Breaking Point (Article 5 #2)(78)

I didn’t like separating from Sean and Tucker, but Sean couldn’t rest until he knew more about Rebecca, and there was no way I could sleep if Tucker was anywhere near.

“Turn that light out,” someone groaned. I clicked off the flashlight, glad for the first time to be made anonymous by darkness.

What had I been thinking, declaring myself the sniper? I’d gotten us in, sure, but it was just a matter of time before Chicago poked a hole in my lie. We’d better make sure we were gone by the time they figured it out.

Was this how Cara had felt? Always deflecting the truth—whatever that truth actually was. I pictured her pretty face, her cold, sparkling eyes, her mouth curved up in a flirtatious smile. It made me sick to think about, and even sicker that I felt thankful to be alive. Not glad she was dead, but relieved that I was still here. And that was just the same as being glad, wasn’t it?

I collapsed on the edge of my makeshift bed and it squeaked. The next cot over felt miles away, too far from him, and in this place, surrounded by people I didn’t know, people who thought me someone else, I didn’t want to be alone.

I grabbed his hand, urging him down to sit beside me. When my cheek brushed against his shoulder, his chin came to rest on the top of my head. We still smelled vaguely of smoke.

“Don’t go,” I whispered.

He exhaled slowly, then shifted. I heard the slide of fabric as he removed his boots, and then his warm breath on my knee as he removed mine. I scanned the blinding darkness of the room. I couldn’t see anyone. Which meant they couldn’t see us.

He lay back. I remembered the way he’d clutched his side after the fight, and tentatively pushed back his shirt. My fingertips skimmed over the rise and fall of his abs and the lean, quivering muscles sweeping around his ribcage. There were bruises here; even in the dark I could imagine them. Purple blossoms tinged with yellow. I swallowed thickly.

“Does it hurt?” I whispered.

He hesitated. “That doesn’t.”

His skin was so smooth I couldn’t take my hands off of it. I briefly wondered what he would do if I kissed that spot, right near the base of his sternum. Thoughts of Cara gave me pause. Cara, who would never touch anyone this way again.

“Lay down with me,” he said. The metal frame of the cot whined as he pulled me close. I fit into the cradle of his hips, my back flush against his chest, my knees bending over his. My head found a pillow on his biceps, and I trembled when his other hand rose up my hip, beneath the hem of my shirt, and his fingers spread over my bare stomach and wrapped around my waist. He held me tightly, until the warmth of his body melded with mine. Until I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.

In the peace that followed, I thought of Jack and Truck and Mags, how heavy the weight from the surface pressed down on the shoulders of the soldiers beneath. How it made them brutal and callous, and how much more familiar that felt than Beth’s innocence, even after such a short time.

Even hardened, there were still moments like this. Soft spaces in time. Moments that made everything else matter.

That was when I finally realized that though I may have changed, I wasn’t broken at all.

*

I AWOKE to passing footsteps and the dim glow of a lantern. My limbs were tangled with Chase’s, reminding me how tall he was when my socked feet only reached his shins. One heavy arm locked me against his firm chest and his warm breath tickled my ear.

Home, he’d told me once. I was his home. He was mine, too. Had my mind not already begun churning with what the next hours would bring, I could have stayed right there forever.

He had obviously been hurting for sleep. Normally up at the slightest sound, he barely stirred when I wiggled away. Carefully, I slipped on my boots and meandered toward the muted light of the main tunnel, trying not to bump into anyone sleeping on a cot or luggage rack.

I needed to find Sean—hopefully he’d learned more about Rebecca’s situation while I’d been asleep. Now that I was more alert I felt it. She was close, and we were wasting time until the meeting not attempting a rescue.

I heard footsteps again, and a light appeared thirty feet down the tunnel in the direction of sick bay. I squinted, and in the dim glow caught a head of golden hair hurriedly walking away.

It could have been any number of people I hadn’t met, but I was certain it was Tucker. The knot in my gut was proof enough.

Heart pumping, I ran after him. I should have waited for Chase—I knew that. But I also knew that whatever Tucker was doing, he was doing in secret. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to bust him. If he caused trouble here on Chicago’s turf, all of us were going down.

The light disappeared as I rounded the bend in the tunnel. My feet kept between the dull blue tracks, but reactively slowed when the path before me lay empty. The clatter of my steps echoed like mocking laughter, drawing a prickling sensation down the back of my neck. I was surrounded by shadows and corridors that disappeared into the black. Tucker could be hiding anywhere.

There was a rustling to my left, and I gripped the long metal handle of the flashlight as though it were a weapon. The sound came from the line of temporary showers down a tile-encased corridor. As I tiptoed toward it I heard Sean’s voice from the medical car twenty feet away and told myself to relax. He would hear me if I ran into trouble.

I pushed back the trash bag curtain, but there was no one standing on the wet tile floor. Drip, drip, drip, went the steady, ear-shattering leak from the doorway. The IV shower bags with their attached spray nozzles hung limply on their wall hooks. I stared so long into the shadows that I began to see shapes. Hear things that didn’t exist—creaking, moaning, whispers.