I make a grab for Mae’s slender hand to port out and she flinches. Ouch. A forced grin tightens my cheeks; that should make her think it’s nothing.
“It’s not like I bite . . .” I catch her eye with a wink, “. . . unless you want me to.”
That pink flush creeps up her neck and across both of her cheeks. It’s as cute as hell and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my mouth; this one genuine. Knowing I can make her blush proves she is attracted to me although she’s fighting against it.
She relaxes, the previous stiffness in her hand loose as her palm rests against mine; warm, tender, and molded like it belongs.
It’s time we got out of here. Beau’ll be waiting. I close my other hand around Lilly’s cool fingers—such a contrast to Mae’s. As much as I’d love to have Mae alone, Lilly being here is good, even if it’s just a message run. She’s barely been out since Garret and having her here now seems almost normal. Holding them both means I can’t make the tap sequence to activate the port bands. Good thing Mae’s a step ahead of me, using her free hand to send us freefalling through the void. In a couple of beats we land in the port room and be damned if I want to let go . . .
Lilly’s hand falls out of mine, but Mae’s doesn’t. She holds on or maybe I do.
The little things, like this, make me certain things between us will go back to the way they were. Us being together is right, and there’s no denying that feeling even if she’s trying. But just like that she tenses, rigid as a fence post again.
Will’s here.
No need to see him to know.
It’s like he knows when I’m touching her. Always shows up when I do.
My hand tightens imperceptibly. Was that a squeeze? I swear it was, but then she lets go. Maybe my imagination wished for a sign. For something.
Even though I can feel him staring, I don’t move from facing the blank wall. It’s funny, but I’ve never cared before which way we land. This time, we should’ve been facing the door, and the arc of people watching us. Will staring like he knows his glare will make her squirm.
“Thanks for a fun ride, Cupcake. Promise I’ll bite next time.” I toss her a wink. Let’s see what he thinks about that.
Mae scowls; a surefire way to make me chuckle.
“Well?” Beau demands, a reminder we’re on the job.
I report: “It’s worse. Collective activity is heavier there. The attacks aren’t as big as the one in the city on Wednesday but they’re more frequent. Also smaller, more targeted attacks like they’ve got a purpose. Frank has no idea what that is, as there doesn’t seem to be a pattern he can pick out. Yet.”
Beau runs a hand over his head, pulling his hat off and scrunching it in his fisted hands. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Charlie, good old Charlie, stubborn to a fault, is the one to speak. “We’ll send them our own goddamned message. Put that frickin’ barrier breaker to work and we’ll storm all their frickin’ communities. Wipe them all out, I say.”
The old man’s got spunk. Beau shakes his head though, and Will’s eyes nearly bug right out. Why the hell am I looking at Will?
Because she is.
She looks away from him as soon as I sneak a sidelong glance her way. But I can still feel the weight of Will’s stare on her like it’s a malleable thing sitting on my chest.
Who would’ve thought they’d be so keen to hear what Frank had to say that they’d be waiting right here in the port room? Wait . . . Will’s supposed to be off on another call, not here.
“What are you all doing here?” It’s as if Mae heard my thoughts. I raise my hand to my ear. Nope, no telcom.
Beau blows out a breath. “They struck again—”
“Our school,” Will adds.
Mae’s thumb flies to her mouth and she bites down so hard she yelps.
“We made it,” Will says, “only just. We caught the agent doing the drop, ported him and the suitcase into the middle of the Atlantic.”
Mae steps forward, her gaze locked on Beau.
“How can you say their message isn’t directed at me!” Her voice rises. “They attacked my damn high school, Beau. How more direct can it get?”
“It’s just a coincidence—”
“Don’t bother with the lies.” She storms out of the room, flinging the heavy wooden door closed behind her. It slams with more strength than a girl her size should manage.
Will makes to follow, but I cross the room, pinning him with a look as I reach the door. “I’ll go.”
His shoulders visibly tense. “It was my school too.”
“But you weren’t there. I got this.”
She needs one of us and today, it’s me. I was there—Manvyke’s captive—with her. If she thinks this is because of her, then it’s because of me too.
Long strides take me out the door. The halls in this place wrap around like a meerkat’s burrow, twisting and turning, and just as thin and narrow. But I know it like I do the farm so it doesn’t take long to catch her jogging up the stairs, her short legs pumping fast accentuate the way her jeans hug her rear. I take the steps two at a time to catch up, but she reaches the top before I’m halfway. Her palm connects with the fire exit and she stops, her forehead dropping onto the smooth metal door. She can’t blame herself like this; it’s not her fault. I snag the hand hanging at her side.
Mae spins around fast, like I shocked her, her face twisted with anger, her eyes stony. If only I could make it all okay. Wrap her up and take the hurt, pain, and anger away. Hell knows, I want to. Instead, I pull her in, closing my arms around her and fitting her head under my chin. The flowery scent that’s her shampoo or some other girly crap fills my senses. Love that smell.
She presses herself into me, her arms snaking around my waist to hold on tight. Neither of us says anything for a long time until finally she sighs. “We have to stop this.”
“I’m not sure how.”
If only it were that easy. I slide my cheek along her hair, my stubble catching in the waves until my mouth hovers over the crown of her auburn head. Pressing my lips to her hair, I take in a deep breath. She sighs and leans against my chest, her cheek pressed just over my heart. Damn, I’ve missed holding her.
“You’re swooning again.”
She’s suddenly a statue in my arms, but not for long because she steps back, her eyes cold. “I told you I need space, Jax. What about that don’t you get? Your father’s out to make my life miserable. He’s going after anyone I care about and you’re flirting? Please, just give me some darn space. I can’t think about Will, about me, about us, with your dad staging attacks left, right and center to send me a message.”
She slams her hand into the door and shoves through it.
Idiot. Me, not her.
My insides feel like they shrivel. Maybe she isn’t fighting feelings for me after all. Maybe she hates me now she knows him. Knows his filthy blood runs through my veins. I follow her onto the rooftop and she spins around. My eyes search hers, but she doesn’t give. Just stands there, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.
“Mae?”
“I want to be alone, Jax.”
Shriveled insides try to pool in my toes while she glares at me, her chin tilted up imperceptibly. I take a step back.
Right.
Space.
I knew it was there—the tension in the air between the three of us—but I didn’t realize it affected her so much. The tension between me and her, her and Will, him and me, always there and as thick as the air that now hangs around us. I shouldn’t have pushed her, be pushing her still.
Space.
She continues staring at me with an expression worthy of the way Cynnie’s always looked at me: pity.
Got it.
I turn, my right boot squealing on the smooth concrete. Then walk down the stairs without looking back. Even though the heat of her stare burns right between my shoulder blades making me want to peer over my shoulder, I don’t.
I can’t keep pushing her or I’ll push her away. I’ll give her the space she wants. Time to find herself after we both lost our minds—scratch that—had them stolen. Time to figure out who she is and what she wants. Besides, I should be focusing on this war.
She’s right, it is my father.
Father.
FATHER.
I have to stop these attacks. Even if he’s not the one behind them, his fingerprints are all over the attempt on her school. I’ll stop this mess.
For her.