her grip. “You used this on the cadet in your cell?”
Guilt clutched her stomach. “Please tell me he’s okay.”
“You must have surprised the hell out of him.”
“John—”
“He was already coming around when I reached your cell.” He slipped the shoe into the pocket of his leather trench, then lifted her and strode back down the corridor. “Which is why I need to get you out of here—”
“What the hell do you mean you can’t find him?” Darwin’s harsh voice bounced off the walls, just ahead of them. He sounded furious.
John spun around and ducked into a nearly invisible niche, followed the narrow spiral to its end. A single light hung from the ceiling, pale and flickering. Gently, he lowered her to the floor, wrapped her in the warmth of his coat, whispered against her hair.
“Stay still.”
She nodded. His arm tightened around her.
“No more sorry excuses, do you hear me?” The too-familiar, grating voice slapped her, so close that if she didn’t know different she’d swear he stood right behind her. Curving like the delicate shell of the ear, the passage captured every sound, every breath, carried it to them. “I want Wolf dead―do you understand? I want that lying, scheming bastard to join the traitors who tried to cover his back. Now go find him.”
God, no—
John stilled against her. After an endless moment he carefully, deliberately settled her against the wall and retreated, out of reach. She flinched at the indifference that shuttered his face.
When the voices faded, she stepped to him, relieved as he met her searching gaze. The light that had always shone in the depths of his eyes, cast them vivid, was gone.
The emptiness that replaced it scared the hell out of her.
Without a word he picked her up, walked out of the spiral and turned into a narrow, unlit corridor with an equally narrow door at its end. Setting her next to the cement wall, he pulled his weapon free, reached for the steel latch and yanked the door open.
Only rain waited on the other side, the same grey, cold downpour, lashed by an ugly wind. He stood in the doorway, motionless. Maura pushed through her dread, touched the scarred hand.
“John, I’m―”
Before she could finish he grabbed her, his weight pressing her against the icy cement.
“No more.” His gaze trapped her, cold, lifeless, more frightening than his flashfire temper. “They believed, trusted—and now they are dead because of that trust. Because of me―”
He cut himself off. The indifference cracked for a moment, revealed a black abyss of grief behind the mask. That glimpse gave Maura the courage to speak.
“They believe in you, John, because you are a good man.”
“I am a murderer, Maura.” Rage cut through his voice, scored her with every word. It took all the control she had not to recoil. “Never delude yourself into thinking I am anything less.” He stared at her, stared through her. “Stop it.”
“What?” She could barely squeeze the word out of her throat.
“Stop looking at me as if I am deserving of your care.”
“John―”
“Not another word.” He raised his arm; she flinched. For the first time a smile broke across his face. A grim, ugly smile. He leaned in, showed her the digital readout on his wrist. “You are running out of time.”
It was 12:30.
* * *
“ W hat is that?” Maura yelled above the keening wind. John ignored her question as he fought through what felt like a hurricane level storm. His arms trapped her in the folds of the leather trench he’d wrapped around her, his embrace a flesh and bone vise that dug into bruised, aching limbs. “John―”
He turned his gaze on her, impatience flaring in the cold eyes.
“A mover.”
People scurried past them, crowding the narrow entrance to a glass tunnel that snaked over the surface of the Bay. It might as well have DEATHTRAP across the top in flashing neon.
“We can’t go in there.”
“It is the only access from this
Guilt clutched her stomach. “Please tell me he’s okay.”
“You must have surprised the hell out of him.”
“John—”
“He was already coming around when I reached your cell.” He slipped the shoe into the pocket of his leather trench, then lifted her and strode back down the corridor. “Which is why I need to get you out of here—”
“What the hell do you mean you can’t find him?” Darwin’s harsh voice bounced off the walls, just ahead of them. He sounded furious.
John spun around and ducked into a nearly invisible niche, followed the narrow spiral to its end. A single light hung from the ceiling, pale and flickering. Gently, he lowered her to the floor, wrapped her in the warmth of his coat, whispered against her hair.
“Stay still.”
She nodded. His arm tightened around her.
“No more sorry excuses, do you hear me?” The too-familiar, grating voice slapped her, so close that if she didn’t know different she’d swear he stood right behind her. Curving like the delicate shell of the ear, the passage captured every sound, every breath, carried it to them. “I want Wolf dead―do you understand? I want that lying, scheming bastard to join the traitors who tried to cover his back. Now go find him.”
God, no—
John stilled against her. After an endless moment he carefully, deliberately settled her against the wall and retreated, out of reach. She flinched at the indifference that shuttered his face.
When the voices faded, she stepped to him, relieved as he met her searching gaze. The light that had always shone in the depths of his eyes, cast them vivid, was gone.
The emptiness that replaced it scared the hell out of her.
Without a word he picked her up, walked out of the spiral and turned into a narrow, unlit corridor with an equally narrow door at its end. Setting her next to the cement wall, he pulled his weapon free, reached for the steel latch and yanked the door open.
Only rain waited on the other side, the same grey, cold downpour, lashed by an ugly wind. He stood in the doorway, motionless. Maura pushed through her dread, touched the scarred hand.
“John, I’m―”
Before she could finish he grabbed her, his weight pressing her against the icy cement.
“No more.” His gaze trapped her, cold, lifeless, more frightening than his flashfire temper. “They believed, trusted—and now they are dead because of that trust. Because of me―”
He cut himself off. The indifference cracked for a moment, revealed a black abyss of grief behind the mask. That glimpse gave Maura the courage to speak.
“They believe in you, John, because you are a good man.”
“I am a murderer, Maura.” Rage cut through his voice, scored her with every word. It took all the control she had not to recoil. “Never delude yourself into thinking I am anything less.” He stared at her, stared through her. “Stop it.”
“What?” She could barely squeeze the word out of her throat.
“Stop looking at me as if I am deserving of your care.”
“John―”
“Not another word.” He raised his arm; she flinched. For the first time a smile broke across his face. A grim, ugly smile. He leaned in, showed her the digital readout on his wrist. “You are running out of time.”
It was 12:30.
* * *
“ W hat is that?” Maura yelled above the keening wind. John ignored her question as he fought through what felt like a hurricane level storm. His arms trapped her in the folds of the leather trench he’d wrapped around her, his embrace a flesh and bone vise that dug into bruised, aching limbs. “John―”
He turned his gaze on her, impatience flaring in the cold eyes.
“A mover.”
People scurried past them, crowding the narrow entrance to a glass tunnel that snaked over the surface of the Bay. It might as well have DEATHTRAP across the top in flashing neon.
“We can’t go in there.”
“It is the only access from this
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