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“Congratulations, sis,” he said, voice coming out much steadier than he felt.
“Escort them back to their cabins. Hold them there until I give further orders. This isn’t finished,” Orrin said.
Rory moved first, making for the stairs, Daniel behind her. Zeke let her go ahead and addressed Orrin. “Mike was going to do it himself, but he’s been hiding how ill he’s been for months. He was too weak. He said you’d never let him leave.”
“You’ve betrayed all of us and you signed Mike’s death warrant. We would have cared compassionately for him, eased his passing. Out there he will die alone, sick, frightened and haunted.”
Which could be true, if Tres hadn’t arranged for him to have the best treatment available. Mike might still die, but it wouldn’t be alone, and if he lived, he’d have the support he needed to build a new life away from Orrin’s lies and deceit.
It didn’t matter what Orrin thought. In a day or a week, as soon as Zeke could verify what Mike had told him, they were ending this. He caught up with Rory at the bottom of the stairs. He’d give up good beds forever for a moment alone with her.
She punched his arm. “You drove through the gate?” She pulled her earlobe. Asking if he’d found evidence. Her hair was full of twigs, her face was grubby and fuck,
it was good to see her.
He smoothed his hand over his head. The everything is fine signal and added a tongue poke to the side of his cheek to tell her he had information. “I had to help Mike.” He looked over his shoulder at their guards. “You guys get that, right? He asked you to let him walk out. He asked you nicely and you pulled guns on us.”
Mike had been ready to give up when Tres’s rescue car arrived outside. It was only then he believed he had a chance. It was a great diversion. Zeke had rammed the gates before the back tires were shot out and Mike was able to get away clear. Zeke had not been so lucky, dragged from the cabin of the prime mover at gunpoint and it sure wasn’t over, but it was worth it for what Mike gave up.
“Keep moving,” Daniel said.
“He’s so cute that one,” Rory said.
He drew her close. She was warm and safe and smelled weirdly of cattle. Was that some kind of hoof pick she’d used to break his ties? “You’re having a baby.”
She whispered in his ear. “Found a weapons inventory.”
He whispered back. “Have the location.”
They had enough pieces to end this. “Get moving,” said Daniel.
Rory broke from his hold and gave Daniel the kind of look that might sear his skin off. The guy blinked hard and prodded Zeke in the back. The other guard positioned himself at Daniel’s side as they made for Rory’s cabin.
“What do you think about Tresna for a name if it’s a girl?” he said, knowing she’d pick that as the cue that they were ready to call this done and get out of here.
“I really like it,” she said, bumping against him. He bumped her back. That quick, chaste hug wasn’t near enough contact with her. That wild inappropriate thought about Rory having his baby had to be the leftover adrenaline in his blood. She’d always thought she’d have a family with Cal and he’d never let himself think about it being any other way, resigned to being Uncle Zeke who was a bad influence.
“Shut up and move faster,” Daniel said.
So fast Daniel’s days of being an enforcer would be done before he had his next evening meal.
Zeke yanked Rory’s ponytail in farewell and signed for her to wait for him to come for her. Then he stood with the other guard Marco, as Daniel saw Rory to her door.
“Should’ve kissed your little sister goodbye, asshole. It’s the last time you’ll see her.” Marco said. “She is so fucked for what she did to Orrin. You don’t understand what he’ll do to her. You don’t understand what we’ll do to you.”
He understood a threat when he heard one, he felt it neck to knee, muscles jerking, focus narrowing. Rory had reached her porch. He had to warn her, because waiting for him no longer looked like a sure thing. It was dark, and they were too far apart for her to clearly read a sign and he didn’t want to directly endanger her.
He sang a few lines from a Foo Fighters song about rats being on parade and a mad charade. He sounded drunk and he heard her laugh. She’d work out the lyrics came from a song called “Run.” She’d know they were an instruction.
She was already inside her cabin before Marco knocked him off his feet. He struggled upright to meet four other men. The only one he recognized was Chuck.
“Stupid bastard,” Chuck said. “You know that graveyard you were so anxious to learn all about? You’ll get to see it tonight and it’ll be the last thing you do see.”
Holy fuck. He’d miscalculated. He saw some kind of penance: hard labor, house arrest, a trial and ritual humiliation coming. He didn’t see this violence. He hadn’t properly measured the impact of trying to save one man and making another angry at having been disobeyed. Tres had wanted to call it over when he phoned in for support for Mike, but he’d wanted more time to collect all the evidence they’d need and convinced her he had it under control, persuading her to wait for another call. If he’d known Rory had found the inventory, that would’ve changed things.
Punches and kicks he’d survive, but he didn’t know what else they planned, or what Orrin would do to Rory.
“Have you got no goddamn loyalty to Mike?” He backed up, tried to get a cabin wall behind him, protect his back. He’d made a mistake believing he could break the rules and get away with it. Save one person at the expense of thousands. “You’d want my help if you were dying.”
