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Groza waited until we were nearly at the door with plenty of space between us before she said, “So much for caring about this pack. I guess that was all an act. Not to mention it’s going to hit your people too, Kicks. This won’t be the end of it. Wait until they get sick.”
I walked out of the house, Kicks at my side. I kept forcing my feet to move toward the gate, and then out.
I stopped by the motorcycle and then froze.
“I could feel it,” he said.
I didn’t pretend ignorance of what he was speaking of. They’d all felt it. I’d seen it in their faces. “Did it bother you?”
“No. I was glad for it. I don’t want you to ever be defenseless.” He grabbed my hand, as if making a point.
He was either insane or truly trusted I wouldn’t hurt him, when I myself wasn’t even sure.
I looked to where his hand wrapped around mine. “Back at the hotel, when I said—”
“It doesn’t matter what you said. I know where your words came from, and it’s all right.”
Was it? I didn’t know. There were so many things in the “didn’t know” column that sometimes I felt like every decision was a coin toss.
“You ready?” he said, motioning to the bike.
“What if what they said is true? I don’t want to help, but I don’t know how tonothelp the others in this pack. I know these people, and what happens if it’s Charlie tomorrow? We’re too close. What if it spreads?”
He nodded. “Then we go. You want to go back and tell them, or you want to let them sweat it out a bit?” he asked, grinning.
“We’ll tell them after. I don’t want their input anyway. Although there’s one thing I’m curious about. Why wouldn’t Groza just go take what she wanted?” It hadn’t occurred to me until now, as some of the rage dissipated from my blood.
“That’s one reason I’d sure like to go talk to them,” he said with a knowing look.
It certainly was interesting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I kissedthe top of Charlie’s bent head. There was still a shiver that coursed through me at touching him so freely, but if I hadn’t killed Kicks last night, maybe he was right—I had more control of this thing, this death hand, than I imagined. I couldn’t let my paranoia hurt Charlie.
He looked up at me and grinned. He might not have said much about how my avoidance of touching him had bothered him, but seeing his face glow now proved how much it had.
The goodwill didn’t last that long, though. He dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair, looking like he’d just remembered he was getting screwed somehow. “How long do I have to do schoolwork?”
“Till Birddog says you’re done.” Turned out Birddog wasn’t just an enthusiastic gamer—he used to be a teacher. Since there was no way I was sending Charlie back to Groza’s pack after last night, Birddog had agreed to pinch-hit for a while.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this covered,” he said to me, and then winked at Charlie.
That might’ve made Charlie feel better, but it did nothing for my confidence.
Kicks was waving me on. Either way, it was going to have to do for today.
Birddog leaned toward Charlie like a co-conspirator. “We go hard for a few and I’ll be able to spring you by lunch,” he said softly, but loud enough he knew I’d hear.
That didn’t sound too bad. Either way, I wasn’t fixing this situation now, so it was Birddog or nothing.
Kicks eyed me as I made my way outside with him. He’d brought me some leather pants and a jacket to help block the wind on the bike, and even I knew I looked sort of badass in this getup.
I got on the bike after Kicks, and he took my hands, tucking them under his jacket and against his flesh.
“It’s not that long a ride, but they’re going to get cold,” he said.
He wasn’t kidding. By the end, my cheek was planted against his back, my helmet askew, and I was trying to use his torso to block the worst of it.
