Flesh

“Relax, Al. I knew I was signing on as third wheel.”

 

Good. Great. So long as he wasn’t feeling used and abused because of her treating him like a couch. How had that come about anyway? The events of last night were fuzzy and distant in her battered head.

 

He glanced up, found her watching. His blank facial expression never changed. There was no chance of reading his thoughts. “How’s your headache?”

 

“It’s fine,” she replied coolly.

 

One brow rose. Perfectly.

 

She gave him a double thumbs-up, full of exuberance. Also jam-packed full of bul shit. “Upright and moving, no problem.”

 

“Real y? Because you look like Tokyo after going a few rounds with Godzilla.” The lovely jawline tensed, cop eyes staring her down.

 

“No offense intended.”

 

“None taken.” Her face throbbed and tingled and was numb all at once. Managing a smile was an exercise in slow and awkward.

 

“Interesting reference though with Godzilla and … I don’t think we can be friends, after al .”

 

A brow rose again in query. It was a neat trick. “You always run from a challenge?”

 

“Real y? You failed to notice that?”

 

A beatific grin split his face and her belly tumbled, the traitor. He was heavenly. Angels wished they could be so cool. “Why don’t we both make use of some of those pain killers?”

 

Finn eased the pack back off his bad shoulder, rifled around until he found aspirin and a bottle of water. He picked up two tablets with careful fingers. “Open.” She did. He popped them on her tongue, then unscrewed the bottle of water and held it out to her.

 

“Drink.”

 

She did. “Thanks.”

 

He gave a terse nod. “You’re welcome. Don’t worry about last night.”

 

“Then thank you, again.”

 

“Why are we always stopping and chatting when we should be moving our asses?” Daniel hissed from the front of the house.

 

“Let’s go.” Finn urged her forward with a hand. “Do your new friend a favor and try not to get shot crossing that bridge out there, okay?”

 

Her rabbit heart stuttered. “Yeah. Sure.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

 

The quiet when they approached the old wooden railway bridge didn’t soothe Finn.

 

Fog and smoke made their world gray. With dawn, the smell of lingering fires cut the air. Fire evoked al sorts of shit he didn’t need to be dwelling on. Memories of the bombings down south cluttered up his head. There’d been so much death and destruction, innocent civilians leveled where they stood. Charred flesh had a particular, pungent smell he’d never forget. He concentrated on his elbows to stop the shaking in his hands, an old trick a detective had taught him. Finn had to clear his thoughts and focus on the job to hand.

 

It was not going wel .

 

The bridge would be tough, which sucked, seeing as it was their sole option. Heading back into the burnt remains of suburbia would be a death trap. They had to get across the river somehow.

 

Some enterprising little shit had trashed the stairs leading up to the fenced-in walkway that ran alongside the train track. To cross the bridge they would have to climb the hill and walk along the railway tracks. It would take longer. Time was at a minimum.

 

No one spoke.

 

The railway was perched atop a mound, built up a couple of meters above street level. They turned and made their way up the slope.

 

Someone’s stomach growled. Finn could empathize. They were running low on supplies; he had had no plans to cater for three.

 

Loose gravel sprinkled the side of the hill, not the optimal climbing surface. They crawled more than walked, the tumbling stones similar to the roar of an avalanche in the pre-dawn quiet. Dan had one hand wrapped around Al’s arm, the other flat against the hil for balance. The gravel slid down the mound like a landslide.

 

They were so exposed, wide open and awaiting an attack.

 

“Easy, feel out your foothold. No rush,” the big guy instructed Ali in a low voice, which was good advice. The problem was, they needed to haul ass, clear the area as fast as possible.

 

Finn scrambled to the top of the mound, checking every direction and seeing nothing. That did nothing to appease the itch between his shoulder blades.

 

Time seemed to slow down to a deliberate, painful crawl while he watched them make their way up the incline. He wanted to grab her and run the minute she hit the top. Get her somewhere safe and never let her out again. Lock her up for her own protection.

 

The world was too dangerous. He couldn’t keep her safe this way.

 

“Let’s go,” Finn said.

 

Dan appeared solid enough with a gun back in his hands, and Ali was managing. Just. What parts of her not bruised or dirty were white as a ghost. She panted from the crawl up the incline.