Four

The hot water poured down over my head and filled the whole room with steam, turning things foggy and ghostly. The sleek white marble shower walls almost disappeared in front of me, so I could imagine I was standing anywhere, a blank field in my imagination, instead of the guest bathroom in this strange apartment.

Even with the hot water drenching me, my skin still crawled. Maybe it was the chemicals I hadn’t completely scrubbed away in the sink earlier, or maybe I just couldn’t forget the look on Missy’s face as she realized one more time that I was leaving her.

If I closed my eyes and just let the heat drown me, maybe I could forget the last few hours. Maybe I could forget the fact that I kept losing people, that wherever I went, pain and loss trailed behind me like a wolf, nipping at my heels, ready to take me down at any second.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and I froze. Before I’d sneaked into the shower, everyone else had collapsed in various places across the guest room down the hall: the bed, the plush sheepskin rug, the couch by the window.

“I’ll try to be quick,” I called, hoping whoever it was would leave. All I wanted was to let this hot water pour over me and forget about the rest of them for a while.

The shower curtain slid open a crack and Penn’s head poked in. “Can I join you?”

The tension in my body melted away. The sound of his voice was as wonderful and warm as the water. My hand snaked out and wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the heat.

“Hold on.” He laughed. “I can’t shower in these clothes.”

Begrudgingly, I let go of his arm and watched him peel his shirt over his head. My lips parted, unable to contain my smile. Even after all we’d been through today, the simple act of watching him undress filled me with joy.

It still startled me that I could share this sort of intimacy with him. Sometimes it overwhelmed me. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d heard him play his guitar for the first time and the differences between us had fallen away. The music connected us, made me realize that we’d spoken the same language all along. It whispered through our veins.

For a moment, the yellow light of the bathroom sconces seemed to waver, transforming into moonlight. Maybe this would happen for the rest of our lives. Like magic, we’d be transported back into that enchanted garden, back to our moonlit pond and its dark waters. What a gift that secret garden had been. I thought we’d left our sanctuary behind. I’d mourned it. But maybe we hadn’t lost it entirely? Maybe Penn carried it with him. Maybe his body was a magic portal that would always take us back.

He stepped out of his clothes, and I pulled him into the water with me, hungry for him. Starved. The heat in his eyes told me he felt the same way. My back hit the cool tile wall behind me, and I gasped. With his body pressed against mine, our lips soft and wet, we breathed into each other as if air didn’t exist outside our bodies.

My skin prickled. It had never been more sensitive in my life, and even though I’d scrubbed away the chemicals until every part of me felt painfully raw, I wanted to feel Penn’s hands on my body.

I pulled him closer. “Touch me.”

“Where? Here?”

His hand slid down my back.

“Or here?”

It circled around my hip and dipped lower.

I gasped, and he smiled against my lips.

“Your skin is so soft,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips back up the center of my body. “I’ve never felt anything like it. This doesn’t hurt, does it? After all the chemicals…?”

I shook my head. “Keep going.”

He kissed me, desperate, and I whimpered against his lips. How could I tell him what it felt like? Pain and pleasure existing in the same touch, as if the two feelings had woven together, covering me from head to toe. Sharp and smooth. Hard and soft. Every feeling became both the front and back of the same coin, sending me spinning.

His mouth moved down my neck, across my collarbone, as his hands glided over my stomach, fingers feathering across the sensitive skin, before traveling back down, down, down.

My head tipped back, my eyes closing as the water spilled down across my chest. There was no place in the world I’d rather be than in Penn’s arms. Why couldn’t we freeze time and stay in this moment? There was no complication, only the two of us.

Here.

Together.

…

Penn and I emerged from the shower pink skinned and smiling. Even though my body felt tired in a way it never had before, bone deep, like I could crawl between the white sheets and sleep for days, I felt hopeful again. There was still so much to fight for, and I still had Penn beside me.

I combed my fingers through my hair and stepped out into the dining room where everyone sat bent over the table.

“What’s all this?” Penn asked as we walked up.

Both Markus’s backpack and leather satchel lay open at the end of the table. Apparently he’d been down to the van while we were showering and had brought up all of the group’s belongings, because everything we now had was spread across the glass tabletop.

“This is it,” Markus said. “The sum total of our resources. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

The sarcasm dripped from his lips. He stared at the items on the table like they’d personally disappointed him, as if these things had betrayed him instead of one of his friends.

There wasn’t much. Next to Jane, all of the phones sat lined up, a row of useless black faces we couldn’t even turn on for fear we might be tracked. Farther down the table, Dave was looking over the stun guns. And next to those sat the now useless-looking saws and metal cutters. There was a small pile of rope and climbing equipment, a few canisters that must have contained the same chemicals that had saved us the night before, and a pile of masks and gloves that Ian sat sullenly wiping.

At the head of the table, Markus was flipping through a stack of papers.

Penn and I each pulled up a chair.

“How can we help?” I asked.

“You can try to talk some sense into these idiots,” Jane said.

“Maybe he’s not so off the mark,” Ian said, continuing what I assumed was the conversation we’d just interrupted. “We’ve been backed into a corner. What are we supposed to do?”

Penn and I looked around the group, confused. “Do you mind filling us in?”

Jane shoved the phones away from her. “These testosterone-filled warriors think the next course of action is to blow someone up.”

Blow someone up? Again? My stomach lurched. They had to be kidding. How could any of them be thinking about resorting to violence after what we’d just been through?

“That’s an oversimplification,” Markus said.

“Is it? You said we need to bomb the NuPet headquarters.”

“They need to realize we’re a threat,” Markus countered.

The sickness worked its way up my throat. “We just set off a bomb in that warehouse,” I practically shouted. “We’ve already blown people up!”

Markus scowled. “That was self-defense, and you all know it! Besides, do you think any of their executives are going to feel that? No. They’re sitting in their cushy offices ordering their peons to do their dirty work. Those assholes need to feel something for once!”

Jane threw up her hands. “Listen to yourself!”

Markus started pacing, waving his arms around as he spoke. “You make it sound like this is something I want. This isn’t what I want. This isn’t what I asked for. I don’t want people to get hurt. It’s what I’m fighting against. But it’s pretty clear no one is doing anything to help our cause. If we want to make any sort of change, we’re going to have to do it ourselves.”

“Violence isn’t the answer,” I insisted.

Markus stopped pacing and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. “What do you suggest we do?”

My mouth went dry. I could practically feel his disgust. What was he thinking? That he’d chosen a useless little waif to help him in this fight? That I was taking up more space and resources than I was worth?

“We can’t just sit here licking our wounds and hoping something will start going our way,” he said sharply. “We have to make people pay attention to us.”

I studied him, trying to come up with the right words to defuse his anger. I’d seen his passion over the past week, but I’d never seen him like this. His hair stuck out from his head in clumps where he’d been running his hands through it. His eyes were bloodshot and twitching with the injustice of it all.

The only thing I could think to use was our history. We’d both been wronged in ways no one in the room other than Ian would ever understand. Maybe reminding him would help.

“I hate these guys as much as you do,” I tried, keeping my voice calm, “but there has to be some other way.”

“You know we don’t have the luxury of time,” Markus said. “We’ve already wasted a week on this last raid. Your friend isn’t going to last much longer.”

I nodded. Missy’s face swam in front of me. The skin along her jaw, bruised and raw. The new wound cutting across her cheek. The pain in her eyes.

Dave, who’d been unusually quiet, piped up, “Come on, man, get creative. We start bombing people and we’re going to end up in prison.”

“I’m not afraid of prison,” Markus said matter-of-factly.

Dave glared. “You might not be, but I am. Listen, we all signed up for this, but you never said anything about killing people.”

“He’s right,” Penn said. His face had gone a little white. I knew how much he hated his father, but it was not enough to kill him.

Penn didn’t talk about his dad much, but he’d told me a few things. Sometimes I wondered if he was trying to prove to me that his father hadn’t always been bad. That he’d come from someplace good. This was the man who’d tucked him into bed when he was a little boy. He had carried him on his shoulders, taken him to the fair, taught him how to fly a kite. There were beautiful memories mixed in there.

“What about those papers?” I asked, pointing to the white sheets spilling out of the files in front of him.

Markus had taken a few of the pages out. From what I could see, they were photographs of people. Not the best images, all pixelated and faint, photos that had been taken from a very great distance and blown up a thousand times. Underneath each photograph there was a paragraph thick with type.

Markus flicked through the pages. “This is just information. Facts. What am I supposed to do with any of this? Words. Numbers. A bad picture. It’s just a summary of these people’s lives. Who cares where they work, who they play cards with, what day they were born on?”

“It’s important information,” Jane said, defensively.

“Fine,” Markus said. “Then tell me how to use it.”

He dumped the file across the table. The pages fanned out across the glass, forming a sea of black-and-white faces.

Jane glared down at the pictures.

“That’s not my job,” she said. “I gather the information. I can’t work magic.”

“But you expect me to?”

“I expect you to try everything before you start killing people,” she said. “You’ve said it before: lives are worth saving.”

“I was talking about the pets.”

“So you think these people should die?”

“Of course not. I didn’t—”

“Wait a second,” Penn interrupted.

We all turned to look at him. He leaned far across the table, staring at the pictures.

Mouth clamped in a tight line, he narrowed his eyes. “Who took these?”

“I did,” Jane said.

“What’s she doing here?” He snatched up a paper and waved it at them. “Someone tell me what the hell she’s doing on this table.”

No one answered. I squinted at the paper, trying to make out what he saw, and gasped.

The picture was clearer than most of the others. In it, Penn’s mom walked down a sidewalk clasping Ruby’s hand. Elise was wearing dark sunglasses and had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, but it was unmistakably her. The curls sticking out of Ruby’s hat made her look younger and more vulnerable than ever.

Why was Ruby on this piece of paper? What had she and Elise done?

“My mother is not one of your enemies, and don’t even think about pinning anything on my little sister!” Penn shouted. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but they’re not involved. My dad is, yes. But my mother and my sister are not targets. My sister’s just a kid!”

“Calm down,” Ian said.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” Anger radiated off him like heat. He spun on Jane. “Tell me why you’re following them. Now!”

“They’re not targets!” Jane yelled. She held her hands out in front of her, shrinking back in her chair.

Penn pinned her with an icy glare. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m telling you the truth. She’s not a target. I promise.” Jane’s face brightened, though she couldn’t hide her desperation. “These people aren’t all targets. They’re people of interest, important people who might be able to help. They might be able to provide information or skills or leads.”

Markus pointed to the paper in Penn’s hand. “We’ve had our eyes on your mom for months. We’ve known she could be a beneficial resource for us, considering how close she’s been to your father. Spouses can be treasure troves of information.”

“Sometimes they have information they don’t even realize they’re holding,” Jane added.

“And my sister?” Penn demanded.

“She just happened to be there,” Jane said. “I promise. I’m not tracking her.”

Markus waved her off. “We’re not. I give you my word. It wasn’t even until last week that we realized your mom might be an attainable source.”

Penn set the paper down in front of him and regarded Markus with the same assessing look I’d seen on his father’s face when he didn’t trust someone. “What happened last week?”

Jane fidgeted uncomfortably, and the group of them cast a quick glance among one another. Were they trying to decide whether or not to tell us the truth, or were they gathering up the nerve to lie?

“What aren’t you telling us?” I asked.

Jane nodded to Markus and he sighed, spreading his hands out flat on the table in front of him, laying it all bare before us. “Six days ago, your mom took your sister to the city.”

Penn’s jaw clenched tighter. “So? They go to the city all the time.”

“She moved to the city,” Jane clarified. “Your mom moved out of your father’s house and took your sister with her. We don’t know if it’s permanent, but it looks like they’re staying with a friend in SoHo.”

Ian dug through the papers and pulled out another sheet, handing it to me.

“Do you recognize it?” I asked, tilting the paper so Penn could see. In the photograph, his mom was entering a narrow brick building.

“Yes,” Penn said, the barest hint of relief drifting across his face. “That’s my uncle Stephen’s place.”

“Is your mom close with him?” Markus asked.

Penn shook his head. “Not really. He’s kind of the black sheep of my mom’s family. He’s an artist. Once, my mom took us to one of his art openings, but that was a few years ago. My dad hated it. He paints a lot of nudity, but not the pretty, classical kind. It’s gritty and dark.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be in contact with your father?”

Penn snorted, his shoulders relaxing another inch. “No. I think it’s safe to say they haven’t been in touch.”

Markus smiled. “That’s good.”

“Is it?” Penn asked.

“If we want to use her as a source, it is,” Markus said.

Penn looked at me with a swirling mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. “And what if we don’t want to use her as a source?” he said. “What if we want to leave her out of this whole freaking mess all together?”

I knew he’d do anything to protect me, and to help the cause I cared so much about, but I had no doubt he’d draw the line at endangering his mother and his sister.

I reached for his hand. “Penn,” I said, gently. “We need her.”

He closed his eyes. “What good is she going to do?”

“Of all the people in the world, she knows your dad the best, doesn’t she?” I asked. “She might know something that will help.”

“Or we could always go with my other plan,” Markus said.

I glared at him. “Bombing people? I’ll never agree to that.”

Penn sank into one of the chairs and stared out the window. Below us, cars whizzed along the street, cabs darting in and out of traffic like small, yellow beetles. A steady stream of people flowed down the sidewalk, unaware of us looking at them from above. In the distance, a siren wailed.

Jane scooted closer to him, resting her hand gently on his arm. “She’ll talk to you,” she said. “It would take us weeks to make a real connection with her, but if you go there, if you ask her to help us, she’ll listen. It’ll save so much time. It could really work.”

“We have to try,” I said, squeezing Penn’s hand. “Please.”

He stared into my eyes, his expression blank. Did he regret it, loving me? I wondered if he sometimes wished I’d never come to his house. Without me, he’d still be worried about getting girls to kiss him in his swimming pool, or finding a venue for his next gig. He wouldn’t be thinking about bombing people or putting his mom and his sister in danger.

He took a deep breath, holding my gaze. “Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll try.”