“You’re lovely,” he said, trying to be as kind as she named him. “But I prefer women who come with a little less coercion.”
At that, she broke and wept, falling into him as if he were her last hope for salvation. Unable to resist such despair, he brought her into his lap and rocked her, whispering endearments like his old mum had done when he was young. She cried herself to sleep like a child, and left him with a dilemma unlike any he’d ever known, at least not in years, not since he’d left the army, disillusioned with the orders he’d been given. From that point on, he’d sworn not to blind himself to the truth. There were no heroes, only men who did terrible things for pay.
Can you finish this, knowing what they did to her?
he asked himself, gazing down at the top of her head.
Can you?
Pretending to be
Mockingbird all this time had totally sucked. As Tanager had known she would, she had lost some agents. It came to a head the night she chose to send Heron to save Crow and Cardinal. Others had been sacrificed because she couldn’t find the information they needed fast enough. So far, two had been lost. Tan was at her breaking point, gazing around the small room with a sense of infinite doom.
Then her phone vibrated with a simple message.
It’s done.
There was a map attached, showing an address and a route, so she knew he wanted her to come. It would be a bit of a journey from here, but not a problem.
“Holy shit,” she said aloud. “Does this mean I finally get to meet him?”
Her heart lifted with anticipation. If it was true, then everything she’d gone through would be worthwhile. She packed up her stuff and bugged out, heading for the small regional airport outside town. There, she would find somebody willing to take her to Las Vegas. She wouldn’t worry about Kestrel; Mockingbird’s lair had to be proofed against detection or the Foundation would’ve shut him down long ago.
Six hours later, after having paid the piper for using her siren voice, she showered and did her hair. Maybe it was stupid, but there was no way she was going to him smelling of some other guy. Most likely, he had no interest in her, but y’know . . . just in case. Tan redid her makeup, put on her cutest skirt, her best boots, and her newest leggings before going the last mile and a half to where he waited.
The address turned out to be a rundown building built of stucco and cement on the outskirts of town. Beyond here, there was only the road into the desert and a tangled crisscross of electrical wires. All the doors were locked, so she broke a window and boosted in through the back. She passed through empty rooms on the first floor, dusty and empty, and she wondered if she had the right place. But when she jogged up to the second floor, she found a heavy steel door.
Tan tried the handle, and it was unlocked. Her heart pounding as she shoved it open, she called, “MB? I’m here.”
No reply.
When she stepped past the threshold, a scent hit her in the face. Death.
No. It can’t be him. He must’ve killed somebody who came looking for him. Any minute now he’s going to come in from behind me and tell me everything’s okay.
She took a shuffling step into the room and saw the body. Young, so fucking young—dark hair, with red and blue streaks—he had multiple piercings, and he was pale as moonlight, so thin she could practically see through him. There were no signs of violence, no injuries. Not so much as a bruise. He was just . . . gone.
Tears prickled the corners of her eyes, threatening to smear her makeup. She hadn’t cried since the Foundation took Ginnie. She wouldn’t start now.
“Christ, what the fuck,” she swore.
At her voice, a computer powered up. The whole room was full of them; it looked like mission control for the space shuttle or something: so many fucking wires and plugs, hard drives and monitors, a wonderland of them. Lights twinkled and then his avatar appeared, shining from the screen. The cruelty of that made her wish she could punch the Mockingbird-shaped glow; the fucker must have recorded it before he died.
“Tan, I’m so sorry to ask this of you, but you’re the only one who can know I’m gone. At least that part of me is. I need you to call La Paloma for me. Here’s the number. They’ll collect the body and do an immediate cremation. I don’t want any services, just take my remains and scatter them in the desert, wherever you want.”
Shit.
Did he expect her to continue playing Mockingbird, now that the worst had happened? God, she was so done.
“You fucking bastard,” she said, her voice strangled. “I hate you for doing this to me.”
“I’m sorry, love. I wouldn’t have, if I had a choice.”
She froze.
That sounded like an
answer
, not a recording. How is that possible?
Turning to glance at his body, she saw it hadn’t moved, still slumped in the chair, still dead.
“Are you . . . here?”
More lights on the computers flashed. “I’m here. Not there.”
“I don’t understand,” she said shakily. “Not even a little.”
“I’m the deus ex machina, now. Look, just get rid of that. Me. Whatever. We can talk more once it’s gone.”
“I need your real name.”
“Shawn Devlin.”
In a daze, she called the number he flashed on the screen and told them her friend had died, yes, natural causes, no signs of foul play. The cremation service agreed to send a retrieval team for the body. She waited, numbly, unable to process what was happening. He was gone . . . but not entirely. Instead of going to heaven, hell, or nowhere—whatever normal people did—he’d gone into his machines. Given his mojo, she supposed that almost made sense.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s not all bad. The meat was slowing me down.”
“And you needed me to cover for you while you . . . died.”
“Dying hurts. I couldn’t concentrate well enough to handle the workload.”
A short bark of laughter escaped her. “Yeah, I guess not. Do you have next of kin? Somebody I ought to call.”
“No. There’s only you, Tan.”
She still wanted to punch him. He probably hadn’t even tried to get help. No medical treatment. Had he stopped eating?
What the hell, MB.
This killed the tiniest dream she hadn’t even known she’d borne—that she’d one day meet him in person and they’d click—that maybe they’d be together like normal people, and because he knew everything about her, he’d
understand
, and her weirdness wouldn’t matter. He’d love her.
God, you’re such a dumbass. You were never anything to him but words on a screen.
Eventually, the guys came from La Paloma. They asked questions. She mumbled her answers. They took Mockingbird—Shawn—and promised to call her once they had authorization from the county medical examiner.
She left the high-tech bolt hole as soon as they did. Tanager wished she could run, but she was committed to finishing this process and scattering the ashes. Too shaken to think properly, she actually used her credit card to rent a room and waited for news. During that time, she didn’t hear from him, and she started to wonder if she’d imagined their conversation the day she found his body.
On the fourth day, they called to tell her she could pick up her loved one’s remains. Tanager stole a car—a cherry red convertible—for this trip into the desert; it seemed fitting that he go out in outlaw style. She stopped at a cluster of red rocks, opened the white plastic container they’d given her, and let the wind take him; he went in a swirl of dust.
Tanager dropped the container and sank down on the sandy shoulder of the road to cry. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t but she was the only one who knew, the only one who’d mourn him. And so she did—with the dramatic sobs she’d denied her sister. Her eyes stung from the eyeliner and mascara, streaming black tears down her cheeks. Her head pounded like a drum by the time she finished, and her eyes were so swollen she could hardly see.
Half an hour later, she washed her face, cleaned up the evidence of her despair, and ditched the stolen car at a truck stop. Tan caught a ride with a semi driver. Maybe she’d fuck him in the back of his big rig. God knew she had to pay for using her voice, and she didn’t much care who anymore. One man was much like another.
Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out of her pocket.
Power up your netbook. We need to talk.
Fuck you,
she thought.
You died. You left me.
With a bright, false smile, she ran her hand along the arm of the guy beside her and listened to the wheels spinning against the road.
CHAPTER 24
Taye regretted that
he hadn’t said good-bye to Gillie. That roadside mess hadn’t qualified as an ideal ending, and one of the cops had nailed him with a lucky shot as they fled the scene. It was the second time he’d been hit since he went to work for Mockingbird, which pretty much encapsulated his life expectancy. He hissed as Hawk’s girlfriend worked on him.
“Don’t be a baby,” Juneau said.
She stitched Taye’s leg with a lack of care that said she didn’t come into nursing as her first vocation. Not that he was complaining. He couldn’t easily reach the place where he’d been shot, and he sure didn’t want his partner fucking around with his big hands. He felt lucky they’d taken him in; when Heron dropped him off, he had been in no shape to look after himself. It
sucked
being so weak.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Relax, I was teasing you.”
“What do you do for Mockingbird anyway?”
He knew she wasn’t like them. Not a test subject. Not out for revenge. She was a normal woman who loved Hawk. And by the way the guy looked at her, he’d happily walk through fire for her, too. Though he’d spent plenty of time with her before, he’d never asked about her role in the organization. Mostly, she preferred joking around, making everyone laugh. She pretended she had no serious thoughts whatsoever, and she lived to see Hawk smile.
“Whatever needs doing. I do a lot of gopher work when it’s too dangerous for him to poke his head out because bloodhounds are nearby.” She spoke so matter-of-factly. “Kestrel can send a team pretty fast, though it’s dependent on them being in the relative vicinity.”
“We have a real advantage since we found Heron.”
He had been among those they saved in the warehouse, along with Holly—who died shortly after she enlisted—and Oliver, now Gull; Taye hadn’t seen him since they fought together. Heron’s ability meant quick extractions when necessary and faster medical treatment when they had wounded. So they lost people less these days, between the porter and the new healing capacity.
Unfortunately that meant Gillie. He still didn’t like it—even less now that he’d been her lover—but he couldn’t argue. Not when he knew how important it was to her to make her own way. And after how he’d concealed the truth from her, she wouldn’t give a shit about him. It was probably just as well. Now maybe a nice guy like Brandon would have a shot.
“What’s the deal with Kestrel anyway?”
“She used to be one of ours. Foundation hounds grabbed her and implanted her with the same tech they used on . . . Hawk.”
She almost slipped up. Almost called him Silas.
Juneau went on, “At first Mockingbird thought they’d used a mind-fucker, but they don’t have one who can compel complete obedience. So they went with a hardware solution instead.”
He remembered the chip, the one he’d shorted out, so Silas could help them execute the escape plan. He hadn’t realized that about Kestrel. She was as much a prisoner as they had been, and now they were using her to hunt and hurt her former associates. Taye considered the problem as she wiped the stitches clean.
“How does it look?” he asked, craning his neck.
“Dashing.” At his raised brow, she amended that to, “It’ll look like your other one.”
He thought aloud. “So if we find her, I could potentially free her and bring her back on board. She could go back to helping Mockingbird locate other weirdoes.”
She frowned at him. “You know I don’t like—”
“Yeah, yeah. But the question stands.”
Juneau nodded. “Sounds doable to me.”
“But you have to figure she won’t be unguarded. Getting to her will mean a fight.” Hawk sauntered out of the shadows, looking pensive.
The big man bent to claim a kiss, and Juneau wound her arms around his neck. “Mmm. He’s all patched up, as promised.”
They lived in a warehouse. She had decorated the upstairs and made it homey; Hawk liked all the space downstairs because it permitted him to rig the perimeter with traps and wires. God help the scurrying rats in this place.
Hawk turned to him. “Ready for your last mission? Mockingbird wants to—”
“That’s what we were just talking about,” Taye said. “Maybe you could call him with my idea. See if there’s a way he can track her. He has access to all kinds of internal Foundation systems. Or I can call, if you don’t want to.”
“He’s been prioritizing according to the greatest number of lives at stake. I don’t know how he does it.” Hawk shook his head. “That kind of pressure could make your head explode.”