Choices (5 page)

“In your time, words are used to entertain, to inform. Imagine the same power, the same influence, used to incite, to enrage, to turn brother against his own.”

His words struck truth.
God help us—this is where the intolerance, the thoughtless hate is leading.
She could barely hear her own voice as she whispered. “We’ve already started.”

“Here, Maura, words became a sword, all the more dangerous because they could reach millions instantly.” Old pain edged his voice, thickening his accent. “When the killing ground touched the elite, the moneyed, the voices that would be heard above the madness, something was finally done. That something resulted in the agonizing, total decimation of the human spirit. When you first arrived, what did you see?”

“Robots.” She remembered the shuffling lines in the terminal, the covert glances, the all but forgotten memory of something gone, irrevocably—something they had glimpsed in her. “They scared me spitless.”

What looked like amusement broke through the exhausted grief in his eyes. It disappeared before she could be sure. “They are the reason Anthony risked everything.” He averted his gaze. “The reason I do.”

“John.” Those vivid eyes met hers. She twisted her fingers together, knowing what she had to say would only add to the weight he carried. “Anthony—he wanted me to tell Daniel he was sorry.”

John surged to his feet and strode across the room. Straight toward the door.

Her heart lurched. By the time she squeezed her voice out he had jammed the hat on his head and crossed the threshold.

“John—please don’t leave me.”

He spun, was on her before she could even think to react. Shaking hands caught her around the waist, lifted her off the chair and trapped her between him and the wall.

“You will go home, Maura. Right now, before I—”

He cut himself off, backed away. She grabbed the front of his jacket and twisted her fingers into the heavy fabric.

“I can’t do this without you.”

Regretting the words the moment they left her mouth, she released him.

“Maura.” Both hands closed over her shoulders, his touch gentle, unthreatening, unwanted. “Look at me.”

When she refused, he freed one hand, cupped her chin, and lifted until she met his eyes. Need coiled in their depths. It woke unfamiliar feelings. Unwanted feelings.

“John—”

“Why did Dr. Lang choose you?”

“I—” Along with the unexpected question came the stabbing ache that never quite went away; only dulled until the moment when its renewal would hurt most. “Because no one would miss me. Because I was dispensable.”

The grip on her chin tightened.

“No one is dispensable, Maura.” He let her go, turned away. Grief clawed at his quiet voice, frayed it to a whisper. “It was the most important lesson Anthony taught me. The truth of it cut deep, changed me. Awakened my heart.”

She moved to him, reached for the scarred hand fisted at his side—and caught sight of her watch.

It was 1:10.

He doesn’t need to know yet—we can go tomorrow—sweet heaven, I’ll have to stay here another day—

“What is it, Maura?”

She met the vivid, haunted eyes. Even shattered by his own memories, he put her first. Frantic to distract him from the time, she asked the question before thinking.

“Who did that to your hand?”

He spread his fingers, a jagged scar tracing the top of each one.

“A writer who begged for her life, then marked me as a permanent reminder.”

“Oh God—John, I’m sorry—”

“You did not know.” He held his hand out to her. “Come, we need to get you ready to—”

“I missed the window.”

His gaze dropped to the thick leather cuff on his wrist, returned to her. “Maura—”

“It’s all right.” She glimpsed the desperate grief in his eyes before he retreated. It cracked the wall around her heart. Ignoring the pain in her leg, she followed him deeper into the abandoned building. “I can leave tomorrow—”

“Every moment you stay here puts your life at risk. Because of my selfishness, that stay is extended.”

“Anthony wouldn’t blame you, John.”

He stilled, his body silhouetted by the long window at the end of the hall.

“The best of us.” His voice barely reached her. “Anthony was the best of us, the strongest.” Long fingers curled in toward his palm, shaking against his leg. “He was brother to a man who lived the first twenty years of his life with no heart.”

Maura reached his side, and without hesitation took his hand.

His head snapped around. Those beautiful, vivid eyes met hers, searched her face for an endless moment before he pulled her into his arms.

They slid down the wall, and John buried his face in her hair, the power of his embrace pressing every inch of her to his chest.

He held her tight for a long time, as if he were afraid she’d slip away if he let go. His grip eased, gradually, until she could lean back to see his face. Grief deepened the time-scored lines.

She laid her head on his shoulder, breathed in the scent of him—musk and rain and warm skin. “Your heart is alive and whole, John. You saved me from Darwin.”

Trembling fingers slid into her hair, cradled her with such tenderness it made her throat ache.

They sat for hours, not talking, John simply holding her. She hadn’t felt this safe, this cherished, for years.

Darkness painted the window when he finally picked her up, carried her into what was once a bedroom and settled her on the hard mattress. Exhausted, she closed her eyes as he laid his jacket over her, felt his hand brush across her cheek as she fell.

* * *

I
n sleep, the memories Maura kept imprisoned by sheer force of will tore their way free, her vulnerable, pain-weakened body no match for their power.

First sight of her parents, whole, vibrant, alive, ripped open the scars on her heart. With the horror of one who already knew the ending, she watched the events of that day unfold.

The bright laughter as they piled into her car. The freak rainstorm that came out of nowhere. Mom’s scream just before the runaway truck slammed into them.

Maura cried out, heard its echo in the empty room, where the part of her mind not trapped in anguish knew she slept.

She fell into the lightless, airless tunnel, barreling toward grief, agony, the yawning emptiness that had been her life, her heart—

“Maura.”

The quiet, accented voice touched her, hope in the smothering darkness.

John—

“Wake up, Maura.”

She fought her way to that voice, knowing there would be acceptance, safety, peace.

Help me, John.

“I am here, Maura. Open your eyes.” Fingers grasped her hand, warm, real. “Fight it, Maura—the memories win only if you give up to them.
Maura
.”

Gasping, she bolted awake.

Waiting arms caught her, tightened their hold when she began to cry. One hand brushed the sweat-soaked hair off her face, smoothed it down her back, tender, continuous.

The gesture triggered another memory—of Mom soothing her after a particularly nasty dream. Maura had her share of them growing up, blessed with an active imagination and a love of horror films. Images tumbled into her mind—joy, laughter, shared moments with the two people who loved her no matter what, despite stupid mistakes, misdirection, the sometimes horrifying blunders while the child sought to find the adult in their soul.

For the first time the touch of her past didn’t come barbed with grief. Instead, held by this strong, tortured man, she found release, freed from her self-imposed loneliness by a stranger who needed forgiveness as much as she did.

“Talk to me, Maura.”

“It was my fault—I convinced my parents to stay another day—if they’d gone home when they were supposed to—”

“You cannot take the blame for their choice.”

With a ragged sigh, she leaned back, met the vivid gaze. “I’m the reason they were there.”

“Then they had a good reason.” He freed her and stood, his face cast in shadow. Maura didn’t need to see it; she could hear the sudden change in his voice, cool and clipped. He wore his uniform again, which meant he was leaving her. Again. “I am on duty tonight, but I will return to escort you to the terminal.”

“John—missing the window wasn’t your fault. We just got—sidetracked.”

“It will not happen again.”

The indifference dropped between them like a wall, his withdrawal so abrupt it hurt.

Maura followed him through the publicplex, to the big room with the worn out sofa and the racks of clothes. He pulled his heavy black leather trench off one of the racks.

“Sleep while I am gone. You look worn thin.” She twisted her hands together, watched him slip into the coat, all the while avoiding eye contact with her. “I will see you in the morning.”

“John?”

Panic she never meant him to hear sliced across her voice. He turned in a swirl of coatskirts, enveloped her hands in his warm, calloused grip. Any pretense at keeping his distance evaporated when their fingers twined together, seeking each other with unconscious need.

“Maura—I will come for you.” That low voice reached in past her defenses, left her trembling. “Whatever happens, I will come for you.”

He looked at her for a long time, need and denial waging war in his eyes. Before she could say anything he freed her hands, hauled her up into his arms and kissed her.

She fought the already lost battle, struggled against the ache to touch, to give. John held her, waited, his lips brushing over hers. She pulled away, met the vivid blue eyes, stunned by the vulnerability in their depths. The desire, for her.

Tears clogged her throat as she met his lips with a force that startled them both.

He broke off first, breathless, brushed unsteady fingers across her wet cheeks.

“John—”

“Hush.” He kissed her again, achingly gentle, set her on her feet. “I will return in the morning.”

Maura watched him leave, then backed into the room until she made contact with the sofa. Her knees gave way, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

Big trouble. Huge.

Wrapping both arms around herself, she turned to huddle against the cushion, froze when she spotted a pile of clothing on the end of the sofa. Shaking hands lifted the pile, laid it in her lap. Soft, clean fabric slid under her hands. Every piece was black, including the flats that looked so uncomfortable they made her consider going barefoot. But she could tell they would fit, and the heavy, knee length coat would keep her warm. The thought of him doing this for her, knowing it would put him in worse danger, laid even more weight on her heart.

She touched her lips. His warmth lingered, and she ached as she understood just how much she wanted to stay here.

How much she wanted to stay with him.

* * *

M
aura changed into the new clothes, then spent most of the night wandering the empty building, and staring out the window with the impossible view. She found a label next to the window, obviously missed when everything was stripped clean of the written word. It was a holographic image of some place she’d never heard of, here for the calming influence and enjoyment of the residents.

She also found an old, faded rule board for the publicplex, another overlooked, illegal relic. Judging from the strict regulations, and what little John told her, she guessed this was similar to a halfway house.

Just before dawn she finally settled on the worn sofa, using the coat as a blanket. She wanted to rest, needed to, just for a few minutes.

She jolted awake, her leg throbbing. Watery sunlight filtered through the transom window over the door; startled, she looked at her watch.

Oh God—

It was almost 12:00.

She threw the coat aside, pushed off the sofa and limped to the tiny, barely functioning bathroom.

Wind-lashed rain beat against a small window as she splashed water on her face, tried to make the snarled mess of her hair something resembling presentable. Shaking fingers hindered every movement, exhaustion and pain finally catching up with her.

She returned to the sofa, just managed to wedge her swollen right foot into her shoe when she heard footsteps. Standing, she moved to the door, and had her hand on the knob when the furious shout slammed into her.

“Wolf!”

Maura’s heart tripped.
Darwin—

She headed for the warren of corridors, hoping she could lose herself, hide in one of the rooms—

The door burst open behind her.

“Search every damn inch. He’s the goddamned traitor, laughing at my back—hello, who do we have . . .” Darwin’s voice faded, anger replacing his surprise. He was on her before she could escape, pinned her against the wall. “Where is he?”

“Nowhere you’ll ever find him.”

Before the words finished leaving her mouth she knew she’d overstepped. He proved her right by backhanding her.

Pain exploded across her face. Darwin pulled her off the wall. “Take anything suspicious, then search Wolf’s quarters and meet me at Interro.” Maura choked back the scream in her throat when he yanked her forward. “Walk, little girl, or I’ll drag you.”

She stumbled after him, past the warm coat, her leg throbbing as Darwin swung her out the door and into the rain.

* * *

M
aura huddled in the metal chair, shivering as the thin cotton tank clung to her like an icy second skin. Water dripped off her, created a pool at her feet that leaked into already sodden shoes. Her teeth snapped against each other so hard it made her jaw ache; the uncontrollable movement jarred her bruised cheek until the flare of pain became constant.

Her leg had been treated with mend and bandaged; Darwin wanted her fit for interrogation.

He stood over her now, the usually slick hair spiked around his face, his pale eyes burning like fire under ice.

“Where is Wolf?”