For the first time, it really hits me that this man—Sid Charles, was it?—might come from somewhere that can help April. It might all be true.
“We need a hospital,” I say abruptly.
“No shit.” He takes a drag on the cigarette. “You look like a good meal would kill you.”
“No, I don’t mean both of us. I mean my sister—”
“How about we wait for my guys to come back, then we can start talking about whatever it is you want from us. Okay?”
“We can talk now. We’ll cooperate. I’ll do anything you want if you can help her.” I say and April nods. Her earlier eagerness all makes sense now. She’d picked up on the signs that I was too survival-brained to notice. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
His eyes flick over me again. Now that he’s no longer scowling, they are so,soblue. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because on the off chance you twoaresome TNS ploy to get us to drop our guards…” He gestures vaguely towards the trees and all the imaginary people he’s worried about. “I would rather not be distracted.”
“Oh, come on! You’re smoking a cigarette.”
“I can smoke and fire a gun at the same time.”
“You’re not even holding it.”
“Would you like me to?”
“Kayla, it’s fine.” April waves her hands, pleading for me not to screw this up any worse than my slingshot did. “We can wait. I don’t mind.”
“It’s still pointless. There’s no one else out there and when he finally believes us, he’s going to realize he wasted his time,” I say.
“So… Kayla.” He repeats my name. “Got a last name?”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk. Because I’mtoo distracting.” I toss my head back dramatically and make sure my voice drips with sarcasm. It would work better if I had long, flowing hair, but he clearly gets the idea, because my performance draws a laugh.
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Yeah, well…” My stomach clenches as this big, blue-eyed man smiles a lopsided grin at me around his cigarette. “Fine. We’ll wait.”
“Thank you.” He turns his gaze toward the horizon, which I take as an opportunity to sit down. April joins me and I hold her hand, trying to steady both our nerves. We could be here for a while. It’s difficult to prove someoneisn’tthere, so who knows at what point his men will stop looking?
I sit with my back to Sid Charles, who seems happy to scan the area for danger and ignore me, too. Typically, I don’t turn my back to strangers, but I can’t look at him right now. Our conversation still has my stomach in knots, and not in a way that has anything to do with the gun on his back or the intimidating size of his muscles.
Okay, it might have a little to do with that second one.
I was making fun of him. That’s what I was doing, wasn’t it? Pointing out his paranoia and mocking him for it. That all seemed obvious in the moment, but the way he responded to me has made me wonder… was I flirting with him? Just a little?
As he stands watch, I sneak a glance at him. He seems even taller from this angle and my eyes sweep up his legs, to his waist, his chest.
I duck my head away, feeling the back of my neck flush. This is so wrong and stupid.
April and I sometimes run into other people in the wasteland of Vancouver Island, but the interactions are always tense and brief, long enough only to barter items before everyone backs away, never wanting to be the first to offer their backside as a target. Honestly, if I met Sid Charles in the woods, even without the gun, I would avoid him. I only deal with people who pose the same threat I do. I mean, I would approach someone weaker—butthosepeople typically run away from me.
All this is to say, I haven’t met someone who’s my type in a very long time. If I even have a type. But if I had to make one up on the spot, Sid is composed of the things that I value most in a person: calm under pressure, big enough to scare the shit out of anyone dangerous, no rotten teeth when he smiles. Even his busted nose recommends him. Clearly, he’s survived getting hit in the face before.
Sitting here with that realization is terrifying in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I can’t remember the last time thoughts like this even occurred to me, which means I’ve let my guard drop. Even if I hadn’t shot him with my slingshot—even if he didn’t wield an absurd amount of power over my life right now—I have no interest in going down that path again with anyone. Not after what happened to Curtis.
Curtis.
I usually avoid thinking about him, so I squeeze April’s hand tighter, forcing my mind back to the present. Trusting these people goes against every impulse I have, but if it means saving April, I’ve got to try.
