Retribution: Green Fields #11

by Adrienne Lecter

  I was confused about what he was referring to for a moment, but annoyance turned to real vexation when I realized the truth.

  “What, you think I’m all twitchy because I just absolutely needlessly soiled my soul for that piece of shit?” Silence met me so I went right on. “And can you tell me why exactly we needed to waste a day on that? She had absolutely nothing to tell. Nothing.”

  Straightening, Nate cracked his spine before he answered. “That’s something. And it’s something that we needed to know.”

  I didn’t agree—not one bit. “She gave us no names. No connections. She couldn’t even tell us who had established this camp here, and for what purpose.”

  “We already know that,” Nate pointed out, interrupting me.

  “We do?” I didn’t have to feign anger.

  The stare he gave me wasn’t exactly condescending, but I could tell that he was getting annoyed with my tirade. Too bad! Yet he didn’t stoop so low as to answer my question, instead jumping to the next point—and I didn’t care for how his tone turned careful, as if he was talking to a shy, startled animal.

  “Bree, relax.”

  I was sorely tempted to stomp my foot on the ground and insist that I would do no such thing, but refrained from giving him that much ammunition against me. I was already feeling raw like seldom before—and there I’d thought the early morning hours of yesterday had been bad when it had just been the two of us, talking.

  “I am relaxed,” I ground out between gritted teeth, not even trying to pretend like that wasn’t a lie. “And why wouldn’t I be relaxed? It’s not like I have any reason to be wound tight and worked up, with no way of relief in sight—”

  Probably the worst moment to cut myself short, and I didn’t miss how a muscle jumped in his temple. We stared at each other for several seconds straight, both of us daring the other to say something—until I realized that we were having two very different conversations at the same time, both oblivious to what the other was actually saying.

  Nonverbal shit will do that to you sometimes.

  My confusion—and resulting realization—were likely plain on my face, but I still made a point of pulling my anger and frustration inward, hoping that my stare would turn level rather than challenging. Why, oh why, did this have to be so complicated? And why did we have to have that damn elephant in the room when, because of what I’d just done, I felt like I needed Nate to be my immovable rock, at exactly the one time in our shared lives when he needed me to be the very same for him? The incredible level of stupidity of that realization made me crack up, earning me a glare I absolutely deserved.

  “Do you really wanna get it on?” I asked, shifting my position into something actually going on relaxed. “Because, truth be told, I feel like crap, and getting off is almost the last thing on my mind. I mean, if you feel the need to, I’m happy to just bend over that table and let you have a go, particularly if you do the main part of the job, but my heart may not be fully in it.” What I didn’t say—and what I had the sinking feeling he already knew in the first place—was that my hangover wasn’t that bad, but I was happy to give him that excuse if he wanted it.

  Turned out, he did, his brief smile turning from self-deprecating to pained for a second before it evened out into the slightly vexed glare my jokes usually earned.

  “If you are that enthusiastic about it, let me spare you the ordeal this once.”

  Olive branch or not, that deserved a fitting retort. “You don’t exactly look ready to perform, either.” Part of me wanted to hit myself for the phrasing, but I’d never been good at pussy-footing around anything—and, deep down, I figured he’d appreciate that. I would have, had our roles been reversed.

  Nate snorted, the look he gave me stating plainly that yes, it was a foot-in-mouth moment, but no, he didn’t mind that much. A moment later, he sagged a little more into himself, and it was only then that I realized just how pale he looked. Not just having-been-locked-up kind of pale compared to my slightly sunburned, tanned complexion, but the plethora of unhealthy coloring that usually came with sleep deprivation and the wrong side of a hangover.

  “Just how bad do you really feel?” I asked, making sure to disband the last thread of humor from my voice.

  He considered for a second, raising one shoulder in a shrug. “On a scale of one to ten? Like death warmed over. It was worse during the interrogation, but I’m afraid that if we’d actually got down and dirty, you might not be the first to hurl up whatever was in that bottle.”

  So much for that. I winced, casting around for a witty response—but was absolved of one when a loud banging on the door cut the moment short. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the grate of Hamilton’s voice served as a good substitute for being doused with a bucket of ice water. “If you’re done rutting around like animals, we have a briefing in five. Scott’s getting impatient.”

  I was already pushing myself off my perch against the door when I paused, realizing that Nate hadn’t moved a muscle. I couldn’t help but grin when I caught him glaring at the closed door, pure annoyance on his expression. If thoughts could have killed, my master plan to ensure that Hamilton got to live an agonizingly long life with the knowledge of what had happened to him tormenting him forever would have come to an end right there. Of course Nate didn’t miss my gloating, earning me a softer, more belligerent version of that glare, which I rewarded with a grin.

  “Come on,” I said, holding out a hand to him that I knew he wouldn’t take. He didn’t, pushing off the table in one smooth motion on his own volition. “We shouldn’t keep the marsupials waiting.”

  The joke was obviously losing its power—if it had ever held any for anyone but me, which was debatable to begin with—but the smile remained on my face at Nate’s vexed grunt. Not waiting for him to be done, I wrenched the door open, ending up right in Bucky’s face, his hand raised to deliver another knock, I was sure. Absolutely deliberately I invaded his personal space as he didn’t immediately step to the side, the two of us glaring into each other’s face from up close. Instinct told me to recoil—we did have history aplenty for that, and while he hadn’t gone as all out as Nate and embraced the easy road to survival, he had remained the reigning champion in Cortez’s arena for almost a year. If anything, that kept me from backing down, turning our staring match into a stalemate. Only when Nate was close enough behind me that I could feel the heat of his body did Hamilton step aside, but he still managed to make it appear like a gesture of pure necessity rather than chivalry. I was tempted to keep my body turned so that I was always keeping him in front of me, but then deliberately forced myself to turn my back on him as I strode down the corridor. Feeling his gaze like a dagger between my shoulder blades sure helped clear the last dregs of sluggishness from my mind.

  “It’s such an absolute joy to be working with you both,” I heard Nate mutter behind me—mostly to himself, but the fact that he said it aloud meant it was a warning to me; Hamilton probably as well, but I doubted he cared much about playing nice. I hated having to be the adult in this constellation; it absolutely crimped my style.

  I made it two doors down before the guys had caught up with me, and while I didn’t think it beyond Hamilton’s pettiness to try to increase his pace to where I had to jog to keep up, we managed to settle into a leisurely stroll that quickly brought us to the common area that used to be the prep rooms and kitchens. While we were gone, someone had cleared away most of the sleeping bags and dragged a long table in devoid of chairs so that people could gather around it for a proper briefing. Pia and Andrej were waiting for us next to Scott and Danvers, his second-in-command. Of the other marines faction, only Sgt. Buehler was in evidence, standing at least as straight as Scott while stealthily nursing her injuries. She looked relieved to see us enter. Richards, meanwhile, did a great job of keeping his expression neutral, but I didn’t miss the way his shoulders hunched slightly at our entrance. I still didn’t know whether Hamilton intended to relieve him of his command but so
far, the army soldiers continued to report to Richards. Last in the illustrious group were Harris and the ever-scowling Eden, although she did flash me a quick grin as her eyes fell on me—or maybe Nate, I wasn’t quite sure. I was more than happy to let him handle that with his usual mix of arrogant ignorance and outright belligerent hostility. No, jealousy was the least of my concerns today.

  I was about to demand a status update when Scott glanced up from a report that he had been perusing, the paper already crumpled and several times folded as it appeared. “So good of you to finally join us,” he drawled not quite jovially. I would have drawn up short if I hadn’t been certain Hamilton would have barreled right into me; this way, I had a second or two to think about my response until I came to a halt at the table opposite of Scott. I was certain that we hadn’t used up the time Pia had given us.

  “What can I say, I’m a busy woman,” I said instead of telling him where to shove his misgivings.

  The marine commander pointedly glanced at Nate, who held his gaze evenly and with downright infuriating neutrality. I’d had years getting used to his behavior—and it wasn’t like I ever left out an opportunity to fend for my right to jump my husband’s bones—so it didn’t surprise or bother me, but anyone’s need to make this an issue annoyed me. I was tempted to ask Scott whether he wanted a status report of what had happened in the meantime since I presumed Hamilton must have filled him in on the measly findings of our interrogation.

  Just my luck that my body decided this was the perfect moment to remember that it had gotten pumped full of chemicals it really didn’t appreciate, the need to hurl imminent once more—which I managed to suppress—and this time coming with some violent shakes—that I did not. Making a face, I clawed my fingers into the edge of the table until the worst had subsided, leaving me feeling lightheaded and weak. Nate ignored me but it was impossible to miss Hamilton’s smirk, even though he looked decidedly pale and sweaty himself. He caught my gaze, snorting briefly. “You’d think you’d be relaxed and mellow afterward. Not that anyone could remove the stick that you have up your ass.”

  A plethora of retorts shot to the forefront of my mind, and for a moment, I was tempted to say screw it and dive right into the worst of them, never mind that a lot of the shit I’d fling at Hamilton would also land on Nate’s head. The disdainful twist that came to the Ice Queen’s lips wasn’t enough to make me hold back, either. Andrej’s chuckle egged me on more than anything. But I knew that Scott’s acceptance of my authority was rocky at best—and now that I had Nate lurking beside me, Scott likely expected me to relinquish it—and the last thing I needed was for me to be the one to further undermine myself. Besides, what really annoyed me was the—likely unintentional—insinuation that Nate hadn’t done a good enough job mellowing me out, and I wasn’t going to set anyone straight now.

  I sure felt like a responsible, capable adult as I turned my full attention to Scott, and thus hopefully annoyed the fuck out of Hamilton for not getting a rise out of me. “You have something? As Hamilton without a doubt has already told you, we got nothing that we didn’t already know—but, as they say, sometimes you need confirmation that there is nothing to be found.” If Nate got annoyed with me for hijacking his statement, that was his problem, not mine.

  Scott looked disappointed that he didn’t get to sneer at me again but was quick to answer. “Our interrogations went just as badly, but one of my contacts managed to ferret out one of the Chemist’s assistants as he was trying to sneak out of the camp yesterday. We have now confirmed his identity.”

  I couldn’t help but frown—and not just because he still wouldn’t give up who his connections were. “Sneak out in this weather?” I hadn’t been outside since the early hours of the morning, but the worst of the storm was blowing over the camp right now, audible even here, below-ground. From what little I’d caught was going on with the camp, several of the more rickety buildings had already caved in, making people flock into basements and the sturdy structures of the citadel—the converted upper levels of what used to be a coal mine, also housing the arena.

  Scott allowed himself a small smile. “Might be a case of intelligence not necessarily translating into street smarts.”

  Before I could respond, Hamilton had to offer his two cents. “Sounds familiar, huh?” he drawled from way too close, not just the lack of distance making it too damn intimate.

  And because I’d about used up my mature-behavior moves for the week, I had to turn my head so that we were almost nose-to-nose, and stared blankly into his grinning visage. “You wouldn’t know.”

  We kept staring at each other, my skin crawling but my ego unwilling to move even a muscle.

  Nate was the first to grow tired of our antics, speaking up for the first time. “I presume the reason you’re not yet busy beating the shit out of him means that you want us to do it? Tell us where your people are keeping him and consider it done.”

  Scott’s attention had jumped from our staring match to Nate but briefly flickered back once more. “Are you sure that you don’t want them to hash things out first?”

  Nate cast us both a look that was scathing enough to make me draw up short, but his tone remained jovial as he replied. “If I had an iota of hope that would change anything for the better, I would have herded them out into the arena and let them beat the crap out of each other. But since I don’t, we’ll have to do it the mature way and pretend to be working well together until something catastrophic enough happens that we actually do.”

  Hamilton gave a silent sneer—still more in my direction than Nate’s—and I left it at a consternated glare. Scott found this surprisingly amusing, likely because it was a message received and neither of us was able to protest that fact. He certainly looked more at ease than the Ice Queen, who appeared more than sick of the holdup. The rest of the people were watching in silence, which made me feel actually chagrined. I didn’t mind being the prime entertainment around but could have done without it happening at my expense.

  “My men have stashed him in the Chemist’s workroom,” Scott explained. “You might want to take a look around as well.”

  Nate accepted the news with a nod, and after a glance at Pia—who gave him a similar gesture to show she had everything else covered—turned toward a different exit than through which we’d entered. I still found it eerie that he knew his way around this place so well although he must have spent virtually all of his time in his cell, but that was my husband for you. I would have gotten turned around in this rabbit warren all the time if I didn’t have someone to guide me along. Bucky was right there next to me, of course, as apparently we’d already maxed out the alone time we’d get that day. I would have minded less if his smirk didn’t let me know that he was quite amused at my obvious vexation.

  I really needed to learn how to stop carrying my emotions on my sleeve, even if it was mostly the need for bloody murder, and usually centered on just one person.

  I was surprised when Nate not only led us to the upper level of the tunnels, but on into an above-ground extension accessible from below that must have been some kind of admin building for the mines. Everywhere we turned, people stepped out of our way, most of them giving us as wide a berth as possible. I didn’t mind at first—traveling with company again had accustomed me to not being on my own somewhat but the crowds here still made me uncomfortable—and it made getting to where we were headed easier. But it only took a few minutes for me to catch on that they not just responded to someone, armed and armored, being in a hurry, but they actually recognized Nate and Bucky. Hamilton, if anything, seemed to love watching them inch away from him, practically gloating at the mix of fear and awe that met him. Nate, already tense, seemed to get more so with every second that passed, his gaze unwavering in front of him as he pushed forward. Knowing him as well as I did, I could see his unease in every line of his body, making me want to punch all those gawking assholes in the face.

  The door we were looking for wasn’t hard to find,
with Hill and Cole leaning next to it, pretending like they were on guard duty but mostly interested in watching the people pass by. To say they drew up short when they saw us round the corner was an exaggeration, but they seemed somewhat conflicted about whether they should salute or not. The marines were definitely having a bad influence on them. When they realized that Hamilton wasn’t about to get in their faces, they relaxed, and Hill pulled the door open after rapping on it twice.

  “Have fun,” he told me, way too chipper.

  I still managed a smile even though my heart was already sinking considering what I’d likely be doing five minutes from now. “You know I will,” I quipped, increasing my speed just a little to be the first through the door.

  Inside, Scott’s other three marines were loitering around, if a little more present than the soldiers had been. I could immediately see why they weren’t on high alert; the man they were guarding looked like the least threatening person I’d seen all day. That probably said more about the scavengers milling around than him, but he couldn’t have been much taller or heavier than me. The marines had tied his limbs to the chair he was sitting on, but because it was made of wood, I figured I should maybe not punch him too hard or else the rickety piece of furniture might disintegrate. Maybe it was simple bias because of my personal beef with Cindy, but judging from the way his eyes went wide as he saw us come in, I didn’t think I’d need much violence to get this one talking.

  “You can leave now. We got this,” I told no one in particular. When nothing came from either of my silent, hulking companions, one of the marines nodded and signaled the other two to beat it. The guy in the chair looked after them with something akin to longing before his attention snapped back to us—and he went a few shades paler. I was tempted to do some posing shit like crack my knuckles—not that they would do that, and even less so in the gloves—but left it at crossing my arms over my chest, remaining in an easy stance in front of him. “I hear you have something you want to tell us?” Which was a lie, but he did look ready to spill his guts.