The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(53)

The roar of the engine immediately died, and the sounds of night rushed back in, redolent with the chirping of crickets and frogs. I looked at Viggo, and this time he nodded at me.

“Throw out any weapons you have,” he commanded the driver, his tone inviting no negotiation.

After a moment, a single pistol and a knife clattered to the ground outside the driver’s side window. I wasn’t at a good angle to see through the windshield—Viggo was better placed than I was to get a view of the driver.

“I can only see one male,” he said at my questioning gaze, low enough that I had to strain to hear him. I saw Owen’s head flash out from behind the back of the truck, giving me a ready symbol.

“Get out of the truck slowly,” I ordered loudly. “You’re surrounded. Any sudden moves and I’ll open fire.”

My breath hitched as the door swung slowly open, a heavy creaking noise punctuating the stillness. I watched as worn sneakers appeared on the slender step just under the door, followed by pants and a paunchy stomach covered by a badly buttoned shirt.

I exhaled sharply as a familiar, partially bald head appeared, and lowered my gun. “It’s all right,” I shouted loud enough for Amber and Owen to hear. “It’s just Thomas.”

“‘Just’ Thomas,” the man himself mimicked sulkily. “Yes, ‘just’ Thomas, who nearly died three times trying to get to you—the plan I worked out with Amber didn’t end up working as it should’ve. But thanks for the security interrogation.”

I let my gun point toward the ground and asked the first question that popped into my mind, desperate to know. “Is Solomon with you?”

Thomas scowled, and then turned to face the giant, self-contained compartment in the back. “He chased me,” he growled indignantly. “I almost died. But yes, he’s in there, as per your demands.”

“Good,” I said, reengaging the safety on my gun before sliding the weapon into the waist of my pants. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“Y-y-you’re welcome,” he sputtered, his eyes widening in surprise as he considered me. We stood there awkwardly for a moment, Viggo eyeing the two of us warily, as if he expected us to break out into a fight.

Of course I had told Viggo about my problems with the shorter man—mostly that I was a tiny bit afraid of anyone who had calculated how much demolition it would take to kill a majority of the Patrian population. I had also told Viggo that I felt bad for Thomas, because I did. It hadn’t taken long for me to recognize that he was a Beta—I didn’t know Thomas’ full story, but it was clear that he had been bullied a lot in his life, probably in ways that I didn’t even want to imagine. It didn’t make working with him less difficult, though.

The Liberators from behind the truck came out toward us, distracting him from the awkward moment. “Owen!” Thomas yipped excitedly, shifting back and forth on his feet, an eager smile on his face.

“Hey, Thomas,” Owen said warmly, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m glad you made it. You and Solomon both. Thank you for agreeing to grab him.”

Thomas flushed and nodded, reminding me of Samuel’s canine look of happiness when he was being praised. “It was… well… it was harrowing. But, yes. I—uh—made it.”

“Tom-Tom!” Amber squealed from behind him, and I shook my head in shock as she draped her arms over his shoulders. What went on in her head must really be an interesting dichotomy—how she could range from fiery and efficient to genuinely excited, all in a matter of minutes.

Thomas ducked out from under her, his cheeks still rosy. “Hello, Amber,” he said, not making eye contact, but instead staring right past her to some fixed position beyond.

“Did you miss me?” she half-crooned, half-teased.

Thomas sucked in a large breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. “No,” he stated, his tone all seriousness. “But it is good to see you.”

Amber grinned at him, her teeth flashing.

“I think we’re forgetting something, people,” Viggo said, and we all turned toward where he was still standing on the grass. “The gate? Thomas broke it.”

“Uh, well… I was given coordinates, but no code, and when I tried contacting Owen’s handheld he wasn’t picking up. So, between the option of waiting outside while I attempted to hack into what is clearly a very advanced security system—potentially damaging it—or making a move that required simple mechanical repairs, I chose the most simple solution.” He looked around at us all as though daring us to doubt him. “I didn’t want to leave the truck out front… especially not with… Solomon in the back.”

I sighed at his logic, placing my hands on my hips. He had shadows under his eyes, and his attire was rumpled and stained; even his precise decision-making process must be kind of impaired at this time in the morning.

“It’s done,” I said to him. “We’ll figure out how to repair it. You must be exhausted.”

Thomas nodded, the fat under his chin jiggling from the rapidity of the nod. “I am. I am.”

“Come on, Tom-Tom! I’ll show you where you can sleep.” Amber placed a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him to the stairs. I watched her go, and then turned back to Viggo and Owen.

“All right… I feel like there isn’t much we can do about the gate tonight,” I said.