Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) (27 page)

              “Zander, it’s not your fault,” I said, reaching again for his hand. “Your dad was sick, and you were just doing what you thought was best.”

              “That’s just it, Liv. What if he wasn’t sick at all?” Zander asked.

              “What do you mean?” I said, looking up at him.

              “You know what my dad said to me as the armed escorts dragged him away?” He stepped closer, his eyes desperate. “I will remember them until the day I die, Liv. He said,
follow the stars, son, salvation lies at the end of the golden blade
.’”

              “Whoa,” I said, my heart sinking into my stomach.

              “At the time, I dismissed it as more of his insane ramblings,” Zander said, reaching into his back pocket. “But now? Liv he was trying to tell me something, something important.”

              He pulled out his wallet and slid a faded picture from behind his driver’s license. He hesitated for a moment before placing it in my hand. The young man in the picture was handsome and well built, with the dark hair and dark eyes. He wore faded jeans and a simple black t-shirt and he was quite handsome. Despite the hard set of his jaw, the man’s eyes twinkled with mischief. It was taken in front of Zander’s motorcycle— his father’s motorcycle. One of the man’s arms rested on the shoulders of a wiry young boy with a crooked smile, the other was raised in salute.

              “Look at this.” Zander pointed to a tattoo on his father’s arm; an eagle carrying an anchor, with the number 99 below. “Gunther, was a member of the Elite 99. He was part of the same special forces unit as my dad.”

              “But, what does this mean?” I asked, staring down at the photograph in my hand.

              “I don’t know, but we need to figure it out, and soon,” Zander said, retrieving the photo and tucking it back into his wallet. “Because I have the strangest feeling we are running out of time.”               

Chapter 27

Moving On

               Zander and I talked for a while before returning to the rest of the group. We stood by the windows hand in hand, silently for the most part, until eventually he calmed down. I could tell he still felt guilty about what had happened with his father years ago, but at the same time, that frustration had begun to give way to something more powerful; determination.

Zander was hell-bent on figuring out what had really happened to his dad, how he and Gunther were connected, and where they had taken him.

              We spent some time as a group recuperating and then scrounged up some more food, supplies, and weapons for each of us to bring along (Jake’s mom had a sweet set of lime green steak knives). Bella had gorged herself on stale bread and water and was now wandering aimlessly around the apartment, sniffing at anything and everything in her path.

              The blood on my jeans had dried, stiff against my leg. The coppery smell and scratching against my skin was a constant reminder of what I had done. Jake raided his mom’s closet and returned with an olive-green pair of men’s cargo shorts, some comfy looking sweats and enough clean socks for everyone to have a spare set. I didn’t ask who the clothes belonged to, just thanked him, and retreated to the bathroom to change.

              I stowed the sweats in my bag and left it in the hallway as I ducked into the washroom. I set the shorts and my knife on the counter, closed the bathroom door, and slipped out of my bloody pants. Those ratty old jeans had been at the root of many a spirited debate between my mom and me but they were one of the last remnants of my old life. I stared down at the wad of denim in my hands and, though part of me was sad to see them go, the rest of me never wanted to see them (or Gunther’s blood) again.

              I wiped vigorously at the crimson stain on my thigh using some make-up wipes I had found in a drawer and slid the shorts on. They were a bit loose, but they were clean and free of blood. I rolled them over at the waist and sat down on the edge of the tub to lace up my boots. The finger I thought I had broken, was already feeling much better so I had them laced tight and I was ready to roll in no time. Unfortunately, the second I dropped the knife into my pocket, the shorts slid straight down off my hips, landing in a heap at my feet.

              “Really?” I rolled my eyes and hiked them back up.

              Holding my shorts around my hips with one hand and the bloody jeans in the other, I emerged from the bathroom. With my focus on wardrobe malfunctions, I didn’t see Zander standing just outside the door. I ran head on into his broad muscular chest. It was like walking into a brick wall. I screeched, startled by the collision. My hands flew up on reflex sending the wadded jeans and the baggy cargo shorts straight to the floor.

              “Whoa,” Zander froze with his hands in the air and stepped back until his shoulders hit the wall. His eyes, wide in shock, raked over every inch of my exposed flesh. He quickly averted his gaze as I hastily yanked the shorts back up around my hips.

              “I didn’t see anything.” His cheeks flushed and he struggled to hold back a smile. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

              “What the hell, Zander?” I shrieked. My face felt like it was on fire. “You scared the shit out of me.”

              “Sorry,” he laughed, still avoiding me with his eyes. “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t scare easy?”

              “Ha, ha, very funny,” I groaned.

              Zander ran his hands through his hair, looking everywhere but at me. When his eyes finally met mine, there was a glint of something raw there that made my stomach do a flip. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he reached below the hem of his shirt to the waist of his pants. My eyes followed them, fixated, as he slowly unfastened his belt. Try as I might and despite the panic rising in my chest, I could not convince my eyes to look anywhere else.

              “Wha—what are you doing?” I took a small step back, my hearting beat wildly against my ribs.

              “It’s okay, Liv,” he ran a finger down my arm, his voice dripping like honey from crooked spout. His copper eyes danced with mischief. He leaned in close and whispered, “I can give you exactly what you need.”

              “Give me…what?” I stammered as my knees knocked together. My back collided with the doorframe behind me, and my eyes locked on his as he pulled his belt free from his waist.

              “
This
,” Zander smirked, sliding a loose hair behind my ear as he draped the worn leather strap over my shoulder. “Looks like you need it way more than I do.”

              Without another word, he breezed past me and closed the bathroom door behind him. His soft laughter echoed from inside. I smiled in spite of myself and found I was giggling, too. I shook my head at my own awkwardness and slid Zander’s offering through the belt loops of my shorts. I buckled the metal closure and pulled my tank top down over it. Every time I blinked, I saw the imprint of those brilliant copper eyes, staring back at me with a mixture hunger and mischief.

              As much as I thrived on Zander’s touch, this game of cat-and-mouse we were playing had my stomach in knots, my heart in my throat, and my mind on all the wrong things. I mentally slapped myself and swore I would try harder to keep my cool around him from then on.

              Micah and Riley were cuddled on the couch. They rose to their feet when I entered the room, but their hands stayed locked together. After what had happened at our foster parents’ home, the two of them seemed to have melted into one being. Riley needed comfort and Micah seemed to enjoy being the steady one in their relationship for a change. Bella lay at their feet and had no doubt been soaking up the attention.

              “Hey, Bells,” I said, smiling down at my perfectly imperfect new friend.

              She trotted up to my side, curled her slender body around my legs and nudged at my hand. She pressed against my leg for support as I scratched her behind her ears. Her tail wagged hard against the back of my legs. That silly dog had been in my care for less than an hour and I was already hopelessly in love with her. Our bond was almost automatic. Bella had managed to fill a small hole I hadn’t even realized was there.

              “You guys got everything you need?” Jake asked, his jaw quivering a bit.

              “Yeah, I think so,” I said, playfully flapping one of Bella’s ears. “You sure you will be okay here by yourself?”

              “I’ll be fine. It’s you guys I was worried about,” Jake said, handing me a plain wooden box, about the size of my hand. “I think you should take this.”

              “What is it?” I asked.

              “Just open it,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

              Inside the box was a small black handgun. It fit easily into the palm of my hand, its weight quite manageable. In a smooth groove above the textured grip was the word RUGER, and the silver slide at the top read
380 Auto
. It was a gorgeous weapon, but it felt wrong in my hands.

              “I can’t.” I placed it carefully down into its housing in the case, and handed the package back to him.

              “No, Liv,” he argued. “It’s dangerous out there and it’s only going to get worse. Take the gun, please.”

              “Thank you, Jake, but you and I both know that is a bad idea,” I laughed. “I would just end up shooting myself in the ass or something.”

              “But, Liv,” he pressed.

              “You keep it.” I placed my hand on his shoulder and met his eyes. “Please, Jake, do it for me? I would feel better knowing you had some way to protect yourself until your mom and sister come back.”

              “Okay,” Jake’s voice quavered as he set the box on the table. Then he lunged at me, pulling me into a desperate hug. “Please be careful, Liv. I will be so completely pissed at you if you get yourself killed.”

              “You too,” I whispered, returning his embrace. “It’s going to be okay, Jake.”

              “I hope so,” he said. “Listen, Liv, just because you can heal faster than normal, doesn’t give you free license to do stupid stuff, okay? And if you or Zander start to feel sick—.”

              “Hush.” I squeezed him harder and then released him from the embrace. “Just focus on keeping yourself in one piece, okay?”

              Jake may have been strange, sarcastic and too smart for his own good, but he was also stronger than I could ever hope to be. In the last couple of days he had become a trusted friend and I was going to miss him dearly.

              “Come here, little man,” Falisha said, sliding into my place as I stepped back. She draped her arm awkwardly around Jake’s neck. “When all this shit is over, me and you are having a girl’s day. Shopping, mani-pedis, the works. I’m talking full blown make-over, deal?”

              “Deal,” Jake laughed, swiping at his eyes. “And my mom can fix that terrible weave for you.”

              “Brat.” Falisha shoved him playfully and walked away.

              I was sure I heard Falisha sniffle as she shouldered her pack, but she kept her back to us as she headed to the door to wait. Riley and Micah exchanged polite good-byes with Jake and resumed their conjoined status as they met Falisha by the door.

              “You are an amazing kid, Jake. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise,” Zander said, crushing Jake in a bear hug. “We will see you soon, okay?”

              “Sounds good,” Jake blushed as he returned the hug. He winked at me, fanning himself dramatically over Zander’s shoulder, giving me a thumbs-up.

              A few minutes later, we were back on the road. One friend was safely at home but another had just joined our journey. Bella trotted in front of us sniffing at the air, her ears perked and alert as she scouted ahead. Riley had suggested we put her on a leash, but I had declined. It didn’t seem right to confine such a free spirit and something told me Bella wasn’t going anywhere.

              It was nearly three in the morning, but it was still probably close to a hundred degrees. The wispy feathers of new clouds were finally starting to form overhead, scattering themselves against the charcoal sky. They lazed across the heavens, teasing us with the possibility of rain and a guarantee of a muggy day ahead. By sunrise, it would again be too hot for anyone to travel, whether on two legs or on three. We had lost time with our goodbyes and needed to pick up the pace.

              My hair clung to my face and I scraped it out of my eyes with a huff. The cargo shorts, while functional and clean, offered little in the way of ventilation and the heavy leather belt around my hips was a sweat magnet. Still, I welcomed its weight and was grateful to feel like
something
might be holding me together.

              “Ugh,” Riley groaned, tripping forward as the toe of her ballet flat caught yet another raised edge in the sidewalk. “This seriously sucks.”

              Since Zander no longer needed it, we had left the cart behind in favor of easier mobility, but I was already starting to regret that decision. Between the heat, the weight of her pack, and her short legs, Riley was really struggling to keep up. I stepped out into the road where the terrain was smoother and the rest of the group followed. Bella seemed to sense our shift and darted out into the street ahead of us without so much as a backward glance. Her tail swished back and forth as she zig-zagged back and forth across the width of the pavement.

              “I miss Stella,” Micah snorted bitterly.

              “Right now, Micah,” I said, laughing. “Even
I
miss Stella.”

              “No way, that raggedy old hag tried to steal my man,” Riley said, playfully nudging Micah with her elbow. “I say, good riddance.”

              “Shut up, Riley,” Micah snorted, shooting Riley a dirty look. “Give it a rest already.”

              “Wait, who’s Stella?” Zander asked.

              “No clue,” Falisha shrugged.

              “As of two days ago, she’s just a useless hunk of metal, like the rest of them.” Micah released Riley’s hand and kicked the bumper on a black Camaro as we walked past it.

              “Sorry, babe,” Riley said, trying to soothe his building temper. “I was just messing around. I know you loved that van. Maybe we can get it working again.”

              “What a fucking
waste!”
Micah kicked the car again and left a foot sized dent in the driver’s side door.

              “Hey, easy,” Riley cooed. Threading her fingers through his, she gently towed Micah away from the battered car. “It’s okay, babe.”

              “Right, of course it’s okay. Everything is great,” Micah muttered, his eyes fixed ahead. “Couldn’t be better.”

              “Zander,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. “I have been wondering about that. So, none of these cars will ever work again? Like, ever?”