Lust (13 page)

Gaia gave a snorting laugh, which set her nose bleeding again. She had to tilt her head back, pack snow on it, and lean against Jake. Which almost made it pleasant.

“So you stopped dressing alike?” she asked.

“Yes,” Oliver said.

“No, not really,” Tom disagreed. “We had a lot of the same clothes. You just couldn't tell because mine were always several shades darker than his.”

“Hah.” Gaia gave a less snorty laugh.

Silence blew in again, but a less uncomfortable version this time. Gaia watched the two men. They weren't looking at each other, but their conversation—stilted, not quite easy, but a few sentences of conversation nonetheless—had limped along with nobody punching anybody else. They'd even shared a little family memory. Okay, so they weren't exactly skipping down memory lane together. But this was a step in the right direction.

She stared into the flames, skootching a bit closer so that the heat enveloped her. The blanket reflected the heat back onto her, and the one around her shoulders kept it next to her skin; it was very, very cozy.

She knew she should take this moment to tell her father about Natasha. The longer she waited, the harder it would be. She stared at the flames licking at
the wood and dancing up and down. This was so nice. Like being next to a fireplace.

This was the first time Tom had relaxed since the rescue, she told herself. She didn't want to shatter his calm. Obviously this particular imprisonment had been harder for him than most of his adventures. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe he was getting older. Maybe it was because he'd only escaped another prison two weeks before and hadn't quite gotten over that one. But if she told him about Natasha, she'd make it worse. Better to let him gather some strength before giving him more bad news.

She'd tell him later.

Weapon of Mass Destruction

JAKE WATCHED GAIA DROWSING BY
the fire. For the first time, he was hit by the full oddity of this situation. He was a high school student from Manhattan who'd had his eye on an interesting-looking girl. And now he was in the middle of nowhere on another continent, looking at that same girl, who had
turned out to be more interesting than anyone had a right to be. It was nuts.

Gaia's head gave that falling-asleep nod, then jerked back up. Her eyes darted left and right, to make sure her dad and her uncle hadn't seen. Then she pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her head there, looking into the flames again. Something dangerous was happening here. Jake sensed that. Dangerous in a different way from the bricks being flung at him or bullets grazing his shoulder. Something about the way Gaia pulled her cap down over her forehead, or stared into the flames, or scratched her nose (angrily, like it pissed her off by itching) gave Jake the feeling that she could destroy him more completely than any weapon of mass destruction. He was falling in love. At least, he thought he was. With Gaia. And that seemed more perilous than any of the other stuff.

Her head slid off her knees and she pulled them up more tightly, still not able to get comfortable. Jake knew that the safe thing would be to stay right where he was, maybe organize some of their camping gear a little better or scrape out some extra food from a pot. But the safe thing had never appealed to him. He walked over to Gaia and sat down on her blanket, leg-to-leg and hip-to-hip. Gaia didn't give him a look. She didn't give him a wisecrack. She just,
miraculously, laid her head on his shoulder, without a word.

Jake sat rigidly, not sure what to do. He couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't want to ruin the moment—if it
was
a moment. Was it a moment? Was he having a moment with Gaia Moore? Now it was his turn to look back and forth from her dad to her uncle. All he wanted to do was put an arm around her shoulder. No, if he was going to be honest about it, what he wanted to do was lay her on her side and curl his body around her, keeping her warm and—for a few minutes, anyway—safe. Not that she wanted saving, but somehow that only made it even more imperative that he take care of her.

But talk about dangerous: She basically had two dads who could kick Jake's ass in a heartbeat. Not to mention that she could, too. His arm stayed where it was.

“How are you doing?” he finally murmured in a low voice. He was answered with a long, slow snore.

“Oh. That's good,” he answered.

He tried to listen in on Oliver and Tom's conversation, still droning on over his head. But the campfire was awfully warm. Plus there was Gaia's body heat. And the comfort of being so close to her. It was pretty irresistible.

Funny how anyplace could feel cozy if you were with the right company, he thought.

And then he was asleep, too.

A Dad-Sized Arm

THE PIERCING BLAST OF A TRAIN
whistle jolted Gaia and Jake awake. They both sat up, blinking, realizing they'd been pretty much curled up together. Gaia also realized she'd been drooling.

“Ugh. Sorry,” she said. “My head feels like a science experiment. What's going on?”

The sky was a deep violet color, almost black; the only lights were the ones from the rail yard. It had to be three in the morning. The fire was gone, stamped out and covered in snow by Oliver, while Tom was packing away the last of their camping equipment, except for the blankets Gaia and Jake were using.

“Give me those,” he said. “Are you awake? Sorry, I know it's late.”

“No, I'm fine.” Gaia stood and folded one of the blankets. Jake folded the other one. Then he took some snow and rubbed it across his face.

“Man, I was really out,” he said.

“Shake a leg,” Oliver said, handing one of them a pack. “Come on, that's our train right there. It should be coming past us in a few minutes.”

The train chugged out of the railway yard, moving toward them slowly. But as it got closer, Gaia saw that
it was going faster than it had seemed. The four of them started running at top speed. Tom hopped on first, then Jake, and then Gaia was supposed to go. She just didn't make it the first time, so she kept running. Oliver hopped up easily.

Gaia could feel the train moving faster. She didn't want to be left behind here. She also didn't want to be the reason everyone else had to jump off. This was stupid. She had to get on. The big black open door of the freight car loomed over her, but she was just a little shorter than the two men and Jake, and she couldn't quite reach the metal handle.

“Gaia!”

She looked up to see an arm reaching for her. A dad-sized arm. She reached up for it and grabbed, and felt her feet leave the ground. As she twisted around, yanking her legs up so she could step on the small metal ladder-steps without getting herself chopped to bits, she suddenly realized she couldn't tell which man had grabbed her, Oliver or Tom. She looked up, still clinging tightly to the steps, ready to swing herself inside the door.

“Come on!” he yelled.

The only light was from the moon; they looked so alike. Was it Oliver? Was it Tom? Did it matter? There was a time when she hadn't even known which one was her father in the
first place. So maybe it didn't matter. Maybe family was family, for better or for worse.

She reached out her free arm and grabbed him around the shoulders; his arm snaked around her and pulled her firmly into the train. She was safe. Whoever had done it, she was safe.

Amazing
. Crazy and amazing. Over the years, I've had an interesting and varied relationship with the concept of “dad.” First my dad was the head of my perfect little nuclear family—though it was a little intense, I'll admit. I was cut off from the rest of the world and homeschooled, and reading
The Canterbury Tales
in Middle English at the age of ten, not to mention being trained harder than a circus performer in the fighting arts. So first my dad was my taskmaster and coach.

Then he was gone, and I was furious. I had no dad at all for what, five years? The whole time I was dealing with my mom's death.

Then I thought Oliver was my dad. And Oliver was evil, so I had an evil dad.

Then I found my real dad, and found out he was my real dad, and saw the letters that told me he had loved me all along. So I had a dad again. A great dad. The dad I'd always wanted.

Then my evil not-dad became my . . . well, my dependable uncle. And now my dependable uncle is acting like . . . a dad.

I don't know—I've spent my life feeling really unfortunate. I mean, I
have
been unfortunate. I've had a lot of horrible, horrible things happen to me and to the people I love. But maybe this is one way the universe is making it up to me.

Maybe that dad-face is finally going to be a face I can trust without asking myself who's behind it. Without wondering, “Is it my real dad? Is it the dad who's on my side?” Maybe anyone who looks at me with those eyes and that expression is someone I can count on. For once in my life, maybe I don't have to process that one bit of visual information.

All I know is, whoever grabbed me got me on this train. The arm that pulled me in was strong and safe. And I don't care which of those twins it belonged to. I trust them both. They both—sort of—feel like my dad.

Maybe there was a Hallmark card she could send. A soft-focus picture with fancy script:
Just Wondering If You're Still Evil?

Quadrupled

THE FREIGHT CAR WAS AS LONG AS
three taxicabs at least, and huge inside. Gaia was amazed. The only time she'd seen one of these had been in an electric train set, and it had been, well, about the size of her foot. It smelled musty, like too much stuff had been moved in and out of its ancient interior without a trip to the trainwash. It was an unidentifiable smell—sort of like grain, plus electronics, plus feet.

“Well, this is cheerful,” she said.

She stood near the door, carefully holding on to the wall, feeling the slightly violent swaying of the train beneath her feet, and tried to figure out how to get comfortable. Finally, they all gingerly dropped to the wooden floor, which was somehow harder than concrete, and stared out the doorway at the rushing fields and woods they were passing.

“Well, the trip here was a lot more comfortable,” Jake said. “What I wouldn't give for that pack of cards right now.”

“Or the mystery sandwiches,” Gaia laughed. “I'm freezing. I mean, literally. Should we yank that door closed?”

“At least partway,” Tom said. He and Jake gave it a couple of tugs, and the ancient metal creaked its way close to shutting. Now the biting wind couldn't get to
them, but the gloom was quadrupled. They huddled as near the dim moonlight of the doorway as they could.

Gaia and Tom were on one side of the door, Oliver and Jake on the other. There was nothing to do now but wait to get to Moscow. They rode, swaying with the train's movement, waiting.

“The trip up was much easier,” Gaia said. “I feel bad.”

“No need to apologize. This is the best way,” Tom said. “They are going to be on the lookout for me. We can't be seen hopping into first class just a few miles from the prison I got out of. That'd just be asking for trouble.”

“I guess. It was a nice ride, though. It's a shame they stuck you in a prison here—the mountains are gorgeous, and I saw some people who looked like they were on a horseback-riding trip or something. It looked like fun. But I'm sure you weren't noticing the lovely mountain peaks from your cell, huh?”

“Well, I've learned to find the good in whatever crazy situation I find myself in,” Tom said. “Over the years, you know. You've had to do the same thing, haven't you? You found Washington Square Park even when you were living with George Niven and hating it.”

“Well, it's a skill I could improve upon,” Gaia admitted. “I mean, it's not something I work at. It's a lot easier to just be pissed off all the time.”

“That, you've got a talent for,” Tom teased.

Gaia laughed.

“Thank you,” he added.

“For what?”

“For coming to get me. I'm quite sure that whatever Oliver did—and it's clear he did a lot—you were behind it. I know how you are. I wish you hadn't run such a risk, but I do appreciate it. And I'm glad to be out.”

“Well, it was no problem.” Gaia patted her father's leg. “Just another family adventure. I just wish I could have gotten here sooner. I felt so horrible, sitting around in the city while you were God-knew-where.”

“I'll never know how you tracked me down. . . .” Tom shook his head. “This is no life for you to be leading,” he said. “Too much danger, too much upheaval. You haven't had a moment to just be a normal girl, not in your entire life. When we get back, things are going to be different. We're going to settle down and be a family.”

Gaia's chest began to tighten. She'd known that the subject of family and future would come up eventually. She just wished it didn't have to be now. But it
was
now. There was no more avoiding it. She'd have to tell her father the truth about Natasha and Tatiana. She'd just have to plunge right in and not let herself think about it.

“Dad,” she started. Her voice cracked as she spoke. But her father didn't stop to let her speak. He seemed transported.

“You, me, and . . . I guess you know Natasha and I are going to get married. We'll really be a family. Just
pick up where we left off when I got poisoned and kidnapped. We'll finish that dinner, but this time I won't choke. That's a promise.”

Gaia was silent.

“Gaia?”

Now
, she commanded herself.
No more waiting. Just jump right in before he has another opportunity to interrupt.
She steeled herself, then took in a deep breath.

“Sssh!” Tom held a hand up.

Gaia stared into the darkness. She'd been so focused on the terrible truth at hand, she hadn't heard whatever was making him nervous. She was about to say something when—