I sighed, wiped my cheeks. It always came back to Containment. As long as you were in the Zone, Containment would be there.
I stood up again, shook off the self-pity. It wasn’t attractive, and more important, it wasn’t useful. Running when I didn’t think I had a choice was one thing. But right now I had choices.
I also had a few questions for Mr. Quinn.
• • •
He walked in at six o’clock, a smile on his face, and even more stubble. He wore a couple of fitted, layered T-shirts today, jeans, and boots. The shirts were snug enough that I could see the bulge of his gun. If I hadn’t been so pissed at him, I’d have said he wore the entire ensemble very, very well.
Liam took in the top, skirt, tights, and boots I’d worn today since the weather had cooled a little, offered a friendly smile. “You look nice. You gonna be all right if you get the ensemble a little scuffed up?”
The smile couldn’t compete with the tension between us, or my anger. Ignoring the question, I walked to the front door, locked it. I didn’t want to be interrupted.
His smile had vanished when I turned around again. “What’s wrong?”
“I want the truth. About everything.”
Liam put his hands on his hips, frowned. “The truth about what? What are you talking about?” He paused, uncertain for once. “Is this about last night?”
My cheeks warmed. “No, it’s not about last night. A Containment agent came to see me today. And he wanted to talk about you.”
Liam froze, gaze narrowing at me like a predator ferreting out his prey. Or maybe vice versa. “Which agent?”
“Jack Broussard.”
His face didn’t register surprise or anything else. “I see.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
Liam watched me as silence fell heavy around us.
“Did you investigate my father?”
If I’d surprised him, he didn’t show it. But then again, he wouldn’t have. And he didn’t answer, which only made my fury bloom hotter.
“Was this all a ruse? Your being here in the store that night? Helping me get into Devil’s Isle? Are you trying to get information about Sensitives? Is this some sort of sting operation?” My mind spun, trying to make sense of the web he’d woven, the complications, the details.
“No,” Liam said, the word forceful enough to snap my gaze to his. His eyes gleamed like hot sapphires. “No, damn it. It wasn’t any of that. It’s not any of that.” He ran a hand across his mouth, jaw. “Sit down, Claire.”
“Tell me.”
When I stared back at him, he closed his eyes, looked like he was praying for guidance. He wasn’t the only one.
Liam pulled out two chairs at the table. “Please sit down, Claire.”
I sat down, but Liam didn’t. Not yet. He walked back to the kitchen, and I heard drawers opening and closing. Dizziness had settled in, just enough to make my hands shake. When he came back with a bottle of cold water, I twisted off the cap, gulped.
He sat down in the other chair, angled it to face mine, and ran his hands through his hair. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked at me.
And he told me his story.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’m twenty-seven,” Liam said. “I was twenty when the war started. A junior at Xavier. I’d planned to go to law school, mostly because that’s what Eleanor expected.
“When the house was destroyed, we lost everything that mattered to us. We still had money, but what good would that have done in the Zone? There was nowhere to spend it, and we’d missed the exodus by two weeks, and they’d started closing borders to keep the war contained. So we weren’t leaving, and I had to keep my family safe. I walked into the Cabildo—that was when the army was still set up there—and they hired me as a contractor.”
I stood up again, shook off the self-pity. It wasn’t attractive, and more important, it wasn’t useful. Running when I didn’t think I had a choice was one thing. But right now I had choices.
I also had a few questions for Mr. Quinn.
• • •
He walked in at six o’clock, a smile on his face, and even more stubble. He wore a couple of fitted, layered T-shirts today, jeans, and boots. The shirts were snug enough that I could see the bulge of his gun. If I hadn’t been so pissed at him, I’d have said he wore the entire ensemble very, very well.
Liam took in the top, skirt, tights, and boots I’d worn today since the weather had cooled a little, offered a friendly smile. “You look nice. You gonna be all right if you get the ensemble a little scuffed up?”
The smile couldn’t compete with the tension between us, or my anger. Ignoring the question, I walked to the front door, locked it. I didn’t want to be interrupted.
His smile had vanished when I turned around again. “What’s wrong?”
“I want the truth. About everything.”
Liam put his hands on his hips, frowned. “The truth about what? What are you talking about?” He paused, uncertain for once. “Is this about last night?”
My cheeks warmed. “No, it’s not about last night. A Containment agent came to see me today. And he wanted to talk about you.”
Liam froze, gaze narrowing at me like a predator ferreting out his prey. Or maybe vice versa. “Which agent?”
“Jack Broussard.”
His face didn’t register surprise or anything else. “I see.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
Liam watched me as silence fell heavy around us.
“Did you investigate my father?”
If I’d surprised him, he didn’t show it. But then again, he wouldn’t have. And he didn’t answer, which only made my fury bloom hotter.
“Was this all a ruse? Your being here in the store that night? Helping me get into Devil’s Isle? Are you trying to get information about Sensitives? Is this some sort of sting operation?” My mind spun, trying to make sense of the web he’d woven, the complications, the details.
“No,” Liam said, the word forceful enough to snap my gaze to his. His eyes gleamed like hot sapphires. “No, damn it. It wasn’t any of that. It’s not any of that.” He ran a hand across his mouth, jaw. “Sit down, Claire.”
“Tell me.”
When I stared back at him, he closed his eyes, looked like he was praying for guidance. He wasn’t the only one.
Liam pulled out two chairs at the table. “Please sit down, Claire.”
I sat down, but Liam didn’t. Not yet. He walked back to the kitchen, and I heard drawers opening and closing. Dizziness had settled in, just enough to make my hands shake. When he came back with a bottle of cold water, I twisted off the cap, gulped.
He sat down in the other chair, angled it to face mine, and ran his hands through his hair. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked at me.
And he told me his story.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’m twenty-seven,” Liam said. “I was twenty when the war started. A junior at Xavier. I’d planned to go to law school, mostly because that’s what Eleanor expected.
“When the house was destroyed, we lost everything that mattered to us. We still had money, but what good would that have done in the Zone? There was nowhere to spend it, and we’d missed the exodus by two weeks, and they’d started closing borders to keep the war contained. So we weren’t leaving, and I had to keep my family safe. I walked into the Cabildo—that was when the army was still set up there—and they hired me as a contractor.”
