“That sounds pretty straightforward, except for the part where we’re walking into a nest full of Redcaps.”
“That’s why we have these.” She dug in her pocket, then held up a small black disk. “The sound this emits will paralyze Redcaps. Just switch it on, and you’re good to go. Unless the battery dies.”
“What is it?”
Vaughn would love a chance to examine one. If Marcus could get Tessa back to the ranch, he wouldn’t need to “nab” it. Maybe he could even use it as a reason to get her to go with him. Somehow, he figured if he offered her a hot meal, a shower, and a soft bed, she’d consider it an insult.
Although, the thought of her in a soft bed…
“It’s a sonic bug repeller. You can pick them up in any hardware store.”
“You’re kidding.” The absurdity of it brought him right back to the moment.
She shrugged. “I don’t know how it works and I don’t really care. I take the win wherever I can get it.” She held the disk out to him. “Sun’s up in ten minutes. You in?”
Whatever the Redcap queen was like, Marcus didn’t want Tessa facing it alone. After seeing how she lived, he didn’t want her doing anything alone. No one should have to live like this.
He grabbed the disk and said, “I’m in. Absolutely in.”
“You seem really keen on killing these Redcaps. I like that.”
She rose and walked over to the front bench seat. Bending over it, she started rummaging around for something. Marcus’s hands flexed as he thought about grabbing her and—
“You hungry?” she said.
He froze, not sure how to respond. She turned around with two granola bars in her hand.
She tossed one to him. “Eat up. It might be your last meal.”
Marcus looked down at the silvery packet in his hand. She had so little, and she was sharing what she had with him openly. Her weapons, her food, her home. Her lips…
She leaned against the front seats as she ate. “It’s a nice change to have someone else going into a fight with me.”
“I can imagine.”
Too well.
She smiled and gave the quick lift to her eyebrows that he was pretty sure accompanied her jokes. “If things go south, all I have to do is outrun you.”
He didn’t laugh.
If things started to go south, he would kill everything in sight—everything that was trying to hurt her.
She tossed her empty wrapper on one of the benches, then wiped her hands on the back of her jeans.
“Sorry.” Her voice was quiet. “I didn’t mean to trigger you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Denial, again? Even with the glasses, it’s pretty easy to tell when you’re pissed.”
She turned to look out the open side door of the van. “Blades must be good at denial. It’s the only way you can think there’s a chance for dwellers and humans to live alongside each other peacefully.”
The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the multi-leveled insult. He didn’t trust himself to respond. If he opened his mouth, he would growl. She had more to say on the matter anyway.
“You swoop in and put down the big bad dwellers and let the ones you think aren’t dangerous go. But if you ever have to watch a dweller take its time and play…”
She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“I’ve seen them play.” Marcus’s voice came out rough as memories rose up in him.
His parents ripped to pieces. The bloody mouths of the things that had killed them curled up in smiles as they laughed at his attempts to fight them off.
Trying to protect his brother and…wishing his brother had died with their parents. An easier death.
And then Dexter had come in, a sword in each hand.
Marcus remembered silver flashing in the room faster than he could track. Limbs and heads flew from the things that had killed his family. The room had been bathed in a blue glow as they vaporized. And then they were gone.
He shook his head violently, rejecting the images that threatened to overwhelm his control. His skin was prickling, all the hairs on his body standing on end. If Tessa said the wrong thing, Marcus would snap her neck or rip her open. In that moment, he might not even care.
When she finally spoke, her voice kept cutting out until she cleared her throat. “People don’t become hunters without a damn good reason. I guess Blades are the same.” She turned back toward him. “So what happened? Redcaps kill your brother?”
Marcus inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to maintain control. The last thing he needed was for her to figure out that he hadn’t exactly made it out intact when his family was killed. Pressing his fists hard on his knees, the skin of his knuckles felt close to bursting.
“It wasn’t Redcaps,” he said.
She tensed for a moment, not even breathing. Then the air shifted as she approached him, stopping between his knees with her body close enough for him to feel the crackle of energy between them.
He couldn’t look up at her. There was too much rage and pain fighting in him, making him want to change. He needed an outlet, and while he was with her, he wasn’t going to get one. Not through violence, anyway.
Not through anything.
He shook his head again, fists tight enough that his nails bit into his palms. It didn’t matter how much he wanted her—or how much she seemed to want him. Nothing was going to happen between them without her knowing what he was. And then…
Maybe violence would be on the agenda after all.
Dexter could handle her if it came to that. Marcus would cut and run. If this hunter ended up needing to be put down, he wouldn’t be the one to do it.
He held on to his humanity, such as it was, and pressed his fists harder against his thighs. Deep breaths. Eyes on the floor so she couldn’t see them. They had to be glowing gold.
When she grabbed his hair, at first he thought she’d seen his eyes—figured out what he was hiding. But she turned his head and crushed it to her stomach, wrapping her arms around his neck. Everywhere they touched, Marcus could feel her trembling.
Her scent thickened, all sweetness vanishing. There was no sense of imminent violence, no hint of arousal. Only a heaviness that seemed to fill the small space with grief.
“What was his name?” she whispered.
His name…
The question felt like a knife in his guts. Cold and searing.
Dexter had never bothered to ask. No one had. Just like no one had offered Marcus comfort.
And that’s what she was doing. She was comforting him.
More than a decade had passed since his family had died. Saying his brother’s name felt like calling up a ghost, but he did it anyway.
“Daniel. Danny. I called him Danny.”
She stroked Marcus’s hair. Her voice was dull when she spoke again.
“My brother’s name was Brock. It was a family name. I always made fun of him for it. I couldn’t say it right as a kid, so we came up with this inside joke where I kept calling him ‘Bock-Bock’ even when I was older. He called me ‘Chicken.’ I miss him every day. Every goddamned day.”
Not just giving comfort, then. She was seeking it, too. Marcus wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face against her stomach. Warmth radiated up from deep in his belly, killing the chill, and seemed to flow into Tessa’s body and back into him. She didn’t move away, didn’t say anything. She just held him and he held her back.
Forget the idea of sex or fighting side-by-side. This closeness—this connection—was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced. The constant nagging feeling that something was missing subsided as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then rested her cheek there. He drew his hand in slow circles on her back and she leaned into him more.
“We can’t bring them back,” she said. “But we can take out these Redcaps and maybe keep other people from losing their families.”
She started to pull away, but Marcus kept his arms tight
around her waist. He didn’t want to let her go, to let go of that moment. He wanted to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. She tightened her grip, burrowing her fingers through his hair, and kissed the top of his head again.
“I need you to listen to me carefully, Marcus. My life has to stay simple. No complications. I find a problem, fix it, and move on. I can’t settle down. Do you understand?”
He turned his face so she could hear him without seeing his eyes, willing himself to calm further. “I understand that’s what you believe. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”
“It does for me. Now come on. The sun is almost up.”
She pushed away from him again. This time, he didn’t fight it.
Chapter Seven
Blades. They had it made and thought they could afford the luxury of mercy. If Tessa had a soft bed every night and partners watching her back, she might feel a little more understanding herself.
She’d have to be sure that never happened. She had to stay strong. Cold and aloof, just like her mother had taught her to be. She couldn’t let anyone in.
Unfortunately, Marcus was starting to do more than heat her up. He was starting to pluck at her heartstrings—and that was not okay.
She glanced in her rearview mirror. He was still a few yards behind her, following her around the block on that amazing bike of his as they headed for the junkyard.
She would cut him loose right after clearing the nest. Hell, she’d probably blow on out of town afterwards. She kind of wished they could have sex before she left, though. He was gorgeous, and damn could he kiss. But she already liked him way too much.
“No entanglements,” she murmured. “There’s enough under my skin already.”
Her wrist started to itch. The little bastards were wriggling around, excited by all the adrenaline in her system.
She should just cut her arm off. But she was more useful with two hands.
Plus, she wasn’t sure she had the guts.
Maybe “Chicken” was a better nickname than she thought.
Remembering Brock brought tears to her eyes, blurring her vision for a moment. She wiped them away mercilessly.
This was why she couldn’t get close to anyone. She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to feel. She needed to focus to stay alive. If she teared up at the wrong time, it could get her killed.
She pulled into the drive that would lead to the junkyard. Sure enough, the blip on her monitor was straight ahead. Tessa stopped her van and leaned out the window, waiting for Marcus to stop beside her.
“Park here and get in,” she said.
A hunter would have balked, but Marcus didn’t hesitate. He killed his engine, slid off his bike, and joined her on the bench seat of her van.
Well, that was one good thing about working with a Blade. He knew how to take orders.
Tessa had paired up with other hunters briefly a few times before. There were always ego clashes. Plus she had to be careful not to let on how much she actually knew about dwellers. Hunters were paranoid by nature and she sure as hell wasn’t going to explain her sources.
At least working with a Blade, she probably didn’t have to worry about him killing her immediately if he found out about her little problem.
Probably.
Marcus was helpful and obedient—at least, when she was letting him help her out. She wondered how that would translate into sex. His kiss had honestly rocked her world, but the rest of the time he was sort of spaced out and moody.
Maybe she wasn’t as interested in him as she originally thought. Or maybe she could manage to sleep with him without getting too emotionally invested. Hell, if he was as passive in bed as he was going into a fight, having sex would make him less appealing.
Her mind was made up. She didn’t care if she was rationalizing—she wanted Marcus and he obviously wanted her. It had been too long since she’d let off that kind of steam.
That cheery thought gave her something to look forward to. Clear the nest, jump Marcus, blow out of town. She could manage that. She rolled up her window and started down the drive again.
“Keep the windows up and the doors locked,” she said. “I don’t want to find any surprises in here if we have to fall back to the van.”
“That doesn’t sound encouraging.”
“We’re clearing a nest. Things don’t always go according to plan.” Reaching over the back of the seat to the floor behind them, she pulled up her garbage bag full of grass clippings. “You have allergies?”
“No.”
“Good. Rub this all over your clothes and skin.”
Marcus opened the bag and stared into it for a few seconds. “Seriously?”
“I’ve yet to meet a dweller who isn’t thrown off by it. It’s the best way to mask your scent.”
He dug into the bag and pulled out one of her tank tops. His raven-wing eyebrows rose.
She shrugged. “I don’t get to the Laundromat often. It kills my scent and keeps me smelling summer-fresh.”
He gave a little snort of laughter that made her stomach shiver in a good way. What was she, twelve? Ordering herself to get a grip, she focused on the hunt while he rubbed himself with grass.
Summer couldn’t arrive fast enough. She could get a fresh supply and make some money mowing people’s lawns. Not many homeowners turned her down when she showed up on the front step in a tank top and short-shorts—as long as she did her reconnaissance and made sure guys opened the door.
But that would happen someplace other than Providence. Between oversharing with Marcus and encountering the Blades of Janus for the first time, she was feeling exposed. She needed to leave town as soon as possible.
The gate to the junkyard was open. She tried not to imagine how things had played out—and failed.
The Redcaps must have arrived during the day. Otherwise, the gate would be shut. Everyone at work was toast—or rather steak. Any customers would’ve suffered the same fate.
She hoped they didn’t have guard dogs. But junkyards always did. Poor things.
Once the nest was established, the Redcaps would prey on whoever had the bad fortune of picking this junkyard for their salvage needs. Anyone who came to check on missing friends would meet the same fate. If police showed up, the Redcaps would fill in the main entrance and any smaller holes leading to their nest and wait things out, maybe digging other exits if they wanted food.
They would eat what meat they needed, and select certain corpses to ride around. She had no idea how they chose.
She wasn’t sure which fate was worse—being eaten, or being used as a meat puppet.
Fucking bugs.
“You okay?”
Tessa jerked away from the sound of Marcus’s voice. She’d forgotten for a moment that he was in the van with her. Damn. She wasn’t used to working with someone. That could be tricky in the closeness of the nest. Especially with her wielding a flamethrower.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just thinking.”
“You look like you’re ready to kill something.”
“I am. You’d better be, too.”
She stopped the van in the middle of a cleared area just outside a small building. Floodlights on tall posts lit the whole place. A lovely way to illuminate the Redcaps’ trap.
Crushed cars were stacked all around them like enormous metal bricks. The compactor was to their right. Openings in the walls of cars snaked deeper into the junkyard—clear rivers of space that she could drive down if she was a fucking idiot.
The cars had to be full of Redcaps watching them. The ones riding corpses would be on the ground. The thickest populations would be nearest the entrance to the nest.
Tessa clicked the button on her bug repeller. “Turn yours on.”
Marcus nodded and did the same.
She crawled over the seat into the back of her van and strapped on the flamethrower. She fastened the grenades to a bandolier she’d made herself, which she swung over one arm and across her chest. The
rusty hatchet went into a loop on her belt, and so did the tracker monitor.
She handed her bat to Marcus and almost felt bad for the guy. Then she remembered his “stingray”.
Blades were idiots. What did they think would happen when the Redcaps woke up from being stunned? They’d reflect on their ways and become vegan like her?
“What’s the maximum setting on that gun of yours?” she said.
“Hard-boiled.”
“Good. Crank it—as long as it won’t make you run out of juice too fast.”
“I won’t run out.”
“I love a man who can keep going and going.” She flashed a smile at him, but he didn’t return it.
Maybe he was as nervous as she was. Her stomach was so full of butterflies, she was afraid they’d fly out of her mouth—in the form of vomit.
Keep moving. Keep fighting.
Tessa recited her mom’s favorite battle mantra as she worked up her nerve for the coming hunt. If her repeller battery died unexpectedly…
It won’t.
She pulled the door open and stepped out onto the packed dirt surrounding her van. Marcus opened the passenger door and joined her. Nothing grabbed their legs to pull them under. Nothing jumped on their heads from the roof.
She had parked as far away from all of the stacks of cars as she could. The closest object was forty feet in any direction. The junkyard owners must have needed the large empty space to operate the huge crane next to the compactor. Its claw hung high over their heads.
Her heart was pounding so hard, her eardrums throbbed with each beat.
She opened the side door of the van and picked up her flamethrower, slipping into its harness. Pointing it at the sky, she pulled the trigger for a test burst. Fire belched forth in a radiant orange cloud—death at her fingertips, upon her command.
Very reassuring. Also, very dangerous.
“Leave the duster,” she said.
Marcus hesitated. Maybe he thought it looked cool. Okay, it did, but there was no way she was letting him go into the nest wearing it.
Pack Page 7