“Here’s the thing, Gracen. Kenny Boy’s on the run. There’s a wet contract out on him by some of the fine people up in New Vegas with a couple of casinos and a bad temper.” Samms leaned back in his chair, then ran his fingertips over his scruff, lifting his chin up to get a spot above his Adam’s apple. “Picked up the specs a couple of days ago. Seems like your boy’s making a run for it down to San Diego, so either he hasn’t heard his big brother’s checked out or he’s coming to you to look for some saving. So if you know where he is or where he’s headed, you’d best get there before I do, because the price on him is pretty damned high and they don’t care if he’s brought in with all of his pieces still attached.”
MALONE WAS drugged up to the gills when we stopped by the medics’ bay, and the desk officer barely looked up when he slid the keycard across the counter at us, motioning toward the hallway where the bunk rooms were located. Ryder was quiet throughout our walk, smiling at the people we passed, although he did murmur hello a few times to anyone staring at him long enough to notice.
Okay, so he talked a lot, just not to me. People stared, and he went about his business, making the Sidhe look like the bright, beautiful, and peaceful creatures the telenovelas sold them as. I knew different. I’d gotten drunk more than a few times with quite a number of them now, and they were as gassy as hell after a few beers and mouthfuls of cheesy burrito. Not to mention, Ryder snored sometimes. Especially after a long day of travel or fighting off something trying to eat us.
The room was miniscule, barely large enough to hold a cot and a duffel. Still, it smelled clean and the linens were recently washed, no sign of someone else having slept on them. Like the cafeteria, the walls were drywall and insulation screwed into steel girders and runners bolted directly into the surrounding rock. Ducts kept the air circulated but a bit chilly, enough for Dempsey to complain about the cold getting into his joints whenever we stayed there.
I’d slept on the floor the last time we came through, using the sleeping bags from Dempsey’s truck as a bed. He’d gotten up in the middle of the night, a drunken stumble to the shared bathrooms at the end of the sleeping hall, kicking me in the ribs, then falling over my feet. It was one of the last runs we made up to New Vegas, a long-ago memory of a time when his knees were getting worse, and as much as he wanted to ignore the pain, his body couldn’t carry him any longer through rough road and hard kills.
“You take the bunk.” I nodded to the cot fixed to the floor. “I’m going to crash in the Mustang. It’ll be more comfortable. Eat some food and then crash. I need you to lock the door behind me, though, and hold on to the key. Don’t let anyone but me in. This isn’t the safest place to be an elfin, and I don’t want to have to explain to Alexa about why I’m returning you without a nose or toes.”
I couldn’t sleep there. In that room. Even Ryder’s presence couldn’t wash away the filthy debris of my memories flooding through my mind. I dug the card out of my pocket with every intention to hand it over, when he sat down on the cot and studied me with those soul-piercing green eyes, digging into me and ferreting out my discomfort.
“Can I tell you something?” Ryder’s whisper dripped with concern, and he leaned back, resting his shoulders against the wall. “Well, more to talk to you. About… this is hard for me. Probably not as hard for you because I feel like this place holds ghosts for you and that’s why you’re running away from me.”
“Truth?” I sat down next to him, echoing his pose against the white-painted wall. I picked a fried potato off of one of the plates, but I wasn’t very hungry. I nibbled at its edge, then chewed it down quickly, swallowing at the tasteless ash it left on my tongue. “Not really running away from you, just… I can’t be here right now. Too soon. Too raw. Dempsey’s the first one… I’ve lost others before. Hell, Stalkers don’t live long lives. Remember me telling you that? He died in his sleep, which is a good death for one of us. It’s just… hard to be here without him. We made a lot of runs down this corridor.”
I opened, then dug through the duffel I’d slung onto the cot, coming up with a small silver flask of whiskey. I’d bought the bottle because it shared the same name as the magic type Cari practiced, mostly for a chuckle, but it turned out to be surprisingly good, becoming one of my favorites. After undoing the cap, I laid it down, then took a swig and passed the flask over to Ryder.
“Am I just supposed to take a gulp?” He took it with a bit of trepidation. “Sometimes I think you give me stuff brewed in someone’s sock just to see me choke on it.”
“Sip on this one and don’t waste any,” I warned. “And whatever you do, never wipe at the rim. Especially in front of someone who’s just given you a nip. It’s an insult.”
“I’d never do that to you. Sometimes this is the only way I can get a kiss from you, sharing something we drink together.” He grinned foolishly at my scoffing snort. His sip was small, but a flush soon warmed his cheeks. “Oh, that’s good. I’ve had this before.”
“That you have,” I reassured him, taking the flask back after he had another drag. “I’ll be more comfortable in the Mustang. Seats are better than the floor, but I’m serious about locking the door behind me. There’s a lot of dangerous people holed up in tight on top of one another. I don’t want any of them coming to look for you for a bit of fun.”
Again he regarded me, tearing me apart bit by bit. I was lulled by the whiskey, but there were landmines set between us, and I wasn’t sure what he was going to step on. Sleep tugged at me, seeping through my marrow, and suddenly sleeping in the cold garage, slung into the passenger seat of my Mustang didn’t seem like such a good idea.
“Who was that Stalker to you?” he finally asked. “A hunting companion? A brother? It seems like you knew each other well but it ended badly.”
“Badly isn’t a strong enough word for how it ended.” Exhaling hard, I debated what to tell Ryder… or rather how much. “Samms and I were lovers for about four years. Nothing formal like a house with a picket fence but more than casual. Why?”
“That’s what I thought. You see, today as we sat in the cafeteria, I realized I’ve never actually seen you… outside of who I had built you up as in my mind.” He inched closer, our shoulders touching, and the warmth of his body against mine was as tongue-numbing as the whiskey in my belly. “Today, I think I got my first glimpse of you as other people see you.”
“I’m not any different around people.” I shrugged. “I am who I am. I don’t pretend to be more.”
“No, that’s… I’ve always thought of you as very young.” He shook his head at my quick glance at him. “To me, you’re barely into adulthood. And everyone around you, from Dempsey to Jonas and even Cari, knows you as a son or a brother or something like that. It’s shaped my idea of you. In a Sidhe household, you would still be living at home, continuing your studies and just learning to make connections with the adults around you. The idea of you having sex, having relationships with others when you were younger is… incredible to me.”