“You’re a dick,” I told him, snatching the rest of my clothes up and stuffing them into the machine. There wasn’t room for my jacket, so I shrugged it back on before feeding quarters into the slot. A battered vending machine was bolted to the wall offering boxes of detergent, and I bought two boxes of soap, dumping them in and slamming the lids closed on the machine before turning back to face him. “Why are you following me?”
“I told you,” he shrugged, “I like you. Besides, someone needs to look out for you. Especially now.”
“What do you mean ‘especially now’,” I narrowed my eyes at him, my arms folding across my chest impatiently.
“I mean now that you’re going to be helping that detective.”
“How the fuck,” I threw my hands up in the air, then patted myself down, “Am I bugged, is that it? You have some kind of tracking device on me?”
“Maybe,” he chuckled, “Or maybe I just saw you get out of his car.” He sobered and stepped closer, his gaze narrowed on my face. “So you are going to help him, then? I know what he wants, and I think this is a very bad idea.”
“How do you know what he wants?”
“He wants what every cop wants—answers. He’s been working this case a long time with no leads, he’s getting desperate.”
“Why, because he asked me to help him?”
He cracked a smile. “You said it, not me.”
“He didn’t really give me much of a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” he told me. He moved closer to where I’d backed against the washing machine. I had to look up at him now to meet his gaze, flecks of amber glowing in his dark green eyes. He leaned in, placing a hand on either side of me, trapping me in place. I could see the rise and fall of his chest, the way his attention settled on my mouth like he was only a breath away from kissing me. Maybe I should have been afraid. He had followed me all over the city, he knew things about me that no one else did—but I wasn’t. My tongue slipped out, wetting my lips and my head tipped back expectantly, waiting—no, wanting—him to kiss me. His gaze narrowed, an expression of longing taking over his features just before he pulled away and stepped back. I blinked at him, feeling suddenly foolish and I ducked my head to hide the hot blush that flamed my cheeks.
“If you’re going to help him, you’re going to have to be a hell of a lot stronger than you have been.” He was all business again, standing three steps away from me. A safe distance, I thought to myself, trying to shake off the feeling of rejection as he continued like nothing had happened. “You’re going to have to fight harder to keep them out of your mind, or they’ll take you down in no time.”
My head came back up in surprise. “You know.” It wasn’t really a question. “You know what they’re doing to me.”
“Yes.”
My mouth opened, then shut again, not really sure what to say. In a way, it was a relief to have him put what was happening so clearly into words. Maybe Gina and Alex had watched it happen to London, maybe Ethan knew that the Templars had a way of pulling people in, but no one seemed to understand how. “What is it,” I managed at last, “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be fighting. I—” I cut off, my attention drifting over his shoulder where a woman in a blue coat stood in the doorway to the laundry mat, clutching a bulging canvas sack. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, but she was staring at me like I was crazy, her mouth hanging slightly open and her eyes afraid. She started when I met her gaze, then doubled her grip on the bag and hurried away.
“We shouldn’t talk here,” he told me, a slight frown appearing when he turned to watch the woman run off, “It would be easier if I came to your apartment.”
“I have to work tonight,” I said, and his frown deepened.
“Later, then.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” I took a step forward, my hand reaching out to stop him, but dropped it when he paused and looked back. “What’s your name?”
His eyebrows went up, gazing at me thoughtfully for a moment—almost as if the question surprised him. I watched his attention drop to the nametag sewn onto my jacket, and then he smiled.
“Carter,” he told me, “You can call me Carter.”
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
I spent the rest of the morning sitting cross-legged on a broken washing machine getting acquainted with my new phone while I fed quarter after quarter into a dryer that refused to do its job. It didn’t take me long to find the tracking app Ethan had installed on the phone, and I considered disabling it before deciding to leave it be for now. I’d been replaying Gina’s story about London in my head since she’d told me, and the thought of being taken without anyone knowing where I was, was terrifying. If Ethan wanted to spend his day monitoring my progress from the laundry mat to my apartment, he was welcome to.
Ten dollars later, I packed my mostly-dry clothes into the duffle before hurrying to my apartment to shower and change for work. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to keep Ethan off my case or get him the information he needed, but I had an idea of someone who might be able to help.
The bar was still technically closed when I arrived, though the front door was unlocked. I pushed through to find Gina sitting by herself at one of the tables, her feet propped up on a chair with a paperback in her hands.
“What are you reading?” I asked by way of greeting, and she turned the cover towards me so that I could see the title: Charcoal Tears. “Any good?”
“It’s my favorite series,” she answered, “I think I’ve read it about a hundred times.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, then flipped the book closed and tossed it onto the table. “You’re early today.”
“I was hoping to catch you alone.” I sat down in a chair across from her. “I need to talk to you.”
“Uh oh.” Her brow furrowed, pulling her feet from the chair to sit up, “Quitting already?”
“No, it’s not that.” I hesitated. I’d gone through all my options, and this seemed like the best one—but I still didn’t want to have to ask. “I need a favor,” I took a deep breath. “I need London’s number.”
Gina paused, a strange look passing over her face before she averted her eyes from me, reaching to where her book lay to thumb aimlessly through the pages. She didn’t say anything, and I continued before she had time to react, my words tumbling over each other. “I need to talk to her—to someone who can give me answers. Someone who understands what’s happening to me. When she was here, I felt it—the way they have her, they have me, too. I think she can help me.”
“After everything you’ve seen and everything that’s been done to you, you really want to get involved in this?” Gina looked up, her expression blank and unreadable. “Going to her is just asking for trouble.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this, but it’s still happening.” There was so much she didn’t know about me, or the trouble that had followed me into Dust. She didn’t know about the mark on my shoulder, either—or that I’d been watching it get progressively worse as the days went on. I’d been trying to ignore what that meant, but it was getting harder to. “I can’t expect you and Alex to always protect me. They’re coming for me, and the more I know the better off I’ll be.”
“They’re not coming for you yet. If they wanted you, they’d have you already. They’re playing with you, but you still have a way out.” She stood suddenly and walked behind the bar, slamming a shot glass down onto the wooden surface and reached for a bottle of tequila. “London is one of them now, one of their fucking little minions. If you think she’s going to tell you the truth about anything that’s happening to you, you’re wrong.” She tossed one shot back like it was water and poured another. I winced when she downed that one and poured a third.
“I’ll be careful.”
“You’ll be careful,” Gina’s laugh was low and humorless. “You just got here. You don’t know anything.”
“Yes,” I shot back, “I just got here. And they’ve be
en in my head the whole time, pulling me in. You don’t know anything either, Gina. You don’t know what it’s like or how hard it is to fight it. You keep saying you’ll keep me safe, but how can you promise me that? How can Alex promise me that?”
“Alex and I can help you. My mom—”
“Like you helped London?” I cut across her, a sudden wave of frustration pushing words out before I could catch myself. “That worked out really well for her, didn’t it? And what’s going to happen once they have me, too? You’ll be done with me and just wait for the next stray to adopt?”
She’d frozen, her grip on the bottle in her hand white-knuckled as she stared at me. I rose and moved towards her; I wasn’t just frustrated now, I was pissed. “What exactly did you do to keep her safe, Gina? Why did you stop trying? Were you so wrapped up in feeling rejected you that you just let her go?”
She flushed a dark red and I knew that I’d gone too far, but too much had happened to me in the past few days to keep myself in check. Everything—every reason I’d ended up in this shithole city to begin with was back, pressing in on me from all directions. Nothing had gone right for me in a long, long time, and I could feel myself fraying—my patience gone. I was trapped, and my only hope was to buy enough time to figure out my next move. There was something about London that made her seem safer than the others, like I could relate to her, even understand her. All Ethan needed was information to keep him happy, and if London could give me anything to pass along, it might be enough.
I took a breath then, my flare of temper fading as quickly as it had risen with tears threatening to take its place. Gina still hadn’t said anything, her expression a mixture of shock and anger, though I knew it was only a matter of time before the anger took over completely. I’d caught her off guard, and the only reason she wasn’t reacting was because I’d hit her in her weakest spot. I looked away, my attention falling to the book she’d left on the table. There was something sweet and almost innocent in the way I’d found her—reading alone in the few hours she had to escape. The cover was worn, the edges frayed, and the spine creased to the point of breaking. Just like Gina.
“I know that London is the last person you want back in your life. I’m sure it doesn’t make sense that I need to talk to her, but I do. If you don’t want to give me her number, that’s okay. I understand, but I still need to find her.”
I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to see the pain I’d caused this woman who’d been nothing but kind to me. She’d promised to protect me without knowing anything about me or my past that was chasing me across three states. There was no running from it, though. I just hated that I’d had to hurt her in the process.
“I don’t have it anymore.” Her words startled me enough to glance up, but she wasn’t looking at me. She’d put the bottle away and was busying herself by wiping down the bar with a towel. “I deleted it from my phone months ago so I wouldn’t do something stupid like try and get in touch with her again.” Pain. It wasn’t the expected anger in her voice that I heard, it was raw pain and betrayal and disappointment. Somehow, that was so much worse.
“Okay.” I forced the word out, but I knew I couldn’t stop there, not when I’d gone this far. “Do you know where I might find her then?”
“I’m not discussing this with you.” Her voice went flat with the words, devoid of any emotion now at all. “I don’t want any part of this.”
A chill swept through me, but I only nodded. “Right. Okay then.” I turned to go. I didn’t ask if I should stick around for my shift, or even if I still had a job. I didn’t think it was worth putting either of us through that conversation when the answer was obvious. I probably should have offered to return the things she’d leant me, but right then words were difficult, and tears stung hot in my eyes.
“Don’t do this, Avery.”
I stopped at the door, my forehead resting against the cool surface. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, “I have to.”
I waited to see if she’d say anything more. It was only silence, though, that followed me out.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
“This is the worst idea you’ve had yet,” Carter told me, “And your track record isn’t great.”
He’d shown up about five minutes after I’d made it back to my apartment, his knock somehow reverberating through my body more than the door. I didn’t bother questioning the name he’d given me, glad to finally have something to call him, even if I was positive it wasn’t real. He was standing now in the middle of my tiny living room, his arms crossed over his well-muscled chest with a deep frown directed my way. I shot him an exasperated glance and kept on sorting through the clean clothes I’d stuffed back into my duffle, pulling out a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting long-sleeved shirt I thought might work for what I had in mind.
“It’s not like I have a lot of choices here,” I told him, grabbing a towel from the stack on my bed, “How else am I supposed to get Hayes what he wants?”
“Do you think he wants you dead?”
“To be honest, I don’t think he cares either way.” He snorted a laugh, turning to look out the window, and I used the opportunity to slide my gun out from beneath my pillow and hide it between the folds of the towel in my hands. I’d slept with it there last night, jerking awake every time my hand slid beneath to graze the cold steel, but I still couldn’t think of a better place to put it. “I’m going to shower,” I told him, “Are you going to stick around?”
“Maybe.” He turned back around, his gaze finding the panties and bra in the jumble of clothes I’d selected. “Are you going to come back out in your towel?”
“You wish,” I piled the clothes on top of the towel and headed for the bathroom.
“You really shouldn’t go back there until we’ve had a chance to talk, Avery. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. You aren’t ready.”
“Shower first.”
“Don’t make it too steamy.” There was laughter in his voice. “Condensation will cause your gun to jam.”
I spun around to glare at him, then slammed the bathroom door shut and flipped the lock on the knob.
Dick.
I knew I should have stayed to talk to him, but the truth was, I didn’t want to know what I was dealing with. I was scared out of my mind at the thought of going back to the factory to find London, and the only way I was keeping myself calm was by pretending that I hadn’t been blackmailed by a detective or fought with Gina or lost my job. Somehow, I’d also managed to convince myself that London would be there alone, and that was the only way I was able to force myself through the motions of getting ready.
I showered quickly and dressed in the bathroom, towel-drying my hair as I stared into the mirror. There was a time where I’d have stood here with my makeup spread across the sink, but that habit had been knocked out of me like a sucker punch to the gut when I was in jail. The concept of primping or beauty or giving a shit about my appearance was long gone, as was the innocent, hopeful girl who had slipped the engagement ring on her finger two years ago. My attention strayed to the gun sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the silver glinting at me in the dim light, reminding me that no matter how far and fast I’d run, I’d only traded in my old life for something far more dangerous.
The gun was heavy in my hands, and I wondered if I’d ever really get used to holding it. I’d never fired one in my life, not even a BB gun when I was a kid, and I handled it like it was able to explode in my hands at any moment. I was about to get over that fear, however, because there was no way I was going to the factory without it, and since Carter had noticed it straight away, it was apparently too obvious in my jacket pocket. I checked the safety for the hundredth time, then gingerly lifted up my shirt and slid the gun beneath the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back. It sat snuggly there, nestled cold against my skin, and I shifted uncomfortably—pacing up and down the bathroom and bending experimentally before deciding it would stay put. It felt wrong and ex
citing all at once, but I didn’t want to dwell on those feelings for long, instead making sure my shirt was pulled out to hide it before unlocking and opening the bathroom door.
“There you are,” Alex said from across the room, “I was beginning to think you’d drowned.”
I paused in confusion, only one step out of the bathroom. I’d closed the door on one man, and opened it to another, and right then I wasn’t exactly sure how happy I was to see Alex. Carter, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight.
Alex was wearing a pair of loose-fitting dark jeans and a t-shirt, the sleeves of ink that ran down his arms standing out in sharp contrast against the white material. “How did you get in?” I asked him.
“The door was open.”
Great. Thanks a lot, Carter.
“What are you doing here?” My tone wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but my guard was up after what happened with Gina, and the fact that he didn’t cross the room towards me like he had every other time he’d been near me said a lot. “Did you talk to your sister?”
“She called me,” he acknowledged, his dark gaze narrowing slightly, “She was afraid you were going to the factory to look for London and told me to get my ass over here to stop you.”
I felt a tiny crack in my defenses then, knowing that after everything I’d done, Gina still sent her brother over to protect me. “You can’t stop me.”
“I know,” he shrugged. “That’s why I’m going with you. I’d never forgive myself if I let you go alone, and something happened.”
“Do you think something will happen?”
His jaw tightened, and he shifted slightly. “I don’t know,” he told me, “But I’ve never been out there when something didn’t.”
I crossed the room and pulled my jacket off the bed, slipping into it with a deep awareness of the gun tucked into my jeans. I didn’t want Alex to know about it, which meant that no matter how badly I needed a hug, I couldn’t have his arms around me. It made me stand-offish, but he wasn’t exactly being overly friendly at the moment, anyway. “Do you think London will be there?”
Into Dust: The Industry City Trilogy - Book One Page 10
