Trance. Part 36

During one of those breaks, Dahlia wandered over. She slipped through the curtain surrounding the bed and stopped at the foot. I looked up and smiled. She stayed quiet.

"I know I look horrible, but you don't have to stare," I said hoa.r.s.ely.

"I'm sorry," she said, eyes widening. "I didn't mean to stare. I just wanted to ask you something." I nodded, giving her silent permission to continue. "Well, it's about the MHC and what you said before."

The things I'd said before had been not long after our arrival, in a fit of blind anger and panic. I'd repeated what the doppelganger (I still couldn't reconcile the killer with the Angus Seward I'd known and trusted) said about the fail-safe; killing the last surviving Banes as a safety measure. Ranted on my own feelings of betrayal for not being told about the collars or the Wardens.

"I was p.i.s.sed. Shouldn't have."

"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it, Trance."

Good point.

She stepped around the bed, moving closer. "Well, what if we didn't have to work for the Bureau anymore? Instead of being employees for an agency that foots the bills, we go out on our own. Freelance heroes, rather than corporate ones."

A nice notion, only she'd forgotten one small problem. "We don't have the money, or the resources."

"What if we did?"

Something in the way she asked warned me it wasn't just a rhetorical question. Freelancing was an option I'd considered seriously for the last couple of days. I no longer trusted ATF, even if MHC ceased to exist on any official level. We weren't what they'd created with the Rangers a century ago, and we could never fit back into their mold. I didn't want to, not now that I knew the truth about the Warden and MHC's fail-safe. The truth about Agent Anders and Dr. Seward. So many lies.

The Ranger Corps was finished. It physically ceased to exist fifteen years ago, and the last of its recorded history had burned down with the Medical Center. Something new started last week, and we'd failed to see it until today. I'd failed to see it. Now my vision was clear.

No going back.

"What did you have in mind, Ember?" I asked, using her code name on purpose.

She smiled. "I have access to some money. A lot of money, actually, and I think this would be a very good use for it."

"How much money are we talking about?"

"Three million."

"Dollars?" If I hadn't been sitting down, I'd have fallen over. I couldn't wrap my head around that kind of number.

"I know it's not a lot," she said, and I blanched at the comment, "and it will probably spend fast. I mean, we need a place to live and security measures and transportation-"

"Whose money is it?"

"Mine. It's been in trust for a while, and I never wanted it until now." Something burned in her eyes-determination, intent, and a little bit of excitement. "I just wanted to make sure you were on board with going freelance before I did anything."

I was more than on board with the idea. It was something we needed to do and, while part of me wanted to interrogate Dahlia about the source of this trust fund, most of me didn't want to jinx her insanely generous offer.

We would have a purpose again-of that I had no doubt. Joy bubbled up inside me like a fountain, frothing out in a gale of giggles. It hurt to laugh, so I sobered quickly. The euphoria, however, remained close to the surface.

"I take it you like the idea," Dahlia said.

"Sweetheart, I love the idea, and if this works out, then, I think I love you."

A grunt-not from me, and not from her. I looked at the bed. Gage had peeled one eye open, and was staring at me through the slit. The eye blinked, and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile.

Dahlia made a discreet exit.

Gage worked his other eye open. My heart swelled under the intensity of his silver-flecked gaze-eyes I'd seen closed by the slice of a blade and feared would never look at me again. I slid onto the bed next to him. Tears welled and I didn't fight them.

"Hey," I whispered.

He licked dry lips. I brushed an ice chip over the rough, chapped surface, offering him a small measure of relief.

"You hit me with a car," he said, low and tired.

"That's what you get for standing in the middle of the road."

"I tried to fight. He was so strong."

"It's okay, Gage. We won." I bent my head and brushed my lips across his. The kiss electrified me and sent my heart galloping. Maybe we still had a few personal kinks to work out of our relations.h.i.+p, but I wanted our touches to feel like this always. I slid down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder.

"We're okay?" he asked.

"We're okay. We're all okay."

And who knows? I might even learn to like this whole leaders.h.i.+p thing.

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