“Right,” I said, carefully keeping the pain and emotion out of my tone. “So he dumps Niall on me with threats of eternal damnation if he’s not kept safe, but despite that, sends his own guys to spy on me.”
“Shut up,” Niall said. “Seems like a good thing he did. Maybe saved you from a visit to that eternal damnation.”
I glared at him, the throbbing in my wound all mixed up with the pounding of the blood around my head. No, I’m there already. Started the minute you stumbled in with your boxes and your familiar scowl.
Junk stirred behind me, and I shot him a look. He looked over at Niall, and they shared a nod. Seemed like they understood each other just fine about this.
“You can untie him,” Niall said. “He’s okay with us.”
Tuesday 11:30
HANS THE disbarred doctor had arrived, worked on me, and left. He’d been a small, quiet man, but his stitching was exemplary. Guess it had to be, because Niall stood over him like he was pretending to help, though he was really waiting for the first mistake, probably for an excuse to castrate the guy. We could all see his suspicion; it was palpable, like a blue cloud around him, but I didn’t have the energy to tell him to back off. I just grit my teeth and thanked some God or other that I only needed four stitches. Any more and I’d have been biting my lip to stop my eyes watering like before. Hans cleaned up, pumped me full of something that had the incriminating label soaked off the bottle, and left me a handful of unmarked pills for good measure. I started to relax a little. Whatever the stuff was, it did its job swiftly and well.
I’d already been blessed with visits from Ruthie’s grandkids, but only until Junk lost patience and threw them out bodily. Now some of his own family had drifted back to the park and came over to my trailer for curiosity’s sake. I knew them all and liked them too. The door was half open, and I could hear the sounds of usual life returning to the site. I’d have looked out as well, but the light was blocked by Junk’s heavy frame where he’d taken up residence in the doorway as some kind of unofficial bouncer. So I lay in just my sweatpants and socks, smiling stupidly at my visitors. A couple of the girls seemed upset at the sight of my bandaged arm. Or maybe it was the dried blood still spattered here and there on my chest. Anyway, I doubted they were moved by the state of my manly torso. Not that I wanted them to be; I’d held off their romantic advances pretty well so far.
One of them kneeled down beside the couch and took my hand. My smile was genuine this time. She looked up at me through a younger replica of Junk’s fierce eyes, albeit they were set in a damned sight prettier face. His eldest daughter, Sheri. She had full lips and bright, inquisitive eyes, and her dark red hair was twisted into a braid at the nape of her head. Leaving aside the low-cut shirt and the skirt that wasn’t much deeper than one of her father’s scarves, I thought she was gorgeous. Not so gorgeous with the scowling, of course.
“What’s happened to you, Mac? What bastard did this?” She couldn’t seem to decide between anguish and personal affront.
That’s Sheri all over. Says what she likes, bold and brave. “I don’t know.” I tried the innocent smiling again but she looked fiercely at me, as if I were deliberately keeping a secret from her. As if I’d dare.
Sheri was Junk’s most reliable companion, always there with him, even as his lovers and other family members came and went. Or so he used to tell me when he was drunk and maudlin and determined to tell me his life story for the umpteenth time. I’d seen their neighbor Phil watching her with some kind of lovestruck helplessness whenever he was around at Junk’s. A lot of the guys were like that with Sheri, like moths to her flame. She took lovers occasionally, though I wasn’t one to check up on her or anything, but she didn’t take anyone for a more stable relationship. Too busy with her family, maybe. She looked after the whole damned lot of them, it seemed.
By now, the other girls had lost interest in me and turned their attentions to Niall instead. Guess he looked a better specimen than I did at that moment. I watched him try to ignore them and still be civil, but it made my head hurt again, despite the drugs. And when one of them stepped up on her toes and kissed him goodbye full on the mouth, I didn’t like the feelings it inspired in me at all. Nausea, I expect. Having been shot, and all.
Within half an hour, everyone had moved out of the trailer, the morning’s excitement over. There was just me and Niall left, and Junk, who was still reluctant to leave.
And in the background to all this drama, acting under our orders, perched uncomfortably on the stool in the kitchen and effectively keeping out of the way of all the attention, was Greg.
NIALL STOOD beside the couch, looking down at me. I was settled rather awkwardly, though Junk had gone to find me some more cushions from someone else’s trailer to make it easier on my back and arm. I glanced over toward the kitchen.
“What do you think?” I said quietly.
Greg had waited until my visitors had all gone, and then had appeared in the kitchen doorway. He hadn’t moved farther into the living room, and I didn’t think he could hear us properly. He was also a little distracted. Junk had left the door ajar when he left to get the soft furnishings, and Dylan had loped up my steps and into the trailer like he owned the place. He now sat a foot away from Greg, his tongue hanging carelessly from the corner of his mouth, his breath panting, and his eyes fixed constantly on the guy whose buttock he’d tasted once today already. When Greg had cast a pleading look in my direction, I’d told him Dylan had a very healthy appetite.
Now Greg just stood there, worried gaze flickering between us and the dog.
Niall drew breath and waited a few seconds before he answered me. He turned his body slightly so that Greg couldn’t see his mouth move. “I think he’s scared, but it seems he’s telling the truth. It sounds like something Simon would do. Greg was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. A pity he got in the way, though. The real culprit might have been caught.”
“Why would Simon think we needed extra support? And only one young guy? Seems very odd.”
Niall frowned. “Yes. But it’s not good for us to discuss this now in front of others.”
I glanced back at Greg. “He’s hiding something,” I said, softly.
Niall tutted, but I think it was just an expression of his own frustration. “Do you think he recognized the attacker? Maybe he was a deliberate distraction. Maybe his orders are something more than just protection. Or he’s been used without realizing it.”
I didn’t have the energy to ask him what he meant. That was Niall’s way, to analyze everything from a pragmatic viewpoint, to weigh up all the possibilities, not just the probabilities.
“It’s just Simon being a mother hen,” I said, wearily. “You wait until I next see him.”
“Meanwhile, we have his protégé here, apparently the only witness to another attack on the Project Team.”
I was startled at his frankness. “You think that’s what it was? They’ve tracked us down to here?”
“Tracked me.”
I didn’t know what to say. Things were moving rather like a movie—much too fast for real life. “I often wondered what potential Simon saw in Greg,” I murmured. “He’s way too tolerant with his guys. Kid was never the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.”
“Also a poor shot.”
I glanced at Niall in surprise. There was a wry smile on his lips, though I couldn’t see if it reached his eyes.
“I can’t think it was him shooting at you, Tanner. No one could rely on him hitting you, not judging from my experience. He had me watching him last month on the range, begging tips on better stance, holding the barrel far too high, time and again. I passed him back to the training board in the end. He needed another few months to be anywhere near Departmental standard.”
My eyes stung at the inside of my lids. “And that, after all, is the most important thing to you, isn’t it? To meet Departmental standard.”
Niall’s breath hissed a little. “Not now, Tanner. You�
��re hurt, I know, but don’t you think this situation is more critical than our own issues?”
“We have issues then, do we?”
He leant his head down to me, obviously worried that Greg would hear our bickering. “Fuck you, MacKay. You chose to run, didn’t you? You chose to close that particular door. So don’t tell me I don’t face the issues, okay?” The expression on my face must have been pure amazement. “That’s some kind of victory for you, isn’t it, making me argue? But I don’t intend to let you under my skin again, I tell you, it’s been hard enough….” He bit at his lip. It was a gesture he kept returning to. His eyes darted away from mine again. “This is not important, Tanner. You’ve been attacked, which means someone else apart from the Team knew where you were. We need to work out who—and why—and what we do next.”
But my attention wasn’t on side just yet. Truth to tell, I was still furious with myself for letting my guard down in the first place. I’d missed the threat until the damned bullet hit me. It was a horrible reminder of the other times in life I’d fucked up—including the other time that had affected Niall himself. I looked up at him, my mind full of pity and annoyance with myself, and our gazes met. He glanced quickly up and down my bandaged body and frowned.
“I’m good,” I said, quickly. I was still sharp enough to know what he was going to ask. “Just groggy from the drugs.” And obviously tetchy. “Dammit, just because I’ve bled all over the park doesn’t mean my brains bled out alongside it. You don’t need to worry about me putting you at risk. I’ll be able to think about it more clearly soon, I’m sure. When I’m up and about again—”
“You won’t be,” he said, sharply. “Fuck, Tanner, you’ve been shot. You’ve lost blood, had some stitches. You need to rest. Just let it drop, will you?”
“Drop what?”
He shook his head impatiently. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re harking back to? But we don’t have time. Anyway, I don’t want to listen to it anymore, the damned post-mortem of that incident at the brothel. My injuries, your misery, whatever.”
I gaped at him. “Whoa, resist the urge to kick a guy when he’s down, will you?” He was right, though, wasn’t he? Maybe this was the time to let it go. “If I’d taken this bullet just a little lower and a little deeper, there’d be no need, anyway.”
He paled even more, and it seemed to me his eyes sank into deep black pits of disgust. “Right on, MacKay. Like I’ve said before, you seem to think you have the God-given right to put words in my mouth as well as spouting out plenty of your own. Far be it from me to deny you that glory.”
I felt nauseous. Everything was off kilter. Grow up, Mackay. The last thing I wanted was more argument with Niall. “What about the papers?” I was suddenly worried. Last time we’d been in the trailer, we had reams of paper all over the couch and floor, just about to go searching for clues like some kind of treasure hunt. And since then, we’d had a trail of civilians through the place.
“I put them away,” he said shortly.
“Maybe we should leave the park now. Go and join the rest of the Team. Right?”
He shook his head vehemently. “Not until you can move more easily. If we believe Greg, there’s still someone out there trying to harm us. Better we stay put until we can assess the real threat.”
“Call Simon,” I urged. “Call Judith.”
He stared at me, his brow wrinkling. Perhaps I had been just a little too fierce with my tone. “There’s something still wrong, isn’t there, Tanner?”
I couldn’t answer; I couldn’t admit to… what? Being scared?
The door creaked slightly, and he spun around at the waist, the gun already against his palm, but it was just Junk coming back in with pillows. He ambled over toward the couch, clutching them under his waistcoat as best he could. One looked suspiciously pink; I reckoned it had come from one of his daughters.
Niall let out a long breath. He spoke quickly, his murmur for my ears only. “Who else knows where we are, Tanner? Who knew within hours of my arrival that I was here? Or was it just chance?”
“What are you saying? You think that’s proof there is a spy somewhere in the Team? Perhaps someone followed Greg. They might even have followed you all when you arrived here.”
He looked down at me, and the dark pupils were fathomless. “Maybe. I don’t know. We need to talk it through, and without company. Which is another reason for not leaving here at the moment. We’d waste time.”
“Maybe Junk scared them off, like he scared Greg, the boy agent.” My words were rather more frivolous than my tone. “For good.” I was still struggling with the thought of someone out to get me.
He didn’t answer me. “Okay. I’ll call Judith,” he said. As Junk cleared his throat rather obviously and moved in with his armful of frilled fabric, Niall flipped open his cell and moved away to behind the door. It gained him a modicum of privacy from all of us. I saw Dylan’s eyes follow him, then the dog relaxed, and his gaze returned to its watch of the young man half-hiding behind my kitchen curtain.
JUNK PUNCHED halfheartedly at a few cushions as if he suspected that was what he was meant to do to make me comfy, then abandoned them for me to wriggle into. Instead, he crouched by the side of the couch, and flipped open a can of beer. A drop of the spray settled on my cheek. I itched to taste it, and Junk grinned at the familiar flicker in my eyes. “Later, Mac. You owe me more beers ’n I can count, and definitely more ’n you ever keep in that fridge o’ yours. But for now, Hans says you gotta stay off the stuff.”
“Yes, doctor.” Across the room, Niall turned slightly toward me, the phone hidden under his hair, against his ear. I could feel his gaze on me.
Maybe Junk could too. He coughed, and turned his head so that his face was hidden from Niall’s sight. He dropped his voice lower. “So what the fuck’s this guy to you, Mac? This Niall guy? I ain’t seein’ any family resemblance, so he’s no brother. And judgin’ from that look on your face, he ain’t your favorite person right now.”
“Just a colleague. Well, an ex-colleague.” I trotted out the cover story with lukewarm sincerity.
Junk raised an eyebrow like he wasn’t even listening. “You know it was fuckin’ bedlam out there when you got shot. I was just arrivin’ back, there was this sudden crack o’ noise and a yell that I reckon was from you. Then I saw the blond kid grovelin’ in the dust trying to hide under my trailer, and Dylan was racin’ across the park toward him. You were lyin’ on the ground like someone’d snapped your knees underneath you, and this Niall guy had thrown himself down the steps, coverin’ your body with his.”
“Huh?”
He nodded, watching my bemusement. “He was coverin’ you, Mac. If there’d been any other shots, they’d have got him for sure. I don’t know who the fuck all these other guys are that you’re talkin’ about, or why someone’s tryin’ to shoot you. But that’s one kinda devoted ex-colleague, if you ask me.”
“Junk.” Guess the drugs were making me a bit dopey. Junk had obviously been mistaken about Niall’s behavior, but he wouldn’t want to know the gory details about the pair of us, I was sure. His family was wild and uninhibited in many ways, but it followed a traditional boy-girl-baby pattern. He’d never shown any prejudice towards anyone, unless they’d directly threatened him or his family, but I was reluctant to give him the opportunity to start a new trend. “Look…”
His short laugh surprised me. “Sure. And what’s that look in your eyes? You think I’m some redneck retard who can’t see past his own kind—that I don’t know there’re other folks with other ways. Don’t patronize me, okay? Believe me, I don’t wanna know what you do with your long, lonely nights in among the sheets, but I do know that no one’s ever refused my Sheri without a fuckin’ good reason, let alone remained a friend.” Sheri was everything to him. No potential date had ever said “no” to her and kept all limbs in working order, or so went the urban myth. I was very fond of Sheri, and she was cute, sure—but not my type. I’d dared to
refuse her once, and I still seemed to be in one piece.
Junk stared at me with a rueful grin. “You’re somethin’, Mac, I’ll say that for you. Can’t say I agree with your habits, or I understand what the fuck’s going on, you know? But if you and him have something goin’, it’s none o’ my fuckin’ business anyway.”
“We don’t.” Sharp.
Junk shrugged and drained the can. “Whatever. But I’d be pretty fuckin’ glad to have an ex-colleague who felt that way about me, let me tell you.”
“You’re pretty fond of telling me all sorts of stuff,” I growled back. “Doesn’t make it true.”
He grinned. When he liked you, he was slow to take offence. Fucking annoying, of course, when you were trying to give it.
“Yeah. So I’m wonderin’ what you and he do down at the store.” I just stared. “The grocery store,” he repeated slowly, as if he were explaining things to his youngest boy. “Where you told me you got your ass fired from.” When he saw from my expression that the penny had dropped, he laughed softly. “Reckon I never thought you really did work in a store.”
I mustered up some spirit in my reply. “Yes, you did.”
His laugh was louder this time. “Okay, you’re right, I did. You’re fuckin’ good at that—lettin’ people think things without ever really confirmin’ or denyin’ ’em. Good thing people like you, kid, or we’d be thinkin’ you were some kind o’ government agent or somethin’.” He lifted himself back up to his feet and prepared to leave at last. He seemed to fill the room, and the rickety floor rocked under him. “We’re here for you, Mac, you remember that. I’m leavin’ you here with Niall because you’re okay with that, although you’re pretty damned tense about it all. But if he gives you any grief, call me. Dylan’ll be outside day ’n night. Damned dog can’t stop sniffin’ around the trailers recently.” He darted another glare toward the kitchen and Greg, though there was more calculation in his look this time. “And I ain’t happy with leavin’ that kid in here with you, either.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 85
