From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(73)

They locked eyes, the silence hanging between them for a stretched out moment before he spoke, breaking it with the warm rumble of his voice“Open the other one.”

Dita remembered herself and blinked, setting the sleep machine next to her. She reached for the smaller box. It matched the larger box in design but was a fraction of the size, about the width of her palm, the geometric inlay on top in the shape of a star. She turned it over in her hands and gave it a shake, noting that three of the points of the star were an almost imperceptibly different shade than the others. She pushed all three, and the points retracted, revealing a long chain with a small rose gold pendant, stamped with the letter D.

“It’s beautiful, Heff,” she said, her face flushed, “but what’s the occasion?”

“Well,” he deposited the dog on the floor and moved to sit next to heron the floor, taking the chain, “it’s more than just a necklace—or bracelet, if you want.” He held her hand tenderly as he wrapped the chain around and around her wrist. “If you’re ever in trouble, click the pendant. It’s a button, see?” He mashed it, and she heard a small click. “Pressing it once won’t do anything, just in case you hit it by accident, but if you click it three times, it will shoot a chemical from right here.” He showed her the hole at the base of the pendant, along the rim.

“You made me god mace.” She laughed.

His smile was bright, a flash of white in the dark of his beard. “Perry told me. Although I couldn’t come up with any egocide.”

“I’m pretty sure his ego is unstoppable.” Dita twisted her wrist, the firelight catching the metal. “What will it do?”

“It will make whomever you shoot it at pass out for at least five minutes. Long enough for you to get away or for me to come to you.”

“How will you know if I need you?”

He held up a medallion made of silver, engraved with flames, a hammer, and a solid H. “If you press your pendant twice, it will call me.”

Relief slipped through her, warm and comforting as wine, and she shifted, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, whispering, “Thank you,” into his ear with the smell of wood fire in her nose and heart and soul.

Heff squeezed her tight and released her, looking down at her as he pulled away. “I hope they help, Dita.” He cupped her cheek before standing to walk around the couch. When he reached the doorway, he stopped to look back at her.

“I can’t even tell you what this means to me,” she said, wishing for him to stay, knowing he couldn’t forfeit any more of his heart than he already had.

Heff’s eyes burned, his face strong and intent and body solid and alive and real. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Dita nodded, her throat tight. “I know.”

“Sleep well, Wife,” he said in parting.

“I will, Husband.”

Dita watched him walk away with longing deep in her chest, and when he was out of sight, she picked up her terrarium again and pressed the buttons to cycle through the settings, stopping on the shining stars that spun slowly to the strange tonal sound. She stood and made her way to her bedroom where she set the machine on her nightstand and reached for her window remote to close the curtains and dim the lights. The room was cool and quiet other than the odd and soothing sounds of the machine.

And when she climbed into bed, she wrapped herself in her soft, heavy blankets and fell into a deep, quiet sleep.





Day 9





JON LEANED BACK IN his desk chair that morning, running a hand through his hair helplessly.

He’d spent the morning working on his evidence spreadsheet, however irrelevant the task had become. He’d thought it might help him get him into Rhodes’s head, and frankly, he just hadn’t been sure what else to do, what else he could do.

Yesterday, Jon had called in every favor in his arsenal, and today, there was nothing left to do but wait. Rhodes’s picture and info were hanging in every border station from Maine to Seattle, though Jon didn’t think he’d cross to Canada. Maybe to Mexico, but he hoped to God that wasn’t the case.

If it was, they might never find him.

Really, he’d hung his hopes on Jimmy digging up something on Rhodes. If he didn’t, they were probably all well and truly fucked.

So, with nothing to do, Jon buried himself in researching and logging the kills, which was the most menial task he could attend to. He had to keep his hands busy, needed something he could pour energy into. At least he felt productive.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, adrenaline flashed through him. It was Jimmy Li.

“What’s the good word?” Jon answered casually, the clamp on his throat tight.

“Oh, man, are you in luck. I know the forger who got your guy his papers, sent him the dude’s picture, and he remembered, no problem. Better still…I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going.”

“Holy Christ, Jimmy,” Jon said in disbelief.

“Grab a pen, bro.”

Jon snapped to and picked up a pen, flipping to a new page in his blue notebook. “Shoot.”

“The IDs were for the name Gabriel Reilly, who died in a car accident about six months ago in Seattle. Nobody alerted the Department of Social Security.”

Jon’s pen stopped moving. “That actually happens?”