Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(37)

“Wait. You said you masked me. What does that mean?” I ask Linc. No answer. “Did you scramble my signal?” Still nothing. The boys are locked in a stare-down involving silent communication I don’t understand. “Obadiah—”

Linc cuts me off. “Just give her five minutes to say hello. She misses them and who knows when she’ll be back.”

“Are you talking about my GPS chip? Were you going to cut it out of me?”

The thought leaves me a little nauseous and even more excited. But neither one answers me. They are still locked in the stare-down. For once, Obadiah looks just as set, just as tough, as Linc. My heart swells a little that he could love this group of Imitations so fiercely, so fast, that he would protect them—even from Linc. Even from me.

“Linc, he’s right,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “We should go. I would hate to lead Titus here.”

“But we came all this way,” he says, and I know he means more than just the car ride. He wants me to stay, to be free. It’s probably the smart thing. But I can’t make myself do it. To stay feels far too much like giving up.

“We’ll get here again,” I say quietly.

He holds Obadiah’s stare a moment longer and, finally, his shoulders relax and he steps back. “All right.”

Obadiah exhales, determination replaced by relief.

“I’ll take her back. You should stay,” Linc tells him. “Check on them. Explain to Morton what happened.”

“I will.” Obadiah nods. “What about you?”

Linc takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers. “I’ll be fine.”

Obadiah looks less than convinced. “You could stay,” he says. “Let her go back.” At Linc’s expression he shakes his head. “It was worth a shot. Call me when you can, let me know you’re okay.”

“Same to you,” Linc says.

I hug Obadiah. “Thank you for helping Linc today,” I say.

“You just make sure they don’t figure out what he did,” Obadiah tells me. He squeezes me hard and whispers into my hair, “If they find out, run.”

I squeeze him one last time and step back.

Obadiah tosses the car keys. Linc catches them in midair with his free hand and slides them into his pocket.

“Good luck,” Obadiah says.

“Good luck,” I repeat.

Linc and I watch as Obadiah makes his way toward the bricked shed and disappears behind it. The handle engages and I hear the door swing open. There is a soft, echoing click as the door shuts behind him and then it is silent.

Linc is already moving. “Come on,” Linc says, tugging my hand back the way we came. He checks his watch. “We should hurry.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask, hurrying to keep pace with him now.

“I thought we’d have your GPS out by now.”

“Do you think they’ve figured it out?”

Linc’s silence is answer enough. I walk faster.

At the mouth of the alley, we pause again and look up and down the deserted street. We dart across, two of my tiny steps equaling one of Linc’s. Halfway across, an engine hums and gains volume as a vehicle appears from a cross street. It’s boxy and black, an SUV according to Linc. I’ve seen the security team use them to tail us or provide escort services during crowded events.

The SUV flashes its headlights and accelerates toward us in a burst of roaring speed. We’ve been found.

Instead of continuing straight down the alley toward the car, Linc pulls on my hand, propelling both of us sharply left. I’m yanked into the safety of the shadows cast by the abandoned two-story complex that looms just ahead. He whips me around the edge of the building and pushes me against the mildew-stained wall.

A cold dampness seeps through the thin fabric of my blouse. I force myself to remain steady despite knowing I’ve ruined yet another of Raven’s designer tags. Titus won’t be pleased. Then again, if his SUV full of men is any indication, a ruined shirt is the least of my worries.

Linc hovers in front of me, using his body as a shield. “Did we lose them?” I whisper, craning to see over his shoulder. He shakes his head in answer.

A moment passes with the hum of an engine steady in the not-far distance. The sound grows steadily louder until tires screech to a halt. The sound is a block or so away, closer to where we parked the car. A door opens and slams shut, followed immediately by several others.

My heart skips beats. I stare up at Linc with wide eyes.

“No,” he says simply. His mouth is a hard line, his jaw working back and forth. I don’t let myself imagine what Titus will do when he finds out Linc is responsible for all this. I think of Melanie and Daniel and swallow back the urge to cry or cling to him in helpless surrender.

Somewhere behind us a voice barks orders to “spread out” and “find them.”

I stare up at Linc as he looks left, then right. Without warning, he grabs my wrist and takes off. We dart between buildings, zigzagging away from the voices and footsteps at our back. I am careful to keep up and not trip or stumble. I concentrate on the direction Linc chooses, determined that, no matter what, we will not give away Obadiah or the others when we are caught.

There is no doubt in my mind we will be caught.

Linc pulls up short and shoves me backward. I grunt when my back hits the wall. Linc presses against me as he crowds us both into the tiny alcove of space he’s found. It’s nothing more than a dip in the wall, a space left to accommodate access to the giant cooling unit beside me. On my right is a large pipe that stretches from the ground to the roof of the building we’re leaning against. On my left is a large, boxed fan of some kind, although it is silent now.