The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(22)

“I’m just wondering if you think Desmond put a bug in Owen’s car, just in case. Or if…” I paused. “If she’s had a tracker installed in her body.”

“She would. Ugh, all these complications.” Ms. Dale curled her lips in distaste as she considered the thought. “Best not to risk it, of course… We’ll have Thomas meet us somewhere and let him do a sweep. We can use both his device and the one that Dr. Arlan uses.”

“All right. Can you make sure Tim and Owen are okay? I gotta get Violet loaded, and make sure our newest prisoner is tied up.”

Ms. Dale’s mouth flattened into a line of disapproval, but she nodded. “I might need your help with Owen. And Tim, actually. They’re a bit too big for me to handle.”

I opened my mouth to say that Violet had done it while injured, but I didn’t really want to argue with Ms. Dale in her current state of mind. Besides, it would be easy for me to move them—no need to make the older woman force herself into uncomfortable physical labor. “I gotcha. Just drive the car over there and watch them, and I’ll be with you in a minute.” Ms. Dale nodded and jogged off. Owen would’ve left the keys in the car—he usually insisted upon it as a security measure, in case one person on a mission died and the other needed to get away.

My gut churned when I thought of Owen. I wasn’t even sure what to say to him at this point. Half of me wanted to hit him hard enough to knock some sense into him. Another part of me softly but painfully reminded me that he had just lost his brother… and it was still my fault. At least partly.

I sat Violet gently in the passenger seat of our car, then came back and got to work on Desmond, using some leftover zip ties I kept in my bag on her wrists, binding them in front of her so I could keep an eye on them. Then I went to work on her feet. As far as I could improvise, I used all the tricks I’d learned as a warden backward, making sure that Desmond wouldn’t be able to escape from her bonds the way I would usually try to escape them. It didn’t make this feel any safer, any less like we were making a horrible mistake, but at this point, we had little choice.

Finally, when she was as secure as I could make her, I picked her up, a part of me surprised at how light she felt for a creature filled with so much evil. As I worked, I heard Ms. Dale start up Owen’s car and drive carefully around toward the secret entrance.

I thought about putting Desmond in the trunk—I didn’t want her waking up on the drive and causing havoc—but resigned myself to keeping her in the backseat so I could keep an eye on her. Once I had her loaded up, I drove the car around, parking it next to where Ms. Dale had parked hers, so I could see inside.

Ms. Dale was on the handheld, the blue light cutting a bright contrast against the flickering red flames. “We need a location and a timeframe, plus any suggested driving routes, Thomas. We’re worried their vehicle may have a trace on it.”

“Affirmative—we’re just wrapping things up here. The emergency staff decided to go back to the city, by the way. Something about the people needing them after what we did.”

“It was their choice,” she said. “Just send us a message. Being this close to yet another fire tonight is creeping me out.”

“Understood. Expect something in under a minute.”

Ms. Dale clicked off the handheld and placed it on the hood, running a hand through her hair. Her ever-present braid had slipped out, and I could see the strands of silver in her hair shining a bright iridescent red as they reflected the fire. “Owen’s got a head injury, but it might be superficial. Tim… Tim’s not so good. I don’t see a sign of a head injury, but his pupils are sluggish. I’m not sure why.”

I stared at where Tim rested on the ground, noting the dark bruising all over his body, disappearing under his clothes. “Me neither. I’ll grab him and then help you with Owen.”

“Owen first. I want to jostle Tim as little as possible.” The handheld chirped, and Ms. Dale turned and tapped a few buttons on it. “Thomas came through—we’ll meet him forty-five minutes from here. I have a route. Let’s move.”

There was no arguing with that tone, even if I wanted to. And I didn’t.





9





Violet





I jerked awake, the acrid smell of smoke thick in my nostrils, expecting to see the warden’s shocked face bathed in a halo of flames. The sudden movement caused a wave of pain to ripple through my muscles, stretched taut and stiff against my bones. I gasped and flopped back against the pillows, staring up at the canvas tent overhead.

It took me a minute to remember that we had moved out of the farmhouse—the small room Viggo and I had been staying in was now reserved for the sick or wounded, and now, since I was able to stand up and get around freely, and my arm, ribs, and skull were healing with no complications, I would just have to visit every so often. Besides, it was kind of hard to lead an army of refugees camping in tents when they saw us come out of our comfortable bedroom every morning. Viggo had insisted we move to be on the same level of comfort that they were, and I had gladly agreed.

It wasn’t even uncomfortable. Thanks to Viggo’s knowledge, our little nest on the ground was cushioned enough to support all my stiff limbs, and warm and cozy in spite of the mucky conditions outside. We were right next to Cad, Margot, and their two children, too. It was nice, all things considered.