“Are you sure you’re strong enough for this?” Junker asked her.

There were so many ways that she could answer that question. Physically, Rora wasn’t at her best. Emotionally, she was a mess. But there was no time to fall apart. It irked her that Strike’s advice was echoing in her head. Never let them see fear, that’s what he’d told her.

Her chin rose.

Junker had gone out to get clothes for her while she used his comb and the motel conditioner to tug the knots from her hair.

Once she was done, Junker had asked her to eat and rest, proving how little he understood the disadvantage they were at. There was no time for weakness; they had to get in the game. The chase was on, except she wasn’t sure if she was the pursuer or the pursued… it was probably both.

They’d reached a compromise that balanced Junker’s concern for her welfare and her need to get moving: they’d stopped at a fast-food place. Junker was insistent that she should eat, but all she wanted to do was get to where they were going. Eventually, she’d given in and agreed to the junk food.

Rora hadn’t let him use the drive thru. Instead, she’d insisted that he park far away and walk in with his ball cap on and hood up. Cameras were everywhere, and unlike Strike, Junker didn’t travel with his laptop, so he couldn’t erase or corrupt images. He’d told her he’d stashed his computer in a safe place before coming to get her, just in case anything went wrong. Smart.

In truth, Rora wasn’t sure she was wild about the idea of him having a computer at all. It didn’t matter how much he insisted his system was secure, she was dubious about his ability to protect it from Strike’s intrusion. And her ex would intrude every chance he got if it gave him an advantage, no doubt about that.

But she took some solace that they were finally on the road, making progress, even if it was slow.

“What’s your plan?” she asked.

“Are you just ignoring my question?”

Yes, because it was a stupid one given how hard she’d fought to get on the road. Rora was hardly going to change her mind now and insist that he took her somewhere for a little R&R.

“Am I strong enough for a road trip?” she asked. “You said we’re only a couple of hours from where we need to be. I’ve been on longer trips recently, trust me.”

At least Junker had a truck instead of a bike. She’d probably vomit if she had to get on a motorcycle, simply because it would remind her of the time she’d spent with Strike.

“Yeah, but… with everything you’ve been through…”

Eating a fry, Rora tried to pace herself. Her stomach just wasn’t strong enough to take too much right now. “A good night’s sleep and a meal, that’s what you said I needed. I’m eating right now, and I can sleep in the back if I have to.”

“I said a few of both,” he said. “And you’re being vague, I… I don’t like vague.”

A faint smile touched her lips, vague was kind of like implication… The memory of Strike telling her how he didn’t imply faded into her mind, and it made her feel ill enough to toss her fry back into the paper food sack. Her appetite wasn’t up to thinking of him fondly.

“You said we needed money, didn’t you?”

Junker was concentrating on the road. “Yeah and you seem damn sure you can get it from somewhere.”

“I am,” she said and then muttered, “if I don’t get a knife between my shoulder blades first.”

With his hands tight on the wheel, he glanced at her and then the road. “Are you kidding? You’re not going to rob a bank, are you?”

In a bank robbery she’d more likely be shot than stabbed, but now wasn’t the time to be pedantic. “A bank? Talk about security camera central. No, no banks. No way.”

Though if it came to a choice, she’d take being arrested over coming face-to-face with Strike.

“You’re paranoid,” Junker said. “I never picked that up about you when we exchanged emails.”

Rora couldn’t even remember what her awareness level had been like back in what felt like another lifetime. It certainly hadn’t been as high as it was now, post-Strike. “A lot has happened to me recently,” she said. “And I prefer to think of myself as smarter for it, not paranoid.”

Scrunching the top of the bag, she put the rest of the food on the floor. “You should eat more.”

“I will, just pacing myself,” she said, which wasn’t the full truth.

The highway was long and glistening wet in front of them, reflecting the artificial lights above. They drove for a while saying nothing to each other.

“What’s he like?”

Rora hadn’t expected to hear any voice, she’d been too lost in her thoughts… Though she had no idea what had been in her mind, it had just been drifting. “Who?”

“Exile.”

Like she needed to hear that word again.

Gritting her teeth, Rora pulled her legs up to hug them to her chest and rolled her eyes upward trying to think of something non-committal to say. “Vague.”

“Is that your way of telling me that I won’t like him?”

Junker’s curiosity made sense, but Rora had no interest in satisfying it. “I thought we were staying out of his way,” she said, not acknowledging to herself how much of a hypocrite she was being. Rora had been curious about Strike too, and if Junker did find himself meeting the man, he should be prepared. “To make that judgment you’d have to meet him. Besides, weren’t you the one who declared he’d just become the world’s most dangerous man? If he has what you say he has, then God help us all.”

“I’m still hoping he’ll be reasonable,” Junker said. She scoffed. “Come on, we don’t know exactly what he has, or what it’s capable of. Until we find that out we can’t make any assumptions.”

Evicting Strike from her thoughts was proving impossible. “We have to think fast and work on assumptions,” she muttered.

“Why?” he asked. “Why not take our time and—”

“Because that’s what he does,” she said, frustrated. “We’re running behind right now. You don’t know what he’s like.”

“But you do. You do know what he’s like.”

This guy was nothing if not persistent, her patience snapped. “Look,” she said, twisting toward him. “I don’t know your full story, you don’t know mine. Let’s just guess that for the time being neither of us is lying. You’re here to help me and I’m here to fix this.”

“I thought it was the other way around,” he said, frowning at her. “This is only going to work if we trust each other. It’s going to get difficult and it could get messy. Exile’s not going to just hand over whatever he has.”

If it was Junker’s plan to ask and expect to receive, then he was in serious trouble, and it was her responsibility to warn him.

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“You can’t trust him.”

He paused for half a second. “You’re sure about that? You don’t think there’s any chance we can appeal to—”

“No,” she said. “There’s no part of him we can appeal to. He has an agenda and once he’s made up his mind, there’s no changing it.”

Junker considered that for a few seconds. “If you’re right, we’ll have to take drastic action.”

Letting that statement hang in the air, Junker kept driving.

Rora’s drifting mind stuck on an alarming thought, if Strike was so mad at her that he was willing to end her life, was she willing to do the same in return? Could she stand aside and let Junker pull the trigger? Could she pull it herself?

“You… why?”

She couldn’t pull it because she loved him, but she wasn’t ready to confess that particular shame to Junker yet.

“Let’s just get there and get this over with,” she said. “I need to pick something up on the way.”

 

 

Coming back here was a major risk, but what choice did she have? Rora needed money. No, it was more than that. She needed cash, physical bills, and there was only one place she knew to get them that didn’t involve stepping in front of a camera or using ID.

After giving him directions and telling Junker where to park, she took off her seatbelt. “Stay here.”

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her hand before she could get out of the truck.

But when she turned, her companion wasn’t looking at her face, he was looking at his hand holding hers. She didn’t like his expression, so tugged hers free.

“What?”

He shifted. “I have to come with you.”

That was the last thing she needed him to do. If he pushed the issue, she’d give up on her plan before she gave in to him. Except if she aborted, they’d be screwed. Rora had no plan B. She was still new to this world and her teacher had screwed her over, so she was winging it.

“I’m not going to run off,” she said, because that would be her concern if she was in his position. “I’ll come back.”

“Then why can’t I—”

“Because we have to work on the assumption that Exile doesn’t know you’re involved, or at least that he doesn’t know you’re with me,” she said. “We can’t take any risk that he’ll see us together.”

Until now, she hadn’t confessed that Exile was related to this part of her plan. “How would he do that?” he asked and nodded at the cupcake in her hand. “And what’s that for?”

Having been the one to say they needed to trust each other, it seemed sort of wrong that she was lying, but Rora didn’t see that she had any choice. “I’m hungry,” she said, doubting he bought the excuse, but she stuck with it. “I’ll finish it while I walk.”

Junker scanned the street. “Walk? Where are you going? Shouldn’t I at least know that? You said Exile wanted to kill you. This is a rough part of town and it’s the middle of the night. Why don’t we wait until morning, when it’s light out and visibility is better?”

Waiting until morning wouldn’t make them any safer. This was the city she’d first met Exile in, and she knew the area because she’d been here before… Exile had brought her here… to make love to her for the first time.

Rora cursed herself for letting another positive memory of him interrupt her rhythm. “Because if he is in town, I know where he’ll be right now,” she said, “and it’s not here.”

She didn’t blame the flash of confusion on his face. Though if he thought about it for long enough he’d realize that this was the same city he’d told her to find Exile in. “I don’t…”

Twisting to face Junker, she laid an arm on the back of the seat. “I know where Ex keeps his stash. We have to take this risk. If he’s there or he’s cleared out, then it’s over. But I’m betting that he’ll assume I won’t have the balls to come here.”

She smiled and shrugged. “He stole from me first.”

This time, Rora kept her hands out of Junker’s reach when she leaped out of the car.

Choosing to do this was beyond risky, it was insane. But she was used to people calling her crazy, and Rora was starting to get used to the notion that she wasn’t normal.

Going to the end of the block, she turned the corner out of Junker’s sight. Pulling her hood up over her face, she hoped Strike wouldn’t see her approach. There weren’t any traffic cameras in this area, but he had access to everything. Everywhere. Even those cameras in the heavens that mortals like her couldn’t see.

Rora wasn’t naïve enough to think that she would get away with this. For one thing, Strike had told her that Opal would alert him to anyone triggering the thermal sensors scattered around the loft. As soon as she went inside, he’d know she was there, so she’d have to get in and out fast.

There was a high chance that he’d gone; she doubted he was anywhere near this city anymore. But she had to take a chance, and what she’d said to Junker was true. Rora was sure that Strike would be arrogant enough to think she’d be running scared… which was exactly what she should be.

Darting across the street, she ran down a block, cut across an alley, and then went up another block. She wasn’t taking any risk that Junker would be able to follow her either on foot or in the car. So she chose a route that a car couldn’t travel and one that was quiet enough that she’d notice a person behind her.

She didn’t trust Junker yet, so it was fair that he didn’t trust her, despite what she’d said. Earning Junker’s trust was low on her agenda. It wasn’t like she could trust herself to judge anyone’s character anymore anyway. She’d really believed that Strike loved her. She really had. Being wrong had cost her and she didn’t want to pay it again.

Rora was so determined to get in and out fast that she didn’t even pause when it came to crossing the threshold of the building. Running up the stairs, she knew Opal would be notifying Strike of her intrusion at this very second. He’d probably be bringing up images. Maybe he’d recognize her, or maybe if it was just a rainbow image, he wouldn’t.

Didn’t matter.

She got to the top floor and exhaled her relief when she saw that his things were still here. Dashing across the room, she intended to go straight to the chest. Rora made the mistake of breathing in.

She stopped dead.

Damnit.

Over the dank smell coming from the damp walls and the scent of fresh rain seeping into the moss that bled through the cracks in the window, she could smell… him.

Her mouth opened in a silent sob and she slapped a hand over it.

She’d been afraid to come back here in case he was here, or he’d taken his things.

It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d have to look at the bed… that bed. The bed they’d first made love in.

Her lip wobbled, so she pulled it into her mouth with her teeth, holding it tight and ignoring the stinging pain of her own bite. A dribble of a tear seeped from the corner of her eye.

Angry at her body’s rebellious reaction to being in this place, she balled one fist at her side and marched across the room. There was nothing to cry about. Nothing to reminisce about. Strike wasn’t a lover lost to death or another tragedy. He wasn’t torn from her against their will. Their relationship didn’t deserve to be mourned.

Wherever he was right now, he was laughing at her. Probably sneering at the image of her crossing to his chest. He’d always told her she didn’t belong in his world and he’d only mock her attempt to fight back, but that didn’t mean she was going to give up.

Damnit. The chest was fastened shut with a combination padlock.

Thanking adrenaline and necessity, she grabbed the flashlight from beside the mattress and took it to smash the padlock from the chest. A rush of gratification for the spurned woman within her was happy to see his property broken on the floor. It was only a padlock. He’d replace it for a couple of bucks, but it was symbolic.

But she didn’t have time to revel in the hollow triumph. Pulling open the lid, she let it fall back and shoved aside the clothes, towels, and other personal effects. At the bottom of the chest were several rolls of money. She didn’t take them all, but she took a few, because she didn’t know how much they would need and she didn’t want to come back here.

Rora felt no guilt about taking the money, like she would if she was stealing from someone else. Strike had emptied her accounts; he had full access to all her money. If he was that pissed, he could just take money out of the trust he said hers was sitting in. Not that it would be sitting there anymore.

Just as she was about to reach for the lid, she noticed something under the corner of a tee-shirt. Tilting her head to get a closer look, she was shocked to discover what it was. Pushing the tee-shirt away, she picked up the small rectangle. It was the picture from her driving license, no license, just the picture. When the hell had he gotten that?

What was he planning to do with it? Probably plant it somewhere as evidence or use it to create an ID he could plant on her if he ever got the chance.

Stuffing it into her pocket with the money, she grabbed the lid to close it. Then with a smile on her face, she took a bite from the cupcake and placed the rest on top of the chest, right in the middle.

Screw him.

Striding out of the loft, she left the building and started her journey back to Junker. If Strike hadn’t known she was still alive before, he’d know it after tonight.

Sliding into the car, Rora breathed out.

“Are you ok?” Junker asked.

“Just drive,” she said, sucking her lip and trying to be discreet about wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes.

During her time at Bella’s mercy, Rora hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ex, yet one of the first things she’d done with her freedom was to return to his sanctuary.

“Did you get it?”

“I got it,” she said, taking off her shoes and climbing into the back seat. “I need to sleep.”

Adopting a fetal position, she pulled the blanket up over her head as she had the last time she’d slept in this truck. Only this time she wasn’t blocking out her ordeal, she was hiding the shame of her grief.

Strike was some kind of bastard for doing this to her, and as soon as she got the chance, she’d make him pay… somehow.