Leaving the hotel room as a threesome, Rora and Junker started toward his truck, but Strike went the other way. She slowed to a stop and called after him. “Where are you going?”

“We’re not taking his truck,” Strike said.

Junker had stopped a few paces ahead of her, so here she was, equal distance between the two defiant men.

Huffing, she dropped her pack and went to Strike, getting up close to murmur. “You think it impedes your masculinity somehow to get in another guy’s truck?”

“That what you think of me?” he asked.

If this battle of wills kept up, they’d never achieve anything. Working as a team, they’d be formidable, but if they did nothing but butt heads, they’d be their own worst enemies.

“Junker is not a bad guy,” she said, resting a hand on Strike’s upper arm. “You have to be reasonable about this. The truck is spacious, it carries everything we need it to.”

“Then I’ll get you another truck.”

She bit her lip because as logical as he thought it was, it wasn’t that simple. “Strike,” she whispered. “Junker’s not… he’s not a criminal. I don’t know how he’ll feel about getting in a stolen car.”

Strike widened his stance. “He was fine with you stealing from me.”

Time for another admission, and she was ashamed of this one too. “He didn’t really know I was going to do that until the last minute and then… I kinda didn’t give him a choice.”

“Then we won’t give him a choice.”

This time, Strike’s intention wasn’t to frustrate her. This was just about two men coming from different worlds. Strike saw an objective and did whatever he had to in order to achieve it. Junker was more process orientated. To him, the ends didn’t justify the means, but Strike just didn’t understand morals like that.

“He has a sister,” she murmured.

His mouth slanted. “Thank you, baby. Now I know where to squeeze,” he said and started to turn away.

Rora grabbed his jacket in both hands to pull him back. “That’s not why I told you that. I don’t want you to squeeze. I don’t think he wants her to visit him in jail. He has a life. A family. He’s not like us. He has something to lose.”

Strike moved nearer until their bodies came into such close contact that she had to tip her head back to meet his eye. “I have something to lose,” he whispered. “And she’s standing right in front of me.”

It made sense he was all bravado in front of Junker. But he had to know things weren’t the same between them. This seemed simple to him too, and he was so damn calm, but her emotions and sanity were all churned up.

“Why are you doing this, Strike? I’m not yours anymore. You know I’m not yours,” she said. “And Junker doesn’t know we had sex the other night… I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.” It took every bit of confidence she had to lay her hands flat on his chest to put some distance between them. “And we can’t get in a stolen truck with Junker. It’s not fair to force your way of life onto him.”

“I forced it onto you,” he said. “Getting in his truck has nothing to do with anyone’s masculinity. That vehicle is marked. It’s as compromised as your hotel room. Every player’s seen it and if Torres is in town, he knows who you’re with and the vehicle you came in. We need something clean and it’s too late to go to a dealership.”

“Ok,” she said and bit her lip again. “But you do it, you drive, and if we get into trouble, you have to bail him out like you’d bail me out.”

“Pretty tough without Opal,” he said.

She smiled. “Good try,” Rora said and prodded a finger into his navel through his tee-shirt. “You’ll get her back… on my terms… when I forgive you… if I forgive you.”

“I think I preferred it when you just marched into places and demanded an apology. It was much easier, and I got laid faster.”

Since almost the day she’d met him, she’d wished to be with him when he let his playful side out. At most, she’d seen glimmers of a sense of humor, but he’d never relaxed with her enough to be himself unguarded. Seeing it now, having him this open with her and willing to push his own comfort level, it humbled her.

Yet, every time she started to let herself believe that he was being sincere, she remembered how their relationship had ended.

He could be playing her to get what he wanted. They had to talk about the Point. She had to find out why he wasn’t mad at her for lying and why he hadn’t confronted her about the bait and switch. If it was true that he didn’t know, that he hadn’t accessed the device because he’d chosen her, she had to know why he hadn’t declared it and tried to claim her back.

“Strike…”

“What?” he asked when she didn’t finish. “What is it, Ro?”

But Rora had no idea what to say. He was Strike, the man who’d saved her, the one she’d fallen in love with and made love to. But he was also the same guy who’d killed in front of her, who’d stolen from her, who’d broken her heart.

Rora wanted to be with the man she’d fallen in love with. She did. And everyone deserved a second chance. But Strike hadn’t asked for one, he hadn’t offered any explanation for what had happened or told her what he wanted for the future.

If he fooled her again, it would be on her head, and she knew he was capable. Strike could mean every word, he could love her through to his very bones. But he could be just as easily manipulating her for his own ends. She didn’t know what to think.

Her mind wandered. “I keep thinking about the night Benjamin died,” she whispered. “About the look in your eye when you put the gun to your head and I squeezed the trigger…”

Because he hadn’t shown any fear. She’d believed that he really wanted her to kill him if it was her intention to follow.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I won’t follow,” he murmured, his voice soft.

“I was so scared, Strike…” Her eyes found his. “But you were right there with me. You were… weren’t you?”

It couldn’t have been a lie. Those feelings. Surely, he couldn’t have faked that depth of sincerity and with a gun to his head, who’d take that kind of risk?

“I was there, Cupcake… I’m still here.”

When he raised his curled fingers to her jaw, she pushed them away. “We have to… talk.”

“About?”

She shook her head. “Not here like this. There’s too much to say. Can you just… do what needs to be done and come back here to get us?”

“Sure,” he said, and turned to go.

Rora watched him walk around the end of the building and that was when Junker came up beside her. “Where’s he going?”

She cleared her throat and tried to shake off her melancholy. “We need another vehicle, something that’s not associated with me. Exile’s going to get his.”

That wasn’t exactly true. The vehicle would be his for as long as he needed it, but it wasn’t exactly his.

“I knew you’d been lovers,” Junker muttered. Rora wasn’t sure she was ready to return to this topic so soon, but it seemed that Junker was. “I don’t know how, I… I could tell but, I guess I didn’t want to believe it.”

Turning to face him, she hated to see the sorrow in his eyes. Guilt filled her again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was embarrassed… I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why not? I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“I judge me,” she confessed. “He’s… wrong, in every way a guy can be wrong. There isn’t a guy who better fits the bad-boy description and I should’ve known better than to fall for him. But it was… easy to get caught up in him and I… I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the thrill of him and the… intensity of being near him, never knowing what was going to happen, but always hoping that it would end with me being close to him. It was this… simmer that was constantly between us and then…”

“What?” he asked, tucking her hair away from her face. “What happened between the two of you? How did it end? The Jewel?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. But all the motivations, the chain of events, it was all blurred now, and she couldn’t figure out which butterfly had flapped its wings or how they’d all come to be here at this place in time. “Maybe. I don’t know everything that went on in his head. All I know is, he broke my heart and I felt sick and… I wanted to hate him, but I…”

“You said he would kill you.”

She had. Rora had started her journey with Junker telling him that Exile wanted her dead and then he’d seen them interacting in the hotel room without any hint of violence.

“I thought he might,” she said, glancing around when she heard an engine approach. “I thought he would, for sure… But it turns out…”

“Turns out what?”

“I have a secret,” she admitted in a whisper. “One I haven’t told him. I thought he knew, but he doesn’t. I think that maybe once I do tell him… that’s when he’ll kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Junker said, stroking his palm across her cheek to push her hair back.

She smiled. “You’re very sweet.”

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re right that we need him. We’ll need him to get us close to the Jewel, and I want to get to know him, to get into his head. But once we find the Jewel… we won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

The truck pulled up to the stairs of the porch. Junker bent to pick up her pack and took her hand to pull her along to the new truck. The men loaded up as she got into the backseat.

This was going to be an interesting trip and there was a high chance they’d leave as three and come back as fewer than that.

 

 

Rora woke in the back of the truck with a start. “Flame?” she called out, clenching her abs to rise a few inches from the seat.

“I’m here, you’re safe,” Strike said.

Her eyes were still heavy, and she was happy to stay on her back with her knuckles on her forehead, until she heard the second voice.

“She knows she’s safe,” Junker said. “She’s not asking for you.”

“I think we established last night that the guy in the dream is me,” Strike grumbled.

Sitting up, she saw Strike in the driver’s seat with one wrist draped on the top of the wheel. Junker was on the passenger side, as far from Strike as he could get. Both men were rigid and scowling.

Uh oh. Talk about tension… and not the good kind.

Rora gasped when she saw the redness on Junker’s cheekbone. Lunging between the seats, she scooped his face toward her so she could inspect the wound. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

“There was a disagreement about the radio,” Junker said.

Flipping around, she socked Strike’s shoulder. “Stop hitting him, would you, please? Goddamnit.” Dropping into the backseat again, she sighed. “Can’t you get along for a minute? You two are worse than high school kids.”

“That your fantasy?” Strike asked and made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror.

She narrowed her eyes on his. “You were never this attentive when we were together. I preferred it when you ignored me and I had to work to get your attention. What is it about having another guy around that makes you want to piss all over me?”

“Pissing? More kink,” Strike said. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

“Where did that come from?” Junker demanded.

“What? We’re discussing etymology now?” Strike sniped back.

“That’s a big word for a guy like you,” Junker said.

“Want me to spell it too?”

“Stop it,” she said, putting her elbows on the back of their seats to boost forward. “What is with you two? Have you been like this the whole time I’ve been asleep?”

Both mumbled but said little.

“We agreed not to talk after the radio incident,” Junker said.

They all slid into silence again for a minute after she sank back.

“Tell me about the nightmare,” Strike said, glancing at her in the mirror again.

“I don’t want to,” she said, folding her legs on the seat.

“I want to,” he said. “Is it a sex dream? Is that why you don’t want to talk about it in front of the square? ‘Cause the way you called it out just now didn’t sound the same as when you climax in reality… Maybe dream orgasms are different.”

She bit her lip. “Would you please not talk about me like that?”

Strike grunted. “Now who’s different ‘cause there’s another person around? Since when did you become reserved? If it’s a sex thing tell me it’s a sex thing. Your bitch knows we’ve had sex.”

Now he did, but reminding Junker of what she’d kept from him wouldn’t make him feel good. Still, arguing with Strike wouldn’t get her anywhere and God only knew what he might blurt out next.

“It’s not a sex thing,” she admitted and paused before clarifying. “It’s not an us sex thing.”

“I don’t get it,” Strike said.

This was as much public exposure as she could take. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I’ll keep going until—”

“The Black Jewel is there.”

“Ah,” he said, opening his mouth in understanding. “And I’m fucking her.”

Breathing out, she figured getting the truth out would be the quickest way to shut him up. “Not at first,” she said, her eyes drifting to the window. “I’m in the dungeon, where she kept me… She’s reading me a fairytale, I don’t know which one, but… you come in and you start kissing her… her arms, her shoulders, her neck, it’s like… you can’t get enough of her while she’s telling this story… And then you’re making love with her… You’re in this chair she had down there, right in front of me and… both of you keep looking at me and laughing and…”

“How does it end?” Strike asked.

Creeping numbness encircled her, making her wrap her arms around herself. “You tell me I should’ve pulled the trigger… And she… she starts yelling at me, asking me why I let him go alone… accusing me of abandoning him and then… this gun appears in your hand and… you shoot me… at least I think you do, that’s when I wake up.”

She was still thinking about the dream, reliving it, and the men said nothing for a minute, probably reflecting on it themselves.

“Wow,” Strike said. “Sex, cruelty, jealousy, death… Are you sure this is a nightmare? Sounds like a Saturday night to me.”

After throwing him the stink eye in the mirror, Rora twisted and lay down on her back again. “And you wonder why I didn’t want to tell you… Can we stop for coffee?” she asked just a fraction of a second before the truck stopped.

A crackly voice asked, “What can I get you?”

“Always one step ahead of you, Cupcake,” Strike said before putting his window all the way down to order breakfast.