The Q, page 21
Her feet moved, just a little. She froze.
Ahead of her, Lennon looked over his shoulder. He started to turn.
“No, no, don’t—”
The bird dive-bombed her face again. She put her hands up, desperately trying to keep her feet in place. She grabbed a wing.
It was metal. Not an animal at all, but human-made, shaped like a bird.
The bird flapped its other wing, squirming in her grasp. She threw it.
It sailed through the air. One wing sagged uselessly. She’d broken it.
The bird dropped. A bomb shook the ground.
In front of her, Lennon lost his footing and swayed dangerously.
She leapt forward, grabbing him around the waist. They both tilted to the right, but she wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him steady. They stilled.
She felt him let out a breath. His hands covered hers. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
In front of them, Ivy, Anna, and Queso were all watching over their shoulders. Maisie carefully stepped back, keeping her feet in line on the dirt path.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
“Watcher birds,” Queso said. “They’re fucking with all the Spencers right now. And this is a Spencer field, so they must have assumed.”
“Watcher birds?” Maisie repeated. “Who controls them?”
“If the Spencers had figured that out, they’d be dead,” Queso said.
“Are you part of the Spencer family?” Maisie asked.
Queso turned around. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”
LENNON
FOR THE RECORD, Lennon thought land mines were stupid. Whoever invented them was stupid, and whoever put them in that Spencer field was stupid.
Or just evil.
He was still having a hard time breathing, ten minutes after clearing the field. He might never breathe right again, actually. His nerves were shot for life.
Queso had put the five of them in the back of a van and then left them for unknown reasons, and Lennon leaned his arm against Maisie’s. There. That was almost better.
She smiled at him, and he pointed to her left hand, which was now swollen, bruised, and covered in tiny, angry fake-bird bite marks. “That looks worse.”
“It really does.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Some.”
Some probably meant a lot.
She pressed her cheek to his shoulder. He loved how she kept doing that.
He slipped an arm around her. Beto and Ivy leaned forward, talking to Anna in the front passenger’s seat, and it almost felt like they had a bit of privacy in the very back.
He turned, his lips barely brushing against her forehead as he spoke quietly. “You want me to grab some alcohol and numbing cream? We have more.”
She reached her good hand up to lace her fingers through his, shaking her head. “Can we just take a minute?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, holding her a little tighter. He could feel her relax against him, her body going loose and soft. He liked that she felt comfortable letting her guard down with him. He suspected it wasn’t something she did with everyone.
They sat in silence for several moments, until Queso opened the front door of the van and climbed into the driver’s seat. He started the engine. “Everything looks clear. The shipment is still on the truck, and it’s just down the road.”
“Seriously?” Maisie said. She straightened, and Lennon reluctantly slipped his arm from her shoulders. Their eyes met briefly, and she gave him a soft smile.
“Yeah. Or it was, when I checked last night.” He looked Anna up and down. “I’d heard Vals were always armed to the teeth, but damn.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“What is that?” He pointed to something on Anna that Lennon couldn’t see.
“Smoke bombs.”
“Really? How do they—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Anyway. We should be able to get to the shipment pretty easily, and then I can tell you the best road back to Val’s. Might not be totally smooth sailing, but there’s a chance they might not stop a Spencer truck.” He pulled out onto the road.
Anna lightly punched his shoulder. “I like you.”
Lennon opened the backpack. “We should let Hadley know we made it.” He grabbed the radio to see that the light was blinking.
“Hey, Hadley.”
“Are you there? Did he meet you?”
“Yeah, we’re in the car with him right now. We just managed to not get blown up.”
“Oh, in the land-mine field? That place sounds stressful. Hi, Queso!”
Lennon glanced up at Queso, but his eyes were on the road, and he didn’t reply. He wondered how much he and Hadley told each other.
Maisie leaned forward. “Is there any chance of negotiating with Jonathan Spencer?”
Both Ivy and Beto turned around to look at her like she’d lost her mind.
“What?” Maisie said. “It worked with Val.”
“No,” Queso said. “Jonathan is not Val. He hates Val, actually. If you manage to get the truck, you need to get it out of here before they notice it’s missing.”
“The thing is, I need to get Lennon to the gate,” Maisie said.
“I saw that you made some pretty big promises,” he said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.
“You have access to American news here?” Lennon asked.
“I have access to a lot of things.”
“Ooh, fancy,” Hadley said.
“I can…I might be able to help with that,” Queso said with a sigh.
“Why?” Maisie asked.
“Why what?”
“Why are you able to help with that? What do you want in return?”
“Well, I’d like you not to attack the north, for one. But I do actually sympathize, believe it or not. I know it’s tough not getting the shipments. People will die.”
Lennon could hear his dad’s voice in his head suddenly. “People want to do the right thing; you just have to let them.” He’d be incredibly smug when Lennon told him about this. Even Caroline would find it touching, and she loved pretending that she didn’t have emotions.
“And if the Americans are going to let Lennon out, I really don’t care if he wants to go,” Queso continued.
“Seriously? You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart?” Anna asked skeptically.
Queso took a turn. He abruptly stopped the van.
“Oof,” Ivy said, bracing her arm against the front seat.
“It’s gone,” he said softly.
Lennon leaned forward. They were approaching a warehouse. And a totally empty parking lot.
“What?” Beto said.
“The truck. The shipment.” Queso sat back with a sigh. “It’s gone.”
MAISIE
MAISIE SAT ON the floor of the van, her legs hanging out the open door, and watched as Queso paced back and forth with his phone pressed to his ear. They’d parked in front of the warehouse while he tried to track down the shipment. Beto, Ivy, and Anna stood a few yards away, talking.
“Give me your hand.”
She looked down to see Lennon kneeling in front of her, the backpack open beside him. He pulled out an alcohol wipe. She stretched her sad, mangled hand out as ordered.
“After this heals, maybe you should invest in some brass knuckles or something,” he said, running the wipe over her cuts.
She laughed and then winced as the alcohol stung her skin. “You have definitely been here too long.”
He glanced up, his expression a bit wistful. “It feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I could see here.”
He tucked the wipe into the empty wrapper and tossed it back in the bag. She wasn’t sure what this expression on his face was. Pensive, maybe. Or sad, even.
“You’ll miss us a little when you go, won’t you?” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
He smiled at her. “Maybe. A little. Not your border patrol, though.”
She laughed. “That’s fair.”
He sat down on the edge of the van with her. “Do you want me to tell people that you could leave, if you wanted?”
She stretched her legs out, considering. “I don’t know. Do what you think is best.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I don’t think you should put that much faith in me.”
She let out a startled laugh. “Why not?”
“I can’t make that decision! No one in their right mind would trust me with that big of a decision. People on my dad’s campaign used to pick out my clothes every day.”
She made a face. She got the impression that his life on the other side of the wall wasn’t exactly happy. He kept casually mentioning how people didn’t like him, or didn’t trust him. While she didn’t exactly believe that, there was clearly someone out there making him feel that way.
“Maybe they should have focused more on not letting you get kidnapped and less on your clothes,” she said.
He laughed. “I’m going to mention that to them, actually. I’m going to get some really great mileage from that guilt.” He leaned back on his hands. “I’m not going to tell anyone. About you.”
“No?”
“No. It’ll become a huge story, and I’ll have to explain your reasoning over and over and…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t speak for you. You can tell people one day, if you want.”
She bumped her shoulder against his. “See? I should definitely put my faith in you.”
“What?”
“That sounds like a pretty great decision to me.”
He looked down, like he was embarrassed, and then back up at her. They held each other’s gazes for several seconds past normal, and heat began to crawl up her neck. She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, when he’d put an arm around her in the van. The way she’d been able to feel his heartbeat. The moment had ended far too quickly.
She wished they had another day. More than a day. She wanted more time with him to ask about his family and his life and whether it was painful to play tennis naked.
“I appreciate that,” he said softly. “The faith.”
“Well, it’s only right for me to return the favor. You’ve put a lot of faith in me.”
His eyebrows drew together, like he was confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She barked out a laugh to hide how absolutely delighted she was by that question. “Because you’ve only known me for a couple days?”
“That is more than enough time to realize how amazing you are.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t try to hide the blush this time. Maybe she wanted him to know the effect he had on her.
She felt his hand lightly on her back, and then he slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. The way he tucked her into his side felt so easy, so natural, and yet it made a thrill of excitement race up her spine.
“I’ve got a lead.”
Queso’s voice broke the spell, and they both turned to him.
“I think they moved it to the service center, where we fix the trucks.”
“Is it close?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He walked to the driver’s side.
Lennon hopped up, offering her his hand. She took it, and then held it for longer than necessary. A soft smile spread across his face, and he squeezed her fingers.
* * *
—
Queso drove them about ten minutes, to an area that looked more like a junkyard than an auto shop to Maisie.
“Wait here,” he said, pushing the door shut and walking toward the small building at the front of the mess.
He returned a minute later. He pulled open the van door, holding up a hand when Ivy, Beto, and Anna started to climb out.
“Just one of you,” he said. “Preferably someone who knows how to drive a big truck, because I don’t.”
Lennon unbuckled his seat belt. “I can drive anything.” He hopped out.
“Why just one?” Maisie asked, with more than a little suspicion.
“Someone needs to stay here and watch the van. You don’t just leave your shit parked wherever here. And I need you guys to leave in about ten minutes, okay? If something goes wrong, we’ll walk to the end of the road and meet you there.”
“And all four of us need to stay to do that?” Maisie asked.
“I can’t go over there with a whole crew; it’ll look suspicious,” Queso said impatiently. “Do you want the shipment or not?”
“It’s fine,” Lennon said, his eyes on Maisie. “I can take care of myself. Occasionally.”
Beto snorted.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust that Lennon could take care of himself. It was just that she was suddenly feeling a little panicky at the thought of something happening to him. She wanted him here, with her, where she could slip her hand into his.
“I won’t let anything happen to him,” Queso said. “You can trust me.”
“I literally just said I can take care of myself,” Lennon said.
Queso gave Lennon a skeptical look, and threw the door shut.
Maisie watched them go, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.
“Well,” Beto said. “Let’s hope Hadley’s right about this guy.”
LENNON
LENNON GLANCED BACK at the van as he walked toward the junkyard with Queso.
“She definitely doesn’t trust you,” Lennon said. “Maisie.”
“No reason she should.”
“What are we doing, by the way?”
“Maybe you should learn to be less trusting. You probably should have asked that first thing,” Queso said.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
Queso pointed ahead, to an area where a few men were gathered, drinking something.
“Your name is John,” he said. “One of the Cartwright brothers, if they ask.”
“Okay…?”
“They’re going to call me Bobby, but that’s not my name.”
“Starting to think you don’t have a name, to be honest.”
They stopped as they approached the men, Queso pulling himself up to his full height. It was an impressive height. Lennon was six foot two, and Queso had a couple of inches on him.
“Hey,” he said, and Lennon could have sworn he made his voice a little deeper. “Tim said I should see you about the meds.”
The men were all older than them—probably closer to thirty than twenty.
“You got the money?” one of them asked.
Queso handed it over. Lennon tried to hide his surprise. He hadn’t realized that the north was still using paper money. Or that Queso was willing to fork it over for them.
“Why don’t you go grab those girls you left in the van and hang out for a while?” another guy asked. He nudged his friend and they both laughed.
“Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with those girls,” Queso said with a forced laugh.
“I want something to do with all girls,” the guy said, and then stuck his tongue out in a way that made Lennon wish he didn’t have eyeballs.
“You’ve got three of them in there,” the guy said. “Don’t be greedy.”
“We can’t stick around,” Queso said. “If I don’t get this stuff back to my boss, he’s gonna be pissed. And the girls are, uh, for him.”
“Your boss sounds fucking greedy,” the guy muttered. “Whatever. Third row, in the middle.” He tossed him a set of keys. “Put the crates back like you found them.”
“Got it.”
Queso turned, and Lennon fell into step beside him as they walked away.
“They think you’re just grabbing something from the truck?” he asked under his breath.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Cold meds.”
“And how are they going to react when we drive that whole truck out of here?”
“Not well, I imagine.” He looked at Lennon. “You’re sure you can handle a truck?”
“Oh yeah.”
Queso appeared skeptical.
“I totally can. Trust me.”
“Absolutely not. But I will let you drive because I’m honestly really nervous that I’m going to kill someone if I do it.”
“I wouldn’t be super upset about it if it was one of those guys, though.”
Queso snorted.
They weaved around broken-down cars to the back of the lot, where three eighteen-wheelers were parked. Two were ancient and dirty, but one was in excellent condition. Queso walked to that one and hopped up to the driver’s side. He stuck the key in the lock, and pulled the door open.
“Did you have to pay a lot for those cold meds?” Lennon asked.
“Yes.” He climbed over the driver’s seat and disappeared to the back of the truck.
“That was nice of you.”
“Not really!” he called. “This is it. I see the stuff.”
“Not really?” Lennon repeated. He climbed up into the driver’s seat.
Queso appeared from the back of the truck. “Money isn’t an issue.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” He wondered what Queso did up here that money wasn’t an issue.
Queso slid into the front seat beside him, glancing at him as he buckled his seat belt. “Wait to start the engine until you see the van leave.”
Lennon nodded, finding the van in the distance, still parked.
“Those guys don’t know you?” Lennon asked. “It’s a small territory.”
“I’m wearing a mask.”
“Still. I can recognize people with a mask on.”
“I don’t get out much.”
