I’m both disappointed and relieved. He does that to me, twists me up in crazy knots and leaves me to pick at them until they untangle. I hope I do the same to him. It’s only fair. But miles underground on a mission to kill Drau really isn’t the best place to lose myself in a kiss, and I have no doubt that once his lips touch mine, I will be lost.
“Okay,” he says, dropping his hands and stepping back. “You win. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” He pauses. His voice lowers. “Don’t get to know me, Miki. You won’t like what you find.”
I’m confused for a second, and then I remember what we were talking about: he was claiming to know me and I was telling him he didn’t. Now he’s agreeing with me, but his words leave me completely off balance, and I don’t like it.
I stare at him, and then I lose my patience. It’s gone in a snap. “Enough cryptic warnings. What’s so wrong with you? Webbed fingers?” I grab his hand and spread his fingers. “An extra toe?”
“Tainted motives.”
I throw my hands in the air. “What am I supposed to say to that? What am I supposed to think? Talk about mixed messages. You are the most confusing, arrogant, self-absorbed, obnoxious—”
“You can call me an asshole later. Right now, you’re fighting exhaustion.” He hunkers down and then settles himself with his back against the wall and legs stretched out straight. “So we rest.”
I almost argue, but I’m smart enough to recognize that this is a concession. He’s doing this for me. He’s not the one who’s tired. So I bite my tongue and gingerly get myself settled on the ground, stunned by how grateful I am to be off my feet.
“You can lean on me,” Jackson says.
“I—”
“Lean on me.” Not an offer this time, an order.
I scoot over and lean my weight against his arm.
“Not like that.” He shifts both of us around until my back’s against one side of his chest, my head lolling sideways onto his shoulder, our legs stretched out in front of us, side by side. Not perfect on the comfort score, but better than it was a minute ago. He rests his chin lightly on the top of my head and tells me, “Sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll keep watch. I’ve been doing this long enough that I don’t need rest while we’re on a mission.”
“What about Luka and Tyrone?”
“They won’t need to rest, either. You’re still getting used to the jumps. By the next mission or the one after that, you’ll be like us. A robo-soldier.” And there it is again, that thread of humor, like he’s laughing at himself.
“Is that supposed to reassure me? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, thinking about upcoming missions doesn’t exactly thrill me.”
I jump when his hands settle on my shoulders. Then I sigh as he kneads my muscles. Long fingers. Strong hands. Some of my tension slips away, and I relax more fully against him. “How long have we been here now?”
“A little over seventeen hours.”
Wow. “But when we go back, it will be the exact second we left?”
“Yes.”
My eyes drift shut. After a minute, I say, “You’re answering all my questions. What happened to the rules?”
“We’ve been pulled. We’re in”—he pauses, and when he continues, I can hear that he’s smiling—“what Luka calls the game. So the rules don’t apply. We can speak freely.”
“So you’re conceding on the name? Now it’s okay to refer to this as a game?”
“For lack of a better option.”
“Are there really rules, or you’re just making that up as a way to control everyone?”
The easy rhythm of his breathing shifts ever so slightly.
“Think you know me so well, do you?”
“Well enough to know you’re a control freak. Answer the question . . . please,” I add as incentive.
“There are rules.” He pauses. “And some of them are ones I put in place.”
“With the others.”
“The others?”
“The ones in charge of the teams in the other clearings, the ones only you and I can see. Are they on that committee you mentioned?”
“No teams. Every man for himself.”
“So you keep reminding me, but you’re just talking the talk because here you are, watching out for me. Again. Who are the people in the other lobbies?”
“There are no other lobbies. They’re all parts of the same lobby.”
“Can they see us?”
“Some of them can.”
“Why can I see them when Luka and Tyrone can’t?”
Again, the easy rhythm of Jackson’s breathing shifts, telling me that whatever answer he offers, it won’t be the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
“Because we’re alike, you and I.”
“Aaaand you’re back to being cryptic.” I change direction and ask, “So while we’re here, in the game, you can tell me things that you can’t talk about back in the real world.”
“Yes.”
“Which means the issue isn’t about me having the knowledge. It’s about something else. It’s about people—humans—overhearing, or about the Drau listening in.”
“Yes.”
“The Drau can’t listen in here?”
“No.”