The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(78)

I sighed and reached over, putting my arm over her shoulder. She gave me a confused look, and I rolled my eyes, but drew her closer in to my side. “It’s a thing people do to offer comfort, Melissa,” I chided her teasingly.

She gave me a glare out the corner of her eye, but didn’t push my arm away. “I know,” she murmured, dabbing at her eye with the shredded remains of a tissue. “I used to be a pretty good spy, remember?”

“Yeah… whatever happened with that?” I joked, and then winced when she playfully punched me in the shoulder. “Not the face,” I said, holding up my hand in defense when she pulled back for another blow. “It’s Violet’s favorite part!”

I lowered my hand enough to see that Ms. Dale was again crying, and I squeezed her closer, wrapping my arm around her. I wasn’t sure what I had said that had set her off, but it was probably to do with mentioning Violet. Maybe it was that Violet and I still had each other, while she had just started to feel that way for somebody that she might be about to lose. Whatever it was, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered, and she jerked away a little, a mulish stamp of incredulity on her face.

“No, it won’t,” she retorted harshly. “There’s so much damage, Viggo. We thought it was one and done, but the damn bullet ricocheted. Inside him.” Her voice broke then, and I pulled her closer to me again, until she was sobbing onto my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Melissa,” I whispered. “I really hope he pulls through. He’s a tough man.”

She sniffled, her shoulders stilling under my hands, and I felt her pull away again. “I hope he does too,” she said. “I was just… I was just getting to know him. God, I never thought I’d feel this way about a P…” She trailed off, her eyes meeting mine in alarm, and I had to smile, remembering how far I had come with this hostile woman.

“Patrian?” I teased, amused even more when she flushed bright red. “It’s all right—he’s still a Patrian, and so am I.”

“I know,” she sniffed. “I just… I always thought your kind were so…”

“Arrogant?” I supplied. It was her favorite nickname for me, after all.

“Presumptuous,” she replied tartly. “But Henrik… he was just so… kind. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was kind of leading him on when he was supposed to be guarding me in the cell. But… he was just so respectful, you know?”

I chuckled, but the image of Ms. Dale leading anyone on was so foreign that I couldn’t imagine it. And in some ways, it was better that I didn’t. Then the weird image would have just popped up at any inopportune moment. “Just goes to show that we all can’t fall for that Matrian propaganda,” I teased.

She blew out a sharp breath as her eyes narrowed at me. “Shall we compare the literature, Mr. Croft?” she asked, and I smiled, relieved that somewhere under all this vulnerability, the woman with hard edges was still there.

“Not today,” I replied wryly. “But… are you feeling better, at least?”

She sniffed, dabbing her eyes again with that tattered tissue, and nodded. “I’ll pull through,” she whispered, and I felt my heart break a little. On impulse, I wrapped my arm around her, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Good,” I replied, letting her go. She was looking at me in confusion and wonder as her fingers touched the place my lips had just been. “I’d be lost without you, you old bird,” I added.

Ms. Dale narrowed her eyes again, but I could see an amused gleam surfacing there. She blotted her eyes once more, and, no longer able to stand her using the same abused piece of tissue, I opened one of the nearby drawers and pulled out a napkin, handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, dropping the wad of tissue on the table.

I nodded and crossed my arms, taking her in and deciding that now it might be helpful to move on to less sensitive topics. “How are the preparations going?” I asked.

Ms. Dale had volunteered to go on today’s recon mission—she was going to check out a location that Ashabee had recommended before he was taken. He had claimed it was an abandoned farm about two hours away. It was supposedly isolated and difficult to find, so we were hoping to use it for a base.

Ms. Dale straightened her back and nodded, some of her old confidence flowing back into her. “They’re going okay—I’ve got a few people willing to go with me, and they’re loading up some extra fuel and food into the truck. I figure two hours out, two to three hours to make sure the area is viable, another two hours back.”

I nodded again. “I was thinking of going out on a recon mission as well,” I admitted. “Did you get to see Ashabee’s secret stash of weapons yet?”

“Oh, did I.” There—another gleam of Ms. Dale’s old self. “I think we could run several revolutions with all that equipment.”

I sighed darkly. “Let’s hope we don’t have to. Anyway, Violet’s busy packing, but Owen and I are probably going to take one of those smaller, less conspicuous cars out for a test drive and see if we can spot any more groups of refugees before they head our way. And if we go the opposite direction from you, we can watch out for possible new locations in that area, too.”