of their new home. “Don’t do that to yourself.” He didn’t want to be reminded of that now. Instead he headed into the kitchen, where Maya was digging through the refrigerator for something to eat.
“I think I’ll order some pizza,” he announced. When she said nothing, he added, “What do you think?”
She closed the fridge with a sigh and leaned against it. “It’s fine,” she said simply. Then she glanced around. “The kitchen is nicer. I like the skylight. Yard is bigger, too.”
Reid smiled. “I meant about the pizza.”
“I know,” she replied with a shrug. “You just seem to prefer avoiding the topic at hand lately, so I figured I would too.”
He recoiled again at her brashness. On more than one occasion she had pressed him for information about what had happened when he disappeared, but the conversation always ended in him insisting that his cover story was the truth, and her getting angry because she knew he was lying. Then she would drop it for a week or so before the vicious cycle began anew.
“There’s no need for that kind of attitude, Maya,” he said.
“I’m going to go check on Sara.” Maya spun on her heel and left the kitchen. A moment later he heard her feet pounding up the stairs.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was times like these that he missed Kate the most. She always knew just what to say. She would have known how to handle two teenagers who had been through what his girls had been through.
His willpower to continue with the lie was growing weak. He couldn’t bring himself to recite the cover story yet again, the one the CIA had supplied him with to tell his family and colleagues where he had vanished to for a week. The story went that federal agents had come to his door, demanding his assistance on an important case. As an Ivy League professor, Reid was in a unique position to help them with research. As far as the girls were aware, he had spent most of that week in a conference room, poring over books and staring at a computer screen. That was all he was allowed to say, and he couldn’t share details with them.
He certainly couldn’t tell them about his clandestine past as Agent Zero, or that he had helped stop Amun from bombing the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. He couldn’t tell them that he had singlehandedly killed more than a dozen people in the course of only days, each and every one a known terrorist.
He had to stick to his vague cover story, not only for the sake of the CIA, but for the sake of the girls’ safety. While he was away dashing madcap all over Europe, his two daughters were forced to flee New York, spending several days on their own before being picked up by the CIA and brought to a safe house. They had very nearly been abducted by a pair of Amun radicals—a thought that still made the hairs on Reid’s neck stand on end, because it meant that the terrorist group had members in the United States. It certainly lent to his overly overprotective nature as of late.
The girls had been told that the two men who tried to accost them were members of a local gang that was abducting children in the area. Sara seemed slightly skeptical of the story, but accepted it on the grounds that her father wouldn’t lie to her (which, of course, made Reid feel even more awful). That, plus her total aversion to the topic, made it easy to skirt the issue and move on with life.
Maya, on the other hand, was downright dubious. Not only was she smart enough to know better, but she had been in contact with Reid via Skype during the ordeal and had seemingly gathered enough information on her own to make some assumptions. She herself had witnessed firsthand the deaths of the two radicals at Agent Watson’s hand, and she hadn’t been quite the same since.
Reid was at a complete loss about what to do, other than to try to continue with life with as much normalcy as possible.
Reid took out his cell phone and called the pizzeria up the street, putting in an order for two medium pies, one with extra cheese (Sara’s favorite) and the other with sausage and green peppers (Maya’s favorite).
As he hung up, he heard footfalls on the stairs. Maya returned to the kitchen. “Sara’s taking a nap.”
“Again?” It seemed that Sara had been sleeping a lot during the day lately. “Is she not sleeping at night?”
Maya shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask her.”
“I tried. She won’t tell me anything.”
“Maybe it’s because she doesn’t understand what happened,” Maya suggested.
“I told you both what happened.” Don’t make me say it again, he thought desperately. Please don’t make me lie to your face again.
“Maybe she’s scared,” Maya pressed on. “Maybe because she knows her dad, who she’s supposed to be able to trust, is lying to her—”
“Maya Joanne,” Reid warned, “you want to choose your next words carefully…”
“Maybe she’s not the only one!” Maya didn’t seem to be backing down. Not this time. “Maybe I’m scared too.”
“We’re safe here,” Reid told her firmly, trying to sound convincing even if he didn’t fully believe it himself. A headache was forming in the front of his skull. He retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water from the tap.
“Yeah, and we thought we were safe in New York,” Maya shot back. “Maybe if we knew what was going on, what you were really into, it would make things easier. But no.” Whether it was his inability to leave them alone for twenty minutes or her suspicions about what had happened didn’t matter. She wanted answers. “You know damn well what we went through. But we have no idea what happened to you!” She was nearly shouting now. “Where you went, what you did, how you got hurt—”
“Maya, I swear…” Reid set the glass on the counter and pointed a finger of warning in her direction.
“Swear what?” she snapped. “To tell the truth? Then just tell me!”
“I can’t tell you the truth!” he yelled. As he did, he threw his arms out at his sides. One hand swept the glass of water off the countertop.
Reid didn’t have time to think or ponder. His instincts kicked in and in a rapid, smooth gesture he bent low at the knees and snatched the glass out of the air before it could crash to the floor.
He immediately sucked in a regretful breath as the water sloshed, barely a drop spilled.
Maya stared, wide-eyed, though he didn’t know whether her surprise was at his words or his actions. It was the first time that she had ever seen him move like that—and the first time he had ever acknowledged, out loud, that what he told them might not have been what had happened. It didn’t matter if she knew it, or even just suspected it. He had blurted it out, and there was no taking it back now.
“Lucky catch,” he said quickly.
Maya slowly folded her arms across her chest, with one eyebrow raised and her lips pursed. He knew that glare; it was an accusatory look she had inherited directly from her mother. “You may have Sara and Aunt Linda fooled, but I’m not buying it, not for a second.”
Reid closed his eyes and sighed. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook, so he lowered his tone and spoke carefully.
“Maya, listen. You are very intelligent—definitely enough to make certain suppositions about what happened,” he said. “The most important thing to understand is that knowing specific things could be dangerous. The potential danger that you were in for that week I was away, you could be in all the time, if you knew everything. I can’t tell you if you’re right or wrong. I won’t confirm or deny anything. So for now, let’s just say that… you can believe whatever assumptions you’ve made, so long as you’re careful to keep them to yourself.”
Maya nodded slowly. She stole a glance down the hall to make sure Sara wasn’t there before she said, “You’re not just a professor. You’re working for someone, government-level—FBI, maybe, or CIA—”
“Jesus, Maya, I said keep