Her eyes fly open. “What?”
“It’s true. I know the guy doing it.”
“But how can they… why would they… what the hell, Zeph!” She’s sputtering now, with anger and confusion, and I can’t blame her.
“It’s all part of some demens plan the government has for dealing with jackers.” The pieces are falling into place. “They want to cause disruption. A shock to the system. Destabilize everything. Julian’s assassination was part of it. The attack on The Stomp, too. And now this attempt on you… like two seconds after you declare you’re running? This isn’t some random demens guy working on his own, Kira. This is an organized attempt to break everything down.”
“But why?”
“To justify killing jackers? I don’t know. But it can’t be anything good.”
She’s shaking her head. “It doesn’t make sense. We caught the guy who killed Julian. He was just some lone jacker gone demens.”
“He wasn’t.” My heart’s thudding in my chest.
“But how do you know? We scoured his memories—”
“I know.” God, I’m going to have to tell her.
“Because of the helmet? That’s all just circumstantial, Zeph. It could be—”
“I know, okay? I know because it’s my fault.”
She opens her mouth to object then stops. “Your fault.” Her face goes slack like she’s slipping back into shock.
I grit my teeth and force the words out. “I was spying on Julian. They knew where he was because of me. I didn’t know—”
“You were spying.” Her eyes glaze over. She’s not even looking at me, just at some distant spot over my shoulder.
“I didn’t know,” I cry out, fists clenched “I wouldn’t have… I didn’t want this…” God, all my excuses are so pathetic.
She rises up from the desk, eyes still glazed. “You led them to him.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” That last part is a whisper because I can’t even get it out.
I see the red fury rise on her face. The anger comes alive slowly like it has to fight through a mountain of shock and disbelief and grief, but when it finally hits, it leaves her cheeks shaking and her lips trembling. She raises her fists, and before I can move, she pounds both straight into my chest. It knocks me back a couple steps, and she follows after, still pounding, one after another, but her blows aren’t hard enough to hurt. Like it’s more frustration than actual attack. Then her mindfield slams into mine, an assault equally desperate and angry and full of grief, but just as useless. I let her pound on me—my head and my chest—not even trying to block the blows.
I deserve this. I deserve at least this.
She stops the assault, gasps, sucking in air, then cries out, “He trusted you!”
“He shouldn’t have.” It’s the truth, and I’m not going to lie to her anymore.
But that just makes her angrier. She growls, steps back, and then shoves into me again.
It forces me back.
“He believed in you!” She pushes me back more.
I’m practically up against the wall by the door.
Tears are streaming down her face. “How could you.” It’s anguished.
And this time when she comes at me, I catch her wrists and hold them. She struggles for an instant, then melts… like her knees have buckled. I catch hold of her waist before she goes down entirely. She’s just crying quietly now, sobbing and curling up so I can barely keep her upright. I walk her back to the desk and prop her up there. I keep hold of her arms—just at the elbow, just to make sure she doesn’t fall over. Her head is hanging down, and her chest is heaving, but slowly, the sobs settle a little.
My head is buzzing. The last thing I wanted was to pile on. This girl’s already seen so much grief, and now with today’s attack… I never wanted her to know my part in Julian’s death. But now that my secret is out, in a way, I’m glad. Because if I’m on the inside of Wright’s operation while Kira’s on the outside—if we’re going to be working together—then I need her to know what she’s dealing with. And that I’m not the monster she’s probably thinking I am right now.
Kira pulls in a deep breath then looks up at me through tear-soaked eyelashes. “You’re working for the people who killed Julian.”
“If I’d known, I would have stopped it.” That’s the truth, too.
She just stares at me, slowly blinking. “Like you stopped your sister.”
“Yes.” A relief gushes through me. “And they’re going to kill more people. I don’t know exactly how, but something is in the works, and they want me as part of it. I met the Secretary of Defense today…”
Her eyes go wide.
I nod. “Yeah. That is not good. It’s like I said before. I’m working this on the inside. I need you to work it on the outside.”
She frowns and drops her gaze to the floor. “The outside.” I think she’s still recovering from the wave of grief and anger and emotion.
I dip my head to catch her gaze. “You said before that this is all your fault. Because you put the inhibitors in the water. But the government is still doing that. And they’ve got this anti-jacker tech that Tiller’s developing. It has mindware capabilities that simulate jacking.”
“What?” Her eyes go wide again, and I’m afraid it might be too much. But she needs to know.
“I can’t even wrap my head around how awful that would be. And the people I work for—they will use it. And the inhibitors. And jackers like me. The Secretary of Defense is involved. This is crazy high-level stuff, and I put nothing past them.”
Her eyes sharpen. “Can you stop them?”
“I have no idea. But I do know this—you’re not part of the problem, Kira. You’re part of the solution.”
She’s nodding now.
“You’ve got to stay in the race,” I say. “And you’ve got to win.”
She shakes her head at the floor and laughs a little. Then she gives me a tiny smile. “He wasn’t wrong about you. Not really. Even when he’s gone, he’s still right. It’s annoying.” But she’s smiling through the tears. Then she rises up from the desk and hugs me. It’s fierce, and she whispers into my shoulder. “Thank you.”
Just then the door creaks open. I twist around to see Tessa standing in the doorway with a look on her face like she just got slapped.
“Oh, um…” she says, and then just stops with the world’s most awkward expression frozen on her face. Like she wants to go back in time and never open the door.
Kira eases away from our hug like it’s the most natural thing, but I feel like I can’t separate fast enough. Like Tessa’s seen something that wasn’t something, but she’s totally thinking it was something. Then I see Anna in her military flak jacket behind Tessa, and the dark look on Anna’s face is definitely for me. Her hand rests on the gun holstered on her hip.
I want to protest what they’re both thinking, but I don’t even know where to start. Hey, I’m totally not moving in on Julian’s girlfriend now that he’s dead, and by the way, I helped get him killed?
I keep my mouth shut.
“It’s okay,” Kira says, waving them in. “Come on in.” It’s like she doesn’t even see the looks they’re giving me.
Tessa’s expression says she’d rather be dipped in boiling oil than walk in the room.
She does it anyway.
Anna remains at the door. “We’ve secured the area,” she says crisply to Kira. It’s like I’ve ceased to exist. “The attacker’s a reporter—he’s just a reader, but he’s been jacked. Recently, looks like, but the jacker is long gone. Still, Hinckley wants to move you somewhere we can control security better. And he wants to cancel the rest of your tour for the day.”
Kira sniffs. She’s wiping her face, but she’s ten times more composed than before. “Let’s regroup at the Mediation Center. We can cancel for today, but tomorrow, I’m back on the campaign trail.”
Anna scowls. “We need better protocols.”
“Then we
’ll have to get on those.” Kira gives her a small smile. “I have a campaign to win.” Then she rises from her perch on the desk, straightens her clothes, and gives me a nod. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” To Tessa, she says, “Take the rest of the day off, okay? We’ll start fresh in the morning.”
Tessa opens her mouth to protest, but Kira just strides up to Anna who clears the doorway and lets her pass. Anna doesn’t even glance back, she just shadows Kira. Her hand never strays from her still-holstered weapon on her hip.
That leaves me and Tessa and a bucketful of awkward in the room alone.
Before I can even say anything, Tessa is scowling.
“What?” I can’t decide if I should say, Look, I’m not into Kira, or if I should just pretend she didn’t catch us mid-hug up against the table.
“You really shouldn’t.” There’s a wincing pain in her eyes. I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or maybe hurt?
“Shouldn’t what?” Okay, now I think we should just spit it out. Because the tension is ridiculous.
She crosses her arms, and her red suit bunches up a little. “I know she’s a jacker, and you guys share… well, a kind of bond, or something… but she’s still hurting over Julian.”
Oh. My. God. “I was not making a move on Kira.”
She frowns. “I’m just saying—”
“Don’t.” I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “And thanks for thinking I’m the kind of jerk who would do that.”
Her mouth drops open.
“What in the world, Tessa.” I’m actually pissed now. “The girl’s just been shot at. She’s upset about… well, all kinds of things.” Most of which I don’t want Tessa to know about. “Including her dead boyfriend. So, yeah, I gave her a hug. Or really, she gave me one. Because she needed someone to talk her through all this, and I guess that someone was me. And I’m not a complete jerk.”
My rant has her chastened, dropping her gaze to her hands, which are tormenting one another. “No, you’re not.” She won’t look at me. “I shouldn’t have…” She shakes her head but won’t look up. “I’m sorry.”
My pride is a little less wounded, but that tormented look on her face is killing me. “I just don’t want you thinking I’m that kind of guy.”
She peeks up at me. “What kind of guy?”
Man, those big brown eyes get me every time. Make me want to open up and tell her everything. “The bad kind. The kind that hurts people. The kind with the mutant jacker powers that people want to use, and never for anything good.”
She’s straightened up now, looking me in the eyes. “I know you’re one of the good ones, Zeph.”
I let out a small laugh, and now I’m the one that’s having a hard time looking her in the eyes. “Yeah, well… you don’t know much about me.”
“No, I don’t.” The way she says it is an invitation. I can’t help looking back. “Did you mean it?” she asks. “What you said about not running away? Or were you just saying that to convince Kira to run for the Senate?” Her eyes are big and open and curious.
I don’t think I could lie to her right now if I wanted to. And I don’t. “I meant it. I ran away once, and my family paid the price for it.”
“Because they were captured?” She’s breathless now, moving a little closer. “By those people who hurt your sister?”
Her nearness is making it hard for me to breathe normally. “Yeah.”
“So you’re staying, then?” There’s hope lighting up in her eyes. “Staying and fighting, like you told Kira.”
Man, I don’t want to lie to her. And I want to stay. If only to have a chance with her. “For now. I can’t be sure. When I get my parents free, I might have to… it’s possible we’ll have to…”
But she’s nodding now. “It might be dangerous for them.”
“Right.” I swallow. She’s still really close. “I’d stick around if I could. I want to.” I want more than just hanging around Jackertown. I don’t know if she hears that meaning under my words. I could link into her head and know exactly what she’s thinking, but that would be wrong. Unless she invited me to. I’m suddenly lost in the idea of being in Tessa’s head again, the way I was when we were both back at Fremd High School. Her doodling and daydreaming and being beautifully different… and me watching from afar and lurking in her head.
Yeah, not creepy at all.
She’s looking at me like she can’t decide if she wants to tell me something.
“What?” I ask. It feels like she’s way too close. In a good way.
“It’s strange that I can’t know what you’re thinking,” she says quietly. “Not unless you decide to tell me. But it’s not true that I don’t know you.”
Oh, man. “What do you mean?”
“I see what you do.” Her voice drops to an almost whisper. “The way you saved those people. How you’re stuck in this terrible position, but you keep helping. How you’re afraid of what you can do, but the worst thing would be that some random girl might think you’re a bad person.”
“You’re not a random girl.” The air feels thick. Hard to breathe in with her so close, saying words like that.
“Even that time in school, before you left,” she says with a small smile. “In a whole school of mindreaders, you were the only one who never thought I was strange.”
“Because you weren’t strange.” I have this crazy urge to touch her. Just reach out and slide my fingers through the long, brown hair that frames her face. “You and your art and all those thoughts about the world and how it should work… you were the only interesting thing in that whole school.”
Her eyes light up, and they’re mesmerizing with their soft brown flecked-with-gold color. I’ve never seen them this close, and they’re pulling me in.
She nods, ever so slightly. “I had no idea you were a jacker until you left. I didn’t even know jackers existed back then. But you must have been linked into my head all that time.”
You have no idea, Tessa McIntyre. I just nod.
“It’s not fair.” A smile tugs at her lips, and I can’t stop staring at them. “You’ve been in my head. You know what I’m like, rambling ideas, mind open to the world. Just my pure thoughts. And I never know what you’re thinking. Maybe you think I’m just some silly idealist…”
“I don’t,” I say quickly.
“Or some reckless reader who likes to hang out with jackers.”
“You’re too smart to be reckless.”
Her smile tugs a little harder, but just in one corner. Oh, man, if she gets any closer…
“Or maybe…”
“Maybe what?” It’s not my imagination. We’re closer, physically, than when we started this conversation.
“Maybe you’re wondering if it’s really possible for jackers and readers to be together.” She’s looking at me expectantly.
“You think about that?” I’m sure we’re not talking about the general case here. I’m absolutely, positively, 95% sure we’re talking about a very specific reader and a very specific jacker.
“I think about that all the time.” She breathes out the words, lips parted.
And that’s all I need. Before I can lose my nerve, I reach a hand to her cheek and lean in to kiss her. Her head tips up, and her lips meet mine. I’m totally unprepared for how soft they are. How they’re suddenly alive against mine, moving and sliding and making me feel like every nerve ending in my body has suddenly been transported to my lips. She moves in closer, her body pressing against mine as her hands grab onto my shoulders. She’s reaching up on tiptoe, pressing the kiss harder, and I have to slide my hand to the back of her head to hold onto her because I think this kiss is going to make me float away.
Then she pulls back, taking her lips with her, and I’m kissing the air. A shudder runs through me at the sudden loss, and I search her face to see if I did something wrong. Because that’s possible. Kissing isn’t something I do. Like ever.
Her eyes are wide, and she’s breathing hard. “Did you…�
�� She stalls out.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart sinking. Did I blow this already? I was barely getting started.
She looks at me with wonder. She slowly brings her fingers to touch her lips. “Did you jack me?” she asks, big brown eyes looking up at me.
“What? No.” My frown feels like it’s digging into my head. “I would never…” Does she really think I would do that?
She sees the horror on my face. “No, no. Of course not.” She reaches up and brushes her fingertips along my cheek to reassure me. The coolness of them sends a rush of heat through me. “I just thought…” She hesitates. “When readers kiss, they have this kind of…” She stalls out again.
“Connection.” I hold her hand to my cheek, so she won’t move it away. Because I like it there. And I think I finally get what she’s saying. “That’s not something I can do,” I say with a small smile. “I mean, I can do a lot with my mind, but creating the touch-intimacy readers have… that’s beyond my ability.” I flash back to when I was helping Juliette fake memories of kissing me. I pretended with her. I jacked her full of emotion that simulated the intimacy of sharing that readers have when they touch. But I would never do something like that with Tessa. With her, everything has to be real.
“So, there’s something the most powerful jacker in Jackertown can’t do?” she teases.
Man, I am so kissing her again. I slip a hand around her waist and pull her back against me. “Did you really think I was jacking you?”
She looks up at me with those soft brown eyes. “I was kind of hoping you could hear what I was thinking.”
I hold her gaze and link a thought gently into her mind. Like this?
She gasps, and that sound does something to me deep inside. I can hear you. Can you hear my thoughts this way?
Every single one of them. Her wildflower mindscent is just as I remember it from when we were in school. And she’s abuzz with excitement—about the kiss, about being in my arms, about the fact that I’m finally opening up to her and letting her in.
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