“Okay. I found out pretty early in life that if I didn’tmove—and move fast—I’d go bananas.” She shut her eyes for a few seconds. “Or drive my parents bananas, actually. So I run. Every day.”
“What happens if you miss a day?”
“Idon’t. Unless I’m in a…” Her words fizzled out, her hand gingerly explored her head, and she gave him a quick, easy look, filled with unexpected humor. “In a situation like this.”
“Running for your life?”
“Sitting for my life right now, but yeah.”
“So, that feeling? Where you’ve gotta move, get your legs—what’s the word?—pumping, or else… What? What happens?”
She turned her body more fully now, her eyes knowing when they landed on him. One fist went to her chest. “All hell breaks loose.”
“That.That’s what happens if I let this out.” He leaned in, needing her to understand. “Sharing the burden of this particular secretkillspeople.” He stood again, tired and wired and buzzing. “So, forgive my hesitation.” He wiped his brow, surprised to see sweat shining on his glove. “It’s the only thing I am. Only thing that’s kept me alive.”
He headed to the cave’s entrance, dipped his head, and paused. Without turning, he spoke. “Only thing that’s keptanyonealive.”
***
Old Amka waited for one of the operatives to leave Marion’s house before making her move. The kids and Marion were inside—safe but scared, from what she’d been able to see through the back windows—and a single guard stood watch on the front porch. As good a time as any.
Part of her wanted to siphon all the gas in town, lay some big-ass trap, and blow these bastards sky-high, but that wasn’t practical for a number of reasons—primarily collateral damage. She’d opted instead for a stealth operation. Baby steps, she figured, were better than shock and awe. Now, after three hours of watching and waiting and hunkering down outside the cabin’s windows, her joints were suffering, but it would be well worth the trouble.
Bent low, with one hand on her back, she hobbled up to the front steps. “’scuse me,” she said in her quaveriest old-lady voice.
The toy soldier on the porch turned and pointed her weapon, tracked Amka’s slow progress up the steps, and then dropped it. Apparently, she deemed Amka no threat at all.
The woman—dressed all in black from her coat to her big boots, with a communication device in her ear—had the hollowed-out cheeks and square RoboCop jaw of someone who spent most of her time in the gym. Which wasn’t something Amka could relate to. Or respect, really.
Especially when she’d so easily dismissed her—for being old and small and fat. As if she really were RoboCop, with one of those screens in her head beeping green at the sight of an old lady.
Of course, if she did have a screen, she’d have known Amka carried a knife in her hand and a gun in her holster. The woman would have known that Daisy’s hunting rifle was leaning on the porch rail beside her. Out of view but not out of mind. Much like Daisy herself.
She smiled now, thinking of the woman she loved more than anything in the world.
And the Robo-woman smiled back.
Good Lord, these people were simple.
“They sent me here to give you this.” She held out the plate of cookies she’d gone back to her place to get. On her best china, too. Part of the set Daisy had inherited from her family.
“Oh.” The woman put out her hand and pulled it back, with a slight shake of her head. “I can’t…”
Amka shoved them forward, taking a couple of limping steps closer, even though she risked revealing how well-armed she was. “They’re diet.”
The deep-sunk eyes went to the plate and stayed there. “Diet cookies? You mean like, no—”
She didn’t get another word in. By the time Robo-lady realized the knife was at her throat, Amka’d already pressed it close enough to the skin to keep her from finishing. With her other hand, she set the plate down and yanked the communication device from the woman’s ear. “One sound,” she whispered, “and I skin you like a bear.” The woman stiffened and Amka put more pressure on the blade. “I’ve killed bigger creatures than you. Don’t for a second think I’d hesitate.”
When she nodded, Amka let up, just enough to wrap one of those big-ass twist ties around her wrists and pull it tight. Nudging the woman along in front of her, she stepped to the side of the door and threw it open. “Marion!” she stage-whispered. “It’s Amka. I’m coming in there to untie you and the kids. Don’t attack me or anything. I brought cookies.” She threw the woman a wicked smile. “And we got ourselves a prisoner.”
Chapter 12
Elias stomped back into the cave, followed by his dog, and went straight to his sleeping bag, not once looking Leo’s way. Which was disappointing, because now that she knew who he was, she was riveted. Okay, a little weirded out, becauseElias freaking Thorne. But also undeniably fascinated. Here she was, stuck in a cave with a dead man. A man who’d turned against his own government, his own people, who’d stolen and killed before being shot to death in the biggest massacre America had seen since 9/11. The media had gone wild, she remembered, the conjecture had been over-the-top. Spy theories, terrorism, even some cult thing. Wait, hadn’t his girlfriend written a book?
Except none of it was true.
She opened her mouth and shut it, reminding herself that she wasn’t here to get to know the real Elias Thorne—even if the man was intriguing as hell. She was here to stop the bad guys from getting the virus and maybe figure out what exactly they planned to do with it.
