“Are you sure you want to know?”
He leaned back at that, the focus in his eyes sharpening.
“I got us into Clancy’s private collection of files. Besides a list of the different tribes and their last known locations, it basically was a digital scrapbook of nightmares.”
“How did you get access?”
Now it was my turn to fix him with a look. “The usual way.”
I watched his reaction carefully, already feeling the words settle between us, add to that space. They were an unwelcome reminder. This is what I do. This is who I am.
He took it in stride. “Was there anything about the cure on there?”
“A bit about the testing they did at Thurmond to find the cause. But...it turns out that they’re going to close Thurmond down at the end of March.”
“Oh, damn,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
“Cole still wants to plan a hit.”
“Well...I guess two months is better than two weeks,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. But can I ask you something, and can I get an honest answer out of you?”
I bristled a bit at that.
“This quartermaster thing you suggested, me being in charge of supplies...is it a consolation prize?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this a way to keep me here? Keep me behind, I mean. When things get rolling with the camps, am I going to be left waiting here, hoping everybody comes back in one piece?”
“You mean, exactly what we’re all going to be doing while you’re out looking for supplies?” I said. “No. And for what it’s worth, Cole was only panicking because you didn’t tell him where you were going. It was the same for me—you were just gone. I know you can fight if you have to, but I don’t know that he does.”
“He has no idea what I’ve been through...what I’ve had to do. He acts like I don’t even know how to use a gun.” His hands bunched up the back of my shirt. “I do, though. Harry taught me before I left home. I just don’t want to shoot one unless I have to.”
“That’s the way it should be,” I told him. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this happened to us, and I wonder when it became so natural to pick up a gun and act like it’s nothing. I have to teach the other kids how to shoot, and I have no idea how I’m going to do it. I don’t know how to show them how absurd and terrible it is that they even have to learn.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, quietly. “Maybe we don’t have to actually show up with guns blazing.”
I’m not sure I could have been more surprised if he’d suggested we should just go straight to the top and assassinate Gray. I’d based my camp liberation plan on the one he and the others had come up with at East River. And both involved considerable use of force.
“No, it has to be a real fight,” I said. “They have to take us seriously. The thing is...what I can’t get over is, how the kids will take it. What’ll happen if they find themselves in the position to kill and pull the trigger. We can train them to steady their nerves and we can give them targets to practice with, but it feels like forcing them to drink poison that’ll never leave their system. I know it’s a sacrifice and that they’ll be the ones choosing to make it, but I worry about the cost. I’m afraid of what we’ll be at the end of the road.”
Look at what it’s done to us. Zu’s crying face the other night floated to the forefront of my mind, only to be replaced by the memory of Chubs’s confession about the requirements of becoming a skip tracer; him being shot; Liam’s battered face—all of these were linked in my mind now. They’d never fade, not even in the afterlight of all of this.
“I think they understand more than you’d think,” he said, tracing a finger along the edge of my ear. “The kids who aren’t League have been out there running—for years. No one is innocent here. They want it just as bad as we do. We’ll figure out a way to keep them as safe as possible. We’ll take care of them.”
“Is that enough?”
“It will be.” Liam’s kiss was unbearably tender. “I missed this. Us talking, I mean.”
A bolt of guilt shot through me at his words, at how content he sounded.
“Everything else seems crazy,” Liam said, one hand threading through my loose hair, “Let’s just stay here, you and me, and not let anyone or anything else in for a while, okay?”
This was the danger of him. In an instant, he could lift everything off my shoulders and set it aside. He became the answer to every doubt and lingering question. My world refocused, settling on him—beautiful, perfect him. I didn’t have to think about what I’d done, what would happen to us even five minutes from now.
Maybe he would never forgive me, not fully, but there was no thinking in this. If I couldn’t bare every secret to him, unload everything in my heart, at least I could be close to him this way. He wanted comfort, and so did I.
I nodded and brushed my lips as soft as a breath just behind his ear. The response was instant—a shudder ran through him and it became a challenge to get that response from him again and again. He rolled over on top of me and I shifted to draw my legs around his. He pressed down to capture my mouth and I froze at the friction between us.
Liam pulled back, bracing his elbows on either side of my head, his brows drawing together as he studied my face. I felt myself flood with color, the way it spread down my throat, across my chest. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt how much he wanted me, but here, in this room, on this bed—it felt like more of a decision that needed to be made. One I wasn’t ready for.
“It doesn’t have to be anything more than this,” he said, softly. “I don’t want you to think it has to be. This is actually pretty damn great.” Fingers skimmed against my ribcage, ran along the edge of my sports bra. Every last ounce of his attention focused on my lips again. “But if...when I went out, I made sure to get...” The words were flustered, tangled up in one another, but I understood his meaning and it sent a small, growing spiral of happiness through me. He wanted this enough that he’d thought ahead; he would take the necessary precautions. “Days, weeks, years from now...when you’re ready, so am I. Okay?”
I wondered if he could feel how quickly he’d dialed up my heartbeat with only a few words. I was close enough to see the pulse at the base of his throat, if the trembling in his hands hadn’t already spoken for him.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, drawing him down to me again.
“What am I going to do with you?” I asked, only half joking.
That tiny smile grew as he lowered his face toward mine. “Oh, you could try out a thing or two...”
“Like what kinds of things?” I teased, pulling back as he came forward. He made a small, impatient noise. “Things that’ll get us in trouble?”
“You are trouble,” he said. “Capital T and everything—”
I pulled him down, cutting his laughter off before it had the chance to start. My kiss eased off under his touch, becoming slower, a sweet kind of lazy. It made me feel, for the first time in my life, that I actually had time. We could take that soft pace. Explore.
“Can we not go to dinner every night?” I asked as his lips left mine and started to work toward my throat.
“Okay,” he whispered, “works for me.”
I didn’t feel shy or clumsy when my hands slid under his shirt again and began to draw it up, off. I heard him whisper my name, the sound of it breathy and raw, and it was like a hit of a drug to my system. I wanted to hear it again. Again and again and again and again...
There was a tentative knock on the door.
Liam pulled back, breathing hard. It was hard to tell which looked more wild—his hair or his eyes.
Don’t make a sound, I thought, they’ll go away...
They seemed to. I let out a soft sigh as Liam settled back down over me, blocking the rest of the room with his broad shoulders.