Never Forgotten

by Stacey Nash

  “Now,” Frank says, but no way in hell am I moving my foot to let Johnny grab that pistol.

  He pushes against my leg. But I don’t budge.

  “Move it, Johnnie.” Frank means business.

  “It’s mine.” Johnny juts out his chin.

  “Now,” Frank roars. Johnnie skitters backward. “Not anymore. I should have made you turn it in when you first showed up with it.”

  I retrieve the weapon, then hold it out to Frank by the barrel. He takes it, his glare slicing right through me to the crazy kid. “This is the last time, boy. Threaten another person under my roof and you’ll be off my land for good.”

  Johnnie slinks around the corner.

  I let out a long breath and push my hands through my hair, tugging it out of my eyes.

  Cynnie says, “Let me see it.”

  See what? I turn around to Harris clutching his arm. His face paled, his jacket hanging open to show off the green if-history-repeats-itself-I’m-getting-a-dinosaur T-shirt. Sweat beads along his brow as her hand covers his then pulls it away, revealing blood, but not a lot.

  Frank speaks to Cynnie. “You’re safe here, but if I so much as suspect any truth in his outrageous claims . . .” He draws a hand across his neck. “Both of you.”

  Maybe’s he’s more like Beau than I thought.

  “Just a graze. It’ll be all right,” Frank tells Harris, exiting the kitchen, leaving us all staring at each other, dumbstruck.

  A cut glistens along Harris’s bicep about half an inch long. Not a lot of blood, so it can’t be deep.

  “A clean cloth?” Cynnie asks.

  I grab the second ice-packed flannel and rinse it out, then toss it to her. She presses it onto the wound and when she pulls away the cut’s surprisingly clean. Harris keeps his eyes squeezed shut anyway. What’s with all the asswipes today? First Nikias, then that kid, Johnnie. Cynnie grabs a gauze square from the basket on the table, ripping the plastic open, then presses it to the wound. Next she wraps a bandage around his arm, holding the gauze in place. Some of Lilly’s gunky paste would be handy about now to make it heal faster. Pity they don’t have the supplies here that I’m used to; not as much tech or other stuff stolen from the Collective like we’ve accrued at the farm.

  Cynnie pops two tablets out of the foil, giving Harris the same medicine he gave her only ten minutes ago.

  The three of us sit in the kitchen for a long time, not a word passing between us. Plenty pass through my mind though. Does Cynnie regret her decision? Does she want to go home? Does Xane know what happened or where she is? Was this decision thought through, or something decided in a moment of anger? None of them are questions I can ask in front of Harris though, so I keep them to myself.

  “I’m sorry.” Harris finally breaks the silence.

  He doesn’t say anything more, but he doesn’t have to.

  “It’s not your fault. I wouldn’t trust me if I were him either.” Cynnie stands up. “I’m tired, Jax. Is there somewhere to sleep?”

  I’ll be damned if I know where the day has gone, but as I lead her to the bunkhouse, the sun doesn’t stream through the high windows as it did earlier. Only darkness fills the glass panels now and people already lie in their beds. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s asleep, but a handful of people sit on one of the makeshift beds playing cards. Not that they paying attention, more like watching us. Seems their earlier curiosity wasn’t satiated. With their questioning eyes on me, I go to the cupboard where Harris got the stuff to make up my swag that first night, and grab an armload of blankets and a rolled sleeping mat to pad the floor.

  Cynnie’s wide eyes take in the whole room. Compared to the luxury she’s used to, this is almost barbaric. But to her credit, she doesn’t complain or comment. I drag my swag out from the wall and lay her sleeping mat where it was, then toss the blankets and pillow on top.

  “Thanks.” She sits on the bed before lying down boots and all. “For everything today, thank you.”

  I drop to my bed, suddenly bone-tired. Sleeping with boots on isn’t such a bad idea; it’ll make it easier to move fast if necessary. And with the way these people have been suspicious of me, there’s no doubt they’ll be downright hostile to her. Cynnie will need to work hard to earn their trust. But until then, I’ll sleep with one eye open.

  We lay much closer than I’ve ever lain next to anyone other than that once with Mae. Close enough I can see the curve of her hip rising and falling with each breath and my throat tightens.

  “Jax,” Cynnie ventures, “where’s Mae?”

  I sigh. “Not here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mae

  The last three days have dragged. Almost every moment I thought about Xane investigating Manvyke, wondering if he’ll find a clue leading to my mother or if it’s just the patriarch sneaking around, up to his own sinister plans. A little guilt has crept in because of the danger in which I’ve put my friend. If Manvyke so much as suspects Xane’s onto him, he’ll put a stop to it right away. And with Manvyke’s history for ruthlessness, Xane would get hurt. Hopefully, he hasn’t brought Cynnie into our plan.

  Lilly takes another look at her reflection and swipes a layer of gloss over her pouty lips. She looks, as Lilly usually does, perfect. Her hair hangs in ironed-straight layers around her face, brushing against the base of her shoulder blades, which are covered in a chic jacket over that white dress and finished off with knee-high boots. “You ready?” she asks.

  “Yep.”

  She spins around and gives me a once-over. “You should put something nicer on, Mae. It’s a restaurant.”

  “It’s a diner and it’s almost midnight.” I tug my blouse into place. “Jeans are perfectly acceptable.”

  She rolls her eyes and, as she pushes through the bathroom door, I smile. The more frequent glimpses I’m getting of my old friend make me want to grab her hand and skip along the corridor, but that would be weird, so I stick to the smile instead.

  We turn into the hall on the ground floor, and as planned, Will’s waiting. Even from this distance it’s clear something’s wrong. Standing all tense and still, with his hands in his jean pockets, his shoulders hunch as he watches us approach. My happiness flees, replaced by a churning stomach. Whatever is wrong, I bet it’s messed with our plan.

  Will pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds it out like he means to fist bump me. Taking in his frown and the way his teeth sink into his lower lip, I’m worried. But I shoot my hand out, palm up and he drops a telcom into it.

  What the . . . we won’t be able to use tech tonight. Since we’re not in resistance or Collective territory, its use wouldn’t be masked. He points to his own ear; a telcom already curled around it.

  I pop mine in place and the second it’s on Will’s voice sounds in my mind. “Beau and Charlie are playing pool with your dad.” He’s right, I can hear the rumble of voices from down the hall. “If they see us leaving, Beau’ll ask questions and then we’ll miss Xane. You know he won’t let us wander the city this late.” His gaze flicks to Lilly so quick I almost miss it. She’s looking at us both, confused.

  “I can’t miss this.”

  Lilly shrugs, her palms up.

  I drop my voice to a whisper and point down the corridor. “Change of plans due to our dads.”

  “What’s wrong with the back door?”

  Will shakes his head with a smile. I’m an idiot, we’re both idiots. Of course we can use the back door. One little kink in the plans and we’re floundering. I tug the telcom out of my ear, and shove it in my pocket, removing the temptation to use it when I can’t. It’d be just like me to accidentally send a thought when we’re not protected.

  Lilly leads the way past the kitchen and the library-type room Beau claimed as his office, past a rec room and all the way to the fire exit at the end of the corridor. She slides back the bolts and I hold my breath as she reaches for the knob, hoping to god it’s not alarmed. She eases it open and I cringe, waiting, but no siren sound
s. Phew, that was lucky. Lilly rattles the knob on the inside and the little button pops up. Then we file through and she tests it from the outside; the knob turns, so we shouldn’t be locked out. Unless someone decides to make another lock-up round, which surely won’t happen after midnight.

  Will it?

  Even though the chance is slim, a sense of unease sits in my gut. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen anyway? We’ll get back, find ourselves locked out and have to wait in the truck until the place is opened up in the morning. No big deal.

  Coming out the other side of the building temporarily disorientates me, even though the subway sign stands right out front of the dingy alley. Filled with trash cans and back doors, this creepy alley causes the hairs on the nape of my neck to tickle. Taking long strides to get the heck out of the dark lane, I emerge into the street, but I’ve got it all wrong. This isn’t where I thought we’d be. I spin around and Lilly stops so short her heels skid on the road. She gives me a pissed look.

  “We came the wrong way,” I say, by way of explanation.

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Yes, we did. The truck’s not there.”

  “What?” She pushes past me and into the street. “Shoot!”

  Will pushes past too.

  “Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Lilly punctuates each word with a stamp of her foot. “Where is it?”

  “Not here, obviously,” Will says.

  “Well, who took it? Where did they go?”

  “Doesn’t matter, it won’t help us. We can take the bike.” He pulls a key out of his pocket—for his motorbike—and Lilly looks from him to me, her expression growing more determined by the second. “You guys aren’t going without me.”

  It’s the obvious answer, I have to see Xane and really, there doesn’t need to be three of us there. “Lil—”

  “No.” She snatches the key leaving us both staring at his empty hand, then she stalks off down the street. Will and I exchange a glace, both too stunned to talk.

  “I have to go . . .”

  “I know.” He places a hand on my back. “I’ll get you there, I promise.”

  “Come on, you two,” Lilly yells from up ahead. “If we’re going to make it in time, we’ll need to run to the station.”

  Will and I swap glances again, then both run after her. We might get there a little late, but surely Xane will wait. According to the timetable on the station wall, the city circuit sub runs every ten minutes, even at this time of night. Ten minutes. That’s all it takes before we’re on a train. Pity the trip doesn’t go as fast, stopping at every station. The automated voice announces Central Park and my watch reads twelve-forty. The feeling that was in my gut earlier slams back with full force; we’re almost thirty minutes late. Xane will think we stood him up, and will have left by now, for sure.

  An anxious jittering starts in my legs and I need to run. Anything to get there quicker. Pushing my stride out as far as it will go, I jog up the stairs two at a time and emerge into North Pine Street. The night’s not very cold, but it’s cool enough that visible heat rises out of the subway vents. I suppose it is nearing the end of summer. A shiver runs down my spine and I almost backpedal into Will, remembering the night I was threatened by thugs and Jax defended me. Jax . . .

  No one stands there now and I’m not the same person I was then. I have a knife strapped to my arm and another inside my boot and I know how to use them. I am strong. Shops and buildings line the street, but it’s the one at the corner whose smooth walls form a perfect square and with the white neon sign in the window announcing it as the Parkside Diner. Even from here I can see it looks nice through the huge windows; cozy couches, trendy coffee tables and warm lighting. It’s not a rundown all-nighter like I expected. Lilly was right, I probably should’ve dressed differently.

  I power-walk along the street, not taking my attention off the diner while Lilly and Will fall into step on either side of me. Through each window, I survey the tables, chairs, lounges; the smattering of people. But he’s not there.

  My mouth sours. We are too late.

  Will reaches the front door first, pushing it open to the sound of an electronic ding. Completely unlike himself, he doesn’t hold the door open, but lets it fall closed behind him and I have to thrust my hand out to stop it slamming in my face.

  Maybe he feels off too.

  Will stalks around Parkside like he’s a celebrity’s bodyguard, scoping out the joint before he lets his precious charge enter. Not that Xane’s a danger . . . I’m even more certain of that after last night. A few people sit about—probably staff—but that’s all. In the back corner, away from all the windows, a blond head is just visible, bent over so that I can only see the crown.

  Will spots him at the same time I do, and his arm bumps into mine as we both move in the same direction at once. After shooting him a look he lets me go first, just as Xane looks up, his blue eyes scrunching together. Xane flips closed the newspaper, which is spread over the low-lying table his knees rest against. Then he leans back in the lounge, resting his hands on its wide-winged arms. Funnily enough, seeing him doesn’t remind me of Cynnie, but rather Jax. He’s all casual confidence, just like the guy who left me to worry where the heck he went and if he’s okay. If he’s been taken out in an attack. If he’s gone back to his father—we did talk about surrender after all and it would be just like Jax to think he’s saving lives.

  “Sorry, we’re late,” I say. “Car troubles.”

  Xane’s gaze slides to Will standing at the edge of the table, his arms crossed to no doubt once again show off their bulk. Edging between the table and the double-seater, I drop into the lounge and tell him, “Sit down.”

  Eyeing Xane warily, Will lowers himself onto the chair beside me, leaving the other smaller armchair next to Xane for Lilly.

  “It’s cool,” Xane says, but it doesn’t sound cool. He sounds somehow off.

  An empty mug, its rim dirty with the remnants of a cappuccino sits by the paper. He’s been waiting awhile. I hold his stare, and his eyes fade like all the life has seeped out of them. It’s not anger, but something else. Something deeper. If I knew him better then maybe I’d know what to say. Since that’s not the case, I reach across the table and lay my hand over his as he flips a salt shaker over and over. A moment passes between us. It’s not quite sympathy or understanding, but the knowledge that whatever it is, he’s not alone if he doesn’t want to be.

  “Where’s Josh?” he asks.

  “Um . . . not with us.” I can’t bring myself to say he left, because then it would be acknowledged, and that would make it true. Jax couldn’t stand to be around me anymore so he left, transferred bases or, gosh, I don’t know where he went and that hurts.

  Xane’s eyes narrow and he pulls his hand away, looking into the near distance as if he’s weighing his next words.

  “How’d you go?” Lilly asks in a bubbly voice.

  I could jump across the table and hug her. Xane’s mouth curls at the corner, just the tiniest bit. Pity he doesn’t get to start talking before the waitress sashays up to the table, flips open a pad, and glances around our small group. “Another coffee?” she asks Xane.

  “I’ve had enough for the night, thanks.”

  “Hot chocolate,” Lilly says, “two marshmallows, both pink and lots of froth.”

  “Got any pie?” Will asks.

  “Apple pie, lemon meringue, chocolate mousse cake and we’ve got the house special: strawberry gateau.”

  Xane rests his head back against the lounge. Whatever it is must have drained him, or maybe he’s just tired and I’m reading too much into his mood. It is nearly one a.m. after all.

  “Give me the apple pie, and make sure it comes with cream, please,” Will says.

  “Is that all?” The waitress raises a brow at me.

  “I’m fine.”

  She sweeps a smile around our table and finally walks away.

  She’s barely out of sight before Xane scoots forward, resti
ng his arms in his lap. “He leaves the compound every other day. Late afternoon, around four o’clock and he doesn’t return until well after dark. The first day it was nine p.m., the second it was later, maybe eleven.”

  The chime of doorbell cuts through our conversation and I flinch, twisting around, but the entrance is out of my sight.

  “Where does he go?” I drop my voice to match Xane’s low rumble.

  He picks up the salt shaker again. “Not sure, he doesn’t use the iretum though. He drives, as in he takes an actual ca—”

  His gaze flicks behind me, right between Will and I. The salt shaker falls from his hold and clinks against the glass table spilling a trail of white crystals as Xane’s face moves through emotions so quickly, I can’t get a hold until it lands on cold. My blood feels like it freezes.

  Will jumps up, but he’s not as fast as Xane, who launches himself out of his chair and fair across the table, his feet slamming into the ground with a solid thunk.

  My heart screams danger, danger, danger, slamming its screams against my ribs.

  Lilly draws a dagger from her knee-high boot.

  “Where is she?” Xane shouts.

  I jump out of my chair, pushing the table away and spin around, my breath coming fast. Nikias Manvyke’s hazel-eyed glare meets mine. His eyes icier than Xane’s were just a moment ago.

  “That’s a question you should ask Anamae, shouldn’t he, Princess?”

  Xane’s lips pull back into a snarl that should never cross a face as normally placid as his. He lunges at Nik, a small knife now in his hand. The blade shoots out a beam of blue light. But Nik catches his arm and twists it right around until it pops. Xane screams, a noise so deep and full of agony, my eyes water with empathy.

  “I knew you’d be in on this, too.” Nik yanks Xane around in front of him. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less of someone who calls my brother friend.”

  Somewhere a woman screams, her words jumbled by my heightened senses.

  “Anamae.” Nik smiles—twisted—and my stomach turns to rock.

  He’s dead.

  After everything Nik did last fall—stealing my life, my identity, my mother, Garrett—I could leap past Xane right now and thrust my dagger into Nik’s neck. I reef said knife out of my boot and dive, but something stops me before my feet leave the ground. Strong arms have snapped around me. Will. He pulls me toward him, spinning his back to Nik, making himself a shield between me and the psychopath.