His expression didn’t change. “No, but Itan are too valuable for Rosche to have let by.”

  A bit of unease crept over her at the flat look in his Itan eyes. What might Rosche want from her then?

  “And I do know there’s not much past the mountains. You wouldn’t find any even if you could get there.”

  “I’m looking forward to proving you wrong.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder.

  “Thought I told you to forget that.” He didn’t look at her, but his voice reverted to the dangerous calm.

  Laramie pushed to her feet. “Guess you thought wrong.”

  She wasn’t staying there. No matter what he said, no matter what the stories said, she was getting out and she was going home.

  His shoulders lifted in a short sigh, and he shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. Stupid doesn’t survive.”

  She looked down at him. He didn’t return the glance, staying focused on his work.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She replaced the kit in her saddlebag. “Let me know when you need help down here.”

  And she left.

  Chapter 10

  Gered paused at the door back into the bunker, listening. Quiet lingered on the other side. He’d heard some of his unit return from the fights, their voices audible under the garage door he’d left open for some air while he worked.

  He just hoped Laramie had disappeared into her room.

  There’d been a moment where he felt almost comfortable around her, then she’d started staring at his tattoo. And like an idiot, he’d talked about it, bringing up memories he’d long ago hidden to save them from the brutality of the Tlengin. He so very rarely took them out, and never to share with anyone.

  Only for himself when he desperately needed a reminder that maybe, somewhere out there, some good remained in the world.

  Easing open the door, he stepped into an empty room. He felt a fool at the relief that washed over him. Admitting he’d once been Itan had only increased the unease he felt around her. Like he’d given up a part of himself he’d never meant anyone else to see, despite the gray and blue eyes he couldn’t hide. And each glimpse he caught of her tugged at burned memories and ghosts.

  Pain flashed through his hand as he shut the door. He flexed his fingers into a fist, breathing through the discomfort of swollen and bloodied knuckles. Barns never held back. His ribs already threatened bruising later.

  Gered pulled a cold beer from the cooler and pressed it against his knuckles. Going immediately to work on the bikes hadn’t helped the soreness in his hands. But he’d needed something familiar to calm the rage and the fight throbbing through his veins after the challenge.

  The main entry door clicked open and shut. He didn’t look up from his hand, recognizing the light tread coming over to him. Relief petered in.

  “Get the bikes sorted?” Gioia leaned against the counter opposite him. She kept her voice light and casual, though they both tensed to see if someone would stir in the other rooms.

  “Yeah. Didn’t get to yours yet.” He finally dared to look up.

  She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s okay.” Her light brown eyes turned down to his hand. A breath hitched over her lips and she turned a quick glance over her shoulder. They were still alone.

  Gered’s breath froze in his chest as she gently reached for the beer and his hand and took over the task. It wasn’t necessary and they both knew it.

  “How’s it feel?” She tilted a look up at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Stings a little.”

  Her thumb brushed the back of his hand. They both stared down at where their skin met. With the gang rules, this was all it could ever be. Rosche liked controlling every bit of his riders’ lives. If anyone found out about them, they’d be well and truly dusted. And Gioia would be worse off than him. She’d be lucky if all Rosche did was take her back to the tower.

  So this was what it was. Small touches stolen when no one was there. Brief moments of time where they could imagine for a second what could be if they were free. Sometimes they didn’t even talk, just stood together and dreamed in silence.

  He shifted, tightening his fingers around hers. The blood and bruises covering his knuckles another mocking reason it could never be. Someone like him didn’t deserve someone like her.

  “How’d...how’d you do tonight?” He had to force his voice to work.

  She turned a slight smile up at him, nearly stopping his heart. “Not as well as I did betting on you.”

  A quiver of a smile touched his lips. “Hope you didn’t listen to Dayo again.”

  “I did learn from the last time.”

  A laugh teased his chest. She was the only one who could almost draw it out. Her and Dayo, who’d barged his way in and declared them friends. Something Gered had never really had. It’d taken some getting used to.

  “You okay?” She kept tracing his hand with her thumb.

  She’d always seen through his non-answers and avoidance. “Just been on edge recently. Needed to get away from the noise for a bit.”

  “Anything to do with the drifter?”

  A quick sigh escaped. It had everything to do with the drifter. With the restlessness that came from riding the same routes, enforcing Rosche’s rules day after day, forcing down the powerlessness at being unable make his own decisions. Unable to have anything he truly wanted.

  “Maybe.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. He conceded with a slight shift between his feet.

  “How’s she settling in?” he asked.

  “Good, I guess.” Gioia paused, her grip tightening. “I saw you talking to her when we brought her in. I was glad she didn’t have to go through the same thing I did.”

  For a moment, a pit yawned in his gut, remembering what had happened to her could happen again if they dusted this up. “Why do you think I warned her?”

  A sad sort of smile turned up her lips. “You’d have done it anyway. I know you help the newbies who are lost around here.”

  Like he’d helped her.

  He swallowed hard. It was always quick, always with an unspoken promise they wouldn’t tell who’d helped them out.

  “So?”

  She shook her head in slight aggravation. “So I know that you really do care even though you pretend not to.”

  This time he shook his head. Caring meant trouble for a person. Caring meant weakness. He hadn’t ever been able to afford that.

  Gioia pushed forward, until only their linked hands separated them—a small bridge between their bodies. His heart pumped frantically. Still he held back. Fear overwhelming the desire to kiss her, to take her in his arms. Fear that if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop and wouldn’t be able to figure out a way to keep living the way they had for the last year.

  Her gaze lowered until she stared at his chest. He hated the black in her close-cropped hair. It was brown under the dye. He remembered that much. He’d give anything to see it again.

  “Caring isn’t weakness,” she said.

  “Caring is what trapped us like this.”

  He felt the nudge of her breath against his hand. He had to push her away so he could regain his balance, regain the unfeeling hollowness he wore like his jacket. His body wouldn’t do it, so his words had to.

  “Caring is something only fools believe in.”

  She took the hint and stepped away, leaving him free to breathe again. “Then I guess I’m a dusted idiot.”

  But there was no anger in her eyes. Just sad understanding. She knew as well as he did it could never be. But it didn’t stop her wanting and hoping either. Slowly, she unlaced her fingers from his.

  “See you tomorrow, sir.”

  And like that, they were back to the unfeeling unit leader and the simple rider. Nothing more. Except he watched her every step from the room, and she turned one last time to look at him with eyes full of sad longing before she vanished into her room.

  Chapter 11

  “How’s your hand?” Dayo yawned as they exited the bunker into the bright morning sunlight.

  Gered zipped up his jacket, somehow feeling safer for the action. Flexing his fingers, he held up his hand for Dayo to see. Bruising and some swelling scattered over the knuckles, but: “It’s fine.”

  “You need anything for it?” Dayo peered at it.

  “Put something cold on it last night,” he reassured.

  “I didn’t think Zelig was really stupid enough to challenge.” Dayo scrubbed a hand over his head, bringing it down to rub his eyes.

  “Are you okay this morning?” Gered raised an eyebrow.

  Mid-morning more like, and Dayo had come in after he’d already gone to bed.

  Dayo shrugged. “Found a card game after the fights.”

  And probably something stronger than a cigarette. Gered tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. What Dayo did on his own time was his business, and he never let it interfere with unit business.

  “Save anything from the fights?”

  Dayo scoffed. “Have some faith in me, why don’t you?”

  Gered lifted a shoulder with a doubtful expression. Dayo shoved him and Gered stumbled a few steps with a smirk.

  “I don’t remember what I did with your share then.”

  Gered huffed a laugh. Even if that were true, there was nothing around worth spending money on.

  They reached the tower and jogged up the steps inside. Breakfast had long been cleared. The kitchen didn’t care about units oversleeping. They grabbed nutrient bars and water instead.

  “Your brake pads are changed out, by the way.” Gered pushed the bar into his pocket.

  “How late did you stay in the garage?” Dayo asked before drinking half his water in a long gulp, not quite disguising his returning concern.

  Dayo had his ways of keeping busy, and Gered had his.

  Gered shifted a little as he slowly undid the cap. “The drifter did it actually. She came down to check her bike and ended up helping.”

  “Really?” Dayo lowered the bottle and looked at him in surprise. Everyone knew the garage was Gered’s territory. Even Dayo rarely bothered him down there. “I guess she is Itan. Probably has the knack for it.” Dayo finished off his water, tossed the bottle, and grabbed a new one.

  Like me. “Yeah. She might even be able to keep up with all your maintenance requests.”

  Dayo rolled his eyes as they headed out of the mess hall.

  “Gered.” A voice halted them in the atrium.

  Tension rushed through Gered and his hand twitched down toward the pistol on his left leg. He eased it into a fist instead as Rosche stepped down from the stairs.

  “I was going to come looking for you.”

  “Sir.” Gered nodded.

  Dayo had gone still beside him.

  “Dayo.” Rosche flicked a glance over to him.

  “Sir.” Dayo added a salute.

  “Both of you, walk with me.” Rosche headed out the main doors and Gered and Dayo hurried to catch up. Gered slid on his sunglasses, another bit of armor in place, like maybe they could make Rosche forget the skills displayed openly in the blue in his eyes.

  “I saw your challenge last night, Gered.”

  The words caught him off guard. Rosche had been there? But maybe it wasn’t surprising. Rosche always knew everything, and there were nooks and crannies in every building where someone could lurk unnoticed.

  He glanced over to the posts in the main courtyard. Empty. The rider had served the sentence set and was probably in the tower’s med center getting taken care of.

  “Efficient as always.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The words dug their way from his mouth.

  “Do you think Zelig will challenge you again?” Rosche asked, a bit of concerned curiosity in his eyes.

  “He seemed to accept the defeat yesterday.”

  Zelig had still looked pissed as Gered left the fights, but within the rules of the arena, Gered was the clear winner. And Zelig would have to be extra stupid to keep challenging him if that rider was the strongest he could send after Gered.

  Rosche hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve no doubt you can take care of it if he does. But come to me if something else happens.”

  Gered hated the almost paternal concern in Rosche’s voice. Like he really cared. Severi would do the same thing, and then drag his knife through Gered’s skin when he felt Gered hadn’t done something good or fast enough. Or sometimes just because he felt like it.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dayo, I heard you cleaned up last night, too.” A bit of amusement came through Rosche’s words.

  “Always, sir.” The cheer in Dayo’s voice seemed painfully forced to Gered. But Rosche didn’t appear to notice.

  “Have you tried the new brew down at the Roadhouse?”

  “Yes, sir. Last time we headed into town. I prefer the amber though.”

  “That is one of their better ones.”

  Gered had to allow the fact that Rosche did know something about every rider under his command. In most riders, it instilled a bit of pride and loyalty that Rosche could talk to them about something personal. Like he really cared. That way it was easier to forgive and forget when he killed or punished on a whim.

  They passed around the rear of the tower, stopping at the garage door which housed Rosche’s personal bikes. Rosche tapped in the code and the door raised.

  “You run a good crew, Gered. Gioia continues to impress me.” This time Rosche turned a sharper look at him.

  Gered kept his features schooled in the mask he’d perfected a long time ago. His sunglasses hid his traitorous eyes. He hated the way Rosche said her name, caressing the syllables as if he still owned her.

  “She might be able to beat Gered at the short range someday.” Dayo kept a careless note in his voice.

  Rosche smiled. “That I would pay to see.”

  Gered forced motion into his limbs, making some gesture indicating he wasn’t concerned about his uncontested rule as the best shot in the garrison.

  Rosche ducked into the garage and wheeled out his bike. It had an extra bulk the rest of the gang bikes didn’t—a larger engine, heavier horsepower. It fit the man perfectly.

  “How’s the drifter settling in?” he asked.

  “Seems to be doing just fine, sir,” Gered said.

  “Good. She seems like she has...potential.” A slight smile quirked Rosche’s mouth. “She bring anything interesting in?”

  Gered’s mind flitted back to a canister filled with harnessed lightning, shouting danger in its design and function.

  “No, sir. But she does have the knack for machines.”

  Rosche wanted an answer and he might as well hear about the knack instead of something else.

  “Good. Even more potential, then.” Rosche gave a pleased smile. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen someone with blue eyes, hasn’t it?” A probing edge filled the question.

  Gered approximated a shrug. It had been a long time. The Tlengin had made sure of that. He had no idea how she’d survived, and he really didn’t care to know. Those things were better left buried. But he knew all too well Laramie’s anger at the Tlengin for wiping out their people. Though he seemed to have had more opportunity to bury it deep.

  Rosche smiled, a warning in the sight. “Just make sure she keeps performing, Gered. And I’m sure we can find a use for that knack of hers.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gered took the underlying warning for himself as well. Rosche didn’t tolerate mediocrity in a useful asset for very long.

  “Good.” Lightness filled Rosche’s tone, the friendliness back. “I’m going to check the recruits myself today. You boys watch each other’s backs.”

  “Yes, sir.” They both saluted, stepping back to avoid the cloud of exhaust and dust as Rosche started his engine and drove off.

  Dayo hissed something under his breath in the traveler language. “I need to go hit something.”

  He didn’t have as many reasons to come face to face with Rosche as Gered did. But at least he’d gotten better at hiding the hate at Rosche’s heavy tax on his traveler family when he did.

  Gered’s water bottle eased a crackle of relief as he loosened his grip. “Want company?”

  Dayo flashed a bitter smile. “Let’s go.”

  ~

  Gered’s back hit the mat with a thump, Dayo pinning him with triumph beginning to light his eyes. Gered allowed a quick smile, kicking his legs up around Dayo’s shoulders and twisting, redirecting Dayo off him and to the mat.

  “Not fair!” Dayo growled, tugging his arm still in Gered’s hold.

  “You fall for it every time.” Gered released him.

  They lay on the mats, staring at the ceiling. An hour after the conversation with Rosche, Dayo seemed to have punched out his anger.

  “Need to go again?” Gered asked.

  “No. Think I’m good, kamé.” Dayo tapped his fist against Gered’s arm. He sat up with a groan, wiping a sleeve across his sweaty face. “You good?”

  Gered held a breath for a moment. The anger and frustration swirling inside him had abated for a few moments.

  “I’m good.”

  Dayo stood and leaned over, extending a hand to haul him to his feet.

  “Sure?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Gered began to pull the wraps from his hands. “I thought this was for you.”

  Dayo snorted and tugged his own wraps free. “Right. Because you didn’t pull some of your punches.”

  Gered worked his hand against the swelling and bruising. He shouldn’t have sparred so soon after a bare-knuckle fight. “Did I hurt you?”

  A huff came from the traveler. “You think I can’t take a punch after being here for three years?”

  Gered stared at his hand. That wasn’t the point. A nudge to his shoulder brought his focus up to Dayo.

  “I know you won’t hurt any of us.”

  Us. Unit Four.

  Though some days the anger from being trapped for so long threatened to spill over, and only Dayo’s laugh, Gioia’s smiles, or the calm of the garage helped soothe it and the fear at the violence he could do if he let it unleash.

  “Hey!” A voice from the doorway turned their attention.

 

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