The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

The darkness that had served as our cloak was beginning to fade into early-morning shadow as Amber lowered the heloship into the clearing. I stared at the lightening sky, having spent the flight home in a kind of triumphant, half-awake daze. Beside me, Dr. Elizabeth Tierney clutched the harness securing her to her chair, her brow furrowed, sweat shimmering on her temples. I could understand somebody being nervous about flying, but it seemed Dr. Tierney was beyond nervous—she was practically allergic to it. We’d barely gotten off the ground when she had begun shaking her head, cinching down the safety harness nobody else had ever used.

As soon as we touched down in the clearing some way off from our base, I was moving. The faster I went, the longer I could avoid my exhaustion. I helped Dr. Tierney to her feet and led her to the cargo bay. She gave me a grateful look as I guided her, some of the color coming back into her cheeks and face. The six women and two men who had accompanied us back were getting to their feet and stretching as we entered. Immediately, as though she hadn’t been shivering and taking deep, calming breaths in the heloship half an hour ago, Dr. Tierney was on.

“Adam, come over here and grab this box,” she instructed. “I don’t want any of this equipment broken, all right? And Lynne, can you please make sure you get all the bags in this round? I do not want to have to set foot on this infernal contraption ever again, if I can avoid it.”

I suppressed a smile as she continued to bark orders to the Liberators, unflappable even in the face of her own nerves. My eyes focused on Lynne for a moment—the leggy brunette with moss-green eyes. She moved with an efficacy that made it seem like that moment was dead and gone, to my relief. My gaze returned to where Dr. Tierney was standing just in front of me, partially blocking my path to the bay doors. I moved to step around her, but she whirled around and placed a hand on my chest. I could feel her eyes examining me closely, taking me in as if she hadn’t really seen me before, and sensed displeasure radiating from her.

“Mr. Croft, has anyone told you that you look like death warmed over?” she asked, her tone telling me she was informing me more than asking. I blinked, trying to decide whether I should be offended or not. She smiled, as if sensing my discomfort. “I only say this because, as one of my former patients, I feel a certain responsibility for you—if only to make sure my work is not tampered with.”

I narrowed my eyes at her and frowned. “It’s been a long couple of days,” I said, unsure what she was getting at, and exhausted enough that I didn’t even want to have to deal with a nonessential conversation right now. “And there’s still too much to do. What would you suggest?”

She raised an eyebrow and gave me a hard look. “Your bed, Mr. Croft. I suggest you find it before you keel over. Or before I slip a sleeping pill into your next beverage.”

A startled chuckle dropped from my mouth. I couldn’t help it. The woman barely came up to my chin, and looked about as dangerous as a newborn pup, but here she was trying to put me to bed like an unruly child. I appreciated her concern, though. Truthfully, climbing into bed with Violet was all I had been thinking about in every free moment since before we’d left tonight—or, rather, last night. As soon I saw that the doctor was examining Violet and got Ms. Dale up to speed, it was going to be lights out for me.

“I’ll do that, Doc,” I said earnestly to Dr. Tierney, and she gave me an approving nod before turning back to continue barking orders at her group. Stepping around her, I moved toward the rear of the cargo bay, where Owen was lowering the ramp. He looked almost as tired as I felt, and that was saying something.

“We did good,” he said, and I held back a laugh. He was tired if all he could come up with was that generic platitude. Still, I couldn’t fault him—I didn’t feel like I was capable of much in the way of conversation either.

To be honest, I couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Yup. I’m glad Amber talked us into going.”

He grunted in response. The ramp lowered and I was immediately greeted with the visage of Ms. Dale, standing at the bottom with her arms crossed and an irritated expression on her face. I gave Owen a knowing look before heading down the ramp. I was certain he did not envy me the task of finding out what was wrong this time.

“Hey,” I said, unable to muster more enthusiasm. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” she replied archly, an edge in her voice. “Mr. Croft, maybe you could explain to me why your latest transmission was only ‘coming home’? Frankly, it was a bit alarming in its vagueness.”

I stifled a smile. “I’m sorry,” I offered.

Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Why do I detect a ‘but’?”

Rolling my eyes, I scrubbed my face with my hand, grimacing at the rough feel of stubble turned beard. “But, we couldn’t risk the message being intercepted. I didn’t want to reveal too much, just in case Desmond has scrounged up another computer whiz like Thomas to hack into our communication channels. Besides, allying with the Liberators gives us a unique advantage.”

She gave me a considering look, and then nodded. “I’d figured as much,” she said, her irritation dissolving. “Still, ambiguous messages are a risky business. I had no idea what had happened to you—for all I knew, you’d been taken and were leading them back here.”