The Decaying Empire (The Vanishing Girl Series Book 2) (30 page)

Leading me to a floor-to-ceiling wall of mailboxes, he crouched and opened one of them. Inside were three thickly packed envelopes. I removed the backpack I wore and handed it to him. He shoved all three envelops into it. We didn’t speak again until we’d left the post office.

Without talking to one another, we turned in the opposite direction of the motorcycle, abandoning the vehicle for good.

“What’s in the envelopes?” I asked.

“Money, a couple credit cards, and several alternate identities.”

“We’re not going to be able to cross the border,” I said. Now that the Project had put together roughly where we were, they’d amp up the security there. As it was, California’s border crossing was infamous for its inspections.

Caden nodded. “We’re going to have to fly out of here.”

This time rather than hot-wiring a car, we hitchhiked from Big Sur all the way up to Santa Cruz with a group of hipster college students.

“Your friend okay?” one asked, nodding to Caden.

The smudges were back under Caden’s eyes. Although I’d slept a little before we were ambushed, Caden hadn’t. He’d now been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and it was starting to show. He looked bone-weary.

“I’m good, man,” Caden said. “Just tired.”

I leaned in and crafted a lie that might go over well with our companions. “He had a little too much . . .” I brought my pinched thumb and forefinger to my lips and sucked in.

The guy laughed. “Aw, man,” he said, clasping Caden on the shoulder, “good problem to have.” I saw Caden tense under the guy’s grip like he wanted nothing more than to shrug the hand off. But he smiled lazily, just going along with it.

“So do you guys have a place to stay in Santa Cruz?” asked the driver, a girl with long blonde dreadlocks and a nose ring.

I guess we pulled off the vagabond look a little too well. “Naw, we’re figuring it out as we go.”

“Well, if you need a couch for tonight, you could always crash at our place.”

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn’t, I said, “That would be awesome.”

And that was how we ended up sleeping in a student co-op for the night.

The next morning Caden leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, chatting with one of the guys we’d driven up with while I washed dishes with Amy, the dreadlocks girl. I could feel Caden’s eyes on my back.

Amy threw a glance at him over her shoulder. “Your guy is, uh, really intense,” she said, handing me a cup to dry.

I smiled to myself as I dried the cup. “He’s a bit protective.”

She snickered. “A bit,” she agreed. “When you’re not aware of it, he gives you these looks . . .” She shook her head. “Most girls would cut off their right breast for a look like that.”

Laughter bubbled out of me. As quickly as it came, it died away. “I almost died, and he was there when it happened.” I had no idea why she of all people snagged this confession out of me, but it felt good to voice it. Like I was finally stepping out of hiding.

Amy’s hands paused, and lowering the dish she held, she peered at me. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am,” I said. I glanced over at Caden, who was nodding at something the guy was telling him. His gaze rose and our eyes met. The heated look in his made me flush. Noticing my reaction, Caden’s dimples appeared. The guy talking to him trailed off, looking between the two of us.

“That’s insane,” Amy said, drawing my attention back to our conversation. “How did it happen?” she asked, and then, realizing her faux pas, said, “Ah, sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “We grew up in a rough neighborhood, and I got
. . .
shot.” It was the closest I could come to the truth.

“Holy crap. You’re not joking?”

I let out a tired laugh. “I wish.”

“Whoa. I guess I get it. He’s got that whole I’ll-die-for-you thing going on. Definitely a good way for the man to get laid.”

“You’re telling me.”

She laughed at that, and after a moment, I joined in. We dried dishes and chatted, and for the first time in a year, I felt happily, blissfully
normal
.

“I think I want to go to college,” Caden said. I glanced over at him, my heart doing funny things at the sight of his face.

He and I sat on a shuttle headed for the airport. Amazing what doors a fake ID and a little cash opened.

“Me too,” I said wistfully. We’d been asleep for most of our stay, but what we had witnessed looked fun. Drinking games, TV marathons, baking parties—all these things happened in one house during our short visit. And the biggest worry anyone had was whether they’d pass a class.

I wished I had that kind of a problem.

The shuttle came to a stop in front of the international flights terminal, and we hopped out.

No teleporters had come for us, much to my relief, which meant that the Project didn’t know we were stationary last night. That, or they were waiting for us once more.

While standing in line, Caden handed me a passport, and I opened it.

“Angel Lockhart?” I hissed at him, smiling when someone in front of us turned to look at me. As soon as they swiveled back around, I continued. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

The side of Caden’s mouth tipped up and he snickered. “Yeah, I had fun with that one.”

“Clearly.” My photo was one I’d posted on Facebook over a year ago. I lowered my voice. “This is going to work?”

“It had better.”

It did work. We purchased tickets for a flight to Mexico City and left the line. As we approached the security checkpoint, I came to a halt and cursed.

Caden stopped next to me. “What is it?”

“We have to dump our vials and syringes.”

Caden’s eyes widened. He took in our surroundings, and when his eyes returned to me, steely resolve entered them. “We do this here, then.”

I shook my head, even as the idea of withholding petrified me. “We need to leave the country first and foremost.” Our flight left in two hours. It wasn’t enough time to sedate ourselves, and loitering here any longer increased the odds that we’d get caught.

“Hell—no, angel. I’m not risking you teleporting on an airplane.” Unlike teleporting from a moving vehicle, disappearing in midair left no chance of survival.

I kneaded my forehead. He had a point, but the longer we were stationary, the greater the risk of getting killed, regardless.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. “We only have an hour before we board, and it’s late morning. I should be fine.”

“No, angel. You only teleported once yesterday.”

“And I got plenty of sleep. I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head. Stubborn man.

“I’m not arguing about this with you,” I said. “We’re going to risk death either way.”

Caden clasped my face. “I can’t fucking lose you,” he said.

I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “You won’t. I promise.”

“How can I believe that?” he asked desperately.

“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

His nostrils flared and he laced his hands on top of his head, walking a few steps away from me.

He blew out a breath. “Fine, angel. I trust you. Let’s do this.”

I washed my hands in the women’s restroom, humming under my breath, mostly to distract myself from the idea of flying. My hands trembled, the only sign that I was frightened of what might happen.

When I glanced up, a man stood behind me. There was a hardness about his features that gave him away instantly.

I reacted before I even processed the entire situation, swiveling around so that my back pressed into the sink. I gripped the counter, using the leverage to kick out at the teleporter.

Catching my foot, he yanked me forward. I made a desperate grab for the edge of the sink. When my hands gripped the porcelain edge, I lifted my other leg and delivered a swift kick to the man’s face. It caught him in the jaw, and he released me.

I dropped to a crouch, again kicking out at him. Anticipating the attack, he sidestepped the hit and brought his knee up. My jaw clicked painfully shut, jarring me for a moment. He threw another punch, and I rolled to get out of the way.

The dude they’d sent was massive; I doubted he wanted to take me willingly back to the Project. Especially not once I caught sight of the bulge at his side.

Crouching down, he grabbed my shirt and threw me up against a closed stall. The lock on it broke, and the door swung inward. I fell back on a screaming woman.

I didn’t have time to apologize or be weirded out that I temporarily sat on the lap of a pantsless woman. I’d gone to that quiet place where I was all reaction.

Before the teleporter could follow me in, I kicked the door out, letting it bang into him.

He steadied the door with his hands, and it was all the opportunity I needed. I lunged, unclasping his gun from his holster and slamming it against his temple. He staggered away from me, and I pulled my arm back.

Behind me the woman continued to scream. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw other wide-eyed women moving like skittish horses to the far side of the bathroom.

The teleporter caught my arm as I swung it a second time toward his temple. Grabbing my shirt, he threw me across the room.

This is going to hurt.