Skin Dive (8 page)
“He said we should have a couple of hours. They’re mobilizing from New York.”
She nodded, trying to keep it together.
Collect the pertinent facts.
“And how are they tracking us now, after all this time? We’ve been so careful.”
Collect the pertinent facts.
“And how are they tracking us now, after all this time? We’ve been so careful.”
“It’s my fault,” he said quietly. “I . . . lost control.”
“Taye, what happened?”
“I don’t know. When I went past the power station—the same one I pass every day—something happened. I pulled. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
“Oh, shit. Maybe it was just too much juice. Involuntary response?”
“I guess,” he muttered.
There was darkness in his face, pure despair, and she wanted so badly to wipe it away. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll bug out of here, and you’ll get it under control. This won’t happen again, I’m sure. We just need to find some tungsten-powder and lose her signal. Did Mockingbird give you a safe house this time?”
“Yeah. As long as we get moving and don’t power up again, we’ll be fine.”
“That’s good news. I didn’t want to heal ever again anyway.” Relief surged through her.
Something like pain flashed across his face and then was gone. “I understand that. Now I need you to go stand by that wall and smile for me.” Taye pulled out his cell.
“Why?”
“Please?”
Sighing, she did as he asked. Then he clicked a few buttons on the phone and nodded as though he’d checked something crucial off his to-do list. He stuck it back in his jacket pocket; the dark leather contrasted beautifully with the pale, worn denim.
“What was that for?”
“Mockingbird needs a picture of you. He’s preparing an ID kit.”
Well, that’s unexpectedly good news
. If he was handling the paperwork, then they could keep all the money they’d saved. But it did make her wonder what their benefactor expected to get out of the deal.
. If he was handling the paperwork, then they could keep all the money they’d saved. But it did make her wonder what their benefactor expected to get out of the deal.
Gillie put that aside for the moment, focusing on another aspect of the situation. “But to reaffirm, as long as we lose Kestrel, and then go back to living like normal people, they shouldn’t be able to locate us, right?”
“That’s the next bullet point. I’ve got more news and it’s all bad.”
She braced. “I’m tough, I can take it.”
“They’ve put us into the system as terrorists and set a merc on us. And he’s good. I did a little digging on him before I came to get you. I don’t know yet what kind of news coverage we’re getting, if any. Just because they’ve added us to a wanted list doesn’t mean anyone is paying attention. It might not be that big a deal.”
Yeah, right.
She could tell when he prevaricated.
She could tell when he prevaricated.
“Aw, fuck.”
In reaction, Gillie leapt to the worst-case scenario. Given the right connections and sufficient media interest, their pictures would be plastered all over the place, making it impossible to lay low. Since their escape, she’d watched the news, trying to catch up on current events, even though it was always relentlessly grim, and she knew how this stuff worked.
“You see why I’m worried.”
“Yeah. I guess I should call Mick and quit my job.”
“It’s not the kind of place where you need to give notice. It’s time for us to get out.”
She curled her hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into her palms. “I’m not going back. I’ll die first.”
“Shh.” Taye stroked a hand across her hair. Funny, he’d touch her only if she needed comfort, as if she were a child, not a grown woman. He did much the same, soothing her, when she lashed out. “They won’t take you again. I promise, Gillie-girl. That much, I can do for you.”
If she hadn’t been fighting fear, she might have asked him to explain what he meant by
that much
.
Like he thinks he’s no good for anything more.
But she could think only about leaving this apartment. Even though it wasn’t much, besides Taye, it was all she had.
that much
.
Like he thinks he’s no good for anything more.
But she could think only about leaving this apartment. Even though it wasn’t much, besides Taye, it was all she had.
She turned her cheek into his palm, seeking his overwhelming heat. For brief, precious moments, his fingers traced along her cheekbone, thumb lingering as if her skin were the sweetest thing he’d ever touched. His gaze lingered on her lips—and then she saw the moment he remembered who she was. Gillie the innocent, Gillie who must be protected from herself.
For the first time, she drew away before he did. “I’ll pack. There’s no point in wasting time. If you say it’s serious, I know it is.”
He flinched and averted his eyes. “Don’t trust
me
like that. Not me.”
me
like that. Not me.”
Always lines like that. Trust me, but not completely. Touch me, but not like you want to. Stay with me, but not really. Not forever.
Taye could break a woman’s heart with his inconsistencies. She ignored his idiocy in favor of getting her backpack. His was already packed. While she stuffed clothes into the bag, Taye paced, head canted. Maybe his mood was rubbing off on her, but she sensed the unnatural stillness, too. There were no dogs barking, no rush of tires on damp, salted streets. Since it was after three in the morning, that could be why.
Taye could break a woman’s heart with his inconsistencies. She ignored his idiocy in favor of getting her backpack. His was already packed. While she stuffed clothes into the bag, Taye paced, head canted. Maybe his mood was rubbing off on her, but she sensed the unnatural stillness, too. There were no dogs barking, no rush of tires on damp, salted streets. Since it was after three in the morning, that could be why.
But she didn’t think so.
“Are we sure about the time frame? How long ago did you talk to Mockingbird?”
Gillie shrugged back into her winter coat. She opted to go without gloves, which would make her clumsy. His mouth compressed into a grim line as he met her at the front door.
“Too long. Stay behind me.”
“I will. I swear.”
Taye led the way. She flinched at every creak of the stairs, every shadow that trailed along the wall. Her breathing sounded impossibly loud, whereas he turned to silent ice. She wanted to be fearless. It was easy to dream about adventure when you were the princess locked in the tower, but what happened when you got free and realized you had no ability to survive? Being helpless made her angry, and that fire in her belly dominated the fright.
On the ground floor, the stink of sickly sweet copper overlaid other smells. Gillie recognized it before she saw the winedark pool spreading around the homeless man. The money Taye had left lay scattered like the stained green leaves of some terrible tree.
“They’re here,” he said, as a bullet popped the bare bulb in the fixture overhead.
Dark swallowed the room, blinding her. They probably had night-vision goggles. For them, it would be like shooting—or stabbing—fish in a barrel. Instinctively, Gillie dropped, making herself a small target. But she slipped in the blood; it smeared her hands, and she bit back a cry. It took all her self-control not to scramble away from the corpse.
I will give you nothing,
she vowed to the bastards hunting them.
No help. No errors. I am
not
yours for the taking. Be still. Be quiet.
she vowed to the bastards hunting them.
No help. No errors. I am
not
yours for the taking. Be still. Be quiet.
And then blue-white lightning kindled in Taye’s palm, wreathing him in the wrathful beauty of a pagan god.
CHAPTER 6Save her
.
.
The words looped in his head in tandem with his heartbeat. Defending her had become his sole purpose and his reason for living; he did not know how to lay down his sword and shield. If this were some old-school medieval movie, he would die for her. In fact, that was the way he wanted it, only he was selfish enough to prefer his sacrifice meant something.
Taye’s nerve endings had long since overloaded, sending shocks through his system. This wasn’t painless. Nothing ever was. But it was necessary. These men wanted to take them both prisoner again—and that just wasn’t happening. He’d promised.
He didn’t have much, not even his fucking name. That bothered him most of all. He’d lied to her at the facility. He didn’t remember. Mostly likely, his real name
did
start with T; Rowan had been consistent in his methods. But Taye was just the first name he’d thought of that started with that letter, and he’d said he was sure so she wouldn’t think,
Poor bastard, he’s worse off than I am.
In those early days, he saw pity in her face mingled with wariness. She’d feared that Rowan’s experiments had turned him into a subhuman thing, a monster that would hurt her.
did
start with T; Rowan had been consistent in his methods. But Taye was just the first name he’d thought of that started with that letter, and he’d said he was sure so she wouldn’t think,
Poor bastard, he’s worse off than I am.
In those early days, he saw pity in her face mingled with wariness. She’d feared that Rowan’s experiments had turned him into a subhuman thing, a monster that would hurt her.
Sometimes real memories nibbled at the edges of his brain, but most often, just fragments of cold and isolation, darkness and silence, broken by violent flashes. Of one thing he was sure: she deserved so much more than him. The Foundation had taken everything from Gillie. He wanted it to give it all back.
Even if he had nothing else, he had his word.
Taye stilled, listening.
First movement overhead
. The strike team had killed the homeless man because he was a potential witness and then proceeded to the first floor. Therefore, they must have just missed the trackers at the landing, but the team was heading down now, straight into ambush. He hoped they hadn’t neutralized the other tenants; he hoped they hadn’t suffered for living in this building. But the Foundation had no limits. No harm they wouldn’t inflict to further their agenda. It sickened him, knowing they’d made billions from Gillie’s pain, and that they intended for her to spend her whole life in their labs, without love, laughter, or sunlight.
First movement overhead
. The strike team had killed the homeless man because he was a potential witness and then proceeded to the first floor. Therefore, they must have just missed the trackers at the landing, but the team was heading down now, straight into ambush. He hoped they hadn’t neutralized the other tenants; he hoped they hadn’t suffered for living in this building. But the Foundation had no limits. No harm they wouldn’t inflict to further their agenda. It sickened him, knowing they’d made billions from Gillie’s pain, and that they intended for her to spend her whole life in their labs, without love, laughter, or sunlight.
No. Fucking. Way.
His power blazed brighter as the soft treads on the steps quickened. He felt the drain and acknowledged it as necessary. The agony blazed in his stomach, always there, like a web of barbed wire. Taye didn’t care how much he hurt himself, so long as she walked away. By this point, they had to see the glow kindling from the stairwell.
That’s right, bitches. Walk into the light.
The width of the stairs bottlenecked their enemies effectively. When the first two popped into view, he slammed them with twin arcs of live power. The lightning danced and crackled, sizzling the fat beneath their skin. A disarming stench kicked up, the smell of their eyeballs cooking in their skulls.
Screams of dying men broke the silence, but their comrades readied weapons as they stepped into the breach.
“Stay down,” he called to Gillie.
He understood how it worked. His body produced a limited amount of power in its cells, so he had to pull from nearby outlets, drawing from the grid. A halo formed around him, limning his body in light much like the aftershock of a flash grenade. Neighboring buildings browned out, lights flickering as he drained the juice and funneled it toward the Foundation goons. They too howled as they died, their flesh charring. Two more ran from him, dodging blasts as they sprinted for the lobby doors.
He didn’t blame them. They couldn’t have known how far he’d go for Gillie Flynn.
Letting the power die, he held out a hand to her, and she scrambled to her feet. In the dark, she came to him without a single hesitation, without a single misstep. Her blood-slick fingers tangled with his, and his heart gave the most awful kick in his chest.
Oh, Gillie. Gillie-girl.
“Time to fly,” he said.
And she led the way toward the exit, though he felt the trembling of her hand. He ached; his skin felt as though it covered a blackened husk. One day, he’d die of this. There was no doubt in him. Each time he powered up, each time he pulled, he felt the darkness growing, eating away at his insides. Since the symptoms first plagued him, he had done some reading. Learned about the link between increased risks of cancer and tumors for those who worked where they were exposed to strong electromagnetic fields. And his body was worse than a microwave oven.
The Foundation had turned him into something that could only kill and kill some more, then die of it. No future in that. Perfect disposable weapon, in fact. The loose end would tie itself off. If they could make the gift a little more virulent, they could create an army of assassins who existed only to serve and be discarded. But he had to focus on escape.
Most likely, there would be more outside. The other two wouldn’t flee the scene. They’d go for backup or to choose better ground for the fight. He had to stay sharp, even though his head swam with weariness and pain. If he breathed too deeply, it felt as though he had powdered glass in his lungs; that only added to the awful burn in his stomach. The cookies he’d consumed threatened to come back. He forced the weakness and nausea aside. No time. Not tonight.
Outside, the snow still fell. It stuck in irregular patches, dusting the ground white. Not nearly thick enough to draw out snowplows, though salt trucks had come around. Michigan was used to much worse. But winter gave the night a wondrous quality, the air crisp and cold. Soothing. Taye scanned the street both ways, searching for the remainders of the strike team.
“Anything?” she asked.
The ping of a tranq gun pierced the night, and he spun her too late. Gillie flinched as the dart sank into her shoulder. Her blue eyes filled with terror, glimmering in the dark, and then she crumpled to the ground. Diving for cover, he couldn’t afford to catch her, but they’d pay for this, every last one of them. Fucking bastards. Her backpack fell to the ground, dark against the snow; its contents spilled. She had taken such pride in picking out those shirts, those jeans, the first clothing she’d ever bought for herself.
When will you fuckers stop stealing from her? When?
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