Word and Breath (26 page)

He needed to give her more time to get away.

So he spread his arms in surrender, streams of water cascading from the drenched sleeves of his suit.

They might kill him. They had originally planned to take him in, but they could easily use his near escape as an excuse to shoot him in the street.

No one was coming to rescue him. The police would have been notified, but they wouldn’t arrive in time.

He must be a sight. Soaked to the skin and surrounded by three wet men with guns. Traffic had stopped on the street, as the panic from the gunfire had turned the block into chaos.

Mikel stood in the middle of an intersection, surrendering to men who were far less impressive than him. To give a woman enough time to get away.

It was absurd, really. Mikel wasn’t sure how he’d come to this.

He’d had a perfectly good life—independent, successful, skilled at everything he put his mind to. In a few years, he could have retired and spent the rest of his days lounging in the sun on a free island.

And here he was. Transformed into the kind of noble fool he’d always scorned.

Pathetic is what it was.

But he was doing it.

His mind was on Riana as he scanned the scene around him, assessing the situation and determining his last ditch effort to get away.

She should be a couple of blocks away by now. She would call up Connor or Tava. She would be all right.

And he was here.

Mikel. Turned into some sort of hero.

A trapped, sopping-wet idiot.

Riana knew she should have run.

She actually started running, compelled by her terrified momentum and the absolute authority in Mikel’s voice and black eyes.

But she hadn’t gotten even halfway down the block when she pulled to a stop, realizing that no one was chasing her.

That meant they were chasing Mikel.

She was walking back when she saw him down the block, stopped in the middle of the road, his arms outstretched and a look of bitterly ironic amusement on his face.

The scene was almost surreal. Mikel—still handsome and compelling, even in his drenched black suit—surrounded by the three men approaching him with guns from all sides. Everyone else on the street had managed to get out of the way, drivers trapped in their cars in stopped traffic and pedestrians finding strategic hiding places.

Mikel stood in the rain, surrendering when he could have easily gotten away. If he hadn’t been trying to keep her safe.

She saw Ghent’s face. Barely recognized it, so contorted was it with hate and determination.

He could easily kill Mikel. Shoot him dead on the wet pavement.

She could see that Mikel knew that too, although the look on his face was almost mocking.

For a moment, Riana saw his body slump to the ground like Jenson’s had, saw his blood spilling into the puddles on the street.

And that decided it. She wasn’t going to run.

She wasn’t going to let another man die for her.

She didn’t even think. Just started moving toward the men, toward Mikel, toward the center of the world as she knew it.

And she didn’t pause to reconsider or plot out the best strategy. She just walked as quickly as her heels and wet clothes would allow.

She pulled out her taser and Mikel’s gun and briefly wondered if she was crazy—if a stranger was seeing this bizarre, inexplicable scene through her eyes.

But she didn’t hesitate at all as she reached out with the taser in her left hand. The other men’s focus was entirely on Mikel, but he saw her—his eyes widening before he controlled his reaction.

There wasn’t time for his look to give her away. She’d already reached her target and held the taser against the back of the man’s neck. A few seconds later, he collapsed.

Mikel reacted with extraordinary speed. He launched himself at the second man and was on him before the man could recover from his surprise at Riana’s sudden appearance. The two had a brief, vicious grappling match as they both fell to the pavement.

Ghent fired a shot and, without thinking, Riana fired back. She aimed in his direction, but high—since she didn’t trust herself not to hit someone else accidentally.

The recoil startled her, jarring her shoulder painfully and causing her to stumble back.

But the shot was effective anyway. Ghent paused briefly, startled by the unexpected attack. By that time, Mikel had incapacitated his opponent and wrested his gun away.

With both Mikel and Riana firing at him, Ghent turned tail and fled.

Probably a smart move, considering.

Mikel didn’t bother to chase him. He just walked over, grabbed Riana by the upper arm, and hauled her with him as he strode quickly away from the intersection.

Nobody stopped them. And the sirens that finally started approaching were still too far away to be a problem.

Mikel took them down a few alleys, doubling back a couple of times to confuse any witnesses.

When they’d gotten far enough away that city traffic was normal and no one seemed to notice them except to shoulder them out of the way, Mikel finally slowed down.

“You were supposed to run,” he said, slanting her an odd look—somewhere between frustration and appreciation.

Riana shrugged and felt a little awkward, now that the momentum of the moment was fading. “I wasn’t going to let you die.”

He paused for a moment, taking her chin in his hand and scrutinizing her face with a look of such intensity she shivered. Then he gave her a half-smile and dropped his hand again. “They might not have killed me.”

Snorting, she took his arm, for support as much as the sudden urge to be close to him. “Right. They would have just tortured you with malicious glee for who knows how long. I wasn’t going to let them take you. And it was unreasonable of you to expect me to just run away when you were in danger.”

She was fueled by righteous indignation and a significant amount of remaining adrenalin.

“Was it?” Mikel asked, eyeing her strangely.

“Yes, it was. You wouldn’t have run away if the situation were reversed.”

“No,” he admitted, a new note—warm and intimate—entering his voice. “I wouldn’t have.”

Riana flushed, suddenly self-conscious. But she pushed through the feeling to conclude, “So I didn’t run. Stop complaining.”

His half-smile turned into a full one, so tender and pleased it was heart-stopping. “I wasn’t complaining.” His stride didn’t falter, but he managed to make her feel like they were completely alone. “Thank you.”

She sniffed and looked away, not quite sure what to say. So she said the obvious thing. “You’re welcome.”

“But, next time, if I say to run, you run.”

She scowled at him, but without much heat, and gave his arm a little squeeze.

There wasn’t any sense in overanalyzing her feelings here. He knew how she felt, as confused and new as the feelings were. She’d spontaneously shared them with him back in the Archives. Trying to neatly label the chaos of feelings for her own comfort was futile.

If she wanted to stop and kiss him on the street, well, then that was probably just the aftermath of the adrenalin.

Their options in terms of housing were dwindling quickly. They couldn’t go to Riana’s loft, and Mikel’s borrowed apartment—as well as his real place, she assumed—was out of the question now too.

They were just considering their options and actually arguing over whether or not they should call Connor for help when an old brown sedan pulled to a stop right in front of them.

The window rolled down and Connor himself peered at them. The rain had slacked off some, but Riana had to wipe the moisture off her face to see him clearly.

His expression was uncharacteristically cold. “Get in.”

Riana looked up at Mikel, whose face was only momentarily torn. “You go ahead,” he said quietly, obviously just for her ears. “I won’t be able to sit through the impending lecture. And I’ve got a few things to take care of now that I’m going to have to drop off the radar. I’ll give you a call later.” He shot a hard look at Connor. “Don’t let him convince you we made a mistake.”

He was about to turn away from her when she was hit by how much he’d risked, how much he’d given up. For her. She grabbed him by the wet lapels of his suit, feeling a swell of emotion she couldn’t name. “Mikel,” she began, her voice cracking.

His face softened. “I know,” he murmured, stroking her cheek with his finger and opening a tingling connection that left her breathless, the light caress affecting her as much as a kiss. “We’ll talk later.”

He helped her into the car, without a word to Connor, and then he took off down the sidewalk, his tall figure soon melting into the gray city scene.

Reluctantly, Riana turned toward Connor. She was actually glad to see him—knowing his familiar presence would allow her to let down her guard and relax after the panicked urgency of the day.

Despite everything, she still felt horribly guilty. If not for her decisions, then at least for hiding them from Connor. Especially after the ways he’d helped her over the last week.

She expected the lecture Mikel had predicted or at least an angry outburst, and she started to steel herself to face it.

So she wasn’t prepared when Connor’s dark blue eyes scanned her face anxiously. “Are you all right?”

For some reason, that did it. Her adrenalin high crashed, leaving her exhausted, scared, and overwrought.

“Yes,” she choked out, “I’m fine.”

As answers went, it wasn’t very convincing.

Connor pulled the car—Jenson’s old one—out into traffic. To her relief, he didn’t try to touch her or comfort her. He was blessedly silent for the entire ride home.

***

He took her to his brownstone. Riana had never been there and had somehow not expected him to have a home.

Of course, he must live somewhere, but it had never occurred to her to wonder where. He briefly explained that his ownership was concealed by carefully doctored records. The house seemed very much like him—strong lines, good quality, slightly weathered, and cluttered.

She let Mikel’s oversized wet coat fall onto the hardwood floor of the entryway as Connor locked the door and checked for messages.

He was angry with her. That much was obvious from the distant look in his eyes and the tense set of his jaw. He’d been gracious enough to wait to say anything until they’d gotten to his house.

When he saw her shivering in her wet clothes, he let out a long breath. “I’ll make some coffee and try to find some clothes for you to put on. You can take a shower if you want.”

She did want. She used the bathroom upstairs—which must be his personal bathroom if the toiletries were any sign—and took a short, very hot shower before she dried off and put on the oversized sweats Connor found for her to wear.

She felt a lot better as she curled up in the big chair in his living room, dry, warm, and holding a cup of coffee.

Connor, holding a mug of his own, sat down in the chair across from her. From the look on his face, she knew she hadn’t received a miraculous pass from the impending lecture.

“I know you don’t approve,” Riana said, trying to preempt the inevitable. “You’re probably mad, and I understand why. But I told you before—I can’t just sit around anymore. She’s
my
sister.”

He swallowed so hard she could see it in his throat. His anger, however suppressed and controlled, made him feel different than normal. Made him seem bigger, less familiar, less safe. “No matter what you risk in the process?”

“There would have been risk no matter who broke in.” She knew it would be easier to just accept the censure, but she couldn’t bring herself to cave in this. She felt guilty because she’d had to deceive him—not for deciding to do what she’d done. “The risk was mine and Mikel’s.”

“Had you waited, we could have managed to reduce the possible risk. By rushing in prematurely, you might have—”

“We might have nothing,” she snapped, losing her patience and vaguely annoyed by the rigid control Connor had on his anger. “Mikel’s plan was good. It worked as well as any plan you could have come up with. And the only cost was that his shift in loyalties might now be known by the Union—and to the Zealots that tried to capture us.”

“The only cost?” Connor gritted out, still reining in the force of his anger. “You both were almost killed!”

Riana blinked. “But we weren’t killed. And both of us knew the risk going into it.”

“And you didn’t think anyone else would be hurt by your death?”

The rough texture of his voice confused and upset Riana. She glanced away, down at her half-drunk coffee. “I know I’m somehow important, but it’s hard to care about that since I don’t know what I know that’s so important.”

Connor made a thick sound of frustration. “That’s not what I meant.” He leaned forward, pinning her with suddenly intense blue eyes. “You’re important to
me
. To a lot of people. Don’t you dare throw your life away.”

Riana was vaguely stunned by his words. She’d started to accept that Mikel had feelings for her, but other than him and Jannie, she still tended to think of herself as alone. It was hard to fathom that her death would affect very many people.

That people would actually mourn for her.

But that was what Connor was telling her. She had no idea what to do with it.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last, rubbing her face and trying to clear her muddled mind. “I really am. I wasn’t throwing my life away. We made it through all right. And we found out the location of the Steeple headquarters, so we’re better off now than we were yesterday.”

Connor just looked at her. He was leaning back against the leather chair, appearing casual in a wrinkled dress shirt and khakis. But he looked like he was still stewing silently. Finally, he said, “We don’t yet know the implications of what happened today. The repercussions might be more serious than you think.”

Riana wanted to shake him, wanted to see him let go of the tight hold he had on his feelings for just a minute. But she bit her lip and said, “But they might not. Mikel knows what he’s doing. Believe it or not, someone else might be just as capable of planning as you are. She’s my sister, and I have to get her back. Since all of your careful research hasn’t been able to tell me why everyone is after me in the first place, I’m not really sure why I should feel guilty about this.”