Skin Dive (9 page)

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Authors: Ava Gray

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Skin Dive
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The mailbox shielded him from two more shots. Then he leaned out far enough to draw Gillie in beside him. The apartment building behind him ought to prevent them from sneaking up on his six. Feverishly he scanned the area, seeking an escape route.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” a smooth voice called. British accent. “Come quietly, and we’ll make sure they don’t hurt her. She’ll enjoy all the comforts of home.”
“Everything except free will,” he growled back. “If it’s all the same to you, motherfucker, I’d just as soon kill you all.”
“You don’t have the juice. Plus, you don’t know precisely where my men are. And I only need to land one shot to take you both.” Because it was true, it wasn’t a boast.
It was also absolutely the wrong fucking thing to say. White-hot rage filled his head. He’d promised her.
Promised
. And he had nothing in the world except his word to Gillie.
“If you want me, come get me.”
He spun in the crouch, eyeing the streetlight. From this distance, he might be able to tap the grid. Normally he wouldn’t do it twice in one night. That would only accelerate his deterioration, and he could barely keep his cookies down on the best of days. But he had Gillie sprawled beside him, her face pale and still. She counted on him not to fail.
Fine. She’s worth it.
Then his gaze lit on the parked cars lined up along the curb.
Could I . . .? Fuck yes. It’s the only way, in fact.
Instead of trying to find the men in the dark, he’d light this block up like the Fourth of July and use the subsequent fireworks to make his getaway.
Taye threw out a hand and opened his veins. At least that was what it felt like. Instead of blood, lightning arced from his fingertips, drawing like response from the bulb. It popped and white light sparked forward, spiraling toward him. He guided it with a twist of his arm and slammed it all into the gas tank of the nearest car. The explosion rocked the pavement, sending a gorgeous fireball skyward.
Another. And again.
Each time he did it, the pain built in his chest, crawling toward his belly. It sank cruel tendrils into his spine until he could feel the blood boiling behind his eyes. The fires burned brighter, more explosions rocking the street.
He grabbed Gillie up and sprinted forward, using the burning cars as cover. Darts still peppered the ground behind him, but the fire and swirling smoke made it tough for them to see him, especially when combined with the light snow and wind. With an elbow, he smashed the window of the one vehicle he hadn’t sacrificed in Zeus’s name. Once he unlocked the doors by reaching through the shards of glass, he slung Gillie in through the passenger side and then vaulted the hood. He didn’t know why he knew how to steal a car, but it came naturally. More proof he hadn’t been a good person before he lost his mind.
Taye slammed his foot on the gas and the car fishtailed away from the curb. He drove with his head low past the row of burning cars. Sirens wailed in the distance, which meant the Foundation goons would scramble like rats for their holes in the wall. Soon the authorities would be on scene, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
Mockingbird had told him where to go. Safe house—or so the man claimed. He had no reason to doubt; they owed him their lives already. Taye didn’t like the idea of being indebted to anyone, but he couldn’t see any way around it. He couldn’t manage this on his own.
That was what he hadn’t shared with Gillie—the price of Mockingbird’s intervention a second time. But if he had to indenture his remaining days to ensure her safety, so be it. Better to fight and die for her freedom. She had enough joy in her to live for both of them. Marriage. Kids. She should have every bright and shining thing, including a decent man who could tell her where he grew up and all the names of his childhood pets.
Not that it gave him any pleasure imagining her with anyone else. Most days, he fought the idea that the universe had given her to him. And she didn’t make the battle any easier with her stupid hero worship and her rose-colored glasses. She refused to see him as he was.
While she slept, he drove to the airport and found a poorly secured long-term parking facility. Being cheap had its risks. He ditched the stolen car and found a new ride. This one likely wouldn’t be reported missing for a while, as according to the paperwork stowed in the visor, the owner wouldn’t be returning for a month.
With great care, he tucked Gillie into the passenger side and belted her in. Then he hurried around and started the car. Easier when you had the keys. It hadn’t taken much effort to get into the flimsy metal prefab building that served as the lot office. Too bad. People should really take better care of their belongings.
He had been pushing west along I-94 for an hour or so by the time Gillie stirred. She moaned as she woke, her fear instinctive and bone deep. It took all his control not to put a hand on her thigh to soothe her. She consistently struck a nerve, one that made him want to claim and protect her. But it didn’t matter what the fuck he wanted. His song was nearly done, and it would be unforgivable to let her love him for the time he had left.
“We made it,” she said in wonderment.
“Told you I wouldn’t let them take you back.” He didn’t look at her, knowing that expression of hero worship would have deepened. Sometimes it made him feel like Superman, and sometimes it made him want to set something on fire just to watch it burn. Because he could never be as good as she thought. He was only going to let her down.
“Where are we going?”
“West. We’re meeting some allies.”
“Mockingbird,” she guessed. “Can we trust him?”
“I don’t know. But we don’t have anyone else.”
She acknowledged that with a nod. “Are you going to work for him in exchange for my protection?”
How could she know that? But maybe it came from how well she knew him; it was hard to keep secrets from her. Though he’d kept one. One vital, miserable secret.
Taye shrugged. “It’s not important.”
“But just a few months ago, you didn’t want to.”
“Circumstances change.” He hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t be around forever, though he’d never leave her by choice. Arrangements had to be made.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
She was so damn smart and she noticed too much. Gillie knew how to read his silences, the spaces between his words. Sometimes he caught her staring as if he were a puzzle she was determined to put together.
He laughed softly. “So many things, Gillie-girl. But don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
“I’m not helpless.” Her tone frosted over. “I’m not incapable of looking after myself.”
In this world, she was. He didn’t say it aloud. But she knew. She was a healer, not a killer. Not like him. Most days, he wouldn’t mind watching the whole world burn. And that silent knowledge made her give him her shoulder as she turned her face to the foggy glass. The highway zipped past outside. Taye wished—ah, fuck. It didn’t matter. There was no magic in the wishing well, just the dead dreams of hopeful children.
Yet he didn’t like it when she was mad at him. He’d grown too accustomed to her smiles. So he tried to pacify her. “I don’t mind, really. We need his resources to start over. So I run a few missions for him and then we’re free and clear.”
It wasn’t a matter of money anymore. He didn’t dare trust her fresh start to a contact he’d found asking around at work on the docks. Mockingbird would do it right.
“Really?” she asked softly. “You don’t imagine he’ll want to keep you on, once he realizes how powerful you’ve become?”
I won’t be around long enough for it to matter, Gillie-girl.
That, he could never say aloud. It was his fondest dream to see her settled in a new life, her identity buried so deep that the Foundation could never find her again. Mockingbird could make that happen. Taye wanted her to go to college and get that dream job, whatever it might be. Most important, he wanted her to
live
. She would be his gift to the world. It was that simple.
“He’ll be open to negotiation when the time comes. I’m not without leverage of my own.”
“But you won’t tell me what that might be. Is it too complex for my pretty head?”
That stung. After everything, she shouldn’t compare him to the crazy bastard Rowan who . . . treated her like her thoughts didn’t matter. Like she existed only to stroke his ego. He wasn’t doing the same thing, not exactly, but it was close enough to give him a twinge. Wanting to protect her was no excuse for treating her like she didn’t have a good brain.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
But he couldn’t tell her he was dying. Not now. He didn’t want to see the pain in her eyes, mingled with pity and confusion. Better that she wear those fucking rose-colored shades a little longer. Taye could handle that better.
“I don’t like that you’re bartering your freedom like this.”
“Me either. But the alternative is worse. At least by throwing in with them, I’m fighting for something I truly believe—the Foundation
must
be stopped.”
“I’m with you there.”
“And we’ll get to meet other survivors, more people like us. That’s not a bad thing.”
She flashed him a wry smile. “Are you trying to convince me . . . or yourself?”
“Little of both. I’m wary of everything and everyone at this point.”
“But not me.”
“No. Not you.”
Never you.
He would trust her to reach into his chest with her bare hands. Christ, hadn’t she done that to him already? The ache never left, not entirely. Not even when he was sick and sore and full of despair. He had been nobody at all when Rowan first cleared him to visit her—just a maddened thing spitting defiance and rage. But from the first moments in her faux-apartment, he’d felt like a white-hot sword, doused in the tempering waters that made it strong.
By midmorning, he couldn’t drive farther. He pulled off the interstate at a cheap motel that looked like they’d take cash and not ask questions. In daylight, they both looked pretty fucking rough. She was blood-smeared and his white shirt carried red spatters. Simple enough to hide in his case. He buttoned his duster and ran a hand through his hair.
“Wait here. I’ll get us a room.”
Inside, it was much as he’d envisioned. A tired old Pakistani woman came out from behind a faded blue curtain. Her face creased in an insincere smile, but she took his money, asked no questions, and gave him a key, which was all he needed from her. Thankfully, there was no TV in the lobby, or she might have seen their faces on the news already. He had no way of knowing what angle the Foundation would choose, or what kind of terrorists he and Gillie were supposed to be. Taye hurried back out to the car and pulled it around back; he’d asked for a room on the far side of the motel, away from the freeway noise.
He didn’t kid himself the British merc would give up the chase. But at least he couldn’t track them using extraordinary means, and questioning people took time. Taye would use that time to rest and move on. In two days, they would make the safe house rendezvous with Mockingbird’s agent.
Barring trouble.
Gillie slid out of the car as soon as they parked. She hadn’t asked him to stop so she could use the bathroom, but from the way she hurried past him toward the facilities, she had to be in pain. Dammit, he would’ve found a restroom for her. But she hadn’t asked. And that was Gillie. She had borne her lot in silence for so long that it had become second nature. Her anger came if it wasn’t personal, if it was just a mood. But when she really needed something, she couldn’t ask because that acknowledged her own impotence—and that she would
not
do.
Instead she closed the door quietly and turned the water on so he couldn’t hear her pee. Or maybe, he thought, so he couldn’t hear her cry.
But he heard . . . and it broke his heart.
CHAPTER 7
Gillie wiped her
eyes.
She wondered if this would be it, if the sum total of her life would amount to running—narrow escapes and endless death. Maybe she shouldn’t feel sorry for the men Taye had killed. They hunted their fellow human beings without caring if their prey deserved it; that made them reprehensible. But she couldn’t help but question whether they had families.
She needed to stop giving a fuck. The lines had been drawn, and they were at war. If she didn’t want to end up a casualty, she had to toughen up. Once she fought past the initial reaction, she washed her face and hands, watching the blood swirl down the rusty drain. That homeless man had been less than nothing to the men who came into their apartment building, just a potential complication. She had to remember
him
when she faltered.
By the time she finished in the bathroom, Taye was already in the bed with his back turned. It was a small room full of dings, dents, cheap furniture and interesting stains. He had pulled the curtains so the light only shone around the edges, creating a peculiar golden rectangle.
This morning, a cruel impulse possessed her. Since his intentions were so pure—he’d proven she didn’t interest him over months of platonic cohabitation—she saw no reason to sleep in her bloodstained clothes. In economical motions, she slipped from the McGinty’s Tavern T-shirt she wore and then unbuttoned her jeans.

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