Endgame (36 page)

Yet when the next one comes to “take me into custody,” I choke off a laugh. March lashes out with a field knife. Clean, cut throat. He’s good at that, it gives me chills, because I know how many people he’s killed. And how much it hurt him. I hate that I’ve brought him to that place again, but please, Mary, let this be the last time.

After La’heng, grant us peace.

That leaves us one.

March and I charge him, through a barrage of fire. I take a couple of hits. One doesn’t breach my armor; the other does. I’ve been shot so often at this point that the agony, followed by the cauterized numbness, is familiar to me. I stumble, but I don’t fall. I lay into the final centurion with my shock-stick, as March does the same. He fights with such brutal power that he cracks the man’s chest piece, and then he’s mine. Seizures set in. Ruthlessly, we finish off the ones who are in spasm, leaving no witnesses. This is how it has to be.

Quickly, March packs his gear. Then we step over the corpses and make for the maintenance stairs. They’ll lock the lift down once they pinpoint the trajectory of the shot that killed the governor.

Now we just have to get out of here—and that’s the hard part.

A full-out sprint carries me down forty flights of stairs. Fortunately, I’m in top shape, and it doesn’t leave me winded because we still have a lot of work to do. I check the exit, but the centurions haven’t locked it down yet. Their response times are sluggish, even now, when they should be on high alert.

Four streets from the assassination site, Tarn picks us up in an aircar, as agreed. He’s crucial to the next step. He doesn’t make conversation until we’re well away from the plaza. Seconds matter because, closer to the crime scene, they’re impounding all the vehicles.

“Good to see you,” Tarn says, when it becomes clear we made it.

I nod. “Even under these circumstances. Did you get the equipment we need?”

“It wasn’t easy, but yes. Edun is waiting to bounce the feed as you requested.”

“Thanks. We need to lie low for a day or two, until the search slacks off.”

“Understood. And I’ve prepared suitable quarters for you. Don’t worry, our flat is bigger than it looks.”

Since I’ve never gotten the full tour, I can’t argue that. I just nod, glad I can’t feel how bad I’m wounded. Shock would’ve killed anyone else. I can’t get the centurion’s astonishment out of my head. I saw his utter horror at how inhuman I’ve become. Normal people fall down and don’t get up when they’re shot in the gut.

Fragging nanites.

Since Tarn and Leviter pay top dollar for their flat, they have a landing pad on the roof. It eliminates questions about what—or who—they’re bringing into the building. On the way to their apartment, we pass nobody, and Tarn takes care of the security with a few taps on the panel outside; and then he escorts us in.

March says softly, “I’ll tend your wound, Jax.”

He knows he doesn’t need to. The nanites will fix me. They’ll fight infection. I don’t demur because it’s something tangible he can offer as an apology for my pain. Not that I need one. The tiny tech is why Loras chose me to guard March’s back. I’m not the best fighter, but I am the most durable; I can take the most damage without dying.

Tarn finds a med kit, then greets Leviter with a kiss. The other man seems distracted, fiddling with a wide array of chips and wires hooked into his comm system, but he pauses to cup Tarn’s cheek, before returning to his work.

“Can they trace the bounce back here?” I ask, while March coats the charred flesh on my stomach with antibacterial gel.

Leviter replies, “Minimal risk. It’s worth it.”

As I understand it, he’s creating a necessary link for Loras to hijack the local news feeds, as he’s done regularly for the
recruitment profiles, always on a different channel, so they can’t track him. This message will be different, however.

The vid screen flickers, and the presenter disappears. Loras fills the screen, his jaw set, eyes burning with ferocious rage. “Your governors are pretenders. They
will
die. Appoint another…I’ll have him killed. And his sons. His wife. His friends. Kill one of us, Imperial Pigs, and ten shall take his place. The enemy is all around you. We are 1 billion strong. Heed me, your days are numbered.”

Then the message ends in a black screen filled with the LLA logo.
Damn.
That’s powerful stuff. Even
I
have chills.

Later that night, March and I are in Tarn and Leviter’s
guest suite, not just a room, as it has a kitchen-mate and full san facilities. The room is lavishly appointed in neutral natural fabrics, no cheap synth, which means they have money. Guests could closet themselves in here for days—and maybe that’s the point. The convenience reduces the disruption to the household; such efficiency rings of Leviter to me.

When I mention it to March, he agrees. “In the gospel according to Leviter, visitors should be neither seen nor heard.”

I nod. “It’s probably best if we aren’t roaming around the penthouse. I hear the centurions are doing spot checks.”

“True. They’re looking for rebels under rocks these days. Fortunately, they don’t have the manpower to cover all the territory in the provinces.”

They have technology, though. And they’re doing terrible things with it. I can’t count the nights I’ve gone to sleep listening to bombs detonate in the distance. Nicuan has unleashed a bloody countercampaign, and the results haunt me. The grimmest aspect comes in knowing it will get worse.

This luxurious room doesn’t feel real. It’s odd to have a bed waiting; I wonder how the surviving members of my squad are doing, if SpecForce has run ops while we were on mission elsewhere. I’m afraid of what news awaits us on our return. It seems the situation just keeps getting darker; I tell myself the horizon seems most grim just before first light, but in truth, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Sometimes, the war seems endless.

“Can we really win by persuading Nicuan that La’heng is too costly to keep?” I ask.

March nods. “It’s a sound principle, proven effective in past conflicts. The insurgents just need the resolve to stick it out, no matter what it takes.”

In my present frame of mind, that’s a scary thought. How much worse will get it get? “Loras won’t stop. He can’t. Otherwise, all this has been for nothing. He’s sacrificed so many lives already—”

He touches my mouth to stop the desperate flow of words. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, Jax, but…he’s changed. The time you were gone with Vel, we took some hard losses. Not just the base though that was a factor.”

“Changed how?”

“Just…don’t be surprised at any decision he makes, going forward. He’s a lot harder than the man who came to La’heng with you.”

I don’t want to think about how the war has changed Loras—or any of us, for that matter. “We haven’t talked in a while…about us. Last time, we left things up in the air. I shipped out, and you never had a chance to answer me about Vel.” I gesture at my face. “Now there’s this, too. I feel like there’s a lot to say and not enough time.”

“You haven’t pressed me…and I appreciate it.” He pauses to study my features. “Would I have chosen this? No. But it doesn’t matter. You’re still you.”

“I might get some tweaks later, so I don’t look so La’hengrin.” But it’s low-priority. I don’t think I’ll ever want my old face back; I’m ready to cut ties and disappear.

“Your looks are the least of my concerns,” he says, opening his arms.

I curl into him, fighting the urge to demand an answer. He was jealous of Vel before…and I’m afraid one day, he’ll feel like,
Enough’s enough
. I prefer to have some forewarning if he’s approaching maximum density on that head.

“Did you make up your mind?” It’s been hard as hell to live in the moment and just be with him, as happy as we can manage under the circumstances. It’s offered freedom, certainly. We have little experience just being together, but this time, neither of us is in charge; there’s no imbalance of power. Just March and me, learning how to be a unit. If I’m honest, we never have been. Our timing has sucked, all the way through, but I think this round, we might get it right.

He nods. “I did some thinking while you were on assignment. I realized I can’t ask you to forsake all others. I won’t always be around…and you’ll need somebody to help you through after I’m gone.”

I don’t want to think about that, but clearly March has. He’s considering what’s best for me, long-term, not what’s easiest or most comfortable for him. Which means he loves me a crazy amount. But then, I already knew that. He’s the one who waited, even long after a sane, reasonable man would’ve given up on me and moved on.

“Thank you for that. I know it can’t have been easy to come to that conclusion…and I promise that Vel and I, we’re not—”

“He’s your best friend. I get it. It was just…when we were fighting so much, it was hard to see how easily he relates to you. It’s always been tougher for us.”

“We were both pretty broken,” I say honestly. “We had to get our heads in order before we could make a go of this. Then we had old grudges and insecurities eating at us.”

He nods. “Love is the start, but it’s not everything. Tell me, do you trust me now, Jax? Could you lean on me?”

Given that my head’s on his chest, it might seem like a silly question, but I understand where he’s coming from. “See for yourself.”

He’s kept out of my head during this conversation, not taking what I haven’t shared, but at my invitation, he slips in, and
I bask in the resultant warmth. I hope he sees what I mean to show him—that I have no doubts about us. I believe in him. March rubs his cheek against the top of my head.

“I miss your hair the most,” he confesses. “It had such personality.”

Which is an odd description, but I get it. “When this is over, I’ll see what I can do.”

Jax…
The fact that he whispers in my head alerts me this is important; he must not feel comfortable saying it out loud.

Yeah?

I want something from you.

Anything,
I promise instantly.

He’s been so patient and understanding, even when the situation got complicated. Another man would have walked ages ago. So whatever he needs, I’ll make it happen.

A sheepish feeling accompanies his request.
I’d like us to get matching tatts.

Everything clicks into focus. In order to feel on even footing with Vel, he requires an equivalent symbol of my commitment. Kai whispers in my ear that such gestures are meaningless, but for the first time, I dismiss his ghost; I loved him with all my heart when we were together, but he’s gone. I will cherish his memory, but all my relationships will not be driven by his tenets. I am not his Jax anymore.

If you want, we’ll go to Gehenna to the same shop where Vel had his done.

March shakes his head.
I’d prefer for us to find somewhere new.

On a symbolic level, that makes sense. And it’s more of a promise than I’ve ever given him. The fact that I’m willing comforts him; the last of his tension drains away. Our immediate future may be uncertain, but if we survive, we’ll be together. He sees that certainty in my head.

“That works for me,” I say aloud. “Since I’ll never settle down or have offspring, a few centimeters of my skin seem like a fair trade.”

“Centimeters? I’m having my face tattooed across your back.”

I grin because a playful March is irresistible. “But
you said you wanted us to get matching tatts. You really want your mug back there?”

“I won’t have to look at it.” He winks, as if I didn’t already know he was teasing.

“On me, you will,” I point out.

“True enough. We’ll figure out the design when the time comes.” He sobers. “Right now, we should probably get some sleep. No telling how long it will be until we see a bed again, after we leave.”

For two days, we’re hiding with Leviter and Tarn, as it doesn’t make sense to try to slip out of Jineba at the height of the manhunt. We have orders to rejoin our squad after the furor dies down, at a given time and place. If our luck holds, we’ll slip out of the city on foot, as public transport has been locked down. There are checkpoints all around the city; and if you’re stopped, you need a foolproof identity kit. Nicuan masters have chipped all the La’hengrin in the cities, a particularly disgusting measure that proves ownership. Obviously, I don’t have one, so if we’re stopped, it will mean combat.

But I won’t contemplate possible pitfalls tonight. March and I have forty-eight hours of enforced R&R, and I intend to make the most of them.