Читать книгу Being Sapphire - Sylvia Ryan - Страница 9

3

At eight PM, the members of the Amber Zone resistance filled the activity room of the Wellness Center to capacity. During the day, the room was used for dance and yoga classes. It contained the standard wall of mirrors and a hardwood floor. To Jordan, the presence of the large crush of men with their rough edges and hard hearts were out of place in a room intended for little ballerinas and pregnant women learning childbirth methods.

The turnout was exceptional, all of them wanting to hear the firsthand account of how the previous evening’s mission fared. Jordan made her way toward Captain Rush and Xander to take her place next to them on the raised platform. She was unbelievably proud to be third in command and in charge of guerilla missions and covert operations.

Xander’s jaw clenched when he saw her approaching. Obviously, he was still a little ticked about her loitering to take in the fire last night. Trying to avoid the inevitable ass chewing she was sure to get before the night was over, she mouthed “sorry” from across the room and shot him her most ingratiating pout. It was about as close to a real apology he was going to get, and he knew it. He got the message and shook his head, his grimace turning into a reluctant smile.

The solidarity in the room was potent, charging the air and giving significance to the moment. The walk through the crowd was one she’d never forget. Large hands landed hard on her shoulders in rough congratulations for the success of her first act of sabotage. Their enthusiasm was going to give her bruises.

Captain Rush stood and quieted the crowd as Jordan sat down next to Xander.

“Hey,” she said, under her breath.

He grunted an unintelligible response, and she knew her small lapse in judgment was forgiven.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Rush said, and the white noise of a hundred voices fell silent. “As everyone knows by now, our mission last night was successful.”

Shouts and applause forced the Captain to stop the briefing.

“I guess we should congratulate Xander and Jordan on a job well done.”

The crowd continued to whoop and cheer. The joy in the room overwhelmed Jordan, and she was at a loss as to how to behave in response to the recognition. She forced her gaze away from her clasped hands on the table in front of her and looked out over the crowd, humbly accepting the accolades.

Experiencing the surge of pride and accomplishment that went along with her success felt unfamiliar and awkward. Her throat tightened with emotion. She was deeply moved by the display.

She’d had a lot of practice reacting to her defeats. Failure was an old friend, and through the years she’d become accustomed to picking herself up, dusting herself off and trying again.

Success. That was altogether different. It was completely unfamiliar and totally scary on so many levels. People were counting on her to be successful.

She looked out over the celebrating men. This was the exception. She liked the feel of it, though, and she aspired to become what everyone in the room thought she was.

She soaked up this giddy, bubbling feeling of success. She’d save the memory of it for later, when she needed it.

“Okay, okay, let’s get on with business,” Captain Rush said a few times before he got relative silence in the room.

“The Sterilization Center is gone. We have to focus on the next item of business. During Jordan’s escape last night, a guardsman saved her from running into a group of them heading her way and hid her until she was clear. He offered his assistance to our cause.”

The hum of the crowd increased in volume as men discussed the revelation with others around them.

“All right, quiet down,” Captain Rush shouted over the escalating din. “Xander and I have discussed how to proceed in this matter. An alliance like this could be an extremely valuable addition to our group and jump-start our efforts. It would be shortsighted of us to reject his offer, so we’ve decided to forge ahead in a way that will have minimal risk to our ongoing operations. For the time being, the only access this man will have to us is through his contact, Jordan. She’s volunteered to be the liaison and is already developing a working relationship with the contact. The rest of our identities will be withheld. It’s a risk, but we think it’s a risk worth taking. Questions, comments, concerns?”

There were low murmurs here and there, but no objections. “Okay, that’s settled. Any committee heads want to give updates before we adjourn until the next meet?”

Xander stood and stepped around the table, taking the floor. “I’d like to give updates on a couple of projects. Digging the tunnel to the Onyx Zone has been slow, backbreaking work and we’re looking for a few men who can help with the load.”

A few shouts from the crowd answered his call for help, and he nodded his thanks. “Meet with me after the meeting tonight for the details.” He looked over the crowd. “I also have a firearms update from Stan’s unit. We just received another bundle of side arms and ammunition from our over the fence contacts. I want to thank all of the men and women who are consuming less so we have the commissary food to fund our acquisition of arms.”

As the room began a round of applause, a barrage of gunfire sounded from somewhere outside the building. A scream and then the sound of multiple weapons and prolonged automatic fire had every person in the room springing to action at the same time. More muffled screams ensued as the room emptied with thorough efficiency. Jordan followed the crowd out the front doors of the Wellness Center and into Circle City.

As Jordan ran toward the heart of the disturbance, she noted the retreat of a large group of National Guard. Most of them were already through the tall barrier that ran from building to building, enclosing Circle City.

The world outside the doors was chaos. Masses of people spilled out of every doorway, making an accurate assessment of the situation difficult. Jordan followed the screaming and crying ahead of her. When she finally got a good view of what had happened, the shock of it stopped her cold.

Hundreds of people had been sprawled out over the park-like, sloping green in the center of Circle City, staking their claim of real estate for the evening so they could sleep in the cool night air instead of the stifling-hot buildings. The multicolored blankets sprinkled against the dark texture of the grass looked like small, colorful squares of confetti. Dozens of people lay dead. Bullet wounds riddled the ones closest to her. The guard had shot them all. The living searched for those they knew, flowing and swerving around the dead in the same way water parted around objects in its path. Wails of grief filled the air.

Stopped dead in her tracks, she was a lone, still person in a swarm of movement and noise. The ruthless extermination of innocent Ambers detonated a cache of rage that always lurked inside her. They’d done nothing wrong.

But she had.

A realization struck with brutal force. This was her fault. These people were dead because of what she’d done the night before. They’d expected swift retaliation by the Gov if the fire was suspected to be arson instead of an accident. But she’d never imagined they would murder indiscriminately. That assumption had been naive and the awkward feeling of success she’d experiences minutes before transformed into the familiar pall she was used to.

Jordan pulled out her handheld and began recording a video of the mayhem while there was still some light from the rapidly setting sun. She focused on her screen and walked through the carnage with the weight of her responsibility for the massacre skewing her perspective.

She found herself automatically gravitating toward the spot where she usually slept with her roommate, Dennis. Her mind ran through all the reasons he wouldn’t have been waiting for her to join him on the lawn, but that small part of her life experience had forged and shaped already knew he was dead. It was the same part of her that knew she’d been too happy these last few months. Her new friendship with Jaci and the important position she held in the resistance had given her instances of joy, of hope. The feelings were new to her. It was all too good to be true.

Her throat closed tight for the second time that evening, making it difficult to breathe. It felt as if she was barely taking in enough air to be conscious as she walked through the gore to where she’d been sleeping with Dennis during these hot nights of late summer. Then, on the video screen of her handheld, she found him.

His hands were cradled under his head as he looked up into the sky. For a split second, in the fading light, he looked alive. But in the melee of the moment, he was too still.

Jordan dropped the handheld and fell to her knees beside him. “Dennis.”

She looked him up and down and spied the bloody bullet hole a few inches below his armpit. The sounds of the frenzied throng around her faded while her own panic and grief sharpened.

Laying her head on his chest, she listened. There was no heartbeat, no rise and fall of his breaths. He was dead.

The world fell away and agony detonated somewhere deep inside her chest. Grief came at her from all sides. Her nose burned and her eyes watered as she denied her body’s demand to cry.

She closed Dennis’s vacant eyes and rested her head on his chest. She wouldn’t survive this loss. This would leave utter devastation in its wake.

Dennis had been her champion. He protected her, saved her from the mental illness that plagued the life she tried to build in Circle City. He fought side by side with her, helping her to overcome her issues and took on the fight alone when she didn’t want to fight for herself.

Her thoughts were dismal and self-centered. She needed him for everything. There was no recovery from this.

Sometime later, Jordan became aware of Xander standing over her. Concern was blatant on his face. She knew what she must look like with her tear-filled eyes and devastated heart. Her skinny body, pale skin and round eyes made her resemble a waif when she cried. She knew because she’d seen it in the mirror more times than she could count. It was not a side of herself she let people see.

“Say your goodbye, Jordan, and then I’ll take you home.”

Jordan pressed a chaste kiss to Dennis’s forehead and rose.

“Would you rather stay with Jaci and me?” He squeezed her with a muscular arm around her shoulder while turning her in the direction of her building.

“No,” she said numbly. “I’ve got to meet with the contact. He told me to be there tonight.”

“It can wait a day.”

She looked up at Xander and nodded and then squirmed out of his grip. “I’m fine. I can walk home by myself.”

She turned and walked away from him, hoping he wasn’t following her.

Instead of going up to her apartment when she entered building twelve, she walked straight through the lobby and out the front entrance.

It took a tremendous amount of repression to turn her thoughts away from the scene she’d just walked away from, and she was utterly unsuccessful at it for any length of time.

The hole Dennis’s loss would leave in her life was massive, and the ramifications were starting to circle the outskirts of her mind. Her life was a perfect example of why every female had a male roommate assigned to her. She needed the created link of family because she had no one else. Dennis had been better family to her than the people she’d been born to. He was someone safe to touch and be touched by without expectation of anything more. She could be herself when she was with him.

He knew everything and cared for her anyway. She was bereft.

It took a good half hour of walking before her brain started to emerge from the fog, and then during the next half hour, her grief turned into anger. She fumed as she finished her hike to the border gate station. Those miserable fuckers would pay. She would have her revenge.

In the pitch-dark of another moonless night, Jordan’s feet took her where she needed to go while her mind worked, trying to assimilate the drastic changes of the last twenty-four hours.

Jordan stood outside the circle of light surrounding the border and hid in the shadows, watching intently. The windowed building was a brightly lit fishbowl with every detail of the interior easily visible. Two Guardsmen stood talking next to the row of turnstiles. Neither one was Patrick.

It was incredibly stupid not to have backup for this meet, but there was something within her that trusted him, and that was a rare occurrence.

Minutes later, Patrick walked into the building from the Sapphire side of the border. She absorbed every detail about him. He was average weight, average height with brown hair.

His eyes. They were extraordinary. She remembered flashes of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. They had startled her the night before. Growing up in Amber, she was accustomed to being surrounded with brown-eyed gazes and hadn’t remembered how startling it was to be regarded with indigo eyes. Having them pointed at her, scrutinizing her, increased her heart rate and shortened her breathing. They were a constant reminder he was forbidden to her. There was no mistaking the flashes of desire or the air of playfulness she’d seen in them the night before. It was as if a tiny devil sat on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, because when he looked at her it was very clear the things running through his head would land them both in Hell.

He had affected her on some level during their first encounter several months before because a short time later she experienced a jolt of excitement when she thought she’d seen him in a crowd. She was actually changing direction to walk toward him when she realized there were no National Guardsmen living in the Amber Zone. She distinctly remembered a momentary twinge of disappointment at the revelation but never thought of him again after that. Until last night.

She closed her eyes and mentally put herself back under that desk. Just thinking about his hand running up and down her arm fluttered her insides and made her part her lips so she could take in more air. She swallowed and raised her lids to look again at this man that made her pant just a little bit every time her mind wandered to him.

In the cluster of four men wearing the same uniforms, she was able to easily identify which was Patrick O’Connor. He was–

She shook her head, having a hard time putting words to the vibe he gave off. Inviting. It was as close an adjective she could bring to mind. The expression on his face and the way he moved his body was warm, relaxed. He possessed an easy leisure, from his gorgeous narrow-hipped, sweet, tight ass to the slightly off-kilter canter of his words. She felt it even from this distance away.

He was not like the men she knew in Amber who, because of their life experiences, grew to be stoic and imposing, needing to control everything.

Jordan frowned into the darkness. She was sure by the way he carried himself that Patrick’s life had been easy. He had no reason to be angry and stoic. She forced herself to remember he was on the wrong side of this fledgling war, and she should be terrified of him. But when he looked at her, she felt the opposite. Somehow this liaison felt right inside.

She silently regarded the change of shifts and continued to watch while he talked with his partner. A few minutes later, she moved to the alley he’d pulled her into the evening before.

She walked deep into the shadows between the two buildings and sat against a wall, bringing her knees up underneath her chin. It was a familiar position she felt compelled to assume when she was scared or threatened.

As a child she’d realized when she tucked her head and covered the back of her neck with her hands, she could easily withstand the most severe of beatings. She was sure reverting to this protective pose was a reaction to losing Dennis, because she hadn’t given in to the compulsion to assume that position in several years. She spent the wait rocking slightly and rebuilding her defenses.

It seemed to Jordan like several hours had passed before Patrick stepped into the gap and sat on the ground beside her. She hadn’t heard him approach, and she jumped at the sudden shadow man sitting shoulder to shoulder with her.

She held her breath, waiting for him to make the first move, waiting to find out whether her judgment about him was good or if this folly would ultimately result in her demise.

He grasped her hand and whispered, “I have to make this short. Tonight hasn’t been a usual night. There’s been a lot of traffic back and forth. Did you talk to your people?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“We’re a go. For now, you’re on a need-to-know basis with me as your only contact.”

He nodded. It was an almost imperceptible acknowledgement in the darkness of the night. “I have two messages.” He pushed paper into her palm. “One of them is for your eyes only.”

“Okay.” She shoved the papers into her pocket.

“Jordan?”

She turned her head, trying to meet his gaze. She wanted to get a glimpse of that blue, but, even though they sat shoulder to shoulder, it was too dark. “What?”

“I know what happened in Circle City tonight. I’m glad you’re okay.”

She tried to swallow down the swelling lump in her throat but she couldn’t clear it enough to utter her thanks for the sweet sentiment. He leaned into her. “You are okay, aren’t you?” His hands roamed the darkness until they found hers and held them tight. “Jo, what is it?”

His kindness shattered the thin veneer of normalcy she’d worked so hard at. Before she could stop it, an unexpected sob ripped free.

“My roommate was killed tonight.” She choked the words through a rough throat.

“Dennis?”

She gaped at him. “Yes. How did–”

“I’m so sorry.” The words whispered to her through the darkness, and the warm air they traveled on wafted past her cheek. He stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. The small kindness meant so much and was a poignant reminder they were all built the same. Experienced the same emotions, faced the same fears, no matter the designation.

His warm hands lay flat on her back. Her breasts pressed against the plane of his body. It felt unbelievably good to be comforted by him.

He was so close. She tilted her head up so they were face-to-face, and his step forward pushed her closer to the wall at her back. There was still a small part of her that remained perched on the brink of panic, waiting for the strike that would kill her. It screamed to be heard. He stroked her tenderly and shushed her before she had the chance to voice an objection. She stayed alert and skeptical of his motives. Nothing this sweet ever happened to her, not without strings or unforeseen ramifications that would surely become apparent to her way too late in the game.

But as time elapsed in that intimate embrace, the rigid muscles poised to make a fight-or-flight decision, relaxed. And with the realization he wasn’t the enemy and wasn’t going to hurt her, the hug of consolation crumbled her defenses even further. Another partially choked sob shot out of her before she could stop it.

“Oh God, Jordan, please don’t cry.”

She straightened her spine and inhaled a big gulp of reality. “I don’t cry, Patrick,” she said between clenched teeth. “Crying is for the weak, and I’m not weak.”

But she couldn’t find the strength to pull away. They stayed there for several minutes, relative strangers breaking the law with a gentle embrace.

Their hearts thundered against the other’s chest. Their breathing synchronized.

Then Jordan spoke again. “I’m sorry for being so emotional. It’s just that I’m partially responsible for all those murders.” She shook the pall of her feelings away and tried to rebuild the facade of the strong woman who was third in the resistance’s chain of command. She composed herself and tried to pull away from the large male holding her. “I have video. Do you know someone who can post it undetected?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She removed her handheld from her pocket and handed it to Patrick. “Take the whole unit. I’ll get it back from you tomorrow.” He stuffed her mini-compad down the front of his pants.

He must have gotten some hint of her horrified expression because he shrugged his shoulders and said, “You can’t be too careful.” He rumbled a low chuckle. “Plus, when I give it back, I’m hopin’ you’ll think about where it’s been every time you pull it out of your pocket.” He followed with an eye wag and a Cheshire-cat grin.

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes at his shadow. He was like no man she’d ever met. He let it all hang out. He knew how he felt and wasn’t afraid to tell the world.

She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

He grabbed her hand, brought it up and pressed his lips to the top, then didn’t let go. They stood, connected, in a suspended moment in time. A million thoughts cascaded through her brain, following all possibilities of proceeding with this attraction to their ultimate conclusion. Imprisonment, torture, death.

But the ultimate conclusion in his mind was not only positive but probable. She saw it in his eyes. So naive and idealistic.

It made her smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time. Hopefully it will be more like a normal night.”

“Yes, okay.” She nodded.

He peeked his head out from between the two buildings to see if the coast was clear. “Wait until I’m back in the building before you pass by.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Jordan?”

“Yes?”

“Stay safe.” Patrick bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, and then turned and walked back toward the brightly lit area of the border guard station.

Jordan waited a couple of minutes and then moved under cover of darkness back toward Circle City. When she passed the border station, Patrick sat alone at his desk working on a compad. She wondered if he would be the one posting the video. It would be ironic if the damning footage was posted by a Guardsman. She was strangely satisfied at the thought.

Despite the fact she wasn’t wearing her jogging shoes, Jordan ramped up her walk to a light jog. She needed to burn off all of the emotions of the day. She needed to be very, very tired in order to accomplish the task of falling asleep in her bed without Dennis.

An hour later, sweat dampened her shirt as she approached building twelve. It was the middle of the night, and she was exhausted.

When she opened the door to her dark apartment, the room was heavy with hot, stagnant air. She closed and locked the door behind her and walked further into the room, unbuttoning her shirt and then toeing off her shoes. Remembering the papers Patrick gave her, she fished them out of her pocket and turned right, into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

She looked down at the two folded squares of paper resting on the flat of her hand. One displayed a J on the outside. She opened the other one and read Patrick’s message to the resistance leader and then noticed her hands were tinted the rusty brown of dried blood. She shifted her gaze and found more stains on her shirt and knees.

She dropped the notes on the vanity. Knowing she wouldn’t survive waking up tomorrow morning with Dennis’s blood on her skin, she turned on the shower, letting it warm up while she removed her panties and bra. It took an enormous effort to gather up the strength she needed to take a five-minute shower.

When Jordan finally climbed into the tub, she sat under the spray, letting it hit her back while she soaped up her hands. The lather was the color of the red New Atlanta clay, and after doing a cursory wash, she dropped the soap and let the hot spray hit her. Relaxing even further, she closed her eyes. She slumped and her mind drifted. She was almost asleep when an internal signal forced her awake.

She stood, turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself barely able keep her eyes open.

When her gaze landed on the folded note with the J penned on the top, she grabbed it and, leaving the bathroom light on, walked the few steps out of the bathroom to her bed. Hands trembling, she unfolded the paper and read the short sentences that Patrick had written to her.

Jo,

I was hooked the first night we met and I’ve looked for your beautiful brown eyes ever since.

You must think I’m crazy. I’m not.

I’m an optimist.

It will work.

I think everything we do together will work.

PO

Jordan stared at the paper, reading it a few times and then set it on her night table. She flopped back onto the bed and couldn’t find the energy to swing her legs up to join the rest of her body.

She’d been poised on the edge of sleep again when a tap on the door sounded. She groaned. “Go away, Xander.” The tap sounded again.

She was getting pissed off. She needed some time to recoup. A silent rage triggered inside Jordan’s head as she sprung to her feet and stormed to the door. She knew she was losing it. She shouldn’t be ready to rip him to shreds just for knocking on her door. Unlocking and pulling it open, she yelled, “Dammit–”

But when she caught sight of the person standing on the other side of the threshold, the tirade she’d been ready to rain down on Xander disappeared.

She gasped. “Patrick.”