by Stacey Nash
“I’ll play with Lilly. You boys can break.”
Jax picks up the triangle from its place at the far end of the table, spins it around his finger and up into the air, raising the same hand to no doubt do some sort of show of dexterity. Only he misses. The plastic prop falls, bounces off the floor and lands on its side smack bang on the toes of his biker boots. The sudden clatter makes Ace raise his head from his peaceful nap, the white blaze down his nose tilted up as if to sniff the air.
Will laughs.
“I meant to do that,” Jax says.
Yeah, right. I raise my brow, calling him out on the lie, and he meets my look with his trademark smirk, his green eyes almost sparkling. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and I’m the first to look away because, damn, Will’s staring.
Ignoring the dog, my blond friend spins the long, wooden cue in his hand, flicks it around behind his back then down onto the table with a shove off the top of his knuckles. The chalky tip slams into the white ball sending the triangle of coloreds scattering across the velvet table. Just as Will straightens up, two balls drop into the left pocket one after another. Then, as if he’d lined it all up, a third follows. Grinning, he blows his curled fingers.
Show off.
Without so much as a raised brow, Jax backs into the corner and rests his shoulder against the wall. Lilly’s not so good at hiding her response. Rolling her dark eyes, she hands me the other cue.
“Great shot,” she says, so brightly it sounds forced. Trust her to overcompensate for the tension in the room. That’ll only make it worse, and even though the boys have never been great friends, I’m the real blame for that. “That makes you guys, smalls.”
Jax smirks, tilting his head toward Will. “Well, Dudley here’s pretty—”
“Huge.” Will hooks his thumbs in the loops of his jeans.
For a moment, it’s like everyone has forgotten that our problems are not the biggest issue in the room. Acting normal when we watched people die today feels wrong. We failed those innocent bystanders by not stopping the Collective’s attack. Those people went to see a rock concert and bam . . . game over. No more lives.
It’s payback. Beau was right. It is. If Jax and I hadn’t escaped, if Will hadn’t blown that hole in their protective wall, shattering their sense of security . . . if Jax and I hadn’t blackmailed Manvyke in the first place, none of this would be happening now. Manvyke wants retribution and maybe we should let him have it so innocent people stop paying.
Lilly hands me the other cue. “You first.”
The balls are a real mix, spread across the velvet table. But that big sitting right by the far corner pocket is the one. Too easy. The white kisses the yellow and it shoots right into the pocket.
“Maybe we should give ourselves up,” I say.
“Who?” Lilly looks up, her fingers snared in the side of her pretty dress.
“Me.”
Jax’s wide brows draw down over his eyes, which now look like he’s considering the suggestion.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mae,” Will snaps. “Beau said you’re not the cause of this.”
“But Manvyke . . . we escaped . . . he—” I gulp, the dryness in my throat not letting me go on. “People are dying, Will, and it’s my fault.”
He shoves his cue into Jax’s hands and before I can take another breath, his strong arms close around me and pull me into a tight hug, crushing my cheek against his firm chest.
Something about Will’s steady embrace makes me feel like everything will get better. The warmth and sureness of his arms have always made the bad seep away. Even so, I’ve deliberately avoided touching him lately because things have been awkward since our trip to the beach. Him fessing up about his feelings, and me telling him I’d give the thought of there being an us beyond friendship a chance. So giving him the wrong idea when I still don’t know how I feel isn’t right.
“Beau’s right.” Jax’s voice pulls me back to common room.
I extract myself out of Will’s arms, guilt heating my cheeks—I shouldn’t be touchy-feely with either of them—but Jax’s expression doesn’t register anything uneasy. It’s his blank canvas look and it hurts that it’s back, because he’d dropped the charade with me. Maybe he doesn’t care, but I take a step further back from Will anyway. I won’t give either of them reason to argue.
“No one else knew we were captive; just him and his lackeys.” Jax leans over the table and with a single shot bounces the white ball off the cushion and into the purple small which taps another small and they both roll into the side pocket. “And my sorry excuse of a brother . . .” He walks around the table, briefly meeting my eyes as he moves. “Walking into his home with arms open wide and saying, ‘Hi, we’ve come home,’ isn’t going to make this go away.”
“But—”
“It won’t, Mae.” The white ball clicks into another small, but this time the shot misses the hole by a hair’s-breadth. “They’re attacking innocent people to send us a message to back off. Not me and you: the resistance. And after the attack Beau staged when Will broke us out, it’s the only response I’d expect. They tried to go after us, the resistance, with all those sweeps and the farm—”
“Ahem.” Will clears his throat, no doubt to save Lilly from having to hear what happened to her childhood home once again. But Jax continues like Will never interrupted.
“Cleary they couldn’t find our other bases so they’re trying to flush us out, or send a message, or something.”
Without missing a beat, Lilly takes her shot then holds the cue out to me again. Maybe we care too much about upsetting her, but the last few weeks have been tougher on her than the rest of us. She lost the most.
Taking the cue, I say, “There has to be something we can do about it. We can’t just respond to their attacks. We’ve got to fight it, help . . .” I take a step away from the table and bump into Jax, my feet all over his. He shoves a hand under my bent elbow to, no doubt, push me off him. It sends a small shiver up my arm and his eyes flick to mine, his pupils engulfing his jade irises. The intensity of his stare is like a magnet reeling me closer. His eyes have always been stunning, but now emotion hides within them. Reading it is almost easy, almost . . . is that guilt? Does he feel the same way about these Collective attacks?
“Ah, Mae.” Lilly’s voice breaks the moment.
“No need to swoon, Cupcake.”
“No need to trip me up. And that was not swooning, trust me.”
His eyes light up, like he thinks he’s right, and the left side of his mouth curls just slightly in that way which makes my tummy tingle.
“Mae. It’s your shot,” Lilly says.
I take in Will’s tense shoulders, his flushed cheeks as he studies the table carefully as if planning the rest of his game.
Stiffening, I remove my arm from Jax’s hold.
His hand drops against his dark cargos. Moving to the side of the room, he perches himself against the wall, his shoulder slumped against it and legs crossed at the ankles, out at a forty-five degree slant like a support beam. I can feel his smile like a damn Cheshire cat as I survey the table. The red’s right near the corner pocket, so I line it up and tap the cue against the white making it roll into the red which falls into the hole. The white follows. Damn it.
I step back, trying my darndest not to look anywhere, or at anyone.
“Shoot.” Will’s voice is a little hard as he tells Jax to take his turn.
I give Will a big smile, earning myself a glimpse of his dimple in return.
The rest of the game plays out in a tense room, the atmosphere a little awkward, just like all the interactions between the four of us in the last month. If we can’t all be friends, if I can’t be with one of them without hurting the other . . . with everything else going on . . . then I definitely made the right choice back at the beach.
Chapter Two
Jax
I make a grab for Mae’s slender hand to port out and she flinche
s. Ouch. A forced grin tightens my cheeks; that should make her think it’s nothing.
“It’s not like I bite . . .” I catch her eye with a wink, “. . . unless you want me to.”
That pink flush creeps up her neck and across both of her cheeks. It’s as cute as hell and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my mouth; this one genuine. Knowing I can make her blush proves she is attracted to me although she’s fighting against it.
She relaxes, the previous stiffness in her hand loose as her palm rests against mine; warm, tender, and molded like it belongs.
It’s time we got out of here. Beau’ll be waiting. I close my other hand around Lilly’s cool fingers—such a contrast to Mae’s. As much as I’d love to have Mae alone, Lilly being here is good, even if it’s just a message run. She’s barely been out since Garret and having her here now seems almost normal. Holding them both means I can’t make the tap sequence to activate the port bands. Good thing Mae’s a step ahead of me, using her free hand to send us freefalling through the void. In a couple of beats we land in the port room and be damned if I want to let go . . .
Lilly’s hand falls out of mine, but Mae’s doesn’t. She holds on or maybe I do.
The little things, like this, make me certain things between us will go back to the way they were. Us being together is right, and there’s no denying that feeling even if she’s trying. But just like that she tenses, rigid as a fence post again.
Will’s here.
No need to see him to know.
It’s like he knows when I’m touching her. Always shows up when I do.
My hand tightens imperceptibly. Was that a squeeze? I swear it was, but then she lets go. Maybe my imagination wished for a sign. For something.
Even though I can feel him staring, I don’t move from facing the blank wall. It’s funny, but I’ve never cared before which way we land. This time, we should’ve been facing the door, and the arc of people watching us. Will staring like he knows his glare will make her squirm.
“Thanks for a fun ride, Cupcake. Promise I’ll bite next time.” I toss her a wink. Let’s see what he thinks about that.
Mae scowls; a surefire way to make me chuckle.
“Well?” Beau demands, a reminder we’re on the job.
I report: “It’s worse. Collective activity is heavier there. The attacks aren’t as big as the one in the city on Wednesday but they’re more frequent. Also smaller, more targeted attacks like they’ve got a purpose. Frank has no idea what that is, as there doesn’t seem to be a pattern he can pick out. Yet.”
Beau runs a hand over his head, pulling his hat off and scrunching it in his fisted hands. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Charlie, good old Charlie, stubborn to a fault, is the one to speak. “We’ll send them our own goddamned message. Put that frickin’ barrier breaker to work and we’ll storm all their frickin’ communities. Wipe them all out, I say.”
The old man’s got spunk. Beau shakes his head though, and Will’s eyes nearly bug right out. Why the hell am I looking at Will?
Because she is.
She looks away from him as soon as I sneak a sidelong glance her way. But I can still feel the weight of Will’s stare on her like it’s a malleable thing sitting on my chest.
Who would’ve thought they’d be so keen to hear what Frank had to say that they’d be waiting right here in the port room? Wait . . . Will’s supposed to be off on another call, not here.
“What are you all doing here?” It’s as if Mae heard my thoughts. I raise my hand to my ear. Nope, no telcom.
Beau blows out a breath. “They struck again—”
“Our school,” Will adds.
Mae’s thumb flies to her mouth and she bites down so hard she yelps.
“We made it,” Will says, “only just. We caught the agent doing the drop, ported him and the suitcase into the middle of the Atlantic.”
Mae steps forward, her gaze locked on Beau.
“How can you say their message isn’t directed at me!” Her voice rises. “They attacked my damn high school, Beau. How more direct can it get?”
“It’s just a coincidence—”
“Don’t bother with the lies.” She storms out of the room, flinging the heavy wooden door closed behind her. It slams with more strength than a girl her size should manage.
Will makes to follow, but I cross the room, pinning him with a look as I reach the door. “I’ll go.”
His shoulders visibly tense. “It was my school too.”
“But you weren’t there. I got this.”
She needs one of us and today, it’s me. I was there—Manvyke’s captive—with her. If she thinks this is because of her, then it’s because of me too.
Long strides take me out the door. The halls in this place wrap around like a meerkat’s burrow, twisting and turning, and just as thin and narrow. But I know it like I do the farm so it doesn’t take long to catch her jogging up the stairs, her short legs pumping fast accentuate the way her jeans hug her rear. I take the steps two at a time to catch up, but she reaches the top before I’m halfway. Her palm connects with the fire exit and she stops, her forehead dropping onto the smooth metal door. She can’t blame herself like this; it’s not her fault. I snag the hand hanging at her side.
Mae spins around fast, like I shocked her, her face twisted with anger, her eyes stony. If only I could make it all okay. Wrap her up and take the hurt, pain, and anger away. Hell knows, I want to. Instead, I pull her in, closing my arms around her and fitting her head under my chin. The flowery scent that’s her shampoo or some other girly crap fills my senses. Love that smell.
She presses herself into me, her arms snaking around my waist to hold on tight. Neither of us says anything for a long time until finally she sighs. “We have to stop this.”
“I’m not sure how.”
If only it were that easy. I slide my cheek along her hair, my stubble catching in the waves until my mouth hovers over the crown of her auburn head. Pressing my lips to her hair, I take in a deep breath. She sighs and leans against my chest, her cheek pressed just over my heart. Damn, I’ve missed holding her.
“You’re swooning again.”
She’s suddenly a statue in my arms, but not for long because she steps back, her eyes cold. “I told you I need space, Jax. What about that don’t you get? Your father’s out to make my life miserable. He’s going after anyone I care about and you’re flirting? Please, just give me some darn space. I can’t think about Will, about me, about us, with your dad staging attacks left, right and center to send me a message.”
She slams her hand into the door and shoves through it.
Idiot. Me, not her.
My insides feel like they shrivel. Maybe she isn’t fighting feelings for me after all. Maybe she hates me now she knows him. Knows his filthy blood runs through my veins. I follow her onto the rooftop and she spins around. My eyes search hers, but she doesn’t give. Just stands there, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.
“Mae?”
“I want to be alone, Jax.”
Shriveled insides try to pool in my toes while she glares at me, her chin tilted up imperceptibly. I take a step back.
Right.
Space.
I knew it was there—the tension in the air between the three of us—but I didn’t realize it affected her so much. The tension between me and her, her and Will, him and me, always there and as thick as the air that now hangs around us. I shouldn’t have pushed her, be pushing her still.
Space.
She continues staring at me with an expression worthy of the way Cynnie’s always looked at me: pity.
Got it.
I turn, my right boot squealing on the smooth concrete. Then walk down the stairs without looking back. Even though the heat of her stare burns right between my shoulder blades making me want to peer over my shoulder, I don’t.
I can’t keep pushing her or I’ll push her away. I’ll give her the space she wants. Time to find he
rself after we both lost our minds—scratch that—had them stolen. Time to figure out who she is and what she wants. Besides, I should be focusing on this war.
She’s right, it is my father.
Father.
FATHER.
I have to stop these attacks. Even if he’s not the one behind them, his fingerprints are all over the attempt on her school. I’ll stop this mess.
For her.
Chapter Three
Jax
My feet take me straight back to the port room, without even realizing where I’m going. It’s like I wake up sitting on one of the cracked vinyl chairs. Old habits die hard.
And I’m not alone. Killing the hours here or at the farm, any port room was once easy, pleasant, and unthinking. The port room isn’t the safe haven it used to be. Not now we’re in the middle of a war.
A blond looks at me all doe-eyed from the other side of the room, her long hair falling about her face. Not very practical for someone who might be called out any minute. She nudges her friend, a short Asian girl, in the side. Be damned if I can remember their names. Monisha . . . Sari . . . Hannah. No idea.
“Hi,” the blond says.
I pass her a tight-lipped smile. It’s all I’ve got.
“Jax, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“You on this shift?”
“Something like that.”
“Sorry about your base. Beau’s farm was nice.”
“Mm . . .”
I pull my clarinium weapon out of the inside pocket of my leathers. Flick it open and swipe the flat edge of the hilt along my pants, careful not to let the six inches of razor-sharp metal touch the fabric. Being clarinium it never needs cleaning or sharpening, but I need to look busy or this small talk won’t stop.
At least there are only two of them.
The door whooshes open and the telltale zip of someone porting sounds to my left.
I frickin’ cursed myself.
A couple of people come through the door at the same time as three more port in, Evan amongst them. I just want to get out alone. Slash a few agents, intercept an attack. Deal with this damn issue.