by Kit Rocha
The TechCorps really liked being people’s only option for survival.
By the time Dani had joined them, Nina and Maya’s reputation had spread across Five Points. Year by year, they’d added to their offerings, helping people grow their own food, fix their own tech. Giving people the skills and knowledge they needed to step back from the exhausting ledge of struggling just to survive.
Then they’d added the sweetest part. Books about deathless romance and daring adventures. Movies to show you a world you could barely imagine or keep the kids entertained while you stole a moment to yourself. Music to fill the silence, whether it was real or just in your head.
Survival had bought the community’s trust, but joy had bought their devotion.
These days, damn near everyone in Five Points recognized Maya on sight. They smiled at her, or tossed her a wave as she passed. Some called out, asking about a book they wanted or promising to come in to help with the harvest prep.
The little kids were always the hardest to deal with. They bounced up to her with a lack of fear that twisted protective anxiety in her gut, and babbled nonsense at her like they didn’t have a care in the world. The contrast between these cheerful, confident kids and Rainbow’s wary caution couldn’t have been starker.
Maya could handle the neighborhood kids during movie nights, where all she had to do was throw a vid up onto the wall to be their hero, but the rest of the time …
She didn’t know how to cope with normal kids. She hadn’t exactly been one. At least she understood Rainbow.
Still, even the way the kids freaked her out was preferable to the vibe when you left Five Points. On the other side of that invisible line, the sense of community faded. Desperation showed in a thousand ways—broken bottles and trash strewn in the streets, damaged storefronts. Apartments with the windows boarded over.
People leaned against crumbling brick walls, their hardened, considering gazes crawling over anyone who passed. Maya never left Five Points without being visibly, aggressively armed. Sometimes that was enough to deter trouble. When it wasn’t … well, she never left Five Points without being ready to shoot someone in the face if she had to.
It quickly became clear that today, she would not have to.
Even though he’d said otherwise, Gray didn’t look armed. He was dressed the way he usually was, in jeans and boots and a T-shirt that hugged him in loving ways Maya was pretending not to notice. He was just a man, striding next to her in companionable silence.
Predators took one look at Gray and all but combat rolled back into the grungy alleys they’d come from.
“That is seriously annoying,” she grumbled, the third time a tight-faced would-be mugger melted back into the shadows after his gaze skimmed over Gray. “Does this always happen?”
“What?”
“You and the lowlifes.” She waved a hand toward the darkened alley. “I could come out here with a rocket launcher and they’d still try me. You’re over there in your sexy T-shirt with no visible weapons, and they’re pissing themselves as they flee.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “My sexy T-shirt?”
Fuck. Her cheeks burned, but she scowled at him. “Whatever. Don’t act like y’all don’t do it on purpose. Hell, Rafe has basically weaponized his biceps. Nuclear-grade muscle flexing.”
“Now, that is true,” he allowed, “but that’s Rafe, not me. Besides, I don’t think my clothes have much to do with why we’re not getting jumped out here.”
No, probably not. Tight shirts and Gray’s entrancing shoulders might inspire unwanted thoughts of a different sort of jumping, but that wasn’t what scared off the street toughs. “You’ve got the same thing Nina and Dani have. People just look at you, and they know.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “Speaking of, any updates from the team?”
“Just one. They hit the building we raided, and it was scoured clean, of course. But Conall caught them leaving on one of his pop-up cameras.” Maya sighed and rubbed a hand over her shoulder. The bruise she’d gotten when the guard had slammed her into the truck was deep purple today, and a reminder of why people saw her as less dangerous. She was. “They’re following the trail as fast as they can.”
Gray exhaled and squinted up at the sky. “Wonder how long they’ll stay out there, looking. Could be days, knowing Knox. Hell, Nina, too.”
“Nina won’t come back until she’s exhausted every possible lead. And when she does come back, it’ll be to regroup.” Remembering the look in Nina’s eyes brought a gentle ache to Maya’s chest. “This is personal.”
“For all of us, I think.” His hand grazed her shoulder, then fell away. “In one way or another.”
That warm, seductive voice wrapped around her. The ghost of his fingers lingered on her shoulder, a quiet promise. We’ll take care of this together. And he was such a solid presence next to her. Strong, effortlessly competent. The criminals watching with fear from the shadows couldn’t tell that he’d collapsed on the floor last night, seizing. That his weeks were numbered.
She kept forgetting. It would be so, so easy to forget.
The TechCorps had taken him and experimented on him, just like they had with her. And Dani. And Rafe and Conall and Knox. The people who’d hurt Nina and the ones who had created the scared young girl huddled in the upstairs apartment with Tia Ivonne might have been different monsters, but they were all part of the same evil.
Every last one of them had a score to settle.
“We’ll find them,” Maya said, forcing herself to sound confident. “I mean, we’re a bunch of badass superheroes, right?”
“Who are you trying to convince, Maya?”
She wasn’t sure. And she really didn’t want to dig deeper and figure it out. She cleared her throat. “This is the place.”
The building, like everything else in this area of downtown Atlanta, had once been nice. It was square and squat, with large picture windows framed by classic brown brick and terracotta accents. Sure, the brick was chipped and pocked, the terracotta crumbling, and every window smashed, but the building’s bones were solid. That was a big ask in a place like this.
It was also utterly deserted. Through the broken windows, Maya could see a few boxes and broken pieces of furniture, but everything else had either been hastily packed or scavenged. Beside her, Gray cursed and sent a shard of glass skittering across the uneven sidewalk with a single harsh kick.
A familiar, helpless rage kindled in her chest. The cockroach had scurried away, no doubt spooked by the threats Emeline’s grandmother had shouted at him. Spooked, but not deterred. He’d resurface somewhere else, peddling his false hope to people who couldn’t afford the strings that came with a visit to a TechCorps “free” clinic. And Maya would only find him again after he’d wrecked more lives.
Next time, it might be something she couldn’t fix.
“Stay here,” Gray muttered.
Glass crunching under his boots jerked her around, her mouth opening to call Gray back. The words froze on her tongue.
The lethal predator who’d strolled casually into the dangerous side of town was gone. Gray shuffled toward a pair of shifty-looking loiterers, his face twisted with pain, his gait unsteady. His hands trembled, and he looked pale and desperate and about five seconds from face-planting right there on the dirty street and then dying in the gutter.
Even knowing it was an act, Maya’s heart tried to climb into her throat.
God, it had better be an act.
Gray approached the men, who seemed wary but didn’t scatter. They were too far away for Maya to hear their conversation, but as she watched from the corner of the building, the locals almost seemed to relax, as if they were speaking with an old friend instead of a stranger.
Slowly, Gray made his way back. By the time he reached her, he was standing tall, his expression clear of pain, with only the frustration lingering. Relief twisted through her, followed swiftly by unease. The act had been superb. He was a damn chameleon
.
The only way she’d ever know if Gray was hurting was if he let her know.
“No dice,” he told her. “They don’t know where the hell he went.” The corner of Gray’s mouth tipped up. “They did tell me about some new clinic someone’s putting together in Five Points, but they warned me to be careful. No one knows what to make of it yet.”
Unsurprising. Knox’s clinic would seem too good to be true to the people who scraped by on the edges of survival. It would take time to build trust.
Well, it would take most of them time. “How did you do that?” she asked as they turned back toward Five Points. “I thought Rafe was the team’s resident grifter.”
“What, that?” Gray shrugged. “That’s not grift, that’s just—”
The peaceful quiet of the street exploded into the unmistakable cacophony of a firefight—rapid gunfire, shouts, bullets ricocheting off buildings and pavement. Training kicked in, her hand going for her holster before the first crack echoed through the alley.
In the same moment, Gray slammed into her.
Her back hit solid brick. Her head snapped back, smacking into the hand he’d slid behind her neck to protect her. He was everywhere, holding her against the wall, his body curved to shield hers. Her face ended up pressed to his throat, her shocked inhalation filling her lungs with the scent of him—gun oil and coffee and soap and sawdust.
Adrenaline surged through her, making everything worse. The press of his body. His scent. The sound he made, some sort of subvocal rumble that was probably supposed to soothe her, but his chest rumbled against hers and her brain blanked.
If she parted her lips, she’d be able to taste him.
Sweet merciful fuck, if he didn’t get the hell off her, she might actually do it.
Frantic, running footsteps echoed down the street, followed by the safety of silence. But Gray didn’t move.
Maya braced a hand against his chest, even though the contact burned. “Hey. It’s okay.” She pushed a little. It was like shoving granite. Or Nina. “I’m okay.”
He finally stepped back but left one hand flat against the brick. It left him leaning over her, a posture more oddly intimate than his body pinning hers to the wall. Something electric shivered through her, and she spread her fingers wide, intending to give him another gentle push.
His eyes met hers. Held. His chest tensed under her fingertips. She parted her lips, but no sound came out. For once in her life, she couldn’t remember a single damn word.
Then his gaze dropped to her mouth. His fingers pressed into the wall next to her head. He wasn’t touching her anywhere except where her hands were splayed against his chest, but she felt him from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, which were doing their best to curl inside her boots.
The hand next to her head shifted. His thumb stroked one of her braids. Her scalp tingled, and a whimper lodged in her throat then emerged as his name. “Gray?”
His gaze snapped back to hers. The wild look faded, and he pushed abruptly away from the wall, leaving her slapping her palms against the brick to keep from swaying after him.
“Sorry about that,” he rasped.
She hadn’t realized the sheer heat of him until he was gone. Even in the muggy morning air, she felt suddenly chilled. Her fingers tingled as she flexed them. “It’s fine,” she managed, forcing herself to speak lightly. “Dani tends to jump on me when guns go off, too. But I can take care of myself, I promise.”
“I know you can. It’s just…” Gray dragged a hand through his hair. “Never mind. You want to get out of here?”
Her heart stuttered. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his disheveled hair. It was just long enough for pieces to stand up, little spikes she wanted to smooth down. Because that was what she should be thinking about, standing in the midst of broken glass in a gutted-out alley thirty seconds after a shoot-out. Touching his hair.
Fuck, he’d broken her brain.
“Yeah.” She forced herself to straighten and fell in beside him as he started to walk. Totally casual. Very normal. Nothing weird or awkward at all. If she avoided him for the next fifty years, maybe she could convince herself it was true.
Hard on the heels of the thought came guilt. It twisted through her, a sick reminder.
Gray didn’t have fifty years. Gray likely didn’t have one.
For a heartbeat, it hurt. It hurt as badly as knowing the quack doctor had fled to do more harm. It hurt like knowing Nina was out there, tracking down bad guys who would probably slip through their fingers and keep on hurting children. One more thing she couldn’t do a damn thing to fix, and if she let herself feel all of them at once, she’d sink under the weight of them and never resurface.
So she didn’t. With her rigid TechCorps dissociation training, she enforced discipline on her unruly thoughts. She just … stopped feeling. She’d pay for it later, like she always did, but she’d made an art form of it by now. She crushed every hurt and distraction into a tiny ball and shoved them into the box deep in her mind. They settled, a tangible weight across her shoulders, a tension in her body that never entirely left.
But her mind was blissfully, beautifully blank.
As she and Gray walked back to Five Points, Maya filled that blank space with a list of things she could control, each one spawning a list of things she could do. She whispered each task to herself, locking it into memory.
When she got home, she’d work until she collapsed. She’d check off every damn thing on that list and make new ones if she had to.
Maybe, this time, it would be enough.
August 4th, 2072
DC-025 has enrolled in the same assembly language class as Marjorie. I’m sure Tobias Richter’s data courier already knows such basic material.
I can’t see this as a harmless coincidence.
The Recovered Journal of Birgitte Skovgaard
SIX
Maya was avoiding him.
As soon as they’d made it back home, she’d murmured an excuse about being busy and ducked into the work area of the ladies’ warehouse.
Oh, who was he kidding? She’d fled, and he honestly didn’t even blame her. Not only had he talked her into going on what amounted to a wild-goose chase, but he’d shoved her against a wall and drooled on her.
Smooth, Gray. Real fucking smooth.
He snagged a couple of beers and went across the street in search of Sam. The old man was bound to get tired of seeing his face sooner or later, so Gray planned to make the most of his taciturn acquaintance while he could.
Sam was out, but his neighbor, a pretty, young widow who’d been flirting with Rafe nonstop, flagged him down. Gray spent nearly twenty precious minutes trying to extricate himself from her interrogation—what was Rafe’s favorite food, did he like redheads, was he dating anyone?
The poor woman didn’t stand a chance, so Gray handed her the beers and bluntly told her that the butcher who lived downstairs was a better bet.
His potential distractions exhausted, he headed back to the warehouse where Maya was, undoubtedly, still hiding. He punched in the code for the back door this time, and stopped short when Maya spared him a single distracted glance before returning her attention to the massive 3D scanner in front of her.
Okay, then.
The back wall of the warehouse had been set up with a desk and several tables, the surfaces covered with a computer, two scanners smaller than the one Maya was using, and boxes and boxes of books. Gray wandered over to one of the tables, where he straightened a slightly crooked pile of books before turning back to Maya. “Want some help?”
Without looking up, she swept up a box cutter and tossed it toward him. “Grab a box.”
A frisson of warning flickered up his spine, like someone had a bead on him and a laser dot was about to show up dead center on his chest. “I’m sorry, Maya. Truly, I am.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Her gaze stayed fixed on the screen as the scanned pages flickered across it. “Like I said,
Dani likes to tackle me in firefights, too. I get instinct. I just wish y’all’s instincts weren’t convinced I’m helpless.”
He sliced open the nearest box, grimacing at the slightly musty scent that spilled out of it when he pried open the flaps. “I don’t think you’re helpless.”
She made an amused noise. “Really?”
“Really. Look, I understand that you could probably tell exactly where those shots were coming from in an instant, but it took me a second, all right? I thought someone was shooting at us. And bullets hit capable people just as hard as they do helpless ones.”
Another amused snort. “I’ve got a good memory, not psychic powers.”
An entirely different sort of alarm jolted through him. “Maya? Don’t you train?”
“Uh, all the damn time. Cardio, hand-to-hand. Rafe’s making me wrestle him with the stun gun now.”
“How about ranged weapons?”
“I’m proficient with small- and large-caliber semiautomatic pistols,” she recited obediently. “I’ve even trained with Mark series rifles, but that’s more Dani’s speed than mine. I like my Ovechkin 9mm. Not too light or too heavy, decent capacity, manageable recoil. Oh, and I have a crossbow. Half points for efficiency but double points for style.”
She’d mentioned nothing beyond regular target practice. Gray clapped his hands together. “Okay, then. Who else can do this here? What about that lady who helps out around here sometimes, the one Luna has a crush on?”
“Who, Tai? She already helps with this.” Maya shot him a sidelong look. “But it’s not like scanning is beneath me or something. I’m the one who set up the digital catalog and figured out how to automate metadata importation from the scanner.”
“Uh-huh.”
