Imara raised her hand. “Imayhave run several cons and used a stash box to . . . procure items for clients.”
“Do any of you peoplenothave a criminal history?” Broadman drawled.
“Not really,” Christian replied.
“I don’t,” Hawk interjected.
“Well, bless your heart,” Imara snarked.
“I’m just saying—”
Governor Gallowood held up his hands. “Please, Miss Joshi, continue.”
She shot Hawk a glare. “Anyway, I alsomayhave an additional stash locker that no one knows about.”
“That’s actually very helpful,” Claude said. “We could set a beacon to emit a signal to an unregistered frequency. Whenever someone opens the panel, it would alert us.”
“Not bad,” Ahna said. “That could work. Cho could go back to the Falaichte, find out which fixer works with the Dissent, and then set a meeting. When they give you a time and place, jot the information down on a piece of paper or a strip of cloth—whatever—and place it in Imara’s stash locker. Once you open it, we’ll get the signal and then retrieve it.”
“Very well.” Philip pointed at the map of Perileos spread across the table. “Miss Joshi, work with Claude and share exactly where your stash locker is and how to open it. Solar shift, you are free to go to bed. Grave shift, see Ahna for your assignments. Cho, with me.”
The room morphed into action as SARTF teams followed the governor’s orders.
“See you later, Christy,” Cho said as she shoulder-checked him on her way out of the room.
He grabbed her wrist. “Iamsorry, Cho, for what happened after I left.”
She met his gaze, and for half of a second, Christian thought she’d forgive him, but then she scoffed and tore her arm out of his hold. He ran a hand down his face as she marched from the room.
Whatever. He didn’t need her forgiveness. Leaving the Falaichte was the best fucking decision he’d ever made. Apart from choosing to act on his feelings for Gemma, of course. Besides, he doubted he’d ever see Cho again anyway.
He shook off the shame. He still had a job to do and a woman to rescue. Gemma didn’t have much time, and every day he spent down here was one more she had to face alone.
At least now, SARTF had a thread. It was time to follow it.
Sleep was impossible. Even with a heating pad tucked against her spine and her braid coiled beneath her neck, her body floundered with too many questions and not enough answers. And she feared the nightmares she knew would come. By the time Gunner signaled breakfast was ready, her eyes had just closed.
Sighing, she quickly refreshed and re-braided her long, dark brown hair before emerging from her shelter. The same food as yesterday was available, and although every bite made her gag, Gemma figured she’d need the energy for whatever Gunner had planned with the sealed chamber. She forced her way through asmuch food as she could muster.
“I’ll meet you down there in ten,” Gunner said, rushing past Gemma as she ate her last bite. The man was always hopping from one thing to another. Did he ever rest?
After cleaning her dish, Gemma meandered in the direction where Gunner had found the door, in the temple’s lower wing. The cool stone bit through the soles of her boots. Here, a reverent hush blanketed the ruins, broken only by the soft hum of the ultralights strung along the walls.
A subtle prickle rose beneath her skin, like static, as she descended further. She flexed her fingers and shook them out, but the sensation lingered, tracing the tendons of her hands. She was scratching at her palms when a clatter echoed from nearby, followed by a muttered curse and a familiar voice.
“I swear, if one more stone shifts beneath my boot, I’m blaming the ancestors.” Gunner had finally arrived.
Gemma couldn’t stop the small smile that arose. For an archaeologist, he was extremely clumsy.
“Okay, kiddo,” he said when he reached her, his breath misting. A bundle of tools was strapped across his back, and his grin was half-swallowed by a thermal scarf. “Ready to prod the belly of a forgotten civilization?”
“Not really. But what other choice do I have?”
He gave her a thumbs up. “That’s the spirit. You look like shit, by the way.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I meant that lovingly. Want a stim tab?”
