The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(8)

4





Viggo





A bright red hue lit up the horizon, glowing like a beacon, inviting anyone nearby to come check it out. But in the deserted countryside, we seemed to be the only ones around. It was just as well. As we turned down the narrow dirt road that led us toward it, I could see hazy wisps of smoke in the air, whirling around us as we drove past. The corn in Mr. Kaplan’s field was turning brown in death, the strong stalks sagging, almost weeping, for the loss of their caretaker.

The vehicle bounced over the bumps in the road, the shocks squeaking under the weight. The glow grew brighter as we approached the trees on each side of the road, their branches obscuring the view of the house, creating a little archway. Thomas sped through it, and I blinked as the smoldering remains of the farmhouse came into view.

Part of the second floor had collapsed, and everything was a charred black. The flames were mostly gone, but embers still burned brightly on the ground. I could see Lynne near the house, grabbing a bucket and splashing liquid on the ground just outside the perimeter. I had instructed her and Morgan to make sure the fire we’d started in order to call in the ambulance we’d hijacked didn’t rage out of control, and thanks to their efforts, it seemed that it hadn’t.

Thomas pulled the car up to where the other vehicles were parked and shut off the engine. Within moments, we were all stepping out, each of us with a clear destination in mind. Except for Cruz, of course—he stood near the back of the ambulance, his eyes studying the fire. I moved closer to it, keeping an eye on him as I headed toward Lynne.

“How’d it go?” she asked as she splashed more water on the dirt. She wiped the sweat off her brow with her forearm, exchanging her bucket for a full one from the supply they’d brought from the well and taking a big step over, splashing the next patch of earth.

“We got the broadcast out,” I replied grimly, and she turned toward me fully, giving me a meaningful look.

“Their response?”

I met her gaze flatly, shaking my head at the brunette before me. “Kill the messengers. And anybody… anybody who heard it, too.”

She frowned. “It’s going to get bad.”

“It always does.”

“Pardon me?”

The voice behind me was startling, but I tried not to spin around quickly—I didn’t particularly want to show my surprise to this person. I turned and regarded Cruz. Lynne put a hand on her hip and blew a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Who’s this?”

Cruz’s eyes lit on Lynne, his gaze sliding up and down her curves. He smiled, his white teeth flashing red in the light of the embers, and he managed a small bow. “Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Anello Cruz.”

Lynne’s face stayed carefully blank, and I bit back a smile as Cruz blinked, waiting for a reaction. His dark brown eyes flicked to me, and then back to Lynne. He straightened, shrugging. “Surely it sounds just a small bit familiar?” he repeated, and Lynne shook her head—but this time, a little smile turned the corners of her mouth up.

I wasn’t sure where that was coming from. I shook my head at him, deriving a small amount of pleasure from disillusioning the man. “She’s from Matrus,” I informed him, and Cruz’s eyebrows leaped into his hairline.

“Ahhhh, a Matrian! Are they all as beautiful as you over there, or are you just extraordinarily blessed?”

I blinked, feeling like I had just been sucker punched. Had Cruz—a man who had not so long ago been accusing me of treason while we’d had him tied up with zip ties—actually interrupted our conversation so he could flirt? My mind sputtered and stalled in the face of that frankly illogical action.

Lynne’s reaction, however, baffled me further. Her hand was still on her hip, but she was eyeing Cruz up and down with wary interest. “Are you serious right now?”

Cruz raised his hands, an eager smile on his lips. “As the night is long in winter.”

At that, she chuckled, her smile broadening. “What a gentleman,” she said finally, though she seemed more amused than seduced. “Are you a refugee as well? Will you be joining us?”

“Your cause is my cause now, madam,” Cruz replied, not missing a beat.

Lynne gave another chuckle at his use of the word ‘madam,’ and I had just about had enough. “Lynne, would you excuse us for a minute?” I said, managing not to drawl, and took Cruz by the shoulder, guiding him far enough away that our conversation wouldn’t be clearly overheard.

“What is it, Croft? Do you have a problem?” he asked, his dark eyes serious. I peered into them, trying to figure out the motivations hiding there, then looked for a way to phrase my question.

I settled on, “Are you just putting on a show for her? Or are you serious?”

“About the beauty of the lady over there?”

“About joining our cause,” I said, the words coming out perhaps more dry than I’d been trying for. I didn’t have a problem with new recruits, but this one seemed a little suspicious to me. His help had been useful in our escape, but how could I know that he wasn’t, once again, siding with whoever wouldn’t get him killed? Frankly, the man’s manner grated on me, but I wasn’t going to deny another fighter we desperately needed just because of that. Cruz was a former Power Fight League fighter, and in many ways, he seemed a typical Patrian male—so I felt my concern was justified. If he couldn’t get behind the females who were also leading our little cadre, then things were not going to go well.