car for days just to walk out again."
He really had to get over the car thing.
"I'm not doing anything with CIA!" Zach shook himself free. "I can find Pazzini on my own, okay, I know people, they'll help me -"
Patrick actually seized his blonde hair. "You - are - freaking - sixteen!"
"I'll be seventeen on Wednesday," Zach protested, crossing his arms stubbornly. "And I've been in this business longer than you, Ryan, don't give me that."
"Well, happy birthday," said Patrick sarcastically, spreading his arms, the basket swinging wildly at his elbow. "At this rate, you're probably not gonna see eighteen, are you?"
My head was starting to hurt. "Um, guys?" I interrupted as Zach went very still. "What are we even arguing about again? Who does Zach want to find?"
"If I can get to you-know-who before Pazzini does," Zach said earnestly, his eyes on Patrick, "I can get TriStar to Jer and everything'll be fine."
Patrick sighed with an uncharacteristically serious look. "This isn't about TriStar, Zach. We both know that."
"Can you two have this conversation some other time?" I put my hands on my hips. "I asked one simple question and you start writing a novel together. Patrick, for the last time, should I call my mom?"
"Yeah." The blonde agent looked at me like he'd forgotten I was there; unsurprising. "I guess I'll call Jer a little later. We're talking about this," he said warningly to Zach, who just glowered. "For now, you're staying with me, Sullivan. I'll tie you up if I have to, I swear."
"You wouldn't," Zach mumbled with a surly look. "I'd kill you."
Patrick shrugged, walking further down the aisle. "Bud, trust me when I say I'd rather have you pissed at me than have to wake up from heavy anesthesia and have someone tell me they can't find you anywhere." He pulled a loaf of bread of the shelf, dumping it into the basket. "And know that they also don't know where the one guy who actually wants to kill you is."
He continued down the aisle, leaving Zach and I standing by the cereal. Zach glanced at me, his eyes a little guilty, and I said quietly, "I think he's still beating himself up over that whole party thing. Letting you get arrested and all that."
"It wasn't his fault. He got shot."
"Yeah, well, tell him that."
Zach's eyes were very green. "Nat, look, I'm - I'm sorry I disappeared like that, okay? I didn't want to just leave you, but..."
"Come on," I said, unsure of what exactly I was feeling. "We better catch up to Patrick."
All three of us stayed pretty quiet for the rest of our shopping spree. After loading milk, ramen noodles, and several boxes of macaroni and cheese into his basket, Patrick led us towards the checkout lines. Zach became noticeably tenser as we stood in the short line, his eyes darting across the faces of the normal customers as he rubbed his cast.
"What are you gonna do with this food?" I asked Patrick to avoid looking at Zach.
"Eat it?"
"Oh." I blinked. "I thought it was just for a cover."
"The best covers," he informed me, dumping his groceries onto the checkout belt, "are those that are doubly useful."
I shrugged and let my eyes drift away as we waited for the food to be bagged. The sudden cluster of people at the entrance caught my attention, along with the conversation of the people in the next checkout lane over. The cashier said, "Just look at that snow come down! Who'd have thought it was completely clear just ten minutes ago?"
Snow? I pushed past Patrick so that I could see through the glass entrance doors, and my mouth fell open as I watched the dense flakes plummet to the ground, already coating the parking lot. I hadn't thought it was possible for the sky to snow any more after we got almost a foot of snow around New Year's.
"Nat, did you text your mom yet?" asked Patrick, shoving some grocery bags into Zach's hands as he finished paying, and then he saw the snow. "Holy cow! Where did that come from?"
"Welcome to Michigan," I said, shaking my head as I flipped the hood of my coat up and took some bags as well. "And no, I didn't."
"Well, I think I'm gonna drop these groceries off at my place first, if you don't mind, since we're close. I think we kinda got pretty far away in that car chase," he admitted, grinning at my expression as we stepped out into the frigid, blowing snow. "But then I'll bring you home."
It was a relief to pile into his Jeep and blast the heat. Zach huddled in the passenger seat with a blank expression as he stared at the furiously flashing windshield wipers. I sat shivering in the backseat as Patrick pulled out of the parking lot, the tires slippery in the fresh snow, and I couldn't help but think of the last time I'd driven with Zach in the snow.
"So you live around here?" I asked Patrick as I finished texting my mom. She wouldn't be too happy that I'd left the house with them while she was gone, but there was no way I was gonna explain the real reason to her, so I'd just have to deal with it.
"Just since recently," he answered, flipping his hair away from his eyes. "Meaning since after that party fiasco. It's just a safe house type thing that the CIA has for any agents that happen to be in town."
I had my doubts about how safe it was if Zach had found it, but then again, he was supposed to be a professional thief or something - I still wasn't sure.
Zach managed to fall asleep in the ten-minute drive, his head drooping against the fogged glass as the snow drifted down in almost zero visibility. The roads grew quieter as Patrick pulled down a long country lane towards a house that was hidden from the road by a grove of trees. We were definitely loads further away from my house than I had thought - I recognized the area as around where my friend lived, and she had a mini-forest in her backyard.
"Should I just leave him the car?" Patrick looked uncertainly at the sleeping Zach. "I dunno, he might freeze..."
Don't do it, Nat, I scolded myself, but too late: My eyes moved to Zach's slumped form, to the dark hair drifting across his forehead, to the bags under his eyes. His face was almost as white as the snow that steadily coated the windshield as the wipers shut off. Why the heck did he have to be so hard to stay mad at?
"He's too cute," I mumbled to myself, unaware I'd spoken out loud until Patrick's eyebrows shot up and he turned in his seat to give me a huge smirk. My entire face on fire, I stammered, "I just - I didn't - don't you ever tell him I said that."
"How much are you gonna pay me?"
"I'll tell Jer to retract your pay check."
Patrick put his hands up in surrender. "Fair enough. Come on, give me a hand getting these groceries inside. It should only take a minute."
Taking a deep breath to prepare myself for the snowstorm, I scooped up groceries and hurried after Patrick to his front door. The house wasn't super big or anything, considering most of the houses around here usually were large, isolated, and old. It was more like a condo, really, perfectly suited for a college guy living on his own. Patrick walked straight to the kitchen, tracking in snow, and I just grinned at the face my mom would have made.
"You got the milk?"
I handed him the cold gallons and he deposited them in his fridge as I shook my head at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. "You should clean this place up," I advised him, running my finger along the dusty tabletop and pulling a face.
"I need some womanly influence," he agreed, waggling his eyebrows at me. "You wanna be my slave?"
Rolling my eyes, I turned back towards the front hall. "Are we going home now?"
A noise came from the door at that moment, and Patrick's head snapped in that direction, his eyes flashing back to spy-mode. "Stay here," he ordered me, slipping one hand into his pocket as he approached the door carefully. I hovered near the kitchen entrance, wondering how on earth Pazzini's men could have found us so soon.
The door swung open, and Patrick charged forward without hesitation, completely flattening the guy who entered. I stepped into the hall, my mouth dropping open for the billionth time that day as the victim of Patrick's onslaught gasped, "Get the hell off me!"
Apologizing, Patrick popped back to his feet, holding out one hand to lug a dazed Zach to his feet. The blonde agent looked like he was trying super hard not to laugh as Zach swore at him and held his arm, wincing.
"Who the hell did you think I was?"
"I forgot you were in the car!" Patrick defended himself. "It could have been anyone, Sullivan; you gotta be careful, you know. Did I hurt you bad?"
Zach shoved him away grumpily, slamming the door shut and grimacing at the loud noise it made. Gripping his temples with one hand, he said, "Don't ever leave me alone like that again, okay? I thought someone had come found you guys when I woke up and you weren't there."
"Well, now you know how I felt." Patrick's voice was stiff, but as Zach shut his eyes tightly, it softened. "Sorry, man, I didn't wanna wake you up. We're just gonna take Nat home now, though - I think we've put her through enough today, don't you?"
"Are you gonna stay at my house?" I asked, tugging my gloves back on. "Like, are you still gonna call Jer?"
Patrick drew his finger across his throat, signaling me to shut up. "We'll talk about that later. Let's just get you home, Nat."
"I know you're gonna have to call Jer," said Zach in a miserable voice, still rubbing his forehead with a pained expression.
"Maybe you should just stay here," suggested Patrick, looking concerned. "You can sleep or something - I guess that means I won't stay at your house, Nat."
"I'm not staying here alone," said Zach flatly, his face growing steadily whiter.
I played with my zipper, exchanging a nervous look with Patrick. "Zach, you can stay at my house," I told him. "My mom would love to have you guys, and we can figure out what you're going to do."
His green eyes flitted to me, but suddenly he winced again and gritted out from tightly clenched teeth, "Ryan - I think I'm gonna be sick -"
"Oh lord."
Alarmed, Patrick leaped forward and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down the hall to a door that led to a bathroom. I stood back, twisting my gloves in my hands as the sounds of Zach being sick filled the hallway. Forcing my own stomach to calm down, I hurried to the sink and wet some paper towel, bringing it to the bathroom. Patrick took it from me and waved me out of the bathroom.
Feeling pretty useless, I sank down in a chair at the kitchen table and stare at the wall, wishing I were a spy and not some dumb fifteen-year-old kid. Why couldn't I ever help Zach when he needed it, like Patrick could? Why couldn't I be there for him, when he had saved my life more times than I could count?
"He'll be okay," said Patrick as he came into the kitchen, pushing me back into my chair gently; I had jumped up anxiously when he had entered. "I think his lack of sleep finally caught up to him after that excitement. He's crashed on my couch right now."
"Patrick, what's the matter with him?" I asked in a small voice, pulling my knees up to my chin.
Sighing, the blonde agent sank into a chair across from me. "He's been through an awful lot for a kid. It's not good for him to run on an obsession, either, it's killing him. Don't worry, okay, honey? I'll call Jer and work things out when Zach's not listening." He flipped his phone absently in his hand, frowning. "I don't know if I can take you home right just now, though...I don't want to leave him alone."
"It's fine," I assured him. "We can wait for him to wake up. I'll explain to my mom."
"You should probably call her."
I didn't want to admit he was right, but he was, so a few minutes later, I found myself explaining to my slightly hysterical mom what was going on - leaving out spy detail, of course. Once I told her that Zach had gotten sick, she was all sympathy, worrying about him until I convinced her that he'd be fine.
"But, Nat," she said worriedly, "it's only five, and it's supposed to snow for the rest of the night, and those roads are going to be so bad -"
"Patrick will be driving, Mom, and he's a trained spy, remember?"
"Agent, dear, agent...but I really don't think anyone should drive in that snow..."
I raised my eyes to the ceiling, wondering how she'd react if she'd seen how he had driven earlier today. "Well, what am I supposed to do, stay here at his place? He says we'll probably leave to take me home in, like, an hour."
"Nat, you listen to me." My mom rarely sounded that authoritative, so I listened. "I don't want you guys going out in that snow if it keeps up like this. If it's still snowing this hard when he wants to leave, you don't let him, all right? I give you permission to stay overnight at his place if you have to - I trust him, since Jer trusts him."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, whatever, Mom. You're freaking out over nothing, but okay."
"And you don't have school tomorrow anyway," she reasoned, sounding like she was reassuring herself. "Just call me if you decide to stay, okay?"
"Okay, Mom," I said tolerantly. "I'll see you later tonight, though."
One lesson I really should have learned by now: Moms are always right. It's basically a fact of life. But I wasn't really thinking of that when I hung up, shaking my head at her mollycoddling and wondering where she got such crazy notions. I wasn't thinking of it as I sat at Patrick's kitchen table and debated whether to text Molly or no.
Almost two hours later, when Patrick came to tell me that Zach had sort of woken up and was ready to drive me home, I was definitely thinking about that. Because as we looked outside, we saw the blanket of snow smothering everything, still flurrying towards the ground just as hard as before, and Patrick said, "I am not driving in that."
And I just groaned.