The Drafter

Peri hauled Allen up by his shirtfront and pushed him against the bed. “I couldn’t have killed Jack,” she said, shaking inside. “I loved him.”

“Peri …,” Silas breathed from the doorway. “Please.”

She spun away, adrenaline pounding through her as she kicked the dart gun farther from the guard. Snatching up Silas’s coat, she tucked a shoulder under his armpit. They staggered into the hallway and the door shut behind them with an absurd click.

Damn it, I forgot my pen. Peri took a breath—looked one way, then the other. Silas was heavy, and they had a long way to go. “That’ll work,” she said, leading him to the rolling table. She went to push everything off it, and Silas snatched a frosted glass just before it hit the edge. She felt sick as dishes crashed to the floor. A door down the hall opened, then quickly shut.

“You’re hungry,” he breathed, clearly hurting as he carefully levered himself onto the table. “God bless it, what are they putting in their darts? Here. Drink it in the elevator.”

“Thanks.” Peri got the cart moving. “Please tell me you have your wallet.”

“Yep.” His head was bowed, one hand on his middle, the other clutching his coat.

The wind from their passage shifted her hair. She felt good, even with the ache of Jack in her. She was doing something and she wasn’t alone. “Did I draft?”

“Nope.” He looked up, sweat on his brow. “You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

Peri felt a twist in her, part heartache, part unknown. “Saving her anchor’s ass is what a drafter does,” she said. “It sort of makes up for the coffee-in-the-morning thing.”

He laughed, choking it off when his face pinched in pain. Peri’s smile faded.

Jack …

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Charlotte’s premier mall had an astounding amount of weekend traffic. The food court was just inside the two-story-tall window entry, and Peri liked that she could watch the main entrance and the central convergence of the three wings at the same time. And whereas Peri would’ve preferred a quieter spot to get lost in while they regrouped, there was food and potentially some clothes. She’d told Silas he was a genius for suggesting it even though the thought to go to the mall had occurred to her, too.

No need to tell him that, though. Not after he’d bought her dinner. Watching his thick fingers spin through the at-table ordering pad with the dexterity of a fourteen-year-old had more than surprised her. The way he’d flirted with the server on skates bringing it out had set her back. Even the simply prepared but flavorful rice and fish he’d ordered had gone a long way toward reassuring her that she was not going to die today.

That was an hour ago. Across the way, the two-story arcade popped and whistled, and as Silas bargained with the man at the nearby phone kiosk, she watched four guys with military cuts on the live-play deck, battling aliens with a team from South Africa. She wasn’t sure how she knew they wouldn’t be able to get off-planet without the keymaster who lived in the swamp, but it was all she could do not to go over, jump on the interface, and tell them. Jack, maybe? she thought, tarnishing her good mood. Had she really killed her anchor? Did he really shoot me first?

No longer hungry, Peri set down her chopsticks and broke open the fortune cookie. It was stale, the sweet biscuit flat as she snapped it between her teeth and read the fortune. The heart is stronger than the intellect, she mused, wadding it up and flicking it across the table to land against Silas’s empty cup.

Yeah, okay, she thought, watching Silas with that salesman, his very clothes flashing logos and discount codes. Since leaving the hotel, Silas had been silent and brooding, but he had bought her dinner. Sighing, Peri looked at the plastic knife before slipping it into her empty boot sheath like a child’s promise—heady with intent but weak on follow-through.

Finally Silas shook the man’s hand, a new bag in his grip as he wove impatiently around three giggling girls dressed in full Japanese schoolgirl charm, their green hair matching their swirls of face paint designed to thwart facial recognition scanners. Not a bad idea. A phone would be great, but she wasn’t leaving without new underwear—even if she had to steal it off a mannequin—which might be difficult seeing as they were all holographic simules.

“Better?” he asked as he sat down and shook his head at the three girls now singing what had to be the latest Hatsune Miku single at the top of their lungs. The interactive mannequins within their earshot began to sing along, the simules’ attire shifting to something the tweens might buy.

Peri crumpled up the nearly useless napkin and dropped it on the leftover rice. “Very much so. Thank you,” she said, meaning it down to her still-damp socks. “It was a little heavy on the lemon, but not bad. They probably added it after cooking instead of before. It’s an easy mistake to make.”

“Since when do you cook?” he asked, almost laughing.

Affront flashed through her and her eyes came back from the dusky parking lot. “I cook all the time,” she said, embarrassed to admit that she didn’t remember cooking anything, but clearly the knowledge was there. Sandy had once suggested she explore her new kitchen as a way to relax. Clearly she had. But why had Silas assumed she couldn’t?

He shrugged contritely, and not liking the silence, Peri said, “Mind if I borrow your phone and get some underwear?”

“Sure,” he said, his attention caught by the flashing ads on the servers bussing the tables, fast on their in-line skates. “Your sweater is looking a little tired, too. Can I see your phone first?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">