Metaltown (39 page)

“Don't bother.” She wasn't coming back here anyway. “Here.” She shoved the shirt in his direction, then backed away against the wall, giving them an arm's length of separation. Enough space to think clearly.

“I thought my father had sent you to jail,” she said, wincing a little over the memory.

He washed his forearms, up past the elbows. “Not jail. The testing plant. It didn't stick, though.” He didn't explain further.

“Did you walk all the way from Metaltown?”

He shook his head, and she could smell the cinnamon soap on him. “I borrowed a friend's bicycle.” He stumbled a little over the word
friend.
His eyes met hers in the mirror. “It was easier to find this place than I thought. You can see it all the way from Bakerstown. Biggest place in the district. I've never seen a place so nice in my life.”

She picked at the sleeves of her sweater. “It's just a house.” A big, beautiful, quiet house. A pit of silence after the racket of Metaltown. “I guess you got past the security gate.”

He hid a smile behind his hand, but his eyes flickered with amusement.

“Rode in on the back of a delivery truck. We used to do the same at a grocery depot near the apartment until the owner got wise.”

She was impressed, but that truck he'd snuck in on was probably filled with food for the next few days, already clean and tested, and the thought made her shrink a little.

His expression had sobered.

“Did they mess you up any?”

She shook her head quickly, but his asking brought a sharp pain behind her sternum. “No. They didn't even come home. I don't know where my lovely brother and father have been.”

“Trying to get the Small Parts Charter back on shift,” he said bluntly. “Your dad offered their jobs back in exchange for stopping the press.”

“And they agreed?” She pushed off the wall, fury clenching her fists. “After everything that's happened?”

Colin stared down the drain, the despair so heavy on his shoulders that she was ready to march back into Metaltown and start another riot, just to ease his suffering.

“Maybe they're right,” he said after what seemed like forever. “We were never going to win. We already had it as good as it gets.”

“Don't say that,” she said, moving behind him. “You can't quit. You can't give up.”

“Why not?” The exhaustion was clear in his voice now. “What difference does it make?”

“It makes all the difference!” She made herself stop, take a breath. “The workers listen to you. They care about you. They know you care about them. That skill…” She looked away, ashamed of a time she'd thought his job had required no skills at all. “I thought it was just a matter of fitting pieces together, but it's so much more than that. It's about fitting people together. That's something not everyone can do.”

He turned slowly, leaning back against the counter.

“Do you know why my father needs those workers?” she continued. “Because he's sending weapons to the war—to the
Advocates.
To keep the fighting going because as long as there's a war, the military will need more weapons, and as long as demand is high, Hampton Industries profits. Don't you see? This is so much bigger than all of us. The Small Parts demonstration could have changed the course of the war.”

He straightened, taller than he had been seconds before. A line had furrowed between his brows. “We did it so we could keep working, not so we could stop working.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. And I want that too, I just…” She turned away in frustration. “It's all so wrong. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.”

Though he moved in silence, she could feel him approaching. Feel it in the way her skin tingled and her pulse began to race. Maybe she shouldn't have said what she had, but she trusted Colin. More than she had ever trusted anyone.

She faced him, trying to be brave. “I want what you want,” she said. “But one day the war won't need Hampton Industries, and we won't need the war, and then we'll all have to find something better to do.”

His fingertip trailed down her cheek. She could feel his touch, even after his hand lowered.

“You're not what I expected,” he said.

Before she could tell him that he wasn't what she had expected either, he lowered his head, and closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers.

She blinked rapidly, unable to breathe, unable to think. Her body went completely rigid, the only movement beneath her ribs, where her heart punched through the bones.

His hands slid slowly over her shoulders, down her straight arms to her bunched fists, and he lifted them and placed them behind his neck. She could feel him smile against her mouth, and then kiss her again, slowly, pulling lightly on her lower lip.

It was like colors she'd never seen, light, brighter than she'd ever known. It was new, and soft, and terrifying, and perfect.

When her back bumped against the wall, she froze. A small dose of panic shot through her as Colin's arms surrounded her, caged her in. He must have felt the change in her because he slowed, and shifted, so that it was his back against the wall. So that it was her leaning in, testing, taking.

Her hands gripped his shoulders of their own accord, and her eyelids drifted closed. She followed his lead, parting her lips the way he did, gasping when his hands tangled in her hair. Her legs grew weak, and her body melted, and soon his skin, hard and warm, was pressed against hers and his hands were inching down her spine.

Every part of her came alive all at once—parts of her she hadn't known had been sleeping, parts of her she hadn't known were empty. It all became so clear. Her life before this moment was a hollow shell. She'd been lost, and alone, and aching for this. For Colin. For the acceptance he showed her now.

Her fingers spread over his chest, exploring, asking questions of their own, and his body answered in goose bumps and tensing muscles and the pounding of his heart.

“Lena,” he whispered, kissing her jaw. “There's something I've got to tell you.”

She hesitantly touched his cheek, rough with stubble and still damp from washing, and traced the thin line of his ear. The pads of her fingers were sensitive, and maybe they made him sensitive too, because he was breathing hard.

“Tell me,” she said.

And then he froze. Because outside the bathroom, in her room, someone had placed a key in the lock, and was unbolting the door.

 

34

COLIN

They'd stayed too long.

Colin shoved his shirt over his head, sliding on the slippery wood floor as he followed Lena around the corner. His brain tried frantically to catch up: the screaming alarm between his temples battled the smell of her, still on his skin, and the feel of her softening against him.

The door shoved inward and banged against the dresser, leaving only enough space for a man's delicate hand to grope through. Colin reached for the knife in his waistband, but he didn't have it. They'd taken it from him in jail. He clamped down on Lena's shoulder and jerked her back.

Her eyes snapped to his, filled with horror.

“Hide!” Had the word come out with any volume at all, it would have been a scream. As it was, it was barely louder than a breath.

Hide? She wanted
him
to hide?

“Lena,” taunted a voice from the hallway. “Are you barricading the door? We haven't played this game in some time, have we?”

Colin felt time slow as he processed Otto's words. Lena tried to drag him back, clutching at his clothes, but he wouldn't budge.

“The bathroom!” she whispered. “Quickly! He can't find you here!”

His eyes flickered to hers, and despite the roaring hatred within him, he stalled. Her fear was evident. If he was seen, they would both be punished for it.

Otto's fist slapped against the door, tearing a short cry from Lena. He shoved it again, and this time the dresser squealed and slid back a few more inches. His menacing laughter filtered into the room.

“Lena … oh, Lena,” Otto sang.

Colin faltered back a step. Then another. He ducked into the bathroom, and Lena shoved the door closed behind him.

“Don't come out,” she said. “Whatever you hear.”

He clenched his teeth.

A skidding sound, like the stuttering growl of a machine gun, and Colin knew Otto had pushed past the dresser.

He pressed his ear against the doorjamb, sick that he was hiding like some sort of coward.

“Look at those hands,” Otto mused, his voice muffled through the wood. “I'd forgotten what a number you did on yourself. Why don't you do us all a favor and put your gloves back on?”

“Where's my guard?” Lena asked in a low voice. “There's been a man outside my room all night.”

“I excused him,” answered Otto, and Colin could hear the smile in his voice.

Lena paused. “Is Father home?”

“No,” he answered. “Just you and me.”

The floor creaked.
Don't come out. Whatever you hear.
Colin flexed his hands.

“And the house staff,” she reminded him.

Otto laughed. “What? Think your precious nanny is going to come save you again?”

There was a skittering across the floor, and then the bathroom door vibrated as a body slammed against it. Colin turned the handle carefully, but there was too much weight against it to push outward without ramming it. A cold sweat broke out over his skin.

When Otto's voice came again it was much closer, just beyond the barrier.

“You were wretched today, Lena. Father is very upset. He means to punish you, I think.”

“Then he'll be disappointed if you beat him to it.”

Don't provoke him, Lena.

“Or he'll be glad I've taken care of business.”

“For once,” bit back Lena. “Because we all know you're doing nothing at the factory.”

Then she gasped, and Colin's fury spiked.

He lowered his center of balance, shoulder against the frame. The adrenaline surging through him would make him strong enough to push through Otto and Lena both.

But then the weight was gone. He hesitated, focusing on Lena's plea. Maybe Otto was just trying to scare her. Maybe he was leaving. Colin pressed his ear back to the door.

“I hate the factory,” Otto said absently. They were moving, but Lena didn't sound hurt. “He's starting to catch on, I think. He paid the bartender at the club to call him when I'm there. Can you imagine the humiliation? Checking up on me like I'm a child.” Colin realized Otto was referring to his father.

“Probably another lesson,” Lena mumbled.

“I hate the foreman. I hate the bottom-feeders that work there. I hate the factory district.” He laughed cynically. “I hate being a goddamn Hampton.”

“Give the factory to me,” Lena said quickly. “Let me manage it. I could help you.”

Otto groaned. “If only it were that easy. You know what he'd say, though.
Hamptons don't fail, Otto.
He gave it to me.
I'm
the one who has the responsibility.”

“Let me take the responsibility,” she said. “We don't have to tell him until we've found you something else. Something you like.”

A quiet followed, and for a moment, Colin felt a surge of hope in her proposition.

And then Otto said: “Were you really with that worker?”

“Otto, the factory…”

“You know he wasn't really interested, don't you? They're colorblind. All they see when they look at us is green.”

Colin wanted to close his fists around Otto's throat.

Don't come out. Whatever you hear.

“It's not like that,” said Lena weakly. Colin hated that the fire in her voice had simmered.

“He wants the same thing everyone else does. A Hampton on their side. They're willing to do anything to get that.”

The resonating sound of a slap against skin. For one shocked moment, Colin thought Otto had hit her, but it was a male voice that yelped in pain. A moment later, Lena cried out.

Colin had had enough. He shoved through the door, taking in the sight before him. The tall bureau beside the bathroom was open, Lena's clothing flung across the floor before it. Otto was behind her, and had his arms latched around her waist. His face was red, with shock, with anger. With the imprint of Lena's hand.

On the inside of the cabinet door were scratches, some deep enough to indent the wood.
I broke off some of my fingernails trying to get out.

Colin went blind to everything but Otto. Voices came to him from far away, commands he couldn't process. And then he was somehow straddling Otto's chest, and he was hitting the sorry, pathetic bastard in the face again, and again.

“Stop!” screamed Lena. She tackled Colin from the side and they fell backwards in a heap. Otto Hampton's legs were limp, his arms outstretched to his sides. He did not move.

“What did you do?” Lena crawled to where her brother lay. She touched his face with trembling hands, the tears streaking down her cheeks.

Colin pushed himself up, confused. His knuckles stung now, and when he looked down they were red with Otto's blood and already beginning to swell.

“He came after you.” Colin's chest was tightening, sucking in on itself. He'd hit a greenback. He'd hit a
Hampton.
He'd broken into the richest house in the River District, after breaking out of the worst place in Metaltown.

“You have to go,” she said, voice hitching. “You have to leave, right now.”

“What?” He stepped back. Her words were sharp as knives. “No. You have to come with me.”

Her fearful look turned to exasperation. “I can't. I told you not to come out.
I told you.
”

“Lena…” His head was pounding. He searched for words, came up empty.