No Time for Caution

by K. T. Samois

  She’d been waiting for something… or making herself a visible heat signature, he realizes. Even collapsed on the floor, she’d be warmer than anything else here. She was waiting for me. Pride and horror rise in equal measure. He sprints over, scooping her up. She’s still, and her breathing is shallow.

  “Ree? Riona!”

  He hisses it in her ear, afraid to speak too loud. He’s cognizant of the propped-open door; it’s a tactical weakness, but he’s sure this door will lock them both in here if it shuts. “Kitten, wake up. We’ve got to go.”

  She stirs at the gentle tap to her cheek; when she opens her eyes, both of hers are bloodshot and bruised, but brighten upon recognizing him.

  “Hi, Hardin,” Ree says, voice weak. “Missed you.”

  ***

  Ree stares at him for a moment, just drinking him in.

  He’s better than any pain-killer, and she takes a second — please, just a second, I’m so fucking tired — to rest in the safety of his arms. It’s a false security, though, because no sooner has she closed her eyes than he’s patting her cheeks again.

  “Come on, Riona,” he says, sounding as though he’s from a distance. “Don’t go back to sleep. You can rest afterwards. You’ve got to get up. I need you to walk, if you can.”

  The thought of walking makes Ree want to cry. She hates it here, hates J and all her works. But everything hurts, and her arm is a nightmare and her feet are screaming at her, and she’s so tired—

  And you are whining. You are responsible for the lives of your crew and the success of the mission, Riona. Get up and quit acting like a civilian. If you can endure pointe shoes, what’s a few missing toenails? You had worse dancing Swan Lake, and you smiled through every second of that.

  “It’s just-” Ree says, feeling sick. “-J gave me a pedicure.”

  She doesn’t look down; J’d had them tended to right away, which had been worse than losing them in the first place because she’d been so damn sweet about it.

  “I’ll kill her.” Hardin promises with venom, and Ree doesn’t say no.

  “We have a more immediate problem,” Ree adds and watches Hardin’s lips thin. “Little ex and big ex made friends.”

  “I know. Evie told me.”

  “Oh, lovely, you two’ve met.” Ree tries to sound like herself, but Hardin doesn’t look convinced. There’s a rattle in her lungs when she breathes, but Ree doesn’t let it stop her. “Hardin, J’s got a GPS tracker on me, and it’s got a lock. I don’t know the passcode — what’s her birthday?”

  “Evie-” Hardin starts, and Evie’s voice filters through his headset instantly.

  “Already on it. ETA 120sec.”

  “That’s a whole two minutes!”

  “Oh hi, Ree,” Evie says, loud enough that the headset sounds more like a speaker. “Nice to see you too; would you like to work a miracle?”

  “Had the patience of a saint waiting on you.” She casts around the room for a weapon, because anything can happen in two minutes. When her eyes land on one, her stomach churns.

  “Hardin?”

  “What is it, Riona?”

  “Can you get me the knife on that bureau, please?”

  He stares at her. “Let’s not be hasty, kitten…”

  “What? No! I just… I’d feel better if I had something to stick her with. Just in case.” He seems to think that’s a fair assessment, because he hands it to her without any more pushback. She traces a thumb over the sheath of the filleting blade in her hands for a moment, staring at it. Then Ree slides the sheathed knife between her cleavage like it’s a flask at a concert. When it holds, she gives a delighted little giggle. Hardin stares like he isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry; he settles for kissing her instead.

  “Thirty seconds.” Evie chirps in Hardin’s ear, and Ree’s heart soars.

  So close. So close to getting out of here, of going home, of being with Hardin and being safe and-

  “Hardin?”

  He lifts his head, and Ree smiles at him. If she doesn’t make it out of here, she needs him to know.

  “I love you. More than anything. You were the best part of everything.” It sounds like a last confession. She doesn’t care. He deserves better than this.

  “Riona,” he croaks. “Marry me?”

  “Now, isn’t that sweet.” J drawls as the door clicks shut behind her.

  Ree’s blood turns to slurry.

  At her side, Hardin’s gone grey-tinged.

  “I love battlefield proposals,” J admits. “There’s something so… tragic about them.”

  She prowls closer. The soundproofing muffles the ricochet-sharp clicks of her stiletto heels, and Ree flinches with every one.

  “If you think love will save the day, Captain, you’re a dumber fuck than I thought. You know better, Hardin,” she coos, sharp nails cutting into his skin. He rears his head back, but J points a small handgun at Riona and he stops.

  “See, that’s smart.” J murmurs in a parody of a lover’s whisper. “Don’t get so upset, Hardin. I won’t hurt you. I won’t even hurt her. Isabel says she’s your new owner. I don’t want to separate you, since you’ve both bonded so well. Instead, I think I’ll just keep you both like a matching set! Would you like that?”

  “You’re sick.” Hardin says. J just laughs.

  “That isn’t what you said before, though, is it? Does she know? She was woefully undertrained, Hardin; I am disappointed in you. She wanted reasons to obey me. It’s as though you’ve forgotten fear is the most efficient motivator.”

  J leans in, nails digging into the meat of his face. They’re close enough to kiss, and from her vantage point on the floor, Ree wishes he could bite her lip off.

  “Allow me to refresh your memory, Hardin,” J hisses. “Riona, come here.”

  “No!” Hardin snarls, and the gun switches over to him. His eyes meet J’s over the barrel. If looks could kill, she’d be a corpse. But they can’t, and she isn’t, and she’s got a gun.

  I need to buy us an opportunity and give J what she wants. Ree shuffles over on her knees to J’s side. Her body aches with bone-deep fatigue she knows has a little to do with a lack of sleep and a lot to do with blood-loss. She keeps her right arm tucked in close, shielding the bandages from view and further injury. J watches with amusement as Ree shifts forward into place at her left side like a dog brought to heel.

  Ree’s sweating with pain and pale with shock; she keeps perfect posture anyway.

  With her head down and her eyes up, she can see that Hardin looks as though he wants to be sick. Ree feels about as good as he looks, but she also knows that she’s in a better position to do something about it.

  The weight of the knife against her sternum is a solid reminder that she’s not so helpless as all that. Something about her expression must give her away, though, because J gets a grip on her hair and yanks, hard. Ree shrieks, and Hardin shifts his weight for another lunge. J trains her focus, and the barrel of her gun, on him.

  “Try that again. See what happens, Captain.”

  Hardin isn’t stupid enough to oblige her until she kicks at Riona.

  Instinct propels him forward, closer to the barrel of the gun with cold fury written across his face.

  “Oh, no no no!” J coos. “That was a reaction, Hardin! How sloppy.”

  Focusing her attention on her brand new toy, Ree watches as J takes a step forward.

  That puts me in her blind-spot, Ree realizes, and stays very, very still and low. Moving as quickly as she dares, Ree tucks her feet underneath her like a resting swan.

  “Isabel says this girl is your new me.” J’s careful to keep her voice genteel. “She sets your missions; she gives you orders… I’m sure you’ve missed that. But she’s green, Hardin, and she doesn’t know what to do. Ask me nicely, and maybe I’ll take some time out of my day for you.”

  For a moment, Hardin’s thousand-yard stare meets Ree’s sharp gaze. As much as it hurts, she drums her nailless fingertips once alon
g her sternum. His eyes widen when they see the knife-hilt, and the way she’s crouched. Then, slowly, he kneels.

  J laughs.

  In that single moment of distraction and noise-

  Ree makes her move.

  Ignoring the screaming of the muscles in her right arm and the agony of her feet, she puts the strength of every single grand jetee she’s ever performed into her upwards lunge. Gravity peels away, and Ree leaps upwards. The cold-burn of pain steals her breath as her right arm slices upwards, but it’s irrelevant. She slashes the thin knife upwards with all of her momentum, and blood sprays everywhere as the filleting knife cuts through the back of J’s thighs just above the knees.

  I should have expected that, Ree thinks, recognizing shock and the taste of iron in her mouth. At least it isn’t mine. There’s screaming, too, but it’s muffled by the soundproofing. It’s upsetting, but at least it isn’t coming from her this time.

  J is shrieking about her legs; the blood keeps spreading, staining clinical white with venal red. Ree’s just killed someone. She can see veins, and tendons, and so much blood. She shakes helplessly, even as Hardin surges up and wraps her in his arms. J’s hands scrabble at her useless legs, and her elegant face is a rictus of horror.

  “I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll destroy you!” J snarls, unhinged as a fox in a trap, and Ree stares down at her from the safety of Hardin’s arms.

  “You’ll die trying,” she hears herself say from a thousand yards away, and rests her head against his shoulder as he lets the door shut behind him.

  The screams are silenced, and Ree feels sick. That was me in there. She can feel wetness on her arm, and a dazed look down shows the sleeve of her ‘gifted’ medical tunic is red again. She’s aggravated the incision site.

  “Oh. That’s not good,” Ree mumbles, and then the world goes black.

  ***

  Hardin doesn’t remember getting up to the roof, or the helicopter ride from the building to the hospital. He remembers how Ree feels against him, cold and limp and so, so pale.

  She’s lost so much blood that her face has gone white as parchment paper. Her veins stand out like lace under her skin, but when Hardin holds her, she doesn’t move. When they arrive at the hospital, he remembers the smell of antiseptic and the brightness of the lights.

  Hardin remembers the sound of rapid-fire diagnoses, words he’s only heard on those ridiculous medical dramas Ree loves to watch. He sat through enough with her to know it’s bad. A brusque but not unkind nurse takes Riona from his arms and onto a stretcher and into a room marked: MEDICAL PERSONNEL ONLY. He doesn’t know how long he sits in a too-bright hallway, and he doesn’t remember making his way to the hospital chapel, but that’s where Evelyn finds him.

  He raises his head, prepared to give her a blistering if she so much as opens her mouth for a snide comment. She surprises him instead.

  “May I join you?”

  He nods, and that seems to be enough for her. She sits a decent distance away, fidgeting with something in her hand.

  “You don’t strike me as religious,” Hardin says, after a little while. Evelyn looks up and shakes her head.

  “I’m not,” she says, voice not much higher than a whisper. She holds up a long-fingered hand, looped through with a Rosary. There’s a loop of it tangled between her fingers, and Hardin can make out rounded marble beads. Each is a distinct mossy green, worn to a matte patina by the years. “Not really. But Ree is. So I’m calling in favours.”

  Hardin nods.

  “Are you?” Evie asks, and Hardin takes a breath.

  “I was, for a bit. Growing up. But if Ree survives this-”

  “It’ll be because of your balls-out crazy idea to rappel down from the roof. I owe you, Hardin. You came through.”

  “I didn’t do it for you, Evelyn.”

  She looks at him with genuine fondness. “Yeah, Hardin, I gathered. But like I said — family, right? You got Riona back. So, I owe you. And I came down here looking for you. We need to talk.”

  “In the middle of something, Evelyn.” he snaps, and she shakes her head.

  “It won’t take long. It’s just… two things. First: I thought I was joking about your exes swiping right on each other, but… uh… call me Cassandra, because guess who doubled back for a heroic save of her own?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah. So that’s cute. However-”

  “But wait, there’s more.” Hardin deadpans, because gallows humour has always been his coping method of choice.

  “Well, sure. You guys are filthy rich, but I’m filthy richer, and since I heard you propose, I want to welcome you to the family properly.”

  “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

  “She was bleeding out, Hardin, give the girl a break. I’d like to give you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a new house! Or, well, the money to buy a new house!”

  Hardin bristles. “We don’t need charity, Evelyn. I’m perfectly capable of providing for my wife.” He isn’t expecting the full-body eye-roll he gets in return, but he probably should have.

  “Yeah, Hardin, newsflash: she’s my sister. You don’t have to get into a dick-measuring competition with me. Also, it’s called a wedding present, and it’s common in happy families.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” he mutters, and Evie laughs with something akin to warmth. He relaxes despite himself.

  “Okay there, Annie, take our word for it. You give the newlyweds gifts proportionate to your relationship and means, and I’m really close with my sister and also rich as shit. So it’s my pleasure to do it. Look. You were good in there with her, and she doesn’t shut up about you. Also, you dangled your ass off a skyscraper for her, so I guess it’s not just you thinking with your dick.”

  Hardin’s sure he should feel offended, but it’s a bit like being steamrolled by cotton-wool.

  “So what? You’re giving me money to go away?”

  “You are a paranoid dude, do you know that? I’m giving you a gift so you can buy my sister a compound in the country with armed guards and a perimeter fence to keep the critters out. She can’t stay in that fourth-floor apartment any longer, clearly. As for going away — sure. If by that you mean hosting Sunday dinners at your place, sure. Pick somewhere local-ish.”

  Hardin’s spent his entire life listening for lies, reading microexpressions. He doesn’t see any.

  “Okay,” he agrees, staring at the rosary beads in Evie’s hand. “Okay.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You fucked up, Ree.”

  Evie sounds like their mother, and Ree’s had enough. She cracks, and the heart monitor tracking her pulse gives an angry beep. Ree forces herself to keep her equilibrium. It won’t help anyone if she loses her temper.

  “Tell me about it,” she says instead. “Seriously, Evie. What have I just done?”

  Evie sucks in a breath through her nose and exhales it slowly. When she speaks, her voice is grim. “You just made an extremely wealthy and powerful enemy.”

  “Then I guess it’s lucky I have a wealthy and powerful family.” Ree says, and her voice is flat. “And anyway — I already knew that, Evie. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “You’re pushing your luck, Ree. J is- she’s dangerous.”

  “And I just made it personal.”

  Evie laughs, drier than a drought. “She would deny it, but shit got personal when you started dating her ex. Stealing one of her jobs and fucking up her legs was just the glitter you sprinkled on the turd.”

  Ree’s face hardens into a beautiful mask — a proper iron maiden, deadly sharpness behind a placid exterior. “I have met her, you know, and unlike you, it wasn’t in a social capacity. Does she know we’re family?”

  “She might. If she doesn’t yet, she will eventually.”

  “Fabulous. How’s your security?”

  “Why, do you know a guy?”

  “Oh, ha. Speaking of family-” She has to imagine they don�
��t know. Otherwise, they’d be crowding the hospital room.

  “I told them we took Moira to some nerd convention for a week,” Evie says. The lie comes easy. “I think we’re officially in San Diego.”

  Ree heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I — that was kind. But you said we. What’s we? Where’s Hardin? Where is my crew?!” Her voice is up in the stratosphere.

  If somebody died saving me…

  Evie cuts her off at the pass.

  “They’re fine and probably just pissed that I’m here before they are. But I called dibs. And we need to talk. I know you don’t like my hovering, but I’m going to have to run air cover for you on this. She isn’t a playground bully, Ree. You know,” she pauses, looking grey around the lips, “anything on the news?”

  “You mean the terrible stuff? The wars and suffering? Yeah, Hardin mentioned. She doesn’t strike me as the warm and fuzzy kind.”

  Evie shrugs. “Oh no,” she says, hedging her bets. “She probably has a few puppy mills. Where else would she get her coats? But Ree...”

  Ree feels herself settle into the well of coldness again, that space in her mind where she can consider everything like a choreography, or a draft contract, seeing where to embellish and where to pare away. “No, I understand. I really screwed the pooch on this one. I was so worried about everyone else, and the mission… I didn’t check my blind spots. And — and they had to risk their lives for me.”

  Her cheeks are wet, and Ree dabs at her eyes gingerly, conscious of her regrowing nails.

  “Oh, well, hell, Ree!” Evie squawks. “Don’t cry!”

  “I’m just so... so frustrated!” Ree snaps, fear and pain and anger bubbling together into something she wishes she could spit out.

  “What?” Evie sounds surprised. “Frustrated? Why?!”

  Ree scowls up at her elder sister. “How many times has Moira told me to double-tap?!”

  “Are you serious?!”

  “Well, she rose from the dead to bite me on the ass like a fucking zombie, so YES, Evelyn! I am! I can’t believe I didn’t make sure she was dead.”