“You don’t get it.” Gray hooked his thumb at a target, one that displayed a bull’s-eye hit. “Hitting six targets—winging them, not even solid shots, mind you—is considered decent enough for the field. The Protectorate considers you for in-depth training if you hit nine. The record? Is seventeen hits.”
“Well, I didn’t get that many more—”
Gray interrupted her. “That was Hwang. Not only is he really fucking good at it, but he’d been training for three years by that point. Like I said…” His eyes gleamed. “You don’t get it. You’re not just okay or good, Maya. You’re a goddamned savant.”
Maya stared at him, unsure what to say—or think. For perhaps the first time in her life, silence echoed inside her head. The compliment, gleeful and sincere, didn’t provoke an avalanche of memories.
No one at the TechCorps had spent their time telling her she was amazing. At anything.
Unable to contain the warmth bubbling up in her, she thrust out her hand and waved the blindfold at him. “I want to do it again.”
“Whatever you want.” He fixed the blindfold into place, plunging her into darkness once again. Then he spun her around a few times, his hands warm on her arms. “Ready?”
She steadied herself with a hand against the solid wall of his chest, then nodded. “Ready.”
Gray vanished. Maya lifted the pistol, her grip easy. She didn’t try to think. She didn’t try not to think. It was like relaxing a muscle she kept painfully tense even in her sleep, and the sudden relief of it made her giddy.
It was dangerous to let go of her hard-won control. In moments, the memories might surge and sweep her under. But she floated on the bliss and waited for the first beep.
When it came, she moved.
Maya closed her eyes behind the blindfold and imagined the room. She conjured it out of the darkness with her too-vivid memory and flowed from one shot to the next. Every kick of the pistol came with a thrill of success. She might not be able to see the targets, but she knew she was hitting them.
Maybe she was a supersoldier after all.
Maybe she was something better.
The crack of her final shot echoed through the space. The beeps fell silent. Maya stood with her feet parted, the pistol out at one side, her breathing a little too fast. Not from exertion. From excitement. “I hit them all, didn’t I?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
She didn’t. Maya stripped off the blindfold and tossed it onto the stool. The pistol followed. Then she made a slow circle, studying the targets.
Twenty-one hits. Twelve bull’s-eyes.
Her slow circuit stopped when she was facing Gray again. Unable to contain her excitement, she bounced on her toes. “I’m a fucking rock star.”
He grinned. “Yes, you are.”
Two steps closer, and her cheeks hurt from how wide she was smiling. “I have actual, literal superpowers.”
“Yes, you do.”
Excitement overflowed. She felt like she was floating. Like her feet were barely touching the ground. She forgot all the reasons touching him was dangerous. Another step, and Maya crashed into Gray, flinging her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” After a moment, he folded his arms around her waist, lifting her against his body. That penetrated the giddy bubbles in her brain. She slammed back into her body as her awareness of him roared to life.
They were touching. So much touching. All-over touching, and the muscles of his chest were as solid as she remembered. His arms were warm steel.
He still smelled like soap and sawdust.
Math. Math was a distraction. She’d do more math. If Gray was 185 cm tall and she was only 162 cm, the surface area of their bodies crushed together was—
Numbers disintegrated into stardust when she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. No dark and brooding Gothic terror today. No, Gray’s eyes were warm. Gentle.
Aware.
The only thing more terrifying than having an inexplicable, uncontrollable crush on a dying man was her increasing certainty that it wasn’t unrequited.
Trying to fuck him would break her brain. Loving him would shatter her heart.
He licked his lips. “Maya—”
The crash of a door slamming cut him off, and he raised his head with a frown. “Was that over at y’all’s place?”
“I think so.” She braced a hand against his shoulder, barely holding back a shiver as he let her slide back down his body. Even with her boots solidly on the floor again, she felt unsteady—which was a problem. “If they’re back this soon and slamming doors, that isn’t good.”
“We’d better go hear the news.”
“The trail must have stayed cold.” That was chilling enough to sober Maya up. Not that the tingles were entirely gone, but by the time they made it out the back door she was at least steady enough to fake it.
Conall was standing next to the open van doors, his face tight with exhaustion. He shook his head in answer to their silent question and jerked a thumb toward the warehouse door. “Nina needs a hug. She’s in rough shape.”
“Shit.” Maya picked up her pace, racing through the warehouse with a perfunctory wave for Tai and crashing through the door to their main living quarters.
Nina was at the kitchen table, her face buried in her hands and her entire body stiff in a way that provoked an ache of sympathy in Maya’s chest. She caught a glimpse of Dani disappearing up the stairs while Rafe hovered uncertainly at the base, his dark eyes worried.
Knox was already in the kitchen, pulling down their stash of soothing tea. His worried gaze eased somewhat when he caught sight of Maya, and he tipped his head silently toward the table.
Maya hooked a chair and pulled it close enough to touch Nina’s shoulder. “Hey. What happened?”
Nina looked up and tried—tried—to smile. “Not much. We gave it our best shot, but…”
But chasing down a few trucks that had disappeared into the vast wilderness between here and the Mississippi River was a nearly impossible task. “No buts,” Maya said firmly, wrapping her arm around Nina and pulling her close. “You couldn’t find the trucks. That doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“No. We’ll regroup and go from there, but we’re not giving up.” Nina took a deep breath. “How were things here?”
Warmth flooded her face. She almost opened her mouth, but the clink of mugs on the kitchen counter reminded her that Knox was right there, and Gray with him. Her confused hormones would have to wait. “Fine. Tai’s scanning the cookbooks now. I put out word that we have new home-improvement guides, and people have been showing up with their tablets.”
“Rest,” Knox said firmly. He brought a mug of tea to Nina and placed it on the table in front of her. “You haven’t slept since we left.”
“You’re one to talk.” She wrapped her fingers around the mug and studied Gray. “What about you? Any more issues with your implant?”
“Nope. Things here have been uneventful.” Though he still leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest in classic Gray posture, he glanced at Maya.
And winked.
The bastard was teasing her now.
Knox set a second mug of tea down in front of Maya. It was her favorite kind, a peach blossom blend that Ma Kendrick made for Maya in exchange for the occasional tune-up on the solar generator that powered her rooftop greenhouse. Knox had even prepared it exactly the way Maya liked it, with a precious splash of real milk and too much honey.