Embrace The Night (18 page)

She turned to go look for a washcloth, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her, turning her to look at him. As she half bent, their faces came close and for a moment, her thoughts scattered. He was right there, so near, his expression so intense…

“I have some things to tell you,” he said in a much lower voice.

Oh. The light dawned. He’d put the shower on to muffle their voices, brought her into the bathroom where they could have some privacy. Sage snapped out of the cloudiness and settled against the edge of the sink next to him.

“First tell me if you’re hurt,” she said, glancing down at his bare leg. A very nice bare leg in fact, muscular and tanned and covered with the right amount of dark hair. Her breathing threatened to stop again, and she firmly brought herself under control.
Down to business. That’s why you’re here.

“I had to have an excuse for not being able to be found today,” he told her, still low-voiced, but not quite as close. “So when I was done, I pulled a heavy piece of old sheetrock on top of me until someone discovered me, and I pretended I’d been there for hours. I also raised a little hell that one of the children could have easily been injured, and much more severely.”

She nodded. Smart guy. “But you aren’t really hurt.”

“No. A little sore from the weight pressing into my thigh, but that’s all.”

That was why he wanted his “wife” to clean him up instead of the medical people at the Community House. “What did you find out?”

“There’s a camera in the bedroom, aimed at the bed and it can see most of the room. So unless we’re standing right beneath that picture of the dog, they can see us. I don’t think there’s audio, but I wasn’t able to confirm that, so assume there is. I didn’t see a camera feed in here,” he told her, gesturing around the small bathroom.

“But it’s better to be careful,” she said.

Despite the partially open door, the steam from the shower was beginning to fill the small room, making her skin feel even more warm and damp. The spray of the water muted every word and she found herself leaning closer, placing her hand on the back of the toilet tank to brace herself.

“There is an uninhabited house on the northwest side of the settlement. Do you remember it?”

Sage thought for a moment. “I remember there being an area they told us to stay away from. They said it was dangerous, with old buildings that could collapse on us. I guess it might have been in that area. Northwest? Maybe. What did you find there?”

“The house is where a lot of the men hang out. And where the camera feeds go.” Simon’s face had taken on a sharpness that made his handsome angles look brittle and waxy.

Sage waited for him to explain, but a nervous tingling had started up her spine. She knew it wasn’t going to be happy news.

“They’re definitely filming or at least watching everything,” Simon said. “
Everything.
So we have to be very careful. I don’t think they’d be very happy to know that we’re not who we say we are.”

“Did you find anything about Remington Truth?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t talk to anyone. Anything on your end?”

“I’ve sort of mentioned the name a few times, just to see if anyone recognized it.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” he said. “Letting people know we’re looking for him.”

Sage shook her head. “Well, it’s not common knowledge that the Strangers and
gangas
are looking for him. I’ve never heard the name before you and Quent showed up, and if the Waxnickis didn’t know, with all the work they’ve done, I don’t think the name would mean anything to anyone else. So I don’t think that it should be a red flag to anyone. And no one seems to recognize it, anyway.”

Simon nodded. “Okay. I trust your judgment on that.” Then he looked up at her, sort of sidewise, and their eyes met. Sage’s belly flipped. “But be careful about it, all right?”

Oh God, oh God, I can’t breathe
.

She almost did it, almost moved forward—it would only take a bit—but she held back. “Okay,” she managed to say.

“We have to be very careful not to arouse suspicion. Act like a couple who really embraces this way of life,” he said. “That’s why I needed to make sure I had a reason for disappearing.”

Crapola. I have to tell him.

With the door closed and the hot water blasting, the room was getting warmer and steamier, the walls and shower curtain all merging into muted colors and texture. She could hardly see the shower or the floor, or even the wall near her. But she could see Simon’s face clearly through the murkiness.

“Is there anything else?” she asked, dragging in a hot, moist breath. Delaying the bomb she had to drop. “That you found out?”

“I think the roof or top floor of one of those abandoned houses would be a good place for the
NAP
. I don’t think it would be stumbled upon there.”

“How are we going to get the stuff inside the settlement?”

“I can do that.” He stilled, as if contemplating something, then looked at her. “I should probably tell you something.” He shifted his jaw and his cheeks became more hollow.

“I have to tell you something too,” she said in a rush before she lost her courage.

He became very still. “What.” He wasn’t asking a question. It was almost as if he already knew.

Just then, there was a little sizzle and a
pop
…and the light suddenly dimmed. Sage nearly jumped, her heart slamming, before she realized it was just a lightbulb burning out. Another one remained lit, but it gave off only a sickly yellow glow.

An ugly yellow glow, foggy and muted, but enough that she could easily see the very set, very blank expression on Simon’s face. Too bad the lights hadn’t gone out all together—it would have been a lot easier to tell him. She might even have gotten up the courage to see what it was like to kiss him.

Maybe. If it were dark.

“I’m ovulating,” she said, rushing through the words, feeling her face burn red. “We’re going to have to—”

“No.” He actually pulled back. He couldn’t look anymore repelled if he held his arms up to block her as if she were a demon. “No, we’re not going to do that.”

Do
that.
Geesh.
He made it sound like the most abhorrent activity.
Gee, thanks.
“You just got done saying we had to act—”

“We’ll fake it,” he said in a less strained voice. “No problem.”

“Okay.” She looked at him. “But…uh…how?”

“What, you want a fucking play by play?” He stood abruptly and opened the door. A waft of cooler air invaded, dissipating the steam. “Under the sheets, they won’t see what’s happening,” he said, turning back to her. Then he turned and whipped the shower curtain open and slammed his palm a bit more forcefully than necessary against the faucet to turn off the water. “Okay?”

Sage nodded. But she had one more thing to tell him. She stood, moving close enough that they nearly touched so that she could speak low. Somehow her hand ended up on his arm. “I’ve never…I’m a virgin.”

He looked startled, then his face returned to its blank expression. “I assumed you and Theo—”

“Just because he was kissing me at the festival?”

“Or someone else…maybe,” Simon said quickly, not quite as softly as he should have. But they were still in the bathroom and the water was dripping loudly from the showerhead. “In the past, that you…knew. I mean…you’re…” His voice trailed off and he seemed very clearly stuck with how to proceed.

Sage didn’t say anything. She couldn’t have if she knew what to say, but she didn’t.
I’m…what? What?

“Sage, I need to…”

“It was never the right time,” she said. “Or the right person.”

“Theo will be glad to know that. Very glad.” And then he pushed past her, leaving Sage in a steamy bathroom with her heart pounding and an odd feeling settling over her.

Would being in Falling Creek take away her chance to decide on the right person, at the right time?

Or would it help her find him?

Simon left the guest room, his mind scrambling. He was not about to let himself think about the conversation that had just happened in the bathroom. Instead, he found other things to occupy his thoughts.

Such as…how was he going to account for the time he needed to spend going to retrieve their electronics? He could only use the excuse of being dumb enough to get trapped for “hours” under a piece of drywall one time. If he disappeared—literally or figuratively—and it was noticed, that would cast suspicion on them.

He wasn’t worried about himself of course, but for Sage.

And the problem was, if the FCers were watching the camera feed for their room, they’d know when he left and when he returned. Unless they saw him go into the bathroom, where he was pretty sure there wasn’t a camera…and didn’t see him come out until later.

That could work.

Simon knew the crazies at the Community House were waiting for him to get patched up by Sage, and then for him to come back and meet with the cook to talk about his abilities and kitchen-patrol duties. He was just going to have to be too tired and sore to leave the room for a while.

Hm. Maybe he could be too tired and sore to fuck his wife tonight. Who was
ovulating.

Even the thought, in such cold, brutal, inaccurate terms made Simon’s palms go a little damp. And what was up with that? His palms never went damp. Even the time he’d come face-to-face with Tré Han, Mancusi’s hated enemy…

All right.

He turned around and went back to the room just as Sage came out. He quickly explained his plan, giving only a vague explanation for exactly how he intended to pass through the guarded gate, and asked her to make his excuses at the Community House.

“They’re going to think you’re a complete wuss,” she said as they stood in the doorway, speaking low. So low that he had to lean much too close to her. To the woman who was fucking
ovulating.

Pinche.

“Good,” he said.

“Anything I can do to help with that, I will,” she said. And she gave him this sort of funny, evil smile that was just as potent as her one of pure delight. “I can make you sound like a total scrub.”

“Ah, that’s good,” he said when he found his voice. Then, loud enough for the camera to pick it up, he started complaining about being in pain and tired, and making a general ass out of himself.

Sage slammed the door in her wake as if to punctuate her own disgust with him, and Simon limped heavily to the bathroom, giving the camera a good show. Water still beaded the mirror and shower walls, but it was no longer as hot and steamy as it had been when he and Sage had been in there. He waited a few minutes, then turned himself invisible and slipped out from the half-open door, then pushed it nearly closed behind him as if he were drawing it closed from inside the bathroom.

Moments later, he was out of the room, and sneaking his way to the gate entrance. Once he got out of sight of the Community House or anyone who might be looking for him, he came back to his normal state to save his strength.

Getting through the gate and beyond caused him no trouble at all, and running—ahh, the freedom again—the three miles to where they’d hidden the electronics, even less. Out of sight of the settlement, he tested out his theory of disappearing anything that was against his body and confirmed that as long as his bare skin held or touched it, the item disappeared along with him.

Which worked well for bringing the two backpacks in.

Once he was back inside the gates with the packs of electronics, Simon hid them inside the room he shared with Sage, and then visibly emerged from the bathroom—making sure he limped heavily.

All told, he’d been gone little more than an hour.

The sun had dipped to a forty-five-degree angle, portending the approach of the evening meal…and, after, what he’d come to think of as his own personal torture.

Simon eyed the bed.

No problem. Just slide under the sheets and keep your shorts on. Move a few times, groan, and it’s over.

He broke out in a cold sweat.

Simon couldn’t fault the FCers on their food.

After returning from his smuggling trip, he had reported to the kitchen in the Community House and been given a brief tour, discussed his cooking abilities—which he’d not exaggerated: he’d actually done a little sous chef work for a bit. It had felt good to have a nonviolent knife in his hand again, and to hear the comfortable rhythm of it chopping against the wooden block.

Mundane. Simple. Mind-clearing. He ignored the curious looks from men and women alike—apparently the kitchen was not segregated by gender—and chopped.

The evening meal was excellent—filled with fresh vegetables and fruits grown in small patches near the houses, and tended to by a multitude of wives as well as young, strong men who hadn’t been married yet and obviously didn’t need to save their damned strength—and
sperm
.

While the food itself was tasty—roasted chicken, warm cornbread, slender green beans, roasted potatoes, fresh tomatoes, and strawberries—and served family-style, the rest of the meal’s environment was awkward as hell. At least, for him.

Simon sat across from Sage, which was a torture all its own. At least when he sat next to her, yeah, he had to contend with maybe brushing against her arm or feeling the warmth of her skin, but at least he didn’t have to struggle to keep from looking at her. Tonight her face was lightly flushed from spending time in the sun and her hair had been twisted up in a loose knot at the back of her head, leaving her long, slender neck bare and tempting. And then there was that distracting little freckle on her upper lip.

“I hope your leg is feeling better,” she said from across the table. Despite the modulation in her voice, he recognized the subtle tease there and wondered where the hell that had come from.
I’ll make everyone think you’re a real wuss.

Wuss was not a word anyone had ever used to describe him. Except, maybe, when he was three. But probably not even then.

“It’s better,” Simon replied. “But a little sore yet,” he added in an effort to keep up a potential excuse for future disappearances. Then, unwilling to have to look up at her again or to carry on any conversation, he applied himself to his meal, keeping his attention trained on the chatter around them.