Deviation (14 page)

It’s just as well that Obadiah is waiting. I can’t think of a single thing to say in response to Linc’s last words. He knows it, judging by the crooked grin still stretched across his face. My breath catches at the thought of attempting anything remotely like what we just did from the back of Linc’s motorcycle. It seems impossible. Dangerous. Absolutely thrilling. The heat in my lower stomach returns. I try to ignore it as I slide out of the car behind Linc.

My eyes take a few blinks to adjust after the tinted windows of the car. We’re in an alleyway between buildings. Obadiah has somehow wedged the car between two dumpsters so that both license plates are obscured. Smart. Also, I have no idea how we’ll get out. And then I realize, Obadiah doesn’t plan to.

My palms are sweaty from all that’s happened. Not just the private moments Linc and I shared, but the entire events that brought me here. Taylor. Alton. Titus. The mark. Where do I begin?

“You okay?” Obadiah asks, bumping my shoulder with his as we walk.

“Just trying to catch my breath after that getaway,” I tease.

“If you ever decide to rob a bank, I’m your guy.”

“You’ll be the first call I make,” I assure him.

“Good. How was your shopping trip with President Evil?” he asks.

“It was …” I can’t even finish as I think about how Taylor treated the boy in the street and the way she spoke about the poor.

“What happened?” Obadiah asks.

I tell him about our shopping day. “And she bought me that bag,” I add. “She thought she was helping, I guess. I mean, Raven—the real Raven—probably would’ve been cheered up.”

“Nah, I remember watching the two of them together. I think even the real Raven could see Taylor’s nastiness.” The hardness in Obadiah’s voice is unmistakable as he adds, “Taylor’s an acid. She eats away at everything she touches.”

At the intersection, we pause underneath the shadow of the building at our back. There are no cars or pedestrians here. The warehouses behind us are mostly abandoned or used for things no one wants to admit to. Up ahead is Obadiah’s father’s warehouse. The front entrance faces the street a block north, just across from a condemned public parking structure. This side street is deserted—at least by anyone who would take notice of three teenagers sneaking between alleyways.

Just in case, I scan for traffic. Farther down to my right, I see a group of people huddled near some crumbling boxes underneath the overhang of a tattered auto repair shop. They haven’t looked this way on any of our visits here. Sometimes I wonder if we should stop to check their pulse as we pass by, but I don’t say it. I am afraid of what we’ll find.

We dart across the intersection, walking fast until we reach the cover of the next set of buildings. Our destination is the enormous warehouse on my right but even the back door is too obvious. “How long do we have?” I ask as we walk.

Linc and Obadiah share a look. “She’s not staying?” Obadiah asks.

Linc’s mouth tightens. “No,” is all he says.

Obadiah’s brows disappear into the ends of the dark hair splayed across his forehead.

“Next time you want to rescue me,” I say, “consider asking if I want to be rescued.”

Obadiah snorts. “Of course you want to be rescued. You’re the damsel.”

I glare at him. “I’m going back.”

“Of course you are.” He shakes his head and then looks at Linc. “Well, that changes things. How are you going to—?”

“It’s fine,” Linc says through closed teeth.

I stare between them, certain I’m missing something, though I have no idea what. “What’s fine?” I ask when neither of them elaborates.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll go visit with Morton and head back when you’re ready,” Linc says.

Obadiah bites his lip and we walk on in silence. The entrance is just ahead, obscured from this angle by a small electrical shed, but Obadiah doesn’t get that far before he stops abruptly and turns to face Linc. “Here’s the thing. I have to worry about it,” he says. “If she’s going back, that means so are you.”

Linc doesn’t answer.

“You were going to stay too?” I ask him.

Obadiah presses on. “How in the hell do you expect to be let back in when they find out you redirected her GPS? And lied about a threat? They
will
figure it out. You can’t cover this one up.”

Still, Linc is silent. “Linc?” I say.

Nothing.

Obadiah’s eyes flash in uncharacteristic anger. “You can’t come inside.”

“What?” Linc says.

“It’s too dangerous. You guys have to go back.”

“We put this whole thing together,” Linc argues. “Drove all the way down here. She can at least go say hello.”

“No,” Obadiah says. “You didn’t hold up your end.” He points to me and adds, “She was supposed to get rid of it by now. You said you brought the tools. It was a done deal. If it’s still in her, they’ll find her soon enough, regardless of that scrambler thing. Hell, they probably already have.”

“Wait. You said you masked me. What does that mean?” I ask Linc. No answer. “Did you scramble my signal?” Still nothing. The boys are locked in a stare-down involving silent communication I don’t understand. “Obadiah—”

Linc cuts me off. “Just give her five minutes to say hello. She misses them and who knows when she’ll be back.”

“Are you talking about my GPS chip? Were you going to cut it out of me?”

The thought leaves me a little nauseous and even more excited. But neither one answers me. They are still locked in the stare-down. For once, Obadiah looks just as set, just as tough, as Linc. My heart swells a little that he could love this group of Imitations so fiercely, so fast, that he would protect them—even from Linc. Even from me.

“Linc, he’s right,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “We should go. I would hate to lead Titus here.”

“But we came all this way,” he says, and I know he means more than just the car ride. He wants me to stay, to be free. It’s probably the smart thing. But I can’t make myself do it. To stay feels far too much like giving up.

“We’ll get here again,” I say quietly.

He holds Obadiah’s stare a moment longer and, finally, his shoulders relax and he steps back. “All right.”

Obadiah exhales, determination replaced by relief.

“I’ll take her back. You should stay,” Linc tells him. “Check on them. Explain to Morton what happened.”

“I will.” Obadiah nods. “What about you?”

Linc takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers. “I’ll be fine.”

Obadiah looks less than convinced. “You could stay,” he says. “Let her go back.” At Linc’s expression he shakes his head. “It was worth a shot. Call me when you can, let me know you’re okay.”

“Same to you,” Linc says.

I hug Obadiah. “Thank you for helping Linc today,” I say.

“You just make sure they don’t figure out what he did,” Obadiah tells me. He squeezes me hard and whispers into my hair, “If they find out, run.”

I squeeze him one last time and step back.

Obadiah tosses the car keys. Linc catches them in midair with his free hand and slides them into his pocket.

“Good luck,” Obadiah says.

“Good luck,” I repeat.

Linc and I watch as Obadiah makes his way toward the bricked shed and disappears behind it. The handle engages and I hear the door swing open. There is a soft, echoing click as the door shuts behind him and then it is silent.

Linc is already moving. “Come on,” Linc says, tugging my hand back the way we came. He checks his watch. “We should hurry.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask, hurrying to keep pace with him now.

“I thought we’d have your GPS out by now.”

“Do you think they’ve figured it out?”

Linc’s silence is answer enough. I walk faster.

At the mouth of the alley, we pause again and look up and down the deserted street. We dart across, two of my tiny steps equaling one of Linc’s. Halfway across, an engine hums and gains volume as a vehicle appears from a cross street. It’s boxy and black, an SUV according to Linc. I’ve seen the security team use them to tail us or provide escort services during crowded events.

The SUV flashes its headlights and accelerates toward us in a burst of roaring speed. We’ve been found.

Instead of continuing straight down the alley toward the car, Linc pulls on my hand, propelling both of us sharply left. I’m yanked into the safety of the shadows cast by the abandoned two-story complex that looms just ahead. He whips me around the edge of the building and pushes me against the mildew-stained wall.

A cold dampness seeps through the thin fabric of my blouse. I force myself to remain steady despite knowing I’ve ruined yet another of Raven’s designer tags. Titus won’t be pleased. Then again, if his SUV full of men is any indication, a ruined shirt is the least of my worries.

Linc hovers in front of me, using his body as a shield. “Did we lose them?” I whisper, craning to see over his shoulder. He shakes his head in answer.

A moment passes with the hum of an engine steady in the not-far distance. The sound grows steadily louder until tires screech to a halt. The sound is a block or so away, closer to where we parked the car. A door opens and slams shut, followed immediately by several others.

My heart skips beats. I stare up at Linc with wide eyes.

“No,” he says simply. His mouth is a hard line, his jaw working back and forth. I don’t let myself imagine what Titus will do when he finds out Linc is responsible for all this. I think of Melanie and Daniel and swallow back the urge to cry or cling to him in helpless surrender.

Somewhere behind us a voice barks orders to “spread out” and “find them.”

I stare up at Linc as he looks left, then right. Without warning, he grabs my wrist and takes off. We dart between buildings, zigzagging away from the voices and footsteps at our back. I am careful to keep up and not trip or stumble. I concentrate on the direction Linc chooses, determined that, no matter what, we will not give away Obadiah or the others when we are caught.

There is no doubt in my mind we will be caught.

Linc pulls up short and shoves me backward. I grunt when my back hits the wall. Linc presses against me as he crowds us both into the tiny alcove of space he’s found. It’s nothing more than a dip in the wall, a space left to accommodate access to the giant cooling unit beside me. On my right is a large pipe that stretches from the ground to the roof of the building we’re leaning against. On my left is a large, boxed fan of some kind, although it is silent now.

Linc’s breath is warm and fast where it hits my cheeks. I meet his eyes, searching their depths for some clue of what to do next. His flash with what must be possibilities, escape routes, plans. None seem to satisfy him. His gaze is pleading with mine, almost desperate as it flicks to my mouth and away again. Something in his expression clicks.

I don’t know what it means but there’s no time to ask. The voices are closer despite the distance we ran. We have only seconds before—

“Sir, I found them!”

Linc crushes his mouth to mine just as Deitrich walks into view. “What the …?” The guard stops short at the sight of Linc and I locking lips.

I shove against him but Linc doesn’t release me. Boots pound against the asphalt as they rush up. Each of them stops short when they catch sight of us. Linc’s hands are in my hair and at the base of my neck, making sure my lips don’t leave his. One of the guards snickers. A few mutter but I don’t hear the words. Despite the danger, I can’t help but enjoy the promise and warmth of Linc’s kisses. Slowly, I begin to respond to him.