Was revealing the truth worth losing everything I’d held dear?
I would find out soon enough.
CHAPTER 15
We’d been driving for two hours and covered a little over one hundred miles when Devon steered the BMW into a parking lot in front of a rundown motel. It was painted in different shades of gray, except for the green neon letters spelling “Jimmy’s.” A gas station sat beside it—which was fortunate, since we were almost out of fuel.
My butt prickled when I dismounted the BMW. I didn’t think my butt had ever fallen asleep quite this much before. I didn’t understand how people could enjoy this. We removed our helmets. Devon’s face was red and sweaty, his hair matted down against his skull, and I knew I didn’t look much better. My usually wild hair was plastered all over my forehead and cheeks. My physical comfort wasn’t the only reason I was relieved to be back on my feet: Being the passenger on a motorcycle gave you lots of time to think.
“Let’s ask how much they charge for a room,” I said, waving at the motel with its bad paint job and dirty windows. My eyes darted back to the road that had taken us here, half expecting a parade of the FEA’s black limousines or SUVs to appear at any second.
“Won’t they ask for ID or something like that?” Devon asked as we walked toward the door with its ripped fly screen. Gravel crunched under our feet and the wooden steps groaned as we stepped up onto the porch.
I shook my head. “Motels like this one usually don’t care who their customers are, as long as they pay cash.”
Devon looked skeptical, but when we entered the lobby and asked the man at the reception desk for a room, he barely looked at us. He was engrossed in watching a poker game on TV, and, as I suspected, he just counted the bills I’d pushed over to him before handing us the key. “Have fun,” he said distractedly when we headed out. My skin heated. The guy probably thought Devon and I needed a place to have sex. That’s probably why most couples, especially teens, rented a room.
“Well, that was easy,” Devon said as we entered our room. He didn’t seem to be one bit flustered by the man’s assumption. Two narrow twin beds with flowery blankets, a wardrobe missing a door, and two nightstands crowded the small space. The yellow wallpaper must have been white once; it was peeled off the corners in strips. The brown carpet was littered with unidentifiable stains. I didn’t even want to know what they were. A myriad of chewing gum wads dotted the ceiling, some of it gray with age. Disgusting. There was only one door, which led into a tiny, musty bathroom.
I sank down on one of the beds, exhaustion catching up with me. Devon took the other bed and stretched out.
“It probably won’t always be this easy. The FEA will start searching for us soon. And if Abel’s Army figures out that I’m no longer in headquarters, they’ll probably send a hunting party after us.”
Way to ruin the mood, I chided myself. But I wouldn’t do us any favors if I kept my eyes closed to the inevitable truth. We were the hunted now.
“So where are we going next?” Devon asked between yawns. He tilted his face toward me, his arms stretched above his head. A sliver of tanned skinned showed where his shirt rode up.
I brought my focus back to my shoes and pulled them off. “We need to find my mother. I don’t know where she lives now, but I know someone who might know. Her last boyfriend. Or at least the last boyfriend she had while I still lived with her.”
“Did she have so many?” Devon asked quietly.
“Oh yes, and each one was worse than the last.” I hated remembering that part of my life. It wasn’t just that my home life was hard; I hated the way people judged me, as if it was my fault that my mother couldn’t get her life in order. Kate used to call me white trash behind my back, and once she even did it to my face. But there was no sign of judgment in Devon’s blue eyes.
“So where do your mom and this guy live?” he asked.
That was the tricky part. “In Detroit.”
“Detroit?” Devon repeated, propping his head up on his elbow to watch me in surprise. “Why don’t we just give them a call?”
“We can’t,” I said hesitantly. “My mom cut off contact with me shortly after I joined the FEA. She even changed her phone number to make sure I couldn’t reach her.”
Devon couldn’t hide his shock.
I had to look away. “I know that’s a long drive, but I wouldn’t know who else we could ask.” Except for Major. He probably knew. I should have taken my mother’s file with me. Maybe it would have had her new phone number. It was sad that I had to rely on my mother’s ex to find out where she lived.
“Do we even have enough money to get there? I’ve got around fifty bucks in my pocket.”
I hesitated. “After paying for the room, I have a hundred left. That makes a hundred and fifty dollars between the two of us. That’s not enough. We need to get some money and find another ride, preferably a car. It’s a thirty-hour drive, so we’ll have to stop at a motel once, maybe twice.”
Devon cracked a grin. “Shouldn’t I have paid the room? Being the guy and all. That’s how it usually works.” His dimples flashed, and I felt myself smile back. “Is that so, Mr. Casanova?”
“Definitely,” he said. Slowly the amusement disappeared from his face. “So how are we going to get a car and more money?”
I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know anyone who would help us. “If there’s no other way, we’ll have to steal.”
Devon sat up. He looked thoughtful. “We can’t drive to my parents. The drive’s more than three hours, and it’s too risky; that’s where Major would probably check first. But we could pay a very quick visit to Uncle Scott and Aunt Celia. You remember them, right?” His voice had gotten strange when he asked the question.
I nodded. Of course I remembered them from my time in Livingston. That day when we’d barbecued with his entire family had been one of the happiest days of my life—if you ignored the fact that I had been there as an impostor.
“They live about one hour from here. I’m sure they’d help us. They even have a spare car we can probably borrow.”
“Won’t they ask questions?”
“I’m sure they will, but we’ll just have to give the right answers.”
“Okay,” I whispered. I was too tired to keep my eyes open. “Can you set the alarm for six?”
“That gives us only two hours of sleep,” Devon said, worry in his voice.
“We can’t afford more,” I mumbled. “We have to keep moving.” I didn’t bother to undress, just pulled the blankets over my body. The blankets smelled of mold and smoke and cheap detergent.
Devon extinguished the lights. I could hear his even breathing to my right.
“I’m sorry, you know,” I said in a small voice.
“What for?” he asked. His voice was calm and controlled.
“For everything.”
“Tessa, it’s okay.”
My heart broke at the sound of his words. How could I say what I wanted to say? How could I make him see?
“I think you apologized already,” he continued. Tension leaked from his voice. “You did your job. It was a mission. I get that.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “Okay,” I whispered. There was nothing left to add, nothing I could do to take the pain of losing his sister away from him—or his parents. A small part of me wanted to ask about them. But it wasn’t my place to do that, and this certainly wasn’t the time. I pressed my palm against the A over my ribcage. The events in Livingston had left scars on both of us; some were visible, others not.
“For a long time, I was sure you hated me, but . . .” I trailed off.
That got his attention. I could see the outline of his head shoot up.
“I don’t hate you.” His tone was gentle—just the way I remembered it.
I wished I could see his expression. “You don’
t? But—”
“I don’t.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. I was tired, but at the same time I was scared of falling asleep.
“Devon, why are you really here?” I whispered into the darkness.
He didn’t reply for a minute. Just when I was starting to think he’d fallen asleep, he answered.
“I need the distraction. And I want to help you and Holly.” He paused, and I could hear him breathe. “I know I should return home, but I can’t stand it. It feels so empty and hopeless there. And I don’t feel like I belong in headquarters. I don’t think I belong anywhere. Not anymore.”
He hadn’t said it, but I knew that Abel’s Army was another reason for why he was here. I’d noticed the way his eyes tightened whenever I mentioned them. They were the missing puzzle piece in his sister’s murder. He wasn’t just here to be helpful—he was after revenge.
I scooted to the edge of my bed and reached out, glad that the beds were so close together. “I know how that feels. Not belonging,” I said softly. Devon’s hand met mine and curled around my fingers.
• • •
For a few moments after the alarm rang, I didn’t know where I was or what had happened. A wall of cotton seemed to envelop my brain, but with the stench of fuel and dusty fabric, the memory came back, and with it the ache in my chest. With a groan, I sat up. Devon was already awake. He was perched on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands.
I stumbled to my feet, my head spinning like crazy. Two hours of sleep weren’t nearly enough, but I knew Major must have noticed that I was missing by now. We had to keep moving. I touched Devon’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
He raised his head and gave me a tired smile. “I’m okay, just tired.”
“Why don’t you take a quick shower while I organize a classy vending machine breakfast for us?” I asked. Devon smiled. I smoothed down my hair in a feeble attempt to look presentable. There wasn’t much I could do about the state of my clothes or the smell of someone who hadn’t showered after a sweaty ride on a motorcycle. I headed out of the room and toward the vending machine pressed against the gray wall at the end of the narrow corridor. I passed a dozen shabby doors, my fingertips lightly tracing the cool surface of the metal banister that lined my right side. The air was crisp, and the first hints of gray shone on the horizon; it would be dawn soon.
Despite the early hour, the rest area wasn’t as deserted as last night. Two cars occupied the gas pumps. Their owners were probably inside the station. I surveyed the snacks behind the scratched glass of the vending machine and selected two Twix bars and two single-serve packages of Cheerios. Not the most nutritious breakfast, but we could worry about that later. I bent down to pick up the food when I noticed someone watching me. Near one of the gas pumps, a man stood beside the open door of a black truck, looking my way. His eyes were hidden by mirrored, silver glasses—a common trick used by Variants who wanted to hide their strange eyes.
CHAPTER 16
My heart gave a thud, and I jerked upright. The man was still staring at me, glasses reflecting the rays of the rising sun. We should have been more careful. How could I have thought it was safe to come out here alone? And in my own body, no less? Oh shit.
I whirled around and hurried back to our room. Devon was emerging from the bathroom with a cloud of steam when I swung the door shut, my pulse pounding in my veins.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked as he made his way over to me and took the chocolate bars and cereal from my hands.
I risked a peek through the blinds, but from my vantage point I couldn’t see the gas pumps. “One of the customers at the fuel station was watching me when I bought the food.”
“And?” Devon asked. He stood behind me, following my gaze outside, his body so close that his heat warmed my back.
I turned and Devon took a step back—he had to or we would have been close enough to kiss. “He was staring at me and wearing shades. What if it’s one of Abel’s men or someone from the FEA?”
“Do you really think they’d have found us already? How would they know that we’re here?”
“Maybe they saw the motorcycle when they drove by.”
“It can’t be seen from the street,” Devon said with a reassuring smile. “And honestly it doesn’t surprise me that the man was staring at you. Your hair is all over the place, and your eye makeup is smeared around your eyes. You look like someone punched you. The guy was probably just trying to see if you’re okay.”
I pushed past Devon and rushed into the bathroom to check my reflection in the small mirror over the sink. Devon was right. I looked like an absolute zombie in wrinkly clothes. I let out a relieved laugh and smiled at Devon’s face in the doorway. But now that the panic had ebbed away, I noticed that he had moved his towel down around his hips. A droplet of water trailed over his collarbone, down his defined chest and stomach, only to disappear under the towel. He seemed to realize his lack of clothing at the exact same moment, because he shifted uncomfortably and returned to the bedroom. “I’ll get dressed while you take a shower, okay?”
I nodded and closed the door. I allowed myself to relax into the hot water streaming down my body. I rubbed the shower gel over my shoulders, then down my arms, and suddenly froze. The skin below the crook of my elbow felt sore, and then the memory of last night washed over me, how Major had pierced my skin with something. I dug my fingers into the spot until I felt a tiny square object. Something had been implanted into my skin. I shut off the water, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. I wiped the water from my face and peered down at the pale, slightly bruised skin. When I flexed my arm and stretched my skin tight, I could see the tiny black object. A wave of nausea crashed over me.
I knew what it was. A tracking device.
I stumbled out of the shower, ripped the towel off the rack, and wrapped it around my wet body before I stormed into the bedroom where Devon was pulling a shirt over his head. His eyes widened when he spotted me. “What—”
“I have a tracker in my arm,” I interrupted him, voice panicky.
Devon crossed the room in two long strides and gripped my arm. “Are you sure?”
“Major implanted it while I was on the pills. I was barely conscious and didn’t remember.”
I guided his finger to the spot. His body tensed. “So the FEA knows we’re here.”
I swallowed. I felt dizzy with fear. How could I have been so stupid to forget what Major had done? His pills must have affected my brain much more than I thought. “It’s still early. Major thinks the pills put me to sleep. Maybe he hasn’t checked on me yet, and even if he has, it’ll take them a while to get here.”
Panic swelled in my chest. “We need to remove it.”
Devon’s eyebrows shot up. “How?”
“Do you have knife?”
He picked up his backpack and took out a small army knife. He unfolded the short blade. He held it up to me, and for a moment I could only stare at it.
“You have to do it,” I said. I didn’t think I had it in me to plunge a knife into my arm. “You have to do it. It’s not a big deal; you can heal me after.”
“You sure?” he asked, taking my arm again. I nodded. “Just do it quickly.”
Without a word of warning, he pushed the tip of the blade into my arm. I bit down on my lip as burning pain shot up my arm. Luckily the tracker wasn’t in too deep. Within seconds, the blood-smeared square sat on Devon’s palm. Blood trickled out of the cut in my arm, but Devon put the knife down and wrapped his hand around the wound. Warmth spread over my skin, and we sat there for a minute, with me trembling and then relaxing into his touch. When he pulled back again, the cut was gone.
But I still felt shaky. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or the blood or the knowledge that our escape might be over before it had really begun.
“What do we do with it?” Devon asked, in
specting the tracking device. A few beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Healing always cost him.
I hurried into the bathroom and left the door ajar, so I wouldn’t have to yell. “We have to get them off our trail. We need to hide it in someone else’s car, so the FEA follows them.”
I hastily slipped into my underwear, jeans, and T-shirt and pulled my wet hair into a ponytail, then rushed back out again and stuffed my belongings into my bag.
“Okay,” Devon said slowly and picked up his backpack.
I opened the door a gap and peeked outside. The man with the glasses was gone. But that didn’t mean we weren’t being watched. I slipped out, with Devon following close behind.
I glanced across the parking lot, to the tiny store in the gas station. The cashier was reading a book and not looking our way. “Let’s go,” I whispered.
We hurried toward the parking lot. I expected to hear the sound of squealing tires and catch sight of FEA vehicles at any moment. If Major caught us, he’d never let out of his sight again. I’d be a prisoner for the rest of my life.
Our motorcycle stood where we’d left it yesterday. “What if it has a tracker on it too?”
Devon froze inches from the bike, then turned to stare at me. “Would the FEA really have a tracking device installed in all of its vehicles?”
“I wouldn’t put it past Major.”
“You’re right. Shit.” He ran a hand through his messy blond hair. “What are we going to do?”
I quickly scanned the other cars in the parking lot. One was a big, clunky pickup truck—not the best escape car. The other was an old black Acura. “We take that one.” I grabbed a small toolbox from the black luggage case of the motorcycle. I knew I would find an FEA-issued all-purpose utility tool inside. Alec had taught me how to open locks with it, among other things. I strode toward the car and peered inside—candy wrappers on the ground, empty Dr. Pepper bottles on the backseat, and no alarm system. Perfect. “Make sure nobody sees me,” I said as I knelt before the door and began to fumble with the lock.
Defector Page 11