Her head dropped, her chin bumping her breastbone as the concern she’d been carrying around for him loosened a little. She tucked his hand back under the sheets and smoothed the cotton across his chest in a habitual motion from a life she’d lived a lifetime ago.
He was probably only in his mid thirties, and yet he’d had to deal with so much, like all of them had. This new life was a bitter pill to swallow.
Her makeshift bed taunted her from across the room, but she tugged the blanket off the chair, pulled it around her shoulders, and headed to join the men. Both of them. Nothing to do with wanting to be near Hardy.
But only Mabe was outside. He was sitting under the overhang of the entrance porch, his back to her. Shielded from the Chittrix from above, but still with a clear view from the hospital’s elevated vantage point. Georgina smoothed her features, masking the disappointment that Hardy wasn’t there. She was barely able to acknowledge the feeling herself and the last thing she wanted was Mabe to notice. Besides, that would be rude.
He stood when she approached, a moth-eaten blanket sliding from his shoulders. He offered her the upturned filing cabinet he’d been sitting on.
Georgina shook her head. “No, it’s fine, I couldn’t sleep.”
He grinned and cricked his neck at the sky. “It’s quiet tonight. Unusually so, considering there’s a hive in the south of Bath.”
“That must be good?”
Mabe shook his head. “Perhaps. Maybe they’re all exhausted after the party at the CB yesterday. More likely, they’re planning something else.” He lapsed into silence. “Hardy just left. For the roof.”
“Oh, right.” Her cheeks flamed so hard she must resemble a firefly.
“If you want to speak to him. About Foster, that is.”
Her toes curled in her boots. “I might do that.” Was she that obvious? She hurried back inside, almost tripping on the end of her blanket in her haste to hide her blazing face.
She dithered at the bottom of the fire escape that rose from the rear of the reception area, staring up the stairwell. Imagining him up there.
She should so stay down here.
Fuck it.
She hugged her pulse rifle close to her chest as she passed every silent landing. On the roof, the fire escape had been wedged open and the night air blew past her in a swirl of chill air. She stepped out onto the flat roof of the hospital. Small stones ground under her feet. He was here, a shadowy form near the roof’s edge, hunkered low.
She walked toward him with as much dignity as she could muster. He was sitting on an upturned bucket, leaning against the silent air conditioning unit that occupied a large section of the roof and provided some cover. Below her, the city stretched out, an amalgam of dark shadows and dim outlines, picked out in shades of gray by the wan moonlight. A faded shadow of its former self in more ways than one.
The smoky tang of burning wood filled her nose, brought to her on the wind. To the east, a building was alight and plumes of orange and yellow shot in bright columns into the night sky. Sharp black darts cut across the flames in rapid succession. Chittrix.
Hardy fired her a brief glance, then turned his attention back to the murky night. The beefy barrel of the Sweeper was propped between his broad thighs. His thighs must be almost as wide as her waist. The man was a complete beast. He indicated a box for her to sit on.
She stared at it and sat down.
Hardy sipped from a glass beaker.
Georgina chewed on her lip, searching for the right thing to say. But there wasn’t one. “Something’s burning.”
He grunted and squinted at the sky, his face impassive. “At least it seems to be drawing the Chittrix to the far side of the city.”
Georgina turned from the blaze. She didn’t want to think about people who might be dying while she sat here in relative safety. Silence. Nothing moved. Nothing. Not even a fucking mouse. Jeez. Where was Barney when you needed him? She turned and stared at Hardy. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Nope.” Hardy tilted his head. The intensity of his scrutiny made her squirm. He reached across and offered her his beaker. Brown liquid sloshed against the side of the glass.
She raised it to her nose and took a tentative sniff. It smelled spicy with a hit of orange and leather. “What is it?”
“Found it in the desk drawer of one of the surgeons. Must be medicinal.”
“No thanks.” She passed it back.
He took it and angled the glass at her before taking another slug.
Small rustling sounds came from the bushes on the ground, but Hardy appeared not to notice.
“Should you be drinking?”
He took a noisy slurp.
Damn, if he wasn’t doing that to piss her off. “We’re stuck in a dead hospital with no food or supplies, being hunted by eight-foot alien insects and their buggy scorpion friends. We’re not even sure where we’re going tomorrow and you think it’s a good time to have a drink?”
“You finished?”
She sat up straighter, folding her arms across her chest. Damn right she was.
He waved his glass at her. “Foster’s going to be okay. For me, that’s a victory. I like to acknowledge every fucking success against the bastards.” He stared out into the night. “Besides. One glass isn’t going to be the ruin of us.” He swirled the remaining liquid in the glass. “You do know you look like someone shoved a poker up your ass?”
Georgina glared and took the glass from him. She downed it, whatever it was. Pure alcohol burned all the way down her esophagus. She spluttered, thumping her breastbone in an effort to draw breath.
God. Coughing, she handed him back the glass as alcoholic heat ignited her veins.
Hardy grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. “There. Foster deserves a celebration.” His voice dropped. “He’s my friend. And he’s a fighter.” Head between his arms, he sucked in a slow breath. He tilted his head sideways. “Thank you. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”
Hardy shook his head very slowly. “People aren’t the same anymore. Survival does that. Even the people who were pillars of society before, once they’re starving and desperate, they won’t hesitate before they blow off your head for a tin of beans.”
She didn’t answer, knowing the truth in what he’d said. “What now?”
The question was written on his face. What now for their journey or for what had nearly happened earlier?
“I already told you, Wales. There’s another bunker there,” he said, choosing the former.
She kept her face impassive but something in her crumbled a little
Hardy sighed and scratched his rough cheek. “I don’t remember the details. Just the location.”
Georgina swallowed. The inside of her mouth had gone numb. “How many do you think made it out?”
Hardy shook his head. “Not enough.”
She lifted her feet onto a bucket, resting her chin on her knees. “I don’t even know if my sister is alive. She might be dead.”
“So why go?” He tipped his head as if trying to make sense of her.
“I’ve always cared for her. Everything I’ve ever done has been for her.”
“And now you’re risking your life.” His voice was soft.
He was right. Simply stating the truth. “That’s what we do when we love people.”
He stared at her with those eyes that spoke to her soul. She forced herself to breathe. She gripped her knees tighter.
“The chances of finding your sister are beyond slim. Even if you knew exactly where to go, the journey alone is extremely hazardous.”
“Wouldn’t you search? For someone you loved?”
“Maybe.” His face darkened and she regretted her words. She knew nothing about him. What he’d been through. People he had lost.
He poured himself another shot. “Not everyone deserves to be found.”
She frowned a
t his cryptic words. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Make of it what you will.” God, now he was playing therapist. She stood up abruptly, her temper flaring, fueled by the alcohol on an empty stomach. The truth of his words bit deep. She was tired of never having anything for herself but it was like an addiction she didn’t know how to give up. Even when he was here right in front of her, the thought of taking a chance on him terrified her. “I didn’t come up here to be judged.”
“Well, why did you come up then?” He swayed up onto strong legs, filling every inch of her vision, dominating every nerve in her body.
Her mouth went dry. “Earlier. When Mabe…” She ran a hand through her hair, striving for clarity, but it eluded her. “I wanted to apologize.”
His gold gaze was intense, his voice a primal murmur that turned her insides molten. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do.” God. Her voice sounded brittle in the night air. “I was rude.”
He stepped closer.
She flattened her hand against his abdomen, the ridges of his muscles defined under her fingertips. God. “We don’t even know each other.”
His voice was a throaty murmur that made her pulse trip. “Isn’t that where everyone starts? Not knowing each other? You can push me away but I don’t think that’s what you really want. At least that’s not what it felt like earlier.”
The heat radiating off him whispered against her bare cheek. His breath was spicy, rich with the alcohol. She wanted to taste it. To taste him.
His hands slid to her waist and her knees softened instantly.
She sucked in a shaky breath. Fought to stop her knees from giving way. “You have no idea what I want.”
“No?” He swept a strand from her face and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed by his nearness. “I think you deny what you want because of a sense of duty to your sister.”
His words stung deep.
“Janie’s all I’ve ever had. She’s more of a daughter than a sister. I can’t walk away from her.”
“No one’s saying you have to give up on your sister. But maybe there’s another way, where you can have something for yourself as well as taking care of her?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other. Did it ever occur to you that you might have more luck finding her with help than on your own?”
A tight knot clogged her throat with all the things she wanted to say. She swallowed against the constriction. “It’s always just been me and Janie. No one wanted to help. They wanted to put us both in care. That was their help. I’ve never done this or anything like it with anyone.”
“Me neither.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “And look at all the talking you’re making me do.”
She gripped his upper arms. If she let go she’d fall. It was all she could do to keep breathing. She had no memory of such tenderness, ever. Her breath hitched as she wiped her eyes and fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. She broke free of his gentle grip, needing space, needing to process what he’d said and the dormant emotions he was wakening inside her.
She retreated from him, every step stilted. “I should get some sleep. I’ve got a lot to think about.”
She forced herself to cross the roof, pausing at the fire escape. “Goodnight, Hardy.”
23
Hardy packed the Jackal at dawn but his mind was elsewhere. He kept replaying his conversation with Georgina last night. Her anger when she’d thought he was judging her and then the overwhelming emotion in her voice when he suggested she accept help.
Help that he wanted to give. Clearly she loved her sister and he’d do anything he could to reunite them. Even if he also had his own selfish reasons for hoping she’d stay around.
He was no virgin and at the Command Base he’d had plenty women offer to warm his bed for the night. He’d accepted a few, enjoying the physical intimacy but that had been where it stopped every time.
He’d never wanted more.
But with Georgina, he was at sea. He hadn’t even seen her naked but he wanted to know more about her than what she looked like with her clothes off. He wanted to understand what made her tick, the things she liked and disliked. He’d always believed romantic love was misguided. A weapon that only inflicted pain. He’d seen the bloody evidence on his mother’s face. He’d never been taught anything different and long ago he’d decided it wasn’t for him.
Now?
The words bounced off the inside of his mind.
I don’t want her to leave.
A groan beside him, prompted him to place a hand on Foster’s forehead. It was cool and free from fever.
Foster’s eyes popped open. “I’m not fucking dead yet.”
Hardy grinned. “No.”
“Where we going?”
“Wales.”
Foster peered out the window at the derelict hospital car park, his eyes bright and clear of pain. “What the fucks in fucking Wales?”
Hardy rolled his eyes. “Garrick, and everyone else hopefully. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Foster let his head drop back onto his pillow. “No shit. I’ll have to speak to Garrick about that. Nothing but fucking sheep in Wales.”
“Good to know the broken leg hasn’t damaged your sense of humor.”
Foster grunted.
Mabe appeared at the rear doors. “We good to go?”
Hardy surveyed their motley belongings. They had less than half a tank of fuel and the sum total of their gear was stuffed into two ratty bags. He suppressed a sigh and scrubbed his hand across his face.
“I’m not sure good’s the word but we’re ready.” They’d no other option but to leave, but that didn’t make him feel any better.
Natalie appeared at Mabe’s side and he boosted her up into the jeep. Hardy didn’t miss the gentle way he placed her on her feet.
Hardy caught his eye and Mabe evaded the look with a shy grin.
Natalie settled next to Foster, her no nonsense, cabin crew expression on her face. “I’ll look after him.”
Hardy shook his head, rueful. “It’s not him I’m worried about,” he said, motioning his head in Foster’s direction.
“I’ll have the chicken,” Foster said, his expression neutral.
Natalie didn’t miss a beat. She straightened his blanket. “Right after take off, sir.”
Hardy left them to it and joined Mabe under the Jackal’s hood. Barney was loose, scurrying across the engine blocks.
Mabe rubbed his hands on an oily rag. “Fuel’s low. Theoretically, we have enough to get to Brackla. If we skip up past Bristol, across the Prince of Wales Bridge and head along the south coast of Wales, we might make it…but that doesn’t allow for detours or crazy-ass driving to outrun Chittrix or scavengers.”
Hardy touched the Jackal’s side. He refused to believe they were out of luck. “Guess we’ll need to make the best of it then.”
Something pinged on the edge of his awareness and he turned from Mabe, scanning the trees behind him. They shifted restlessly, their leaves showing their pale underbellies to the wind, but there was nothing or no one there.
He was imagining things.
Light steps behind him drew his attention back to the task at hand. Georgina jogged toward him on lithe legs, tucking her weapon into a thigh holster she’d taken from the Jackal.
She approached him and smiled, and his mouth went dry.
“Hey.”
He worked his jaw. Resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. “Hey.”
She was close enough he could stroke her cheek if he wanted and draw her to him the way he’d been fantasizing about while she worked on Foster’s injuries.
She stared into the distance, clearly searching for the right words.
Hardy waited, trying not to stare at the few freckles gracing her nose. Or the flawless skin of her throat. She was still wearing his thermal fleece, unzipped, against her skin. She’d be warm to his touch, her skin soft and pliant—
“I’ve been thinking…” She stared at the ground, digging in the dirt with the toe of one worn boot. Her laces didn’t match. “Maybe I’ll come to Wales. See about getting some help to find Janie.”
His heart stalled. “Maybe?”
She twisted her hands, wringing the fabric of his fleece between her fingers. She glanced up at him through lowered lashes. “Um, no, definitely…if that’s okay?”
His heart drummed in his chest and his thoughts scattered. “That’s—”
Mabe dropped the hood of the Jackal with a thunk. “What’s okay?”
Georgina turned to face him. “I’m going to come to Brackla. I have a better chance of finding Janie with help.”
“I see,” Mabe observed from under his shaggy eyebrows.
A pink flush rose up her throat. “Yeah well… I’ve had the chance to think about a few things.”
It was all Hardy could do not to run a victory lap.
Natalie whooped and bounded out the rear of the jeep and grabbing Georgina in a bear hug she spun her round in a circle. She kissed her on both cheeks. “You won’t regret this.”
Georgina beamed as Natalie released her, laughing and wiping a happy tear from her eye.
Foster shouted unseen from the Jackal. “If there’s going to be any ladies kissing, it all sounds like a great plan to me.”
Hardy bent into the rear of the vehicle.
Foster’s broad smile gleamed. “Can we go now? I’ve been promised in–flight snacks.”
Hardy clamped his lips together and headed to the front cab, his steps lighter than he would have thought possible. Warmth radiated through him as he cranked the engine. He leaned out the side window to hide the grin that threatened to split his face in two. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
For now, Georgina was staying.
24
Georgina’s stomach was a tight ball. She’d been unable to eat any of their meager supplies for breakfast, only managing to force a few sips of water down her throat. Last night she’d tossed and turned, options bouncing round in her brain, even though deep down in her heart the decision was made as soon as she saw Hardy sitting alone on the roof.
Hardy Page 10
