“Gage is dead. Badger shot him through the mouth.”
“Not soon enough!” All I can see is how it’s too little too late, how everything is broken beyond repair. “I told you I didn’t trust him, but you still let him dig for info that night at the pub—let him flirt and buy drinks and ask questions, and Blaine might still be alive if—”
“Oh, don’t you dare do that!” she snaps. “I know you’re upset, and devastated, but no! Not that. It isn’t fair. Do you realize everything we did—I did—to get back to you? I shot down over a dozen men for you. One of them couldn’t have been much older than us. It’s tearing me up, so don’t go making me regret it.”
“No one forced you to shoot them, Bree. Or to come after me.”
“Ugh, you drive me crazy!” she shrieks. “Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you get a free pass to hurt everyone else, Gray. You keep doing that, and no one will be there when you actually need them. Not even me.”
She pivots and is gone.
I stare after her, tongue-tied, trying to understand how I went from whimpering to raging in a matter of seconds. Earlier I wanted to tell her she was amazing, is amazing. Why didn’t I say that instead of things I don’t believe? She’s all I have left, and I just pushed her away.
For the life of me, I don’t know why I did it.
SEVENTEEN
THE RIDE TO PINE RIDGE takes much longer on May’s trawler than it did in Gage’s boat. The duration of the journey is compounded by the fact that we keep looking at our wake, waiting for the lights of a pursuing boat to appear.
I don’t understand why they never do.
“They’re probably too busy trying to save that precious ship Clipper blasted,” Sammy offers. “Or maybe the security barrier’s busted from when we hit it. Locked up, trapping them in.”
“They have things that fly,” I point out.
“You did blow up your boat,” Carl says, one arm slung behind May’s neck, the other on the wheel. “Might be they think you’re all dead.”
No one says anything after that. It seems a bit too lucky to me. We took Harvey, one of Frank’s most valuable assets. How is it possible he doesn’t care enough to be sweeping the Gulf for us? Is it because he already got what he needed from Harvey? The limitless Forgeries are well into production. And if so, then what about me? What was the point of bringing me all the way there only to let me slip free before getting any useful information? Maybe Frank’s written it off as a lost cause now that my Forgery is dead and he has no double to paint with my scars.
I glance out the glass windows encircling the wheelhouse to where Harvey and Clipper stand on the exposed deck. Clipper hasn’t stopped smiling since they went out there. I don’t know what they’re discussing, but I decide it doesn’t matter because Clipper looks happier than I’ve seen him in months. He’s telling a story with lots of hand gestures. Harvey watches over the rim of his glasses, intent and patient. His mouth forms a shocked No! in response to something Clipper says. The boy nods aggressively, still beaming, and Harvey shakes his head in admiration. He says something else and Clipper’s face suddenly goes slack. Then he launches himself at Harvey and hugs him around the middle. The Forgery hugs him back. Like a father.
“We’re almost there,” Carl announces.
May bounces on the balls of her feet. “Help me on the deck, Sammy?” And then to me: “Why don’t you go round up the girls. I think they went to lie down for a few.”
I have never wanted to struggle with ropes and buoys so much in my life.
I leave the bridge and take the stairs down to the crew quarters. The passage is eerily similar to the Catherine’s. The last time I walked down a hall like this looking for Bree, I didn’t know if I’d find her alive.
Voices drift from one of the quarters ahead. They’re not napping like May said, and so I’m not quite sure why I start walking as quietly as possible.
“I’m sure he wanted to save you both,” Bree is saying, her voice unusually soft. Sympathetic. “Gray’s heart is a lot bigger than he likes people to think.”
“You’ve known him long?”
“Long enough.”
There’s a short pause and then Emma says, “I can’t forgive him for it. I won’t ever be able to look at him and not think about that moment.”
I wish I’d been able to tell Bree about my Forgery, the choice he forced upon me. I should have leaned on her earlier, explained why it all hurt so damn much by talking my way through it instead of blaming her for something that isn’t her fault.
“I understand completely, Emma, but at the same time, is that fair? It was a horrible situation to be put in.”
“Nothing in life is fair. A lot of it’s luck and even then everyone gets screwed at least once.”
Bree laughs. “I like you a heck of a lot better than your Forgery.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“No. You don’t get to say my Forgery and then change the subject.”
“I really think Gray should explain it to you, like Sammy said.”
“Bree,” Emma says, and her name sounds like a door slamming. “I’m not waiting any longer for an explanation. Frank had me tending to some of them in the hospital. I know exactly what they are, and exactly what they’re capable of, so don’t think you’re doing me any favors by sparing me the truth. What did you mean when you said my Forgery?”
Bree exhales. “Gray thought it was you, the girl he brought back to Crevice Valley. She came west with us to Group A, served as our medic, waited for the perfect moment to betray our team. By the time we realized she was a Forgery, she’d leaked our information several times over.”
“What? . . . I can’t—Is she out there still?” Emma asks. “Please tell me no. Please tell me she’s not—”