Burn by Sarah Fine and Walter Jury Read Free Book Online Page A

the layout—I’ve been hanging out with Christina there for years. Her room is a haven for me, the place where I’ve spent some of the best moments of my life, and her parents are cool. I hate that they’re being put through this.
    The place is quiet, but I’m sure Hooknose and his agents know I’m here. I walk the steps to the fourth floor and stop in front of number 401. In all my years of knowing Christina, I’ve never been so nervous about knocking on her door, and that’s really saying something. Before, only my heart was at stake. What’s on the line right now is more precious than that.
    And as it turns out, I don’t have to knock. The door opens, and I find myself face-to-face with Hooknose. He’s an inch or so taller than I am, clean-shaven with razor burn along his jaw and deep wrinkles around his mouth. His tone is clipped as he says, “Tate Archer. You cut it rather close,” and opens the door wide to allow me inside. “I’m FBI Special Agent Bill Congers. It’s nice to meet you.” He offers me his hand.
    â€œDon’t bother.”
    He gives me an amused look and motions for me to raise my arms. While he pats me down, I size him up, noting the gun at his hip. Once he’s confirmed that I’m unarmed, we walk down the short hallway to enter the living room. Two agents are positioned within, one covering the hall to the front door and one at the entrance to the dining room and the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Mrs. Scolina, her light blond hair in a bedraggled ponytail, is sitting on the chaise in the corner of the large room, Livia in her lap. The little girl’s skinny fingers are balled in the loose sleeves of her mom’s shirt. Christina’s dad is standing next to Mrs. Scolina’s chair. Lean and fit, still a fierce soccer player, he looks younger than his graying hair suggests. His arm is resting on his wife’s shoulders, but he looks like he’d love to slam his fist into my face.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I say to him. “I wasn’t in town. But I came immediately.”
    â€œThat was wise,” Congers comments, running his finger over the bump on the narrow bridge of his nose.
    â€œAnd now that he’s finally decided to show up, he can tell you we’re not involved in Frederick Archer’s plot,” Mr. Scolina growls, his blue eyes cold as he talks about my dad. “I never even met the man!”
    I close my eyes and remind myself that now is not the time to defend my father’s rep. “Are you guys okay?” I ask Christina’s parents. They don’t look hurt. They look like they could run. And they’re going to have to.
    â€œNo thanks to you,” says Mr. Scolina. “We’re being held under suspicion of aiding a
terrorist
—”
    â€œIf Tate cooperates, the charges might go away, Mr. Scolina,” Congers says smoothly.
    â€œWhere’s my daughter?” Mr. Scolina takes a step toward me. “If you’ve hurt her—”
    â€œYes, where
is
Ms. Scolina?” Congers asks. “We’ll find her, you know. It’s such a shame you involved her in your criminal activities. She had such a bright future.”
    â€œThe threats aren’t necessary.” I meet his cold gray-green eyes. “I’m here, so stop wasting time.”
    He doesn’t blink. “We’ll see. Let’s go in the back and talk.”
    â€œI’m not going to cooperate until I know they’re safe,” I snap. “If you want anything from me, you need to let Mrs. Scolina and Livia go, at least.”
    He shakes his head. “Given the stakes, I’m not willing to lose my leverage until I have access to the information I need.”
    Mrs. Scolina buries her face against her husband’s side to muffle her sob. He strokes her hair and gives me another death glare.
    The barrel of a gun nudges at my spine. There’s