Landlocked (Atlas Link Series Book 2) (56 page)

“What the hell does that mean?” she snapped. The rage swimming between us was all hers. Mine left my body when I realized this was exactly how I’d felt while I waited for her to wake up from surgery two years ago.

No words came to voice the thoughts swirling around inside my head.

“Ugh!” she said, waving her arms. Had she heard my thoughts, my explanation? “I’m done. So freaking done. Call me if anyone figures something out.”

Chelsea rushed out the door without another word, leaving the rest of us in stunned silence.

My fist slammed into the punching bag so hard I thought maybe I’d broken something. I kinda wished I had.

Dave was probably now dead, killed by whoever owned those damn turquoise lights. Dr. Hill thought it was the third party in all of this, probably the people from
La Ciudad Blanca
, hence Valerie’s fear of them. But were they on our side, or were they an enemy?

Maybe the Atlanteans took Dave for payback. Whatever.

Again and again my fists hit the bag, until every punch hurt like bones had shattered. If Dave had finished his sentence, we might have had a way to end the war. And now… Nothing. We had nothing. And Chelsea was ripping pissed at me
again
.

I’d never been as angry as I was with Chelsea when we fought before the rescue mission. I never wanted to be that enraged again. It scared me, being honest. Our telepathy fused our emotions together, tumbling and amplifying them to the max. Then it happened again a few hours ago. I wasn’t sure what I felt anymore because of it, like somehow parts of her remained inside me after every conversation. I knew I was pissed at her. At Josh. At that stupid son of a bitch for stealing her from me like it was the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it was.

Another punch into the bag. I just wanted her to be happy again, like she was on SeaSatellite5 in the days before the hijacking. She’d been her true self then, happy and doing archaeology and prepping for shows with her band. And if Josh could help her get that back, who was I to stand in the way?

I was her ex, that’s who. And that fucking tore a hole through the core of everything that I was.

Someone caught my fist as it sailed toward the bag again. Their grip was so strong I could barely move. My eyes darted up to the owner.

Freddy stared back at me with one raised eyebrow. He pulled my arm until it was outright, then, with his other hand, inspected mine. “At least you were smart enough to wrap them first. When did you start throwing punches?”

“When Chelsea’s verbal assaults started hitting below the belt.” I ripped my fist out of his grasp. “Chelsea and I are telepathically connected. Thoughts. Images. And apparently emotions, too.”

He leaned back against the wall, a foot against it and arms crossed. “Guess that argument had a little more juice behind it than everyone thought.”

My jaw slid left and right. “Everyone’s heard about that?”

Freddy shrugged. “You two weren’t exactly quiet, and this isn’t exactly a small station. Thin walls and all. And we were all there.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the bag. I didn’t care what they thought.

Freddy caught my arm again. “You were hyped up from Dave’s interrogation and what I can only assume was a rigorous mission planning phase,” he said. “You guys came into a compound swarming with Atlanteans to save us.”

“And look how easy that was,” I said. “Oh—and we fought before the mission. Worse than earlier. Open-palm slaps and all.”

He winced like he could feel the slap himself. “Still.”

I shook my head. “You’ve been gone for two years, Freddy. Things have changed.
We’ve
changed, and Chelsea and I aren’t a compatible combination anymore.”

He tilted his head to one side. “You sure about that? Because the way I see it, you’re exactly where you were after the hijacking. She’s pissed and off on some self-centered vendetta to fix herself and everything else, taking prisoners as she goes. Because that’s what Chelsea does and most of the time, it’s okay. But the reason you’re less inclined to let her slide this time is because instead of alcohol to help her along, she’s got a guy. A good guy. And here you are, pissed and shocked and confused as to what the hell’s going to happen next. Welcome to life, my friend. It’s not fair and it’s not always right, but here it is. You can’t wallow in this forever though. Live your life, with or without her.”

Freddy pushed off the wall and walked to the door. He paused before exiting and turned back to me. “I think you know how to fix things.”

Then he was gone.

A lot of pride was swallowed as I passed through the line on the Dinning Decks. Much of that pride threatened to make a return appearance on the elevator ride to her quarters. I didn’t want to apologize for feeling what I felt, but I had to. I never wanted to ruin her relationship with Josh, or completely destroy any chance of friendship between us. All I wanted was for her to understand, because for so long she was the only one who did.

The Lift moved the quickest it ever had, and soon I was outside her door like we were two years younger and a lot less jaded. I knocked on her door and, as per usual on SeaSat5, Chelsea didn’t answer. I tried the knob and it was unlocked, so I nudged the door open an inch. I was about to say her name, announce my presence, when her radio came alive.

The emcee spoke in excited tones. “And for another week in a row Phoenix and Lobster’s
Lies
takes the number one spot. Whoever these guys are and wherever they came from, let’s hope they’re not a one hit wonder! And how about a studio version of this song, guys? Huh? Huh?”

“Fucking hell.”

A sound like hard plastic compressing filled my ears, followed by a
thud
on the ground. I pushed the door all the way open. Chelsea sat on her bed, a crushed bedside alarm clock sitting in a wounded heap at her feet.

“If you hated it that much you probably could have taken the one from your room at TAO,” I said.

Her eyes snapped up to mine, and she stood. “What do you want?”

I pointed to the radio. “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you guys want to make it big?”

She charged toward me. “Get the hell out of here. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Okay, she was still angry. I held up the cookies in my hand. Oatmeal, her favorite. “Truce?”

She looked to the cookies, back up to me, then back down at them again. “What are we, five? I said I don’t want to talk. Please leave.”

“Is there a problem here?”

I craned my neck to the door. Josh stood behind me, giving me the weirdest look. His expression was caught somewhere between relief and sadness instead of the annoyance I’d expected. All emotions were gone in an instant, his face wiped to a clean slate. What did he think I had planned? I just wanted to apologize!

“No,” I said and held up the cookies to him. “I was trying to make amends.” I turned back to Chelsea. “I shouldn’t have screamed at you yesterday and shared things. That was wrong and immature of me, and I am sorry, Chelsea. The cookies were for nostalgic effect.”

“I remember,” she said, her face hard.

I tried to smile. I wanted to actually
talk
to her, but I guessed this was all I’d get. The important part was said. “Good. I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”

“Probably a good idea,” Josh said.

He stepped out into the hallway to let me by. At the last second before turning back to Chelsea, when we were both in the hallway and out of her sight, he reached out and grabbed my arm. Preparing for a verbal assault, I glared at him. His eyes were soft, deepened by some measure of sadness I couldn’t fathom. His jaw muscles twitched as he drew out the exchange, leaving words unsaid it was so clear he wanted to tell me. Like he was trying to say something without speaking and was begging me to understand. Hell if I knew what he meant.

Then Josh shook his head, straightened up, and walked into Chelsea’s room. He left me standing there, completely puzzled.

What was that about?

went back to TruGates with Josh the following day to brief General Allen on the rescue mission. Any animosity present before I stole his team for my own mission was gone, and I found myself less scared of him now that I knew his agenda. He wanted to kill my kind, and I would not let that happen. The best way, for now, to ensure it didn’t was to come back to TruGates. So here I was. But every moment I sat in front of him, the more that fear returned, an insidious sort of doubting that squeezed my chest and planted seeds of anxiety. Of mistrust.