“Of course.”
“What I’ve just found out, Quinn. What I never knew before. But what you just assumed I knew. How could you think that I’d be okay with helping bring in targets if I knew it would end in that?” I pointed to the paused video.
“That’s why I was confused when I discovered you were in the sniper unit. I thought you knew what was really going on.”
“You thought wrong. And you didn’t make enough of an effort to check. You just dumped me.”
“You dumped me, too,” he protested.
I held up a hand to stop him. “I’m talking now.”
“Okay,” he said meekly.
“You dumped me. You jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst about me.”
“Jinxy, I’m so sorry.” He sounded it, too.
“You were a jerk, Quinn O’Riley!”
“I was, yes.”
“And a real dick.”
“That too, yes.”
“You were a jerk and dick. You ignored me and gave me filthy looks and said mean things. You took the last chocolate muffin!”
His mouth twitched at that, but when he spoke, he sounded totally serious. “Jinxy, I was a jerk and a dick and a greedy pig. I’m so, so sorry. I felt like I had to choose between you and what I believe is right. I’m not making excuses,” he said quickly when I made to interrupt, “I’m just saying that I was a confused dick.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, not yet ready to forgive him.
“And the more I missed you, the more confused I got and the more of a jerk I became. For which I am truly sorry. Will you give me another chance?”
“Hmmm. You’ll have some making up to do, buddy.”
He nodded.
“And from now on, we need to agree on complete honesty between us. So if there’s anything else you haven’t told me …”
“There’s more,” he said, flicking his eyes to the phone, where the screen was still lit up with the frozen interrogation image.
“I meant anything about us. I don’t want to see more of that. I’ve seen enough.”
“I think you need to know the rest of it — some we only suspect, but some we know for sure. And I’m not sure you’ll believe me unless I show you. I’ve been given some time off and a pass out tomorrow, and I’m going to meet up with Connor.” The worry I felt must have been clear on my face, because he added, “Oh, not at home — Connor hasn’t lived there for a while in case they’re watching. We’ll meet at our old neighborhood library. Anyway, point is, I’m hoping he’ll have some evidence that will convince you.”
The meeting sounded dangerous to me; I didn’t want him to go. “You don’t need to do that, Quinn. I don’t need more proof, truly. I believe you.” As I said the words, I realized they were true.
“And I believe in you, Jinxy. Hell, I’m trusting you with my life. What I’ve done tonight, it’s enough to get me sent to GitBay. Maybe to the electric chair.”
The bang on the door startled a squawk out of me.
“Jinx? It’s Leya, can I come in?”
Crap! I looked an urgent question at Quinn, but Leya didn’t wait for a reply. As the copper handle of the door turned, Quinn quickly pulled me down onto the bed beside him, rolled on top of me and began kissing me as passionately as he ever had, smothering any objections I might have had with his mouth. Despite how dreadful I felt, despite how mad I still was at him, my body was galvanized by instant lust. I wanted to lose myself in this, in him.
“Well! Sorry to interrupt. I obviously missed the relationship status update.” Leya stood, hands on hips, staring down at us with undisguised amusement.
I was too breathless to speak, but Quinn was quicker-witted or perhaps just less affected by that kiss. Rolling himself a little off me, he gave Leya an apologetic grin.
“We wanted to talk things out, so we wouldn’t be left with hard feelings, but then we sort of got carried away, and …”
“And now you’re left with feeling hard?”
“Leya!” I said.
“Well, I’ll let you lovebirds get back to what you were doing.” Her eyes flicked to the bedside table. “I don’t see any foil packets out — remember to play it safe, kids!” she said, and with a last laugh at us she left, pulling the door closed behind her with a bang and an “As you were, soldier!”
For one long, breathless moment, Quinn and I looked deeply into each other’s eyes. He was still half on top of me, braced on his elbows, the length of his hard body pressed against mine. Long black lashes fringed the smoky gray of his eyes.
“That was quick thinking,” I whispered.
“I can be quick.” He looked down at me in a way that sucked the breath out of me.
“But I prefer to go slow,” he said, running a hand over my ribs and down my waist, nuzzling against the soft skin of my neck. “I like to take my time, exploring every inch.” He dipped his head and placed a soft kiss under the lobe of my ear. I may have whimpered. “Tasting every bit, taking all of it in.” His hand ran back up my side, pressed against the curve of my breast, took my lower lip between his and gently sucked. He could brush the horror away with his caresses, drive it out of my mind with his touch, suck it out of my soul with his kisses, but still I pushed him back.
“You’re right. This isn’t the time or the place. Not when you still taste of tears,” he said kissing each of my temples. “Not when you’re still full of horror.”
“And not when you’ve still got a bunch of making up to do before I get over your being such an ass,” I said, glad to have found my pride.
He grinned. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Under the secret staircase, after supper?”
“Sure. Now go, I’ve got things to do.”
He scooped up his phone and headed for the door.
“Wait!” I said as he reached for the handle. “Throw this in the trash for me, will you?” I reached behind my neck, unhooked the clasp and tossed the hog’s tooth necklace at him.
His smile was wide and free and full. He dropped the hog’s tooth into the trashcan beside the door, then walked slowly back to the bed to give me a last kiss. It was deep and tender, and it left me light-headed and limp.
“Have I told you, Jinxy, that I love you?”
My mouth was still hanging open when the door closed softly behind him.
Chapter 24
The Last Tango
“Out with it, princess.”
“I want to withdraw from the sniper program, Sarge.” I forced myself to look him in the eye as I said it.
I was light-headed from lack of sleep. Between terrible flashbacks of the interrogation footage and debates with myself about the rights and wrongs of hurting some people to stop them hurting others, I’d spent the night alternating between floating on cloud nine with Quinn’s last words echoing inside of me, and worrying about what the heck I was going to say at this meeting.
My heart kept telling me that as long as Quinn loved me — Loved! Me. — everything else would all work out somehow. But my head kept interrupting the blissful fantasies of happy-ever-after with inconvenient questions about what I would do once I quit. Because I had to quit — that, at least, was clear to me. I’d never been happy about shooting anything but tin and paper targets. Rats, cats and coyotes had been bad enough, but taking down people had been making me sick, peppering my days and nights with horrible images. And now that I knew what would happen to some of my take-downs, what my work was actually about, I simply couldn’t go on with it.
“You want out?” Sarge’s eyebrows were raised, and his grin was nowhere to be seen. “You want to quit?”
I nodded unhappily, remembering my promise to myself: failure is not an option. I will not quit. Was choosing not to do this work the same as failing, as quitting?
Quinn was certain about the morality of resisting the government, that torturing suspects was always wrong. I was less sure. It was really complicated. What if the information that was “extracted” wound up saving lives? T
hen again, if we lost our humanity while trying to save lives, what would we be left with, who would we be? It made my head spin. I was only sure that I wanted no direct part of it. I had a nasty suspicion that made me a hypocrite.
“Why?”
“Um …” I had known this part would be hard if I wasn’t going to break my promise to Quinn. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.” Both Sarge’s lips and eyes were narrowed with irritation. And suspicion?
“Well, it’s been hard for me to shoot animals. And it’s been worse darting people.” That much was totally true. “I know what you and Ms. Roth said about it being necessary, but I don’t think I’m the right person to do it. I don’t have the stomach for it, and I get flashbacks and nightmares. And I just … can’t,” I finished lamely.
“Even after you saw what they did to your father?”
“You need soldiers for this job, Sarge. I’m not a soldier. I’m just a girl who played a computer game really well.”
Sarge stroked the stubble on his chin with his fingers, studying me until I squirmed uncomfortably.
“Has someone been talking to you, Blue?”
“No!” Damn. That came out too defensively. “No,” I repeated, trying to make my voice sound reasonable. “But that last assignment — the canary and the family photo, they kind of blew my mind. I can’t do it, Sarge. I haven’t got the stomach for it. I think I should go home.”
“Back to Momma?” he mocked.
“Back to Momma.” I hoped he would mistake the dread in my voice for the shame of failure.
“I am disappointed, Blue. No getting away from that. Very disappointed. We figured you for something special, not a spineless cake-eating maggot of a quitter. We figured you for someone who wanted to use her skills to take out the people who made her daddy suffer and die a terrible death. But as I said before, no one’s forcing you. Tell you what I’m going to do. I’m not going to accept your request to be discharged just yet. I’m going to give you a week to mull it over, to reconsider and maybe overcome your innate pigheadedness.”
“Sir, I don’t think —”
“If by this time next week you still want out, I will send you back safe and sound to your little bedroom, to contemplate the four walls.”
“Yes, sir,” I sighed.
“And you can go back to playing computer games.”
“Yes, sir.”
“While the rest of your unit — shooters not as skilled or as cool-headed as you — go back to fighting the war and saving lives.”
I looked down at my feet. The smudge of spider was gone. Was I dismissed?
“In the meantime, we have an important mission this afternoon, based on fresh intel, and as you are still a part of this unit, you will be on it.”
“Can’t somebody else do it?”
“’Fraid not, Goldilocks. We need our little girl for this one.” There was an evil smile on Sarge’s face now and, unlike his usual mad grin which came and went like a flash of lightning, this one lingered on his lips.
“Get issued with your weapon at the armory. You’ll take point, with Fiona in charge and Bruce providing live backup on site. Dismissed, soldier.” His voice was acid with contempt.
I told no one of my plans to leave — they wouldn’t understand, and I couldn’t explain. I spent the morning exercising halfheartedly in the gym and then hung about the cafeteria in the hopes of seeing Quinn. I was out of luck. He was nowhere to be seen. After lunch, I trudged back to my quarters and put on the ridiculous pink dress, tied my hair up in the ponytail and pulled on a pair of the polka-dot gloves. The gloves that were unnecessary, if Quinn was right. I left off the mask.
I didn’t want to go on this mission. I also didn’t want to go home. I was no longer sure where I belonged. I’d been proud of my skill, but if the one thing that I was good at was bad, what did that make me? What exactly was I supposed to do with my life now?
Quinn had said he loved me, and I yearned for the chance to get back together with him. He planned on staying at the Academy, to feed his brother inside information. If I resigned and went home, how would I ever get to see him again? Maybe I could apply for a different job at ASTA — a cook or cleaner or cafeteria check-out person. I imagined scanning Leya and Cameron’s food, or cleaning Bruce’s room, and groaned. Besides, every job in this place in some way supported the unacceptable missions and methods, didn’t it? Unless you were working against the system from the inside, like Quinn.
At the armory, Juan issued me with a short-range dart gun and three darts. So it would be the take-down of another terr — another man due to be interrogated like the one I’d seen in Quinn’s video. Repulsion and horror made my fingers stiff on my weapon. Bruce was handed one of our usual sniper’s rifles and a sidearm, plus ammo. Live ammo.
“Expecting rats?” I asked, eyeing his weapons as I dropped the dart-gun into my denim bag.
“Sarge says that according to our intel, the terrs are armed and dangerous, and may put up a fight. This could get ugly.” He looked thrilled at the prospect. “And I’m there to keep you safe.”
“I can keep myself safe,” I snapped.
“I’m there for you, Blue, I’ve got your six. And we’ll be in constant communication.”
He handed me a small earpiece and fitted his own communication earphones and mike. In the transport — a white van this time, branded “Peak Plumbing: Only a flush away!” — Fiona was on her phone, receiving last-minute information and instructions about the operation.
“Right,” she said once she hung up and we were on our way. “There will be two men. Your tango is the shorter of the two and is wearing a green shirt, according to our spotters. We’ll insert you at the near end of the block, then drive past to the far end. Bruce will be talking you through, and you can call on him if things go wrong and you need backup. Insert your earpiece now so you can test it.”
I inserted the earpiece and tested the equipment. Outside the van, the road was slick with puddles from the morning’s storm, and the sky was low with heavy clouds that promised more rain. We passed a massive government billboard which had been defaced so that it read “Department of Homeland InSecurity: See-Say Rats and snitches!” A red-and-white stop sign now stated, “STOP President Hawke”. Had there always been this much anti-government feeling, or was I only noticing it now, because of what I’d learned last night?
The van dropped me off at a rusting old bus stop in a low-end residential area. A block of small houses stretched ahead of me through a silver haze left by the rain. I walked up the sidewalk toward the two men ambling side by side in the distance. As the white van passed them, the shorter of the two men looked up and turned his head to watch it drive by. He was obviously on his guard. Would he be checking me out carefully, too? I could take him from the front or let them both pass by and then shoot him in the back. The van paused in the distance before driving around a corner and out of sight. The man glanced back again and seemed reassured. From where he was, he wouldn’t be able to see Bruce, who would already be in position behind the cover of a car, or wall, or some thick shrubbery. But Bruce would see both men clearly through the magnification of his optics.
“I’m in position, Blue, with clear sightlines. Copy me?” said Bruce’s voice in my ear. The volume level that I’d set in the noisy van was too loud for this quiet street, it hurt my ears, but there was no way I could fiddle with it now. That would be a dead giveaway that I was wearing an earpiece.
“Copy,” I muttered.
“Your tango is the man on the left — your left — in green.”
“Copy that.”
The distance between me and the two men was narrowing. A shot to the neck or the exposed section of chest would be best. Then he’d be taken up by another team. Interviewed and debriefed. My steps slowed involuntarily. I just wanted to get this over with.
“You are good to go, Blue. We are hot.”
I needed another few meters. The dart gun was most accurate at sh
ort range. At distances of more than about ten meters, the effect of drop on the dart made it too unpredictable for my liking. I walked closer, dipping my right hand into my denim bag.
A heavy dread was building inside me, drying my mouth and closing my throat. Something was wrong. I shifted my glance from the green-shirted tango to his companion. And my eyes took in what my subconscious had already registered at some level.
The man on the right, the taller man, was Quinn. And the tango at his side — I had a sudden flash of a man on a porch, holding the leads of two dogs — was his brother.
Chapter 25
Really Bad and Even Worse
Perhaps Quinn registered me at the same moment, because he stopped dead and stared back at me, the expression on his face transforming from surprise to puzzlement to anger in a second.
I stopped, too. Feet glued to the sidewalk, mere meters from them both. A trembling was moving through my body, a panic taking hold of my mind. What was I supposed to do?
“Quinn?” said Connor, looking from his brother to me, clearly puzzled. Not yet alarmed.
“You told them? About me, about him? That was what you had to do last night after I left? That was why you wanted to me to go?” Quinn hissed at me.
“I didn —” I began, my voice high and breathy, but Bruce shouted in my ear.
“Do it, Blue. Do it now. Your orders are to take the shot. Drop him!”
“Jinxy! Don’t do it. It’s my brother. He’s not a terrorist, not a rabid,” Quinn pleaded, reaching out as if to stay my hand.
I looked down at it, saw that my hand gripped the dart gun. When had I pulled it out of my bag?
“Jinxy, please. For me.” Quinn.
“You’d better take the shot, Blue.” Bruce.
“No.” Me.
“What’s going on here?” Connor.
“Because if you don’t,” said Bruce, his voice low and menacing. “I will.”
“No!”
“I’ll take him down, and I’ve got live ammo. And it’ll be a pleasure.” Only I could hear Bruce. Only I knew the real extent of the threat.
The Recoil Trilogy 3 Book Boxed Set: Including Recoil, Refuse and Rebel Page 19