by Stacey Nash
Johnny’s gaze skitters around like it always does.
“Look at me,” Spinner roars.
Johnny’s eyes move to Spinner and his jaw clenches, his face pales.
“You little shithead.” Spinner says, reefing him to his feet by the collar. “I ought to feed you to the Collective.”
Pulse pounding in my ears, I don’t need to hear anymore. I’ve got other important shit to deal with, so I cut across to the port-all and finish punching in the coordinates. When that’s done I turn around for Cynnie, but she’s not sitting where I left her. She’s at Harris’s side, his hands now unbound. A glimpse of Frank tells me he’s being taken care of.
“Cynnie,” I say, “we’ve got to go.”
“I can’t.”
She can’t frickin’ stay here without me. She can’t stay here at all, period. Someone will kill her in her sleep, surely she realizes this. Besides, I need to go. Nik won’t wait long before he strikes.
“We can’t leave Harris, look at him.”
She’s right. Bending at the knees, I tuck my arm under Harris’s and lift him to his feet. “Come on,” I tell Cynnie, moving to the port mat. “We’ve got to beat Nik there.”
She shoots me a confused look, but doesn’t hesitate as she slots her shoulder under Harris’s other arm and together we move him to the port mat. Once there, I slip the bands off my wrists and slide them over Harris’s, then carry out the four tap sequence.
We port.
With a thud, we land in the port room and my sights immediately lock on Will. The memory of his arms around Mae and his lips on her twists like a knife inside me, but now is not the time to deal with that crap. “Get Lilly or Martha, someone, we need help.”
Will’s attention flicks to Harris and before I can draw another breath, he’s out the door. I lead Harris to the chair Will just vacated and set him down. He hasn’t said a word since we found him, which isn’t good. Hopefully he’s still in there, still sane.
The minutes drag. Harris’s breathing isn’t right, a hissing accompanies each breath.
The guy across the room stares at us like we’re some kind of freak show. I can’t recall his name, but I avoid eye contact. My hands ball into fists, and release and ball again as Will takes his sweet-assed time. Surely it’s not that hard to find help. But I know help will come and we’ll be welcomed here. Suddenly the anger seeps out of me; we’re home. And if Will’s here then Mae’s safe. But if Nik hasn’t already stolen the Tarlequin he’ll come for it and soon. Since he’s got the sword we need to be extra wary, because that thing is far too powerful.
Footsteps echo along the hall, the sound of someone running like a bull at a gate. Seconds later, Lilly bursts into the room and dashes to Harris. I step out of the way and right behind her comes Mae, who pulls up short, her gaze colliding with mine. My heart stops for a beat, before taking off again too fast. Her cheeks flush, that gorgeous blush spreading across them and her mouth sits slightly open as she catches her breath. Frick, she’s beautiful. Watching her watch me, it’s like my world starts spinning again, but not the weird off-kilter spin of the past few weeks, back on course the way it should be.
“I don’t know,” Cynnie says, and Mae’s focus changes to her. Just like that we’re no longer the only two people in the room.
“Cynnie?” she says, her tone disbelieving.
Cynnie jumps up and Mae folds her into a hug before the other girl has so much as taken a step. Both their tiny frames jammed so close neither of them can likely breathe. Cynnie rests her head on Mae’s shoulder and her curls bounce like she’s shaking. No, she’s crying. Shit, I should’ve brought her to Mae sooner.
Finally, Mae pushes Cynnie to arm’s length, taking in the other girl with a look. “Are you okay?”
“Harris.” Cynnie gestures over her shoulder. “He’s not—”
“Yeah, a little help would be nice,” Lilly snaps.
I should be doing something. Anything, but I can’t drag my attention away from Mae. It’s like she’s water and I’m dying of thirst. If I don’t drink up every drop of her right now, I’ll die. I know I will and it will be damn painful.
She doesn’t look at me again, just rushes to Lilly’s side where they whisper. A few seconds later, Will barrels back into the room with Martha, puffing out his frickin’ chest like a peacock showing off its feathers. I get it; Mae’s not mine to look at. I tear my gaze away.
Martha makes a beeline for Harris, barging between Lilly and Cynnie. She presses her fingers to his neck then his forehead. Harris moans. Rising to her feet, Martha’s attention settles on me. “Let’s get this boy into a bed so I can check his injuries properly.”
The girls step out of the way and Will and I scoop Harris up from either side. He’s far too heavy for someone his size, like his body has completely collapsed.
We follow Martha’s march out of the port room.
ACT III
The Eye
Chapter Twenty-four
Mae
When my eyes locked with Jax’s, it was like everything around us stopped and we were the only people left in the room. That sounds melodramatic and clichéd, but it’s the truth. I didn’t even see Cynnie until she spoke . . . and her hair is the color of fire, impossible to miss!
Now he hovers at the edge of the room, hostility rolling off him in waves while the rest of us watch over the guy stretched out on one of the spare beds in our dorm. I’m not sure where Jax’s attitude is directed, but there’s no mistaking its presence. Every time I peek his way, his gaze slips off mine, as if he can’t stand the sight of me and his fingers twist through Ace’s shaggy fur. The dog jumped up the second he saw Jax and trotted to his side with his tongue lolling out like he couldn’t be happier. At least someone in this room is cheerful. I’m not sure what to make of Jax’s foul mood. But poor Cynnie seems shaken; her hair is askew and her clothes look like she’s been rolling in the dirt. Yet another person who’s far from their usual self. Boy, it’s good to see her, although not so good to see the whopping red mark on her jaw and from the way she’s working it, it must be sore. A million questions need asking, most of them centered around Xane, but with her attention focused on the guy they ported in with, now isn’t the time. He’s in pretty bad shape.
“Other than your nose, it looks like the damage is only skin deep,” Martha says to Cynnie, “but you should keep the ice on your friend here as long as you can. He’s pretty bruised and ice should help the swelling go down. Mind you keep it away from those stitches though.”
Jax makes a strange noise, somewhat like a grunt, and Cynnie’s shoulders sag where she’s holding an ice pack in place over the guy’s eyes—Harris, Jax called him.
Martha stands and places a friendly hand on Cynnie’s shoulder, but she flinches away as if Martha had hit her. The cook’s brow scrunches. “I’ll leave him in your hands.”
“Thank you,” Cynnie says.
Lilly jumps up, too, and passes Martha just as her mother swamps Jax in a hug. At least he hugs her back; must be me that attitude is directed to. Lil tosses me a smile and mouths, “Be right back.”
God only knows what she’s up to.
With more space, I can move across to Cynnie and sit on the bed next to her injured friend. She looks up at me, but doesn’t smile, her expression full of serious concern. I want to ask her why she’s here on resistance territory and what the heck happened to her friend and to her, but something about her expression tells me to tread carefully. So instead I ask, “What’s going on?”
She glances at Will who has pulled off his boots and now sits on the side of his bed removing his socks, then she frowns as she repositions the ice pack.
“I couldn’t . . .” She glances at Will again and I wait. “Jax . . .” She moves the ice to Harris’s chin. “Nik . . .”
“Cynnie.”
She meets my eyes. “Anamae,” she drops her voice to a whisper, “I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Right,” Lilly’s holl
er bounces through the dorm, “that dude needs sleep. Jax, stop brooding in the corner and get your butt over here.” She shoves a huge bowl into my hands and drops onto the bed beside me. The bowl overflows with packets of crisps and underneath that, fruit and cans of drink.
“What couldn’t you do anymore?” I ask Cynnie.
“Be one of them.”
She’s out? That makes a lot of sense, but . . . “What about Xane? Is he—”
“No. Just me.”
“Is he okay though? I mean after Nik . . .”
She looks at me blankly, but Lilly flops onto the bed next to me, breaking our connection. Cynnie mustn’t know and, gee, that’s not good. Without her there looking out for him, there’s one less person to notice he’s missing. I glance back to where Cynnie’s studiously examining her charge, totally oblivious to the Xane/Nik disaster. “Come sit with us, Cynnie.”
Lilly adds, “Those pain meds Mom jammed into him will knock him out for the entire night, so come join us. All of this food is for you. And Jax if he ever joins us.” She shoots a glare his way and Jax finally pushes himself off the wall. Of course, his fists go straight into the pockets of his favorite leather jacket as he assumes the uncaring air he’s perfected. He ambles toward us with Ace trailing behind him. His face is that stupidly blank, unreadable mask, and it’s like we’ve slipped back to what it was like when I first came to the farm. Only now, in the quick flick of his gaze to Will, I can see the ghost of contempt whereas before, I couldn’t read him at all. No time to wonder what that look’s all about, because Lilly reaches across me, grabbing the pillow, which she hurls right at Jax. He snatches it out of the air before it hits.
“It’s good to see your face,” she says.
A small noise escapes Cynnie, almost a chuckle, but not quite.
“My face?” Jax deadpans.
“Yeah, your face as opposed to your crappy attitude. Hey, Mae. It’s good to see him, right?”
I dare to look his way and Jax’s eyes are on me, and meet mine. The moment hangs heavy in the air and I swear neither of us blinks. His expression doesn’t give anything away; where he went, why he left, why he’s back now. It still hurts that he left the way he did.
“Where—” My voice squeaks like a stupid mouse.
I swallow to try again, but Will cuts me off before I can speak. “Nice of you to disappear without telling anyone.”
The bed moves a little and I realize how strange all of this must be to Cynnie. Dragging my attention away from Jax, and the tension in the room, I smile and give her another hug. To be honest, she’s a welcome distraction. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.” She squeezes me tightly and maybe now’s not the time to bring up Xane. She’s been through enough today already.
Oops, forgot my manners. “This is my friend Cynnie. Cynnie, this is Lilly.”
“Hi.” Lil wiggles her fingertips.
“And that’s Will, he’s . . .”
He sits up and extends his hand, then cuts a fake glare to Lilly. “I’m her best friend.”
Cynnie looks at his hand like she doesn’t know what to do with it, which more than likely is the case. I don’t recall the Collective partaking in handshaking. “Hi, Will,” she says a little timidly, dropping her attention to her hands, which twist in the bedding. “This is weird, Mae. Is this how you felt when . . . ?” The rest of the sentence dies on her lips.
“What are you up to?” Jax asks, his jaw working, his eyes boring into me. It seems he’s mighty pissed, which hardly seems fair when he’s the one who left without saying goodbye or telling us where he was going.
I glare right back at him. Two can play at this. “Excuse me? Are you asking me what I’m up to?”
If eyes could be cold as ice, his are now. “I heard you took off on your own mission.”
It might be petty, but he has no right to pry. Not when he wasn’t here, and clearly doesn’t give a damn. “I could ask you the same question.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
“Nor was mine.”
“Whoa.” Lilly holds up a hand. “Yeah, Jax, we did and if you were here, you would’ve been with us. Will was—”
“Whatever.” Jax spins around and stalks out of the room.
I jump to my feet to drag him back and give him what for, but Cynnie grabs my arm. “Leave him. We’ve had a tough day. He needs—”
“To hell with what he needs.” I yank my arm out of her grasp and cross the room in long strides. When I reach the hall, Jax has his back against the wall and his head rests in his hands. He draws in a loud breath. “What do you want from me, Mae?”
“You’ve got something to say to me, so say it.”
His head snaps up and his eyes, those green, piercing orbs, meet mine. I should slink away because, clearly, I’m not welcome anywhere near him. My throat squeezes so tight, surely it’s going to burst, but I won’t cry. Not now, not in front of him.
“Nikias is coming for you.”
That comes out of nowhere; I shake my head, not certain I heard him right. “Nik? No, he can’t come for me. Not here.” Not true, he came for Xane in the city.
“He wants the Tarlequin.”
My hand darts to the pendant at my throat.
“He has another key. He’ll come soon.”
“Another key?” That can’t be right. No one knows where they are, he told me so himself. Unless . . . I take a step back. While I was chasing Manvyke, I forgot all about the keys. Of course he still wants them; of course he’s still searching. And now he has one, so we have one each. I take another step and my back presses against the wall. The tiny hallway feels like it’s closing in on me. Xane . . . what happened to him the other day, was really about me, about the Tarlequin hanging around my neck. It’s not my throat that squeezes now, but my chest. I drag in a ragged breath, but can’t seem to get enough air. They’ll come for me and no matter what the cost, they can’t have this key.
“He can’t—”
“He won’t,” Jax says.
This thing with my mother was just a decoy while Manvyke sent Nik out to hunt me down. My legs are as weak as straw, ready to collapse at any moment.
In an instant, Jax is right in front of me. “I’m here, it’s okay.” His hands hover over my shoulders. His face is mere inches from mine, so close that our breaths mix. “Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise.”
“Nik . . .”
“Won’t get within a mile-wide radius.”
He places his palm against the wall near my head and leans in, while his other hand falls onto my shoulder and, with that connection, a strange calm settles over me. My heart feels like it shifts in my chest and nerve endings I’d forgotten existed now awaken, tingling in anticipation. Our shared gaze doesn’t break and Jax’s promise shines in his eyes.
I believe it.
He’s so close my lips tingle with the warmth of his breath on them. I should kiss him, I want to kiss him. My teeth graze my bottom lip. Would he kiss me back? His green eyes drop to my lips and then lift to blaze into mine.
“Ahem.” The noise comes from the direction of the door.
Jax hands drop and he moves away. That damn wall of indifference blocks my reading his face. I want to yank the mask right off, because now I’m even further shut out than ever.
“Ah, sorry,” Will says, “but we need to talk about what’s going to happen now, and if Jax is taking off again . . . well, we could use his help first.”
“You’re leaving?” I whisper.
He refuses to look me in the eye. “This,” he lets out a long breath, “won’t happen again.”
My jaw clenches and my shoulder crashes into his as I push my way past him to Will, who stands in the doorway, his attention glued to the floor.
Chapter Twenty-five
Jax
What the hell was that all about? The way Mae looked at me, like she damn well wanted to jump my bones, was downright sexy. I sure as hell wanted to jump hers and i
f Will hadn’t appeared when he did, I would have been using my mouth to persuade her that that was what we both wanted.
Watching her disappear through the door, I know I overstepped the mark and it can’t happen again, but resisting her isn’t easy. This whole thing was her choice, and I need to respect it. As I get to the door, Will lets it go and I have to smash my palm against the timber to stop it slamming in my face. I can’t blame him. If our positions were reversed and she’d chosen me, and I’d walked in on him making a move, I’d be livid.
I make my way to the small group where Cynnie is hunched in the corner of the bed while Lilly jabbers away beside her. Hopefully it won’t take the redhead very long to come around; she’s got nothing to be scared of here, especially not Will and Lilly. Unless it’s having your ear talked off. Will’s sitting next to Lilly and Mae sits on the second bed, hugging her knees.
I’m a bastard who doesn’t deserve the huge breath I draw in. “Just so you know, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” Lilly says. “To be honest, we could use your help. We’ve been trying to track down Mae’s mom and we think we’ve found her.”
I dip my head. Of course they have.
“Do you know anything about another Collective location in the city?” Mae asks, without moving her chin from her knees.
“Other than the council building? Well . . .” I mentally tick off the places I know, none of which are in the city. “Don’t think so.”
She says, “Manvyke’s been leaving the community every other day to go to some apartment in the city.”
“And?” Nothing odd about that. All those years he met me—forced me to talk—we never met on Collective territory. It wasn’t in an apartment either; the location changed every time. He could be there for any number of reasons.”
I drop onto the opposite end of the bed Mae’s on, careful to keep a respectful distance between us which Ace promptly claims. Damn, it’s good to see the slobbering mutt. I’ve missed his company. Roughing up his belly, I say, “So you think you’ve found her?”
