They’d already started the excavations which would eventually make an underground complex as well, but it would take a good five years or so before they had anything like the extensive transports and other advantages of the last Headquarters.The gravel pit would provide them with the perfect means to get construction equipment—and get rid of the excavation debris.Concrete and crushed rock could be sold, the legitimate business used as a front.
He didn’t see much for the first day and a half.After dumping Rowan on a bed in the room Henderson had shown him, he’d made sure their bags were in a pile, thrown a sleeping bag down in front of the door, and collapsed, leaving Brew and Yoshi to make their reports without him.Henderson wisely left him alone, maybe realizing Del was on the fine edge.
He slept deeply, waking only once to stumble to the bathroom as swords of summer sunlight poked through the gap between navy curtains, lay along the blue-carpeted floor.When he emerged, clumsy with weariness, he instinctively crawled into the bed next to Rowan, past caring about guarding the door or giving her space.Fully clothed save for his boots, he pulled the sheet and blankets up, and curled around her.
She was on her side, her back to him, and he immediately fell asleep once more.It was dangerous to pass out so completely, but he didn’t have a choice.There was a limit to even Sigma-trained endurance.
He returned to the land of the living slowly and piecemeal, surfacing with a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time—safety and warmth.Rowan’s head weighed down his left arm, and he was sweating in the almost-uncomfortable heat from sleeping in his clothes and under blankets.
Rowan stirred.
She yawned and stretched, her head bumping his chin.He moved automatically, easing his aching left arm from under her head.Then he tightened his right arm around her, pulling her back against him, waking up completely with the fuzzy feeling of having slept more than eighteen hours at a shot.
For a few moments she rested against him.Del kept his eyes tightly shut, breathing in the smell of her hair, feeling the electricity of her talent against his skin once more.
Here in this room, in his arms, she was finally safe.The relief was indescribable.He kept breathing, waves of something he was almost afraid to call happiness swamping him every few moments.The touch of her tangled hair was almost too sweet to be real.
Finally, she edged away; he reluctantly let her go.She pushed herself up, shaking her head, and slid free of the bed, then made her way on unsteady feet to the bathroom.He opened one eye just enough to watch; she was moving all right.Long pale hair fell over her shoulders, tangled and beautiful.She shut the bathroom door.
Del stretched, joints popping and muscles twinging in various places.He felt better than he had any right to.Even his shoulder didn’t hurt anymore, and his ribs seemed to be fine.He curled cautiously up to sit, grateful when Zed withdrawal didn’t immediately begin pounding inside his skull.
It still lurked in his bones, a deep half-healed ache, but his skin prickled like a bad sunburn instead of carnivorous ants.He seemed to be… well, if not cured, then at least halfway there.
Sunlight still fell through the same crack in the navy curtains, and the feeling of dampers was blessed relief.He sensed other minds inside the building, familiar presences going about their business.This room, carpeted in sky-blue, housed a severe mission-style bed and dresser in matching pale unfinished wood.The closet door lingered half open, showing a few dangling hangers and nothing else.The space was bare and almost soulless except for their suitcases, duffels, and kitbags in a messy heap.His rig lay tangled on the floor; he extracted the knife from under his pillow, sliding the blade back into its sheath.
When Rowan reemerged, she went straight for the pile of luggage on the floor, digging until she extracted a toothbrush and toothpaste.She granted him a single inquiring glance, eyes suddenly very green, their depths shadowed.
He tasted morning in his mouth, nodded.She dug out his toothbrush, too, and tossed it to him.He reached up to catch, found himself smiling.Actuallysmiling.It hadn’t taken very long to relearn that trick after all.
She smiled back, the expression lighting her eyes.His chest tightened.The feeling jolting through him was the same deep emotion he’d gotten from her before.Was itheror something else?He still couldn’t figure it out, could not name something so huge it made his throat close and a hot weight prickle behind his eyes.
“Good morning.”Her voice was husky.She slowly straightened, pushing her hair back with one hand.His mouth went dry.
“Morning yourself.How do you feel?”There aren’t a lot of people who can say they survived Carson.We were damn lucky to get out of that room alive.
“Sore.Headache.Like I got hit with a train.”Her smile widened.“But we must be at Headquarters.I knew we’d make it.”
He shrugged, deciding that hedidwant to get out of bed.The carpet was warm under sock feet.He wasn’t unsteady, but he did walk gingerly, testing his legs for any sign of weakness.None seemed apparent.“Give me a couple minutes, can you?”
“Sure.”She tossed him the toothpaste and bent back down, probably rummaging for a comb.He shut the bathroom door quietly, more out of habit than any real need to be silent.Alive.We’re both alive, and she seems almost happy to have me around.First things first, though.
It was still a luxury to visit the bathroom by himself, especially one tiled in blue and white with a claw-footed bathtub.No shower, but that was all right.
And Rowan was outside the door.The little things about being a free man, he supposed.All worthy of gratitude
Ten minutes later they were brushing their teeth together over the gleaming porcelain sink, a strangely domestic chore.It was unexpectedly intimate, especially since the entire time passed in silence, their gazes meeting in the mirror more than once.She rinsed her mouth twice, maybe getting rid of a sour taste that wasn’t quite physical.Then she carried a comb back to the bed and sat down, sighing.Sitting tailor-fashion, the slim paleness of her ankle catching his eye for a moment.Even her ankles were pretty.
“I feel like I have a hangover.”She began to work on the tangles in her hair, pulling with a little more force than Del would have.“My head hurts.”
He settled next to her.Watched her profile.This familiarity was so sudden and delicate, he couldn’t risk breaking it.
“I’m sorry,” he offered.“I didn’t know he would hit you that hard.I thought he’d concentrate on taking me out.”
I was sure he’d figure me the bigger threat.Why didn’t he?Of course, I was busy with his damn bodyguard.
Did she wince ever so slightly, yanking at her hair?Maybe there was a particularly bad tangle.“It’s my fault,” she said finally.“All of it.”
Say what?
