Even though there was still blood crusted around his nose, from this close I could tell his injury was fully healed now. Still, I had to stop myself from reaching out to touch it . . . from asking if it still hurt. But I couldn’t give him the wrong idea.
He reached for my hand and I started, not meaning to, but doing it all the same and then feeling like a jerk for making it seem like I was repulsed by him.
I wasn’t. I just didn’t want him touching me.
He didn’t feel the same way, and he took my hands and drew me aside, looking at me so hard, so intently, my pulse throbbed. He lowered his voice. “Look, I know you think I’m joking, but I’m not.” He glanced toward the others, and I did too.
Thom was still staring out the window. Natty stood quietly beside him now, but she was watching us. When she caught us looking, she ducked her head and turned away quickly, making me feel like we’d been caught doing something wrong.
My stomach twisted. Simon didn’t seem to notice Natty’s scrutiny, but then I felt his thumb stroke the back of my hand, and the twist turned to a full-blown tangle. I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened.
My eyes widened and shot to his, but he just grinned in response. He moved closer until there was almost no space between us. His lips were right at my cheek, tickling my neck. His voice, though, was serious, and deadly quiet—the complete opposite of his playful veneer. “I need you to promise that whatever happens, you won’t tell anyone what you can do. The moving things. You need to swear to me that you’ll keep that a secret.”
I closed my eyes against the feel of his breath on my skin. “What about . . . ?” It was an effort to reopen them, but when I did, I looked past him, past his shoulder, to where Natty was held rapt by Thom now. I could hear the low timbre of his voice, but not his words, as he stared down at her.
Just a few feet from them, Jett fumbled inside the wall, pulling away pieces of drywall in an effort to get at the cluster of wires.
Simon just shook his head, and his nose brushed against my hair. “We have to hope she doesn’t say anything. Griffin can’t find out.” His fingers closed around mine, strong and firm. He was begging me to promise.
But I wanted something else. “Why did you and Thom bring us here?” I whispered back.
“We had to go someplace. We had to get you guys off the road, and out of harm’s way.” His brows squeezed together, his copper eyes searching my face. “Griffin’s unconventional, but we have allies here. I swear it.”
His palm slipped up and cupped my cheek.
I bit back a gasp. “Simon.” It was as close as I could manage to a rebuke.
I couldn’t let him do these things . . . touch me this way. It was hard to even say that one word, though, and I was worried that if he pushed the issue, I might not have the strength to elaborate. To tell him I needed him to stay away from me. Or that I would never, ever like him the way I thought he wanted me to.
My heart was crashing so hard, and so forcefully, that I almost didn’t hear the door when it was flung open . . . not until it collided against the inside wall.
The blue-eyed girl with the shaved head—Simon’s new BFF—stood in the doorway, glaring at us . . . at Simon most of all. I moved my face away, so he was no longer touching me, and pulled my hand from his.
But I was too late—she’d noticed. Her condemning glare moved from my hands to Simon. “Come on,” she dictated to him.
“Wait!” I said in a rush. “What about the rest of us? You’re not leaving us here, are you?”
Jett jumped up, doing his best to block the gaping hole he’d made in the wall. “Where are you taking him?”
“None’a your business,” she shot back.
“Don’t worry. I got this.” Simon gave me an overconfident nod, and then turned his less-than-convincing charms back on the girl. “So, that’s it? No ‘Nice to see you’ or ‘I’ve missed you’ or ‘Where have you been all my life?’ Just ‘Come on’?” he taunted her, and I wanted to tell him to just, for once, shut his mouth and do as he was told. But it was useless. He was Simon—it wasn’t in him to leave well enough alone.
“And you,” Buzz Cut told Jett before closing the door behind them. “Stop messing with the wiring. If you start a fire, no one’s comin’ in here to save your asses.”
When the lock snapped into place, Jett’s gaze shot around the room, moving from one place to the next as he searched for something. “Dammit,” he cursed when he finally found what he’d been looking for.
He approached the metal paper towel dispenser mounted to the wall right beside the dingy porcelain sink. I didn’t get it; it looked like an ordinary dispenser to me, the same kind you saw in crappy restaurants and schools and rest stops all around the country.
Jett hooked both hands inside the lower lip, where the next paper towel was poking through waiting to be pulled free. He yanked the painted metal as hard as he could and the top burst open with a screech, sending a stack of brown paper towels tumbling free.
Inside, Jett retrieved a small, round lens that was obviously some sort of surveillance device.
“Should’a seen this,” he grumbled, pocketing the gadget. “They were watching us this whole time.” He ran his fingers around the metal cover one more time before letting it slam shut once more. “Too bad it’s wireless, I might’ve been able to use the hardware.”
Thom scanned the room, and then his fingers laced through Natty’s.
Natty shot me a timid glance, her cheeks flushing.
“We should assume they’re listening too,” Thom said as he dragged Natty against him, and that was that—the mystery of Thom and Natty was solved. “Don’t say anything you don’t want them hearing.”
CHAPTER TWELVE