“Jordan?”
She turned her head, trying to meet his gaze. She wanted to get a glimpse of that blue, but, even though they sat shoulder to shoulder, it was too dark. “What?”
“I know what happened in Circle City tonight. I’m glad you’re okay.”
She tried to swallow down the swelling lump in her throat but she couldn’t clear it enough to utter her thanks for the sweet sentiment. He leaned into her. “You are okay, aren’t you?” His hands roamed the darkness until they found hers and held them tight. “Jo, what is it?”
His kindness shattered the thin veneer of normalcy she’d worked so hard at. Before she could stop it, an unexpected sob ripped free.
“My roommate was killed tonight.” She choked the words through a rough throat.
“Dennis?”
She gaped at him. “Yes. How did–”
“I’m so sorry.” The words whispered to her through the darkness, and the warm air they traveled on wafted past her cheek. He stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. The small kindness meant so much and was a poignant reminder they were all built the same. Experienced the same emotions, faced the same fears, no matter the designation.
His warm hands lay flat on her back. Her breasts pressed against the plane of his body. It felt unbelievably good to be comforted by him.
He was so close. She tilted her head up so they were face-to-face, and his step forward pushed her closer to the wall at her back. There was still a small part of her that remained perched on the brink of panic, waiting for the strike that would kill her. It screamed to be heard. He stroked her tenderly and shushed her before she had the chance to voice an objection. She stayed alert and skeptical of his motives. Nothing this sweet ever happened to her, not without strings or unforeseen ramifications that would surely become apparent to her way too late in the game.
But as time elapsed in that intimate embrace, the rigid muscles poised to make a fight-or-flight decision, relaxed. And with the realization he wasn’t the enemy and wasn’t going to hurt her, the hug of consolation crumbled her defenses even further. Another partially choked sob shot out of her before she could stop it.
“Oh God, Jordan, please don’t cry.”
She straightened her spine and inhaled a big gulp of reality. “I don’t cry, Patrick,” she said between clenched teeth. “Crying is for the weak, and I’m not weak.”
But she couldn’t find the strength to pull away. They stayed there for several minutes, relative strangers breaking the law with a gentle embrace.
Their hearts thundered against the other’s chest. Their breathing synchronized.
Then Jordan spoke again. “I’m sorry for being so emotional. It’s just that I’m partially responsible for all those murders.” She shook the pall of her feelings away and tried to rebuild the facade of the strong woman who was third in the resistance’s chain of command. She composed herself and tried to pull away from the large male holding her. “I have video. Do you know someone who can post it undetected?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
She removed her handheld from her pocket and handed it to Patrick. “Take the whole unit. I’ll get it back from you tomorrow.” He stuffed her mini-compad down the front of his pants.
He must have gotten some hint of her horrified expression because he shrugged his shoulders and said, “You can’t be too careful.” He rumbled a low chuckle. “Plus, when I give it back, I’m hopin’ you’ll think about where it’s been every time you pull it out of your pocket.” He followed with an eye wag and a Cheshire-cat grin.
Exasperated, she rolled her eyes at his shadow. He was like no man she’d ever met. He let it all hang out. He knew how he felt and wasn’t afraid to tell the world.
She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
He grabbed her hand, brought it up and pressed his lips to the top, then didn’t let go. They stood, connected, in a suspended moment in time. A million thoughts cascaded through her brain, following all possibilities of proceeding with this attraction to their ultimate conclusion. Imprisonment, torture, death.
But the ultimate conclusion in his mind was not only positive but probable. She saw it in his eyes. So naive and idealistic.
It made her smile.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time. Hopefully it will be more like a normal night.”
“Yes, okay.” She nodded.
He peeked his head out from between the two buildings to see if the coast was clear. “Wait until I’m back in the building before you pass by.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Jordan?”
“Yes?”
“Stay safe.” Patrick bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, and then turned and walked back toward the brightly lit area of the border guard station.
Jordan waited a couple of minutes and then moved under cover of darkness back toward Circle City. When she passed the border station, Patrick sat alone at his desk working on a compad. She wondered if he would be the one posting the video. It would be ironic if the damning footage was posted by a Guardsman. She was strangely satisfied at the thought.
Despite the fact she wasn’t wearing her jogging shoes, Jordan ramped up her walk to a light jog. She needed to burn off all of the emotions of the day. She needed to be very, very tired in order to accomplish the task of falling asleep in her bed without Dennis.
An hour later, sweat dampened her shirt as she approached building twelve. It was the middle of the night, and she was exhausted.
When she opened the door to her dark apartment, the room was heavy with hot, stagnant air. She closed and locked the door behind her and walked further into the room, unbuttoning her shirt and then toeing off her shoes. Remembering the papers Patrick gave her, she fished them out of her pocket and turned right, into the bathroom, flicking on the light.
She looked down at the two folded squares of paper resting on the flat of her hand. One displayed a J on the outside. She opened the other one and read Patrick’s message to the resistance leader and then noticed her hands were tinted the rusty brown of dried blood. She shifted her gaze and found more stains on her shirt and knees.
She dropped the notes on the vanity. Knowing she wouldn’t survive waking up tomorrow morning with Dennis’s blood on her skin, she turned on the shower, letting it warm up while she removed her panties and bra. It took an enormous effort to gather up the strength she needed to take a five-minute shower.
When Jordan finally climbed into the tub, she sat under the spray, letting it hit her back while she soaped up her hands. The lather was the color of the red New Atlanta clay, and after doing a cursory wash, she dropped the soap and let the hot spray hit her. Relaxing even further, she closed her eyes. She slumped and her mind drifted. She was almost asleep when an internal signal forced her awake.
She stood, turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself barely able keep her eyes open.
When her gaze landed on the folded note with the J penned on the top, she grabbed it and, leaving the bathroom light on, walked the few steps out of the bathroom to her bed. Hands trembling, she unfolded the paper and read the short sentences that Patrick had written to her.
Jo,
I was hooked the first night we met and I’ve looked for your beautiful brown eyes ever since.
You must think I’m crazy. I’m not.
I’m an optimist.
It will work.