Fires of Man Page 16

  “What are you talking about?” Kay asked.

  In unison, the members of her squad snapped their mouths shut. Their eyes shifted back and forth, trying to look anywhere but at Kay.

  “Good God, guys. Out with it, already,” Kay growled.

  “We thought you knew,” Zweig said, fiddling with his hands. “I heard he shipped out this morning.”

  “Shipped . . . out?”

  “Um, I heard it from Jensen,” Turner said.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Jensen. “I heard it from Maddick!”

  Kay glared at him, and he held up his hands in surrender. “I heard it from one of the guys under his command. Um, formerly, uh . . . under his command. That is—”

  “What?” Kay demanded.

  “He’s been reassigned. Overseas. Kaito.”

  “Kaito,” Kay repeated.

  “He flew out last night,” Maddick said.

  Nyne was . . . gone?

  He was really, actually gone?

  That couldn’t be right. It just . . . it couldn’t be.

  With another hour before Kay’s patrol shift started, she stalked back to her quarters. She needed to think. Or break something. Her heart hurt, thudding against the inside of her ribs.

  The second she entered her room, she flew into a rage, crumpling her bedspread, tossing pillows, pounding her mattress with her fist. She knew throwing a tantrum was childish, but it felt good. If only Nyne was here; she would have slugged him. How could he leave without telling her? Without saying goodbye?

  No, she knew how. It was her fault. She’d put him in that position, and now . . .

  When she calmed down, she went to her bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and dry swallowed a naproxen. It was a day before her period was due, and the cramps were starting in. It couldn’t have come at a worse time. The last thing she needed was to feel so emotional, and raw.

  She left the bathroom and headed to her bureau, aching for some sort of catharsis. She dug out an old box of photos and began to tear up all the ones with Nyne in them: the two of them in uniform; out together with friends; in bed, with half his face mashed into the pillow; and at Antico Island, posing with that stupid fucking pink elephant.

  Kay stopped at that last one and the tears came, running hot down her cheeks.

  He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

  She wanted him, needed him here, even if it was only to be angry with him and shoot him dirty looks across crowded rooms. She already missed him, she realized. Knowing he was around meant she wasn’t alone. Now she had nothing, and no one, left to anchor her. She’d convinced herself this was coming, ever since that day on the Ferris wheel, and . . .

  She’d turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  She was the one who’d driven him away. She was the one who had pushed him to this. She’d been so terrified of finding happiness, and then having it snatched away from her, that she’d completely denied herself the chance!

  She walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer. Inside lay the black jewelry box from that day, on top of the Ferris wheel. She remembered how she’d felt back then, when Nyne had taken it out of his pocket. How the numbers she’d been counting since the day Tibe was shot—one, two, three, four, five—had come over and over again, racing through her head. She remembered how she’d thought, God, I’m actually going to do it, I’m actually going to say, “yes.” How she’d imagined an entire future with him, spread out before her like a roadmap.

  She reached into the drawer and opened the box.

  Inside was a bracelet, a thin circle of silvery-white platinum, with two tiny stylized hands clinging together as the clasp.

  She hadn’t appreciated it at the time, but it was beautiful. And it was just her taste. Simple, elegant. He’d understood her well enough, at least, to know that.

  Gingerly, she lifted the bracelet from the jewelry box, holding it like a child.

  She’d been wrong. So fucking wrong.

  She pressed the bracelet to her chest, fell to her knees, and she wept.

  “Come back,” she whispered. “Please. I fucked up. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please . . . Please come back. Please . . .”

  But he wasn’t coming back. She knew that. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. The military wouldn’t let him.

  Not that he actually would want to. She’d done a fantastic job making sure of that.

  For a moment, she unclasped the bracelet and slipped it around her wrist. But it felt like it weighed ten tons. And she didn’t think she could bear to look at it.

  She returned the bracelet to the box, and closed it.

  Tiberian was gone. Now Nyne was gone too.

  She had no one left.

  She felt sorry for herself for as long as she dared. She still had work to do, a patrol to go on, a squad to command. She went into the bathroom, washed her face, and told her reflection in the mirror that things would get better. She would manage. She had to.

  Kay met back up with her squad and put on a good show. She joked, laughed, and made damn certain no one knew it was anything less than the best day of her life.

  At least the patrol itself provided a welcome distraction. There was a brisk wind today, blowing beneath her visor and through the nooks and crannies of her uniform. The sun stood high and bright overhead. The sky was an unending plane of cerulean, devoid of clouds. More than once, the thought came up that she might run into Tiberian out here, but she pushed it down before she could get lost in that “what if” scenario she both longed for and dreaded.

  The shift was uneventful, as always. When Kay returned to base, she was tired and dusty and depressed. Jensen asked her out for a drink. She considered it for the briefest moment, then turned him down. She was lonely, but wanted to be alone—a complete dichotomy, yet there it was. Sometimes her feelings were a mystery even to herself.

  Instead of showering, she changed into a tanktop and sweats and headed to the gym for the second time that day. She spent thirty minutes on the treadmill, running as if her life depended on it, the movement easing the painful knotting in her groin. Once the time ran out, she set it for another thirty, then another thirty after that. Afterward she guzzled a bottle of water and headed back to her room to bathe.

  She filled her tub with steaming water and lavender-scented bath salts, grabbed an as-yet-unread pulp fiction thriller, and luxuriated. The heat eased her tired muscles, and her cramps. Three times the water went cold and she refilled it. She soaked until her limbs felt light and rejuvenated.

  She felt almost good.

  For a little while, at least.

  By the time the water went cold again, her improved mood began to fade. The prospect of staying in her room, by herself, all night felt suddenly depressing. With a sigh, she emerged from the bath. Water cascaded from her body, soaking the bathmat as she rubbed herself dry. She wrapped herself in the damp towel and headed out into the room proper. The space felt small and stifling. She found herself longing to go topside, get some fresh air.

  And a beer. Or five.

  Absolutely, positively, yes.

  An hour later, Kay found herself at one of her favorite watering holes—a place called Brewsky’s on the south side of Grisham. She’d brought Nyne here once or twice, but that was it. The place felt like it was hers. And she needed that right now.

  Brewsky’s had an old-fashioned feel, with scarred, battered wood flooring, scuffed tables and stools, and a pockmarked bar. The only really modern thing was the wall-mounted flatscreen TV in one corner. There was a lower level with restaurant-style seating, a kitchen, and a storeroom containing their massive selection of bottled brews. Food and beers were sent up to the first floor by an aged dumbwaiter.

  Kay grabbed a table in the back, and opened up the beer menu. She scanned it, looking for new additions, but ultimately decided on her usual: a Farston Double Porter. When the waitress came around, she ordered her beer, plus a plate of their amazing spicy potato fries.

&n
bsp; There were a handful of other people inside, all men. A couple of older, heavyset guys sat at the bar, chatting with the bartender. They looked like a couple of working stiffs, having a drink after a long day. Then there was the young twenty-something in the corner, reading a book and drinking some kind of blonde ale. He kept making shy eyes at her, and looking away when she looked back.

  Yeah, you just keep on looking, buddy, she thought.

  Last was a swarthy, bent-nosed man with oiled, slicked-back hair, who was talking quietly, but intensely, on his cell phone. He, too, kept looking at Kay, but not in an innocuous sort of way. She could see the desire in his eyes, the creep. She almost hoped he tried something, so she could put him in his place. She was feeling vengeful and just a little bit violent. Her food and drink came, and she tried to concentrate on the paperback she’d been reading in the tub—some medical thriller about a doctor trying to save the world from a man-made contagion. She couldn’t get herself to focus on the words. Bad thoughts kept intruding—Nyne, Tibe, and her general feeling of being lost, alone, dissatisfied with life.

  There was a jingle, then, and Kay’s eyes went to the door.

  A handsome black guy entered, dressed in a sharp sport jacket and slacks, his white shirt open at the collar.

  Kay looked him over again.

  Make that very handsome: tall, muscular, with a strong, angled jaw, and sharp cheekbones. His hair was cropped close to his head, immaculately trimmed. She wondered what such a well-dressed guy was doing in a hole-in-the-wall place like this.

  Not that it matters, she told herself. She’d rebounded from guy to guy plenty during college, and it was a mistake she’d vowed not to make again. Luckily, he made it easy. He spared her a brief glance, then took a seat at the bar. His eyes stayed glued to a baseball game on the television.

  Kay exhaled. She returned to her beer, polishing off the last couple gulps; she savored the rich malt and barley taste. She signaled the waitress. When the girl came over, she brought with her a pale beer in a pint glass.

  “What’s this?” Kay asked.

  “That guy asked me to bring it over when you were done with your first one,” the waitress said. She pointed at the bent-nosed man—the creeper.

  Kay had been hoping it was the black guy, but she wasn’t about to turn down a free drink. She took a sip . . .

  And instantly spit it back into the glass. It was some awful, frou-frou thing tasting of fruit and flowers and God knew what else. Probably sunshine and fucking rainbows. She pushed it aside and told the waitress, “Another Farston.”

  She returned her attention to her book, but that lasted about a minute.

  She realized someone was standing in front of her table.

  Bent-nose. This close, she could see his skin was shiny, glistening with sweat. His blue suit was rumpled, hanging loosely on him. There was a predatory air about his narrow eyes, as if he thought she was no more than meat. She fought the urge to tell him to fuck off, and instead asked, “Yeah?”

  “You pushed away my drink,” he said. “I sent you a drink because you’re beautiful, you know? You should drink it.”

  “I don’t drink crap beer,” she said.

  “I bought this for you out of the goodness of my heart,” he said. “I want you to drink it.” He leaned in, resting his palms on the table, and leered at her.

  Kay appraised the man. His ring finger bore a strip of white skin. His wedding band was probably in his pocket, she thought. His knuckles had some scrapes, and in one place a tiny scab, but aside from his broken nose—an old injury by the looks of it—his face was unmarred. A batterer, Kay decided; a man used to cowing women with his anger and fists. Well, today was his lucky day. She would teach him a valuable lesson: not all women were helpless.

  Kay smiled coldly and filled herself with psionic energy. Her skin tingled. She slid the pint glass across the table at him. “No thanks,” she said. “Drink it yourself.”

  The man’s eyes bulged. He reached for her. It was just what she had been waiting for. She would break only one finger, to start . . .

  A slender ebony hand clamped down on the man’s shoulder. Behind him loomed the black gentleman from the bar. This close, Kay saw he stood well over six feet tall, with wide shoulders to match. She’d been so focused on the asshole in front of her that the other man seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

  Kay sighed and released her grip on her power. She’d been looking forward to blowing off some steam.

  “I think you’d better leave,” said Kay’s would-be savior.

  “This is none of your business,” said bent-nose.

  “I can make it my business.”

  For the first time, bent-nose registered the black guy’s size. He gulped and put his hands up in surrender. “I’m leaving.”

  The newcomer smiled at Kay, his white teeth in stark contrast to his chocolate skin.

  Bent-nose whirled and launched a sucker punch.

  “Hey,” Kay yelled in warning.

  The black man swayed to the side, caught bent-nose’s arm, then wrenched it until the creep began to whimper. “Stop, stop,” he whined.

  “Get outta here,” the black guy said. He released bent-nose and shoved the man toward the door.

  Bent-nose shot a last baleful look at Kay, as if this were her fault, then stumbled out.

  The entire establishment burst into applause.

  The large man ignored the noise and proffered a hand.

  “Jackie,” he said. “Jackie Marcus.” He smiled again, and it dimpled his cheeks. He really was handsome.

  Kay ignored his hand. “I had that taken care of,” she said.

  “Maybe I was being chivalrous,” he said. “So you didn’t have to get your hands dirty.”

  For a moment Kay thought he was making fun of her, but his expression was sincere. He kept his hand outstretched in her direction.

  She shrugged. “Chivalry is dead.”

  He laughed, the timbre of it rich and warm. “I’m waging a one-man war to bring it back.”

  Kay laughed too. He was funny; she could give him that. She accepted his handshake. “Kay,” she said.

  “From Katherine?” he asked.

  “Kay,” she repeated firmly.

  “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Kay No-Last-Name,” he said. He turned and started back toward the bar.

  Wait a minute, she thought. He had been flirting with her—definitely flirting!—but now he was just going to mosey on back to his barstool? There had been interest in his eyes. She was sure of it. “Wait,” she said, while her mind yelled, What the hell are you doing?

  He paused.

  “Join me?” Kay asked.

  Jackie grinned, grabbed his drink, then returned to her table.

  Within minutes, they were bantering back and forth, while she fought an inner battle. One side told her this was stupid, unhealthy, that she was too emotional to be doing this. The other side said she needed this, needed to get over Nyne, and rationalized that this was only harmless conversation.

  “I didn’t know grown men still called themselves Jackie,” she said. “Don’t you prefer Jack? John?”

  “I’m a lawyer,” he said, “and going by Jackie seems to make people think I’m more trustworthy. Their old pal Jackie, you know? Don’t know why it works, but it does.”

  “Are you?” Kay asked. “Trustworthy?”

  “I’ll let you decide,” he said.

  “Mm,” she said. “I wouldn’t have taken your word for it anyway.”

  “I had a feeling,” he said.

  “So . . . why are you in Grisham? Do you live here, or . . . ?”

  “I’m actually in the middle of a deal for one of my clients. Black Industries. They’re Calchis-based, but that’s the advantage of operating a business from there. Equal opportunity, no restrictions. My boss actually has me trying to negotiate a contract with the Orion Armed Forces.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about that,” she said.

&nb
sp; He raised an eyebrow. “You military?”

  She nodded.

  “Wow,” he said, “I’m impressed. You weren’t kidding when you said you could take care of yourself, huh?”

  She smiled.

  “Anyway, it hasn’t gone beyond the preliminary stage, yet. But this could be big. We’re talking billions. My client should be arriving any day now.”

  “Billions of dollars. Sounds boring,” Kay joked.

  “Terribly.”

  “So what brings a high-roller like you to a place like this?” she asked.

  “I like to stay low-key,” he said.

  “Like saving damsels in distress, low-key?” she asked.

  “You got me,” he said. “I’m really a superhero in disguise. With a taste for good beer.”

  “That makes two of us,” Kay said. They clinked glasses.

  Before she knew it, it was 2200. Kay had to get back to base and go to sleep. They shared pleasant parting words. When he asked for her phone number, she told him he could give her his.

  She said she would call if she was interested in a second dose of “chivalry.”

  Outside, Kay hailed a taxi. On her way back to base, she realized the heaviness in her heart had abated. Even without Nyne, or the search for Tibe to drive her, she would survive. And while it was way too soon to get involved with someone else, the thought of Jackie cheered her. He did well on her checklist; he was smart, witty, could keep up with her banter; he had a good career; he was good-looking; and the fact that he’d kept things light and easygoing, without making any assumptions on where things were heading, had been a definite plus.

  And he hadn’t asked her much about herself. She didn’t know if that meant he was self-centered, or if he’d just picked up on her reticence to share. Either way, it was a refreshing change of pace from Nyne.

  Nyne . . .

  Yeah, she didn’t even want to think about being with someone right now.

  But if she changed her mind, she had Jackie’s number. She looked out the cab’s window, watching the glowing lights of restaurants and bodegas, the illuminated windows of second and third-floor apartments, watching all the people within them. Those people were in control of their lives. For so long, she’d felt like she wasn’t. She couldn’t escape the military. And yet . . .