Metaltown (22 page)

“So they all join the Brotherhood,” he gasped. “They get what they want, you get their dues. Everyone's happy.”

“This is what happens when you take too much nitro, boys,” said Jed. A few other disembodied voices chuckled at the joke. “Nobody's happy unless Hampton's happy, and Hampton's not interested in giving kids
rights.
He's interested in profit.”

“But he supports the Brotherhood everywhere else.”

“Wrong,” said Jed. “He supports me. You think a rich mug like Hampton couldn't shell out double for every one of those workers? But he doesn't have to, because I make sure his workers think they've got as good as it gets. He pays me good money to keep them quiet. Whatever it takes.”

Ty's brows scrunched together. Jed Schultz was taking bribes from the Hamptons? That didn't make sense. He was supposed to be on the side of the workers—a representative of the people, not the other way around.

But he was a greasy liar; she'd known that from the moment she'd first laid eyes on him. He was taking money from both sides—dues from the workers, and payments from the boss to stay in his employees' good graces. He'd been keeping Colin's family quiet with green to buy new clothes and clean water. Gifts, so they never questioned his loyalty. She remembered the fear in that Bakerstown man's face when she and Colin had run Jed's errand. What had happened to them for refusing the money?

“And you're going to stay quiet too, aren't you, Hayden?” continued Jed after another crack against the wall.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“Because you know what happens to your little brother if you don't?”

Ty jerked, then froze when Chip pulled down hard on her arm. She glanced his way for the first time, seeing that he'd emptied the coat pockets from the rack, and held three wallets in his little hands.

Swearing under her breath, she grabbed one, ripped it open and lifted the bills. He followed her lead, replacing the wallets back in the pockets.

She'd heard enough. She had to find Colin fast.

Before Hayden was turned out, she'd stuffed the green in her coat, grabbed Chip's collar, and pulled him outside. They didn't stop running until they hit St. Mary's.

 

21

LENA

Lena sat on the edge of a sagging couch, tapping her heels. Her eyes fixed on the peeling wallpaper opposite her, and the brown water stain that ran from the ceiling to the floor. The room was small, much like the entryway at her estate, but with two couches crammed within, and a patchwork quilt tossed across the floor. Two children were sprawled out in the middle of it, one no more than a few months, the other a toddler. Both were fast asleep.

It made sense that Shima still watched children—she'd been Lena's nanny for as long as she could remember. But for some reason seeing these children made her insides prickle. It felt like she and Otto had been replaced somehow.

Shima came out of her bedroom with a steaming mug. She'd changed from her nightclothes into a shabby black dress, and combed her hair. Lena hadn't meant to intrude. She'd never felt that way with Shima before.

“It's just hot water,” said Shima tentatively. “I know you like steamed milk before bed … at least, you used to … but I'm fresh out.”

Lena doubted she was “fresh out.” By the looks of this place, she didn't even have an icebox. Lena shifted, the borrowed clothes rough against her skin. Shima had made her change when she'd begun picking shards of glass out of her sweater.

“Thank you,” whispered Lena, afraid of waking the children. Her old nanny sat beside her, a few feet away, and passed over the mug. Her gaze lingered on Lena's dirty black gloves.

“Are your hands still…”

“They're fine,” said Lena quickly. “They're just cold, that's all.”

Shima jumped up and returned with a knit quilt. She mimed wrapping it around Lena's shoulders, and Lena nodded, unable to sit back and relax. For the last hour they'd teetered on the edge of formality, neither sure how to begin. The last time they'd seen each other had been one of the worst days of Lena's life. That was, until today.

“A car wreck.” Shima shook her head. “I can't believe your father let you drive alone. Thank goodness Colin was there.”

“Yes.” Thank goodness Colin had not disagreed when Lena had said she'd simply been out for a drive.

Shima slowly reached for her cheek, brushing her thumb along the bruise. Her look was not that of concern, but pity, and Lena suspected she knew the mark had not been caused by any accident.

“You're so lovely,” Shima said. “More lovely than I remember, and I thought that was impossible.”

That was all it took for Lena to unravel. She hiccupped a sob, the tears gathering in her tired eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

“Oh, Lena.” Shima wrapped her arms around her, and for a moment, Lena was a child. Otto had just bullied her but it was all right. It was all okay now because Shima was here and she would fix it.

She didn't need to explain what had happened; with Shima she never would. She buried her face against the woman's neck and cried until all the tears were gone, and even then she didn't pull back. She stayed in her arms, and found comfort in her soft hum, and the gentle stroking of her hair.

“Why don't you rest,” Shima said after a long while. “It's late, and you've had quite a day. First thing tomorrow we'll get you back home, safe and sound.”

Lena pulled away, feeling the cold air brush her cheek.

“I'm not going back.” She hadn't known it was true until that moment.

Shima's golden eyes, the eyes Lena had always trusted, grew wide. “Lena, you have to go back.”

“I can't.” Lena felt her throat closing. She sipped the hot water and it burned her tongue. “Maybe I could stay here with you? Just for a little while. If it's all right, I mean.”

Shima scooted closer, the crow's feet around her eyes even more pronounced. She hadn't had those before, nor had she ever been so thin. “Your father must be so worried.”

“He isn't, trust me.”

Shima's thumb pressed against her temple, something she used to do when Otto had pushed her too far. “Your father can be
hardheaded.
” She chose the word carefully. “But he's your father.”

Which meant what, exactly? That it was okay that he was a traitor? That it was fine for him to strike her? Even if Shima didn't know the details of what had brought them back together, Lena didn't like what she implied. Just because he was her father didn't mean he could do whatever he liked without consequence. If he'd taught her anything, he'd taught her that.

She stood up, looking for somewhere to place the mug. She never should have come. Colin had been trying to get rid of her, and while Shima's care may have been comforting once, it was not anymore.

“I should go.” Where, she had no idea. She'd run out of options. She hadn't had many to start with.

Shima stood, reaching out and taking her hands. “Stay. We'll talk about this in the morning, okay? Just rest now. We'll figure it all out.”

Her grip was gentle, thumbs moving over Lena's wrists. Her smile was soft and sincere. Lena was exhausted, and despite her pride, Shima was right. She needed rest to form a plan.

Slowly, she sat, then curled into a ball on the thin cushion. She rested her head on the hard arm of the couch, and let Shima pull the blanket down beneath her feet.

“It'll be all right,” Shima said. When Lena's eyes were closed, she went to her bedroom, leaving the door cracked. Lena could hear the whine of the mattress as she sat upon it, but though she listened, she never heard the blankets move, or the rustle of sheets as Shima lay down.

Tired as she was, it was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

*   *   *

In the morning Shima made porridge that was so bland Lena could barely swallow it. She wondered what her father and brother were eating. Omelets, made from eggs imported from their farmlands outside the city. Grapefruit and freshly squeezed juice. All tested by a servant to ensure their safety. The three of them would sit at the table, each consumed by their electronic readers, waiting for the cookstaff to clear their settings. She wondered what Darcy would think when she didn't show up for tutoring. She'd probably be relieved.

Instead, Lena was surrounded by children. Two more came in the early hours of morning, jumping and screaming as if they'd woken that way. One boy pulled another girl's hair, and Shima made him sit in the corner. A little girl played with a rope doll—the same doll Lena had in her coat pocket, folded neatly in the corner. The same doll she refused to take out.

Just after breakfast a knock came at the door. Shima made her way there, a child attached to one leg. She squeezed Lena's shoulder as she walked by, but it settled her stomach only a little. The long night was over, and the morning had brought even deeper uncertainty. She didn't know where she would sleep tonight, but it wouldn't be here. This house was too full. She was in the way.

Besides, if her father knew she'd come here—to a woman he'd dismissed from his service—Shima would be in trouble. Lena didn't know what he'd do, but after their fight yesterday, he seemed capable of anything. It was better if she didn't linger.

“Miss me, Shima?” Colin came in like he owned the place, and was immediately attacked by one of the children—a boy named Ben, if she remembered correctly. Colin kissed Shima on the cheek and hoisted a giggling Ben over one shoulder.

“Oh, because it's been
so
long.” Shima rolled her eyes. “You want some breakfast?”

“Sure.” Colin tossed Ben down on the couch and grinned at Lena. Her heart stuttered, remembering last night too clearly—everything from the way he'd taught her to throw a punch to how his fingertips had brushed her cheek outside Shima's door—before she reminded herself it was just a smile. It didn't mean anything. It shouldn't have meant anything anyway, because she had about a hundred bigger things to worry about today, including finding food and a place to sleep tonight.

He placed himself in her line of vision, refusing to let her avoid his gaze, and she remembered other things, too. Like how her father had accused her of rolling around in the back of his car. Though he'd been wrong, and though she didn't want to care what he thought, she still placed the folded blanket on her lap as a barrier.

“How you holding up?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “And you?”

“Never better.” Shima handed him a bowl, and Lena couldn't hide the cringe when he stuffed a big, heaping spoonful of gruel in his mouth.

She lowered her voice. “Have you thought more about what I said last night?”

He leaned down conspiratorially, eyes flicking from side to side. “The part where you called me charming?”

“The part where I told you to stay clear of the factory.”

He took another bite. “Right, that part. I thought about it.” She waited expectantly while he took another bite. Could he be serious about nothing?

“I'm still going,” he said finally.

“You need to reconsider.”

“You're cute when you're worked up, you know that?”

He was messing around again. Still, Lena fixed her hair, wishing she had a comb.

“Colin,” warned Shima from across the room. She was eyeing him like any of the other children who'd broken the rules.

Colin tapped the spoon against his bowl. “There's some stuff going on today. Something I need to do.” A shadow of doubt passed over his face.

“What's going on?” She hadn't heard Otto mention anything new happening at the factory, not that he would anyway.

He didn't meet her gaze.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

She planted her fists on her hips. “No? And why is that?”

“Because it involves the workers.”

“I see,” she said. “And you think I wouldn't understand because I'm not a worker.”

“I think you got a different factory tour than the rest of us.”

Her chin lifted. “Mr. Minnick showed me everything.”

He laughed, bringing a flood of heat up her neck. “Aren't you always on your best behavior when the boss is around?”

She wouldn't know. She'd never had a job before—not before she began researching a role in Hampton Industries anyway. But she knew the way she acted when her father was in the room was vastly different than the way she was with Darcy, and if this was what Colin meant, she had a keen desire to see the differences for herself.

“What exactly goes on when I'm not there?” she asked.

“Believe me,” he said. “You don't want to know.”

Her curiosity deepened, along with the lines between her brows. “Is there trouble at the factory with the workers? Is that what you mean? Trouble with … your salaries, perhaps?” She visualized the forms she'd seen in her study, the discrepancies in pay. In her mind, she cursed Otto again.

He took another bite. Swallowed.

“Is the management doing something they shouldn't?”

His head tilted slightly. “Now why would you say that?”

It was her father's factory, one she'd wanted to run one day. She knew he was making terrible, dangerous decisions when it came to sales, but had thought that Otto's neglect was the extent of the problems on-site. But Colin was alluding to more issues, maybe even larger than what she'd already discovered, and though part of her knew it was unwise to probe after how she'd left things in the River District, she felt a burden of responsibility to know just how bad things were.

“I'm going with you,” she said, placing her back to Shima.

Any amusement in Colin's face faded. “Now
that
is a really bad idea.”