The Other Side Of Gravity (Oxygen, #1) (7 page)

I scoffed and wiggled my wrists as much as I could in their confines. “This hardly counts as free, pal.”

I could have sworn I heard a teeny actual laugh escape him, but it had been so long since I heard one I wouldn’t even know what one sounded like.

The snick of metal and a small pinch made me hiss before he eased the manacles away from one wrist and then a few minutes later did the same to the other. He untied the handkerchief from around my neck and tore it down the middle with such ease as I turned to face him. He took each of my raw wrists and tied a piece of the handkerchief around them.

“For now,” he told me, “until we can get to a proper Med Kit away from the ship.” I nodded. He grimaced as he stood and tugged me by my arm to stand with him. “Now comes the fun part.” He answered the rhetorical question, as I knew exactly what he meant. “We have to get off this ship—preferably, not in pieces or with holes.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I spouted back, avoiding his eyes, but watching him enough to see him.

He eyed me for a few long seconds. “You’re tough.” He nodded. “Good. You’ll need to be.” He pressed his lips together once. “And I’m not going to apologize for what I did. I did what I had to do for me and my own. But Havard wasn’t…following the system, the rules, and I couldn’t leave you here to…” He huffed, moving over to the desk, searching for something.

“You’re angry about having to save me,” I realized.

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, but had the graciousness to look sorry about that at least. “This job has taken care of me for a long time. I needed it. I
need
it,” he corrected. “Now I don’t know what I’ll do, but I have to do something, and fast.”
              “Taxes,” I muttered. It was something I hadn’t had to worry about in a long time. Proprietors paid taxes on their slaves, but it was only half price. Rivers threw that fact in my face at every opportunity—the fact that I was literally worth half of what the rest of the people were worth.

“Where did you go?”

“What?” I whispered painfully, hating that I had been chucked back into my past so quickly, so easily, so dangerously.

He moved toward me a little, a small object in his hands. “You’re not going to be one of those people who’s constantly spacing out, are you?” His eyes focused so fully on me, it was unnerving.

“You’re not going to be one of those people who says blunt, rude things even when people have just been attacked, betrayed, and their plans completely spoiled…are you?”

His grin caught me off guard, causing my gut to buckle and twist.

“Sorry.” He chuckled low, seeming to truly enjoy himself. He rubbed his knuckles along his scruffy chin. “I’m, uh—in my line of work, I don’t run across very many…”

“Slaves,” I bit out.

“Females,” he corrected with a delicious brogue that had me swinging my gaze to his. But his look told me his answer was a serious one even if he did have a smile tacked on.

“Where are you from? That’s an interesting accent.”

He smirked and went to the door, getting to the side and putting his back to the wall. “I speak Old World English just like everyone else.”

“You know what I mean.” I got on the other side of the door and parroted his stance.

“You mean am I from the stacks.”

“You’re not?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. Most people were, but a few people managed to live on the other side of the planet. I didn’t know what that side was like really, but was always told it was the same as ours. Every now and then, you’d come across people whose accents sounded a little different than yours, a little more pronounced or a little slower on their vowels. Like this guy. But I’d never really been able to talk to anyone who hadn’t lived in the stacks before. Most of the planet did.

“Stay behind me,” he expertly changed the subject and started to fidget with the gadget it his hand that he had taken from Havard’s desk. But I was more interested in the tattoo on his arm, right below his elbow. It was a bird—a black bird. Even when his arm was still, the wings moved as if it were flying across his skin, the head lurched up and down from the momentum. It was beautiful. I was jealous. I’d always wanted a tattoo, and this one was exactly what I would have picked for myself. To be a bird, to fly away. My mom had always told me to “Fly, Sophelia.” This beautiful bird felt like my soul on his skin as it tried to fly away, but remained in the same place, never to be to set free.

It was then I noticed what the item in his hand was. I gasped. “You have a metal detector!”

A lot of our city was built out of graphite and granite because everything else was just too precious. There were no wooden structures. There were no trees.

“I’m taking Havard’s metal detector. We won’t make it a day out there with them looking for us if we don’t get some supplies on the way.”

Before I could speak, he flicked on the metal detector and it lit up immediately, sparking and beeping once before he rushed to silence it, but that damning light kept right on signaling, pointing at me, right at my chest. He hovered it over me and then let his eyes flick up to mine, questions in them.

I sighed and reached up to unbutton my shirt. His eyes widened the tiniest bit, but he stood stock-still, watching my eyes only, letting me reveal
my secret
, whatever that was. I reached in and pulled the baggie of metal shavings from my makeshift binding-bra and grimaced with relief of having it gone from digging into my skin. I showed it to him and saw his eyes calculating how much that bag could be worth before he realized the only way I could have gotten it.

A moment’s worth of regret passed over his face, that maybe he shouldn’t have risked his life for someone who was obviously hiding something.

“I’ve been collecting these metal shavings from my proprietor for the last six years, preparing to leave. I knew he wouldn’t miss them, I knew he wouldn’t notice them, I knew they were so small that they’d get sucked into the trash bins. But if I collected them, over time, they’d equal something. This is all I have in the whole world—”

“You seriously just collected these over the past six years? From just working for him?”

I smirked. “To work for him would imply some type of payment. Just call it what it is.” He didn’t smile. “Yes. I collected them. I had nothing else to do.”

“Where did you keep them so he didn’t find them?”

I tried not to twitch when I said, “In here.” I pointed to my chest.

“He didn’t ever—” He cleared his throat. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“No.” I looked away. “He never touched me, well—he never touched me that way. My proprietor received me when I was ten.” He gulped. “I guess he always looked at me as that ten-year-old, which was fine by me.”

He moved to take the baggy, but I snatched it back. He raised his hands. “Fine, you keep it. Put it back in your safe place.” He smiled condescendingly. “Believe me, it’ll be safe in there.” I didn’t have time to truly process his remark before he was moving on. “You’ve got about two and a half pounds of metal there. So…almost two thousand quid.”

“Really?” I whispered.

He eyed me. “What did you think you would have? You had to know it would be worth something.”

“I did, but I don’t know the price of metal per pound or ounce or whatever.” His eyes stayed on me, never leaving mine as he watched me. I understood he needed to see if I was telling the truth or not, but it was beginning to get unnerving. I huffed. “Why would he keep shavings, for one, and for two, why only the ones that aren’t silver?” I tilted my head at him. “I used a magnet to pick them all up from the floor and baskets. You can’t pick up silver with a magnet—”

“I know that,” he said, irritated.

“Good. Then it’s clear that I picked up everything but the silver, leaving him to it, and took the shavings of everything else, everything he was obviously going to throw away. So can we get off the whole
I’m a thief
kick and move on to something else. And fast. Don’t we need to get going?”
              He stepped forward into my space once more. “Look,” he said. Barked was probably a more apt description. “I didn’t have to come back and save your gorgeous behind.”

He seemed surprised by his words and his outburst. I sure was. I skipped right over that, not dwelling
at all
. Okay, I would be totally dwelling…later.

“Then why did you,” I hissed.

He went over to the wall, opening some cabinets that were hidden there. They released with a click. He grabbed a few bottles of things and a bag from the desk, throwing it all inside the bag and then the bag over his shoulder. It was a black bag with a small circle on the bottom with slash through it. I’d noticed them before on the men walking around the streets and knew they were some type of messenger or carrier. But now I knew. They were black market. He turned back to the door and got ready for something. “Like I told you, you could have been my sister. You’re not my sister, but,” he grumbled, “you know what I mean.”

“It’s actually very sweet,” I managed to say. He looked back at me. Before he could say anything I rushed on. “Whatever happened to her, wherever she is, I’m sure she’s proud of you.” He actually leaned back on the wall like he could do nothing else in that moment, like he’d been physically hit with some knowledge. “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t expect you to tell me, but it’s a shame that she doesn’t get to—”

I stopped. I
needed
to stop.

Looking down at the floor was safe, but he got up and walked to me, taking one finger and raised my face up. It wasn’t some sweet, sexy gesture—trust me.

He looked haunted. “Tell me. Finish it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Finish it,” he ground out, and if I wasn’t a slave and hadn’t been yelled at by men my entire life, it would have scared me. I’m sure it would have scared a normal girl. But I wasn’t normal.

I took a breath, knowing what that breath cost in oxygen, and continued, “It’s a shame that she doesn’t get to see the man you’ve become, the man who saves girls in her place because she can’t be here.”

He gulped, his face tightening.

“Why are you doing this?” he said softly.

“What—”

“You know what.”

I looked at him, at his dark hair that was short on the sides but long on top and a little spiked and wild, like he’d run his fingers through it. His skin was tan, his lips full and…sigh-worthy. His neck—you could see how strong it was and his Adam’s apple was prominent. You could tell, even through his shirt, how strong he was, that he worked for what he had. That bird tattoo on his arm that looked out at me as it flew. I finally looked up into his blue eyes. They were so sad, but hopeful at the same time. He was jaded, yes, this life had changed him, sure, but there was still a spark in him that wanted to believe that life could offer him something, a challenge, an adventure, something worth living for.

“Because I’m like you, Maxton. If someone had found my mother when she was alive, I would have wanted them to help her. I’m just…trying to...” I shrugged.

“But no one did help your mother, did they?” I shook my head. “But you still want to help?”

“Come on, Maxton,” I said in exasperation. “Let’s go.”

He watched me for a second before he put me behind him. I felt an odd sensation in my belly at the protectiveness. “Stay behind me,” he whispered as he opened the door.

He tucked the handheld metal detector into the back of his belt and opened the door, standing solidly like he belonged there. He nodded to someone. “Pike, how’s it going?”

“Good, sir,” I heard from the hall before Maxton took my hand and tugged me from the room. My wrist burned, making me hiss.

“Sorry,” I heard him say and looked up expecting to find him looking down the hall, but he was looking down at me instead.

“What?” I said self-consciously, feeling the blush creep up my skin.

He must have seen it, too, because he smiled and chuckled a little as he looked down at our feet. “Uh, I was just going to say that I was sorry, but it’s so weird having a girl around.” He chuckled again, making me look up. His eyes were filled with mirth. “I shouldn’t have to apologize for that, should I?” He actually grinned as we stood in the middle of the hall, as he helped me escape his boss who wanted to turn me in for processing, he grinned like the rogue he was.
“Girls are different than guys and I’ve only ever been around guys. Mostly. In fact, I can honestly say that I’ve only ever been within hearing distance of a handful of girls my entire life.”

“Shocking,” I deadpanned.

“That doesn’t surprise you?”

“Nothing surprises me anymore.” I pushed against his chest, surprised at the bulk and hardness I found there—calling myself a liar with the fact that I was
definitely surprised
.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his tone condescending. It was the reason that I didn’t answer him or look up at his face as I cleared my throat.

“Let’s go,” I hissed.

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard him chuckle as he led the way down the hall. It was a typical small ship, that he obviously knew his way around very well. He held up his hand as we reached the end of the hall and looked around the corner, standing up straight so as not to look strange if someone saw him. Then he murmured, “Let’s go.”

We went through the door there and then up a flight of stairs and around two more corners. Then things started to look familiar because I’d been there before. “Maxton.”

“I have to get something.”

I huffed as he opened his door with a click. “What could be so important—”

“It’s important.”

He’d said it so abruptly that I didn’t say anything in return. I slipped in the room with him and waited just inside and watched him go to a panel in the ceiling. I smiled to myself at—irony. He hid things in the ceiling just as my mom and I had.

Then the mumbling began before he punched the wall and brought me out of my musing. I jumped and he looked at me. He was angry. At me?

“What’s the matter?”

“They took it.”

“What? What did they take?”