She blinked. From where she lay, her eyes dipped to take in his entire form, before rising again. “Bullshit.”
He shrugged and her eyes narrowed in response. “You’re serious?”
“Why would I make this up?”
“TheElias Thorne?” At his nod, she cocked her head, her expression wary. “You sure have changed.”
No point responding to that, was there?
When she started to sit up, he shifted toward her, stopping at her quelling look. “Still got to bandage you.”
Instead of responding, she turned slightly and watched him. It was a weird sort of standoff.
The mass murderer and the woman he’d saved.
“The Point Pleasant massacre.” Her eyes pulled him apart. “That was you.”
His only response was a grunt. Why bother arguing when he’d been judged and hanged before the damn thing was over? Well, shot anyway.
“I thought they killed you.”
“That was the goal.”
“To kill you or to make people think you were dead?”
“Yes.”
She wheezed out a laugh, which quickly turned into a cough, leaving her teary-eyed and breathless.
He squatted, unmoving, as she considered him, pulled him apart with her big, intelligent eyes.
Finally, he gave in and broke the silence. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“What?”
“What the helltheElias Thorne is doing here, for one thing.”
He gave her a minute. “Figure it out?”
“What’s the link between you and Campbell Turner and the virus?”
He went still at those last words.
“You know about the virus, Elias?” Her chest moved up and down with each deep inhale.
“Can’t talk about it.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Wanna go first?” he countered.
Distrust pinged through the air between them, as present as the scents of stone and blood and wet dog. After a second, he nodded toward her injury. “Gotta bandage you.”
“Hold on.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. They were an awful lot clearer than they’d been half an hour ago. “No way you’re with those guys. They’re afteryou.”
“You brought them here.” He couldn’t help the accusation in his tone.
