Skin Dive

by Ava Gray

  The rain began halfway into their walk. Delighted, she turned her face up; it was cool and soft, dropping lightly on her skin. Other people hurried all around her, heads down and jackets pulled up. Annoyance radiated from those caught without umbrellas. They couldn’t know what a miracle this was.

  When Taye glanced at her, his aspect warmed. “First time in a while, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go on.” At her questioning look, he added, “Spin. I know you’re dying to.”

  In response, she twirled, arms out, and belted the chorus to “Singin’ in the Rain.” He laughed quietly, ignoring the looks they received from passersby. A little dizzy, she stumbled as they walked on, but the distance didn’t seem as daunting anymore. When they approached the terminal, she was shivering, and they were both soaking wet. He paused to tug her hood up. That seemed counterintuitive because she was already damp from head to toe. Gillie arched a brow.

  “There are cameras inside,” he explained. “Since 9/11, they track people more.”

  From his grave expression, that ought to mean something to her. She hunched her shoulders, feeling ignorant and debating whether she should admit as much. “What’s 9/11?”

  Rain trickled down his pale face, tangling in his lashes. His stillness told her nothing at all, but she felt sure he thought she was an idiot. But then his mouth softened, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. That was actually worse because she glimpsed sympathy: poor little thing. She’s a little lost lamb in the big bad world.

  Gillie bit him.

  He pulled his fingers away, as if that was why, like he thought she didn’t want him touching her. Men could be such impossible boneheads.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she warned him. “I mean it. Next time, I do worse. I used to fantasize about biting Rowan’s pecker off, if he should ever push my head in that direction.”

  Taye eyed her, his expression mingled incredulity, astonished appreciation, and masculine horror. “Dear God.”

  “I know, right? I only look harmless. If you hadn’t gotten me out of there, I was biding my time. We both know he was escalating.”

  “Yeah.” Then he addressed her initial question. “About 9/11 . . . the situation is tense in the Middle East. There have been wars off and on for years, or military engagements, whatever the current buzz word.”

  “So . . . we’re at war?”

  “Kind of. It’s more complex than that, though. Terrorists who work for enemy factions will target civilian sites. War’s not just for armies anymore.”

  She thought back. “I remember bombings in other countries, something about an American embassy. But I didn’t watch the news much as a kid, and that never happened here.”

  America was safe for normal people. That had to be true. At least . . . it used to be. Chills washed over her, coupled with a dire sense of loss, as if a way of life had ended before she had a chance to appreciate it.

  “It does now,” he said.

  “And 9/11?”

  “The Twin towers in NYC aren’t there anymore. Terrorists hijacked a plane on September 11, 2001 and crashed into them. The death toll was astonishing. Since then, life in this country has changed a lot.”

  “Like cameras in bus stations.”

  He nodded and pulled his own hood up. “Let’s find out where we can both afford to go.”

  Gillie wondered in frozen silence what other events she’d missed, how else the world had changed. Children’s TV networks had given her some idea about changing fashion and how people talked, though she never knew how realistic it was, but she’d never gotten news channels. Rowan had locked almost all stations he didn’t consider educational, controlling her entertainment as fully as he did every other aspect of her life, but as cable networks evolved, Discovery Channel started showing the most interesting programs—and that was the only reason she knew anything about the world. All her DVDs passed through his controlling hands. As she got older, she requested the things she wanted to watch and he decided whether to grant her wish.

  And he might be out there somewhere, looking for you. He’ll never stop. As long as he’s alive, he will never stop. She refused to let that hateful voice take root in her head. With grim determination, she dug it out and cast those thoughts away.

  Once inside the station, they didn’t look any different from the other folks waiting to catch a bus somewhere. Most had backpacks, like them. Wore jeans and sneakers. He’s right. This is the perfect way to travel. Provided we can keep out of sight of those cameras.

  They had to stop somewhere, of course. But not so close to the facility; Gillie was with him on that point. She wanted to put miles behind them as fast as they could.

  Rowan’s face loomed up in her mind’s eye—the anodyne taste of his mouth on hers—and she caught her breath, trembling with the fear that she’d find him one step behind her. Taye didn’t notice, thank God, because he already thought she was breakable. If he knew how frightened she was of this enormous world with its brand-new rules, he’d never look on her as more than a child.

  He moved toward the counter. “How much for two tickets to Pittsburgh?”

  Big city, random choice. Good call.

  The cashier tapped on the computer, which didn’t look anything like the ones she remembered. Its monitor was thin and sleek, and the printer was so small. Most likely, they all ran on different systems, not that she had spent much time using her dad’s PC as a kid. Something else I need to learn. But she could, no question.

  “Seventy dollars.”

  “We’ll take them.” He counted out the cash.

  “All right. Passenger names?”

  If she asks for ID, we’re stuck.

  “Steve Mills and Clare Smith.” Taye spoke the lies so smoothly that even she was impressed.

  Luckily for them, the attendant didn’t care about the rules; her bored face said she was only half here. The woman typed and then printed tickets. “Your bus leaves in an hour and a half. Listen for us to announce the terminal.”

  Since the building was small, that was probably unnecessary, but Taye thanked her and scooped up the tickets. He swept the room and picked out two seats away from the cameras. With innate wariness, he set his backpack between his knees and looped the strap around his ankle. The gesture fascinated her because it wasn’t something she would have thought to do; it was a remnant of a homeless man, who only owned what he could carry and defend.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Yeah?”

  “How come you can remember stuff like 9/11, but—”

  “Nothing about myself?” he supplied in a low growl.

  She nodded.

  His knuckles whitened as he curled his hands into fists, studying them with unnecessary care. “I have echoes. Empty space. Sometimes I think they burned certain things out of me. They ran a lot of voltage through me, and gave me insane amounts of experimental drugs.”

  “So you think it’s permanent damage . . . those memories are just gone.”

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t think I lost anything worth keeping.”

  Oh, Taye.

  In self-defense, Gillie went to the bathroom; they had been making do at gas stations, but she needed to sponge off. Fortunately, she found paper towels and hand soap, which allowed her to do a decent job. After she finished in the stall, she finger-combed her red curls, pulled her hood back up, and then went out to join him, once she was sure she could offer a neutral face. Just as she didn’t want his pity, she knew he wouldn’t allow that from her either, even if his truths threatened to tug the heart from her body.

  Taye had a soda waiting for her and a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. By the look of him, he’d cleaned up a little, too, wiped away the grubbiness from his face, at least, and that left his eyes more brilliant in contrast with his dark hood. He had a roguish wanderer’s charm, like she imagined gypsies used to be. He wasn’t a stick-around-forever guy; he was a steal-yourheart-and-run-off-into-the-nig
ht man.

  “Feel better . . . Clare?”

  Gillie laughed. She did, actually. It would be even better once they got on the bus, wheels moving. She couldn’t remember if she got motion sick.

  Hope not.

  She ate in silence, feeling the twinge in her arm where the shunt had been removed. It’s a good thing I talked Rowan out of the fistula. Yet she would always bear a mark there, more visible than those from the constant injections during her early days with the Foundation. Even in her new life, the scars from the old would follow her.

  But it was only superficial, not soul-deep damage. Over the years, she’d safeguarded everything about herself that mattered, locked away from Rowan, wherever he might be.

  I win, you bastard. I. Win.

  CHAPTER 2

  Pittsburgh was surprisingly green. Taye couldn’t remember if he’d ever been here before, but it was pretty, gently rolling hills and bridges spanning numerous waterways. Somewhere in his head, he had a memory—or an expectation—of lots of steel mills and men in hard hats, teamsters screaming at each other on construction sites. The reality was quite different.

  After a nearly four-hour ride, Taye tapped another cash machine and then bought a prepaid cell phone. Since they weren’t getting a landline, one of them should carry it. So, basically, he got it for Gillie. Though he loathed the idea of letting her out of his sight, even for a minute, he knew she wanted to be self-sufficient.

  “Oh, cool! My first cell.”

  He wished she wouldn’t say shit like that because it reminded him how young she was, how completely inexperienced. In so many ways, she was like a kid . . . and that meant he shouldn’t remember how pretty she’d looked curled up in her shower stall, or how amazing it felt there in the bathroom, when she’d eased forward and touched her lips to his. It was the first good, clean thing he’d felt since he came back to himself with electrodes attached to his skull. Sweet lightning had shimmered through him, all the way down to his toes, and he’d been so starved for pleasure that it took all his self-control not to wrap her in his arms and drag her across his lap for the mouth ravishing of a lifetime.

  But damn, she’d puckered like a virgin. Which she was, of course. Sweet little miss, never been kissed. And hell, maybe I haven’t either. At least, he didn’t remember the first time . . . or the last. But he knew that wasn’t how you kissed someone you wanted to fuck—instinctive insight, that. Might even be hardwired into him. Well. She made him hard, anyway.

  “Can you . . .” He trailed off as she slid the cell phone up and mashed the buttons. “I guess you can.”

  She frowned at him. “I’ve seen it on TV.”

  “Right. Well—”

  The phone rang.

  Gille grinned, mouthed, Wrong number, and put it to her ear. “Yes?” Her expression froze; she listened for a few seconds in silence, then she held it out to him. “It’s for you.”

  What the—

  “Who is this?”

  “My name is Mockingbird, and you have about five minutes to get out of the city.”

  “This a fucking joke?”

  Gillie watched him anxiously.

  “It’s no joke.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “Information is my game, T-89. You bought a phone—” He named the store. “There’s a traffic cam on the corner. I’ve known about you since before you destroyed the Exeter facility, and I’m very interested in your progress.”

  “What the hell do you want, man?”

  “I’m going to sum it up for you because time is short, and you have bigger problems. Rowan is dead. My agent, Shrike, killed him before he resigned. I run a crew of those united in common purpose.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Destroying the Foundation. I have an inside line on their strike team deployments, and based on their chatter, you just powered up. You’re on their radar now . . . they have one of ours. And she can track you since you zapped that ATM. For an outsider, the only way to stay hidden from Kestrel is not to do your thing at all.”

  “There’s a retrieval team headed our way? Fuck.”

  A little whimper escaped Gillie, and she bounced up onto her toes, as if to run. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. Good thing I got more cash this time. It’ll have to last us until we find work. But it had also given them away to their enemies.

  “I can get you out of there, if you’re willing to come work for me.”

  “Fuck you, buddy. I don’t take favors that come with strings attached.” Taye cut the call.

  He snatched her hand and broke into a run. “We gotta make tracks.”

  “They’re coming.” Her voice broke on a note of pure fear.

  It was late afternoon, crawling toward evening, and people on the streets headed home from work. The cars on the street zoomed by at what seemed like incredible speed, compared to how fast they could move on foot. Need a plan. Fuck. I wish I knew more about downtown Pittsburgh. They drew glares and shouts as they wove through the crowd on the sidewalk.

  “Don’t think about it. We ditched them in Virginia, and we can do it again.”

  “What did he say exactly?”

  “No time for that now.” But there was something she had to know for the sake of her sanity, though she would be mortified to realize he’d noticed how she whimpered in her sleep. “Rowan’s dead. You won’t be seeing him again. Ever.”

  Her shocked but grateful expression almost stopped him in his tracks. God, nobody should ever be that beautiful. She was every lovely, wholesome thing he could never have. So focus on the problem you’ve gotta solve. Five minutes. Think.

  While they pelted through the throng, he heard raised voices behind. Running drew attention because people fled when they’d done something wrong. Still, it couldn’t be helped. He dragged Gillie around a corner, where the sidewalk opened to a pedestrian walkway. There were quaint shops, ice cream parlors, and little eateries set in remodeled pubs. None of these places would offer cover from a supernatural tracker.

  The cell phone pinged. Taye dug it out—text message, unknown caller, with an address on Forbes. Consider this a favor. Will shield your signal. Attached to the text came a map, showing their position relative to where they needed to go, route traced in red.

  He hesitated, not knowing if he wanted to accept a favor from someone who offered help with strings attached. Sometimes the price wound up being too high. But the Foundation goons were closing, and Gillie’s breath rasped in terrified sobs. No, we got away. They’re not taking her. Making the call, Taye made a sharp right and cut down an alley, where they came up against a chain link fence. Broad daylight, it shouldn’t have been frightening, but only that expanse of metal stood between them and sanctuary.

  He cupped his hands and boosted Gillie with all his strength. She flew like a cheerleader, and then slammed hard on her landing. It took her precious seconds to steady, then climb over, and the sound of booted feet grew closer; shouted commands drowned the normal city sounds.

  “I’m fine,” she called. “Get moving!”

  But he waited until she swung over the top and climbed down before he took his running start and scrambled up himself. The thugs rounded the corner just as he hit the pavement.

  “We have visual!”

  “Take them alive. They’re too valuable to damage.”

  Ain’t that a fucking relief. Taye didn’t kid himself; there would come a time when those orders changed. But for now, the Foundation still wanted to recoup their investment.

  “Step lively, Gillie-girl.”

  Per the cell phone map, they were almost to Forbes. Tranq darts pinged the ground on the other side of the fence, but it was hard to shoot through chain link from a distance, and by the time the goons got to the fence, they were already on the way out of the alley on the other side. Left turn. The two of them ran like hell, breath coming in great gulps.

  And here we are. The four-story building was a nondescript, cream-colored bloc
k with crumbling mortar. Hoping like hell he was doing the right thing, Taye dragged Gillie through the darkened doorway. Hands immediately pulled them into the first apartment on the right, studio-sized, but it wasn’t a residential setup. The place lacked furniture, and the walls had been painted with something that left them streaky.

  The short, middle-aged man who’d grabbed him slid back a number of locks and a crossbar, then he turned. “I’m Finch . . . and this is our Pittsburgh bolt-hole. Mockingbird gave me the heads-up.”

  “Won’t they find us here?” Gillie asked.

  It was a good question. Tension kept Taye rigid, listening for signs of pursuit. But it was quiet, oddly so. The apartment itself had a single armchair upholstered in rust fabric and a small iron table with two chairs.

  “Tungsten powder on the walls. Don’t ask me why, but it blocks Kestrel. Once you get inside the perimeter, she loses signal. From there, strike teams can only do a building-to-building search, and normal people tend to call the police if men in black attempt to enter their homes.”

  “I would imagine.” Gillie sank down and folded her legs like a little kid. She rubbed the fibers back and forth on the speckled shag carpet; the pattern reminded him of bird eggs and was faintly hypnotic. At least, she watched her own fingers like she saw secrets hidden in the pile.

  But even down-turned and half in shadow, her face showed pale, frightened. Shit, she deserved better than this. How the hell was he supposed to keep her safe? He’d only just gotten his mind back and he didn’t know if he’d ever had a knack for long-term planning.

  “Just sit tight for a while. They’ll clear out, and then you can move on. But I guess Mockingbird said, to pass undetected if you don’t have access to our hiding places, you have to stop powering up. They’re looking for you two, hard. I figure you’ve gotta be worth big money.”

  Taye stiffened and instinctively stepped closer to Gillie. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad . . . I wouldn’t roll on you for a billion bucks. It’s enough to know I’m keeping you out of Foundation hands.”

  “You’re one of us,” Gillie realized aloud.