Roland, on the other hand, looks as pretty as a homecoming king. Not a hair out of place. Even in his fatigues, he looks put-together. “Yeah. Let’s at least address the fact that we lost Tabatha and an entire group of carriers.” Roland looks at me then as he says this, his dark eyes direct and cutting. “Well, except for this one.”
“She has a name, Roland,” Junie reminds him with an apologetic look at me, tossing her twin braids over her slim shoulders.
He shrugs. “She’s not staying. What’s the point of learning the names of those just passing through?”
Caden’s deep voice floats over the room. “You all know we lost one of our own yesterday.”
Heads nod, and a slow murmur breaks out across the room.
“Tabatha believed in what we’ve built here. She knew the risks.” Caden hesitates, either to let this sink in or pausing for composure. “She was prepared to die for what she believed in.” His gaze swings over the room. “It’s why my father built this compound. To be a sanctuary for carriers, to help us survive, to fight for what’s right. That’s still what we’re here for, what we’re working toward. That’s what the General is away doing for us right now.” His voice rings out with force and conviction, and something prickles to life inside my chest. I’m not the only one watching with admiration. He’s easy to admire. I don’t know anything about this General—where he is or exactly what he’s doing—but somehow I know this place would be fine without him. As long as they have Caden.
Suddenly I feel like I’m toeing the edge of a cliff, so close to falling. If I just let go. If I just step off and let myself plunge. The idea is there that I could put my hand in his and be okay. My heart flutters inside the ache of my chest.
“Pretty words, but what are you going to do about what happened?”
Caden’s gaze sharpens on Marcus. “What do you suggest? Get a war party going and kill everyone in sight just on the off chance we get the people responsible?”
“Sounds good to me,” Ruben shouts out.
“Moron,” Junie mutters.
“Well, I guess that is an excellent plan—for getting us killed. But the idea here is to survive.” Caden looks over the room again, his stare resting the longest on Marcus.
When moments pass without anyone else chiming in, Caden adds, “I’m temporarily halting all missions. Patrols are getting too thick out there.”
This stirs up some noise in the room, mostly from Marcus’s corner. Clearly, his little pack is not happy with the announcement.
“We need to lie low and wait for things to settle down out there. No missions. No convoys. No taking in new carriers.” He means until he ferrets out the spy. I know this without him saying it, and a warm little feeling hums through me at having this connection with him—this innate knowledge of how he ticks.
Marcus pushes to his feet. “You mean we have to hide like rats in this hole.”
A muscle feathers the flesh across Caden’s jaw, the only outward sign he gives that he’s even heard Marcus. “I’ve already sent word to our liaison at the cell in Presidio today that we’re temporarily not accepting carriers.” He nods at Terrence, indicating that he had left and returned today to convey this message. And of course he would have sent Terrence. He’s probably the only guy left in this place that Caden trusts completely. Especially now.
“Like hell!” Color mottles Marcus’s face. “I didn’t sign up to sit on my hands and do nothing!”
Caden finally acknowledges Marcus. “I said this is only temporary. Until I know our position is secure and I’m confident that we’re not going to walk into . . .” His voice fades, and I know he’s thinking a trap. Instead he settles on, “Danger.”
“This is because of her.” Marcus swings a finger at me, and suddenly I’m the object of all eyes. “This is just an excuse to keep her here when it’s obvious she wants to catch the next convoy to Mexico.”
My face burns and my breath hitches, my lungs suddenly pinched, unable to take in enough air.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer.” Caden’s voice is deep and vibrating with suppressed anger.
“He let her go before, you idiot,” Junie calls out from beside me. “Or did he arrange for the entire convoy to be killed except for her?” She snorts, crossing her arms in a huff.
“Good question.” Marcus arches an eyebrow at Caden. “Did you?”
My heart stops. You can actually hear gasps at the question, at the implication that Caden arranged for the murder of Tabatha and the others. A long stretch of silence follows. A thousand emotions cross Caden’s face before he erupts and charges across the room. “You bastard!”
Marcus comes forward to meet him, a giant grin on his face, eager for the confrontation, and I know this was his hope. He wants this fight. Maybe he even planned to provoke Caden into it. They’re cut off, several guys getting between them. Terrence’s arms wrap around Caden, holding him back.
“Tabatha was my friend,” Caden growls, one arm swiping for Marcus.
I realize I’m standing—that I’ve vaulted to my feet like so many others in the room. Only their expressions are bewildered as they look back and forth between Caden and Marcus. Clearly they’re reconsidering who should be leading them while the General is away, and this makes me feel a little panicky.
“She has a name, Roland,” Junie reminds him with an apologetic look at me, tossing her twin braids over her slim shoulders.
He shrugs. “She’s not staying. What’s the point of learning the names of those just passing through?”
Caden’s deep voice floats over the room. “You all know we lost one of our own yesterday.”
Heads nod, and a slow murmur breaks out across the room.
“Tabatha believed in what we’ve built here. She knew the risks.” Caden hesitates, either to let this sink in or pausing for composure. “She was prepared to die for what she believed in.” His gaze swings over the room. “It’s why my father built this compound. To be a sanctuary for carriers, to help us survive, to fight for what’s right. That’s still what we’re here for, what we’re working toward. That’s what the General is away doing for us right now.” His voice rings out with force and conviction, and something prickles to life inside my chest. I’m not the only one watching with admiration. He’s easy to admire. I don’t know anything about this General—where he is or exactly what he’s doing—but somehow I know this place would be fine without him. As long as they have Caden.
Suddenly I feel like I’m toeing the edge of a cliff, so close to falling. If I just let go. If I just step off and let myself plunge. The idea is there that I could put my hand in his and be okay. My heart flutters inside the ache of my chest.
“Pretty words, but what are you going to do about what happened?”
Caden’s gaze sharpens on Marcus. “What do you suggest? Get a war party going and kill everyone in sight just on the off chance we get the people responsible?”
“Sounds good to me,” Ruben shouts out.
“Moron,” Junie mutters.
“Well, I guess that is an excellent plan—for getting us killed. But the idea here is to survive.” Caden looks over the room again, his stare resting the longest on Marcus.
When moments pass without anyone else chiming in, Caden adds, “I’m temporarily halting all missions. Patrols are getting too thick out there.”
This stirs up some noise in the room, mostly from Marcus’s corner. Clearly, his little pack is not happy with the announcement.
“We need to lie low and wait for things to settle down out there. No missions. No convoys. No taking in new carriers.” He means until he ferrets out the spy. I know this without him saying it, and a warm little feeling hums through me at having this connection with him—this innate knowledge of how he ticks.
Marcus pushes to his feet. “You mean we have to hide like rats in this hole.”
A muscle feathers the flesh across Caden’s jaw, the only outward sign he gives that he’s even heard Marcus. “I’ve already sent word to our liaison at the cell in Presidio today that we’re temporarily not accepting carriers.” He nods at Terrence, indicating that he had left and returned today to convey this message. And of course he would have sent Terrence. He’s probably the only guy left in this place that Caden trusts completely. Especially now.
“Like hell!” Color mottles Marcus’s face. “I didn’t sign up to sit on my hands and do nothing!”
Caden finally acknowledges Marcus. “I said this is only temporary. Until I know our position is secure and I’m confident that we’re not going to walk into . . .” His voice fades, and I know he’s thinking a trap. Instead he settles on, “Danger.”
“This is because of her.” Marcus swings a finger at me, and suddenly I’m the object of all eyes. “This is just an excuse to keep her here when it’s obvious she wants to catch the next convoy to Mexico.”
My face burns and my breath hitches, my lungs suddenly pinched, unable to take in enough air.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer.” Caden’s voice is deep and vibrating with suppressed anger.
“He let her go before, you idiot,” Junie calls out from beside me. “Or did he arrange for the entire convoy to be killed except for her?” She snorts, crossing her arms in a huff.
“Good question.” Marcus arches an eyebrow at Caden. “Did you?”
My heart stops. You can actually hear gasps at the question, at the implication that Caden arranged for the murder of Tabatha and the others. A long stretch of silence follows. A thousand emotions cross Caden’s face before he erupts and charges across the room. “You bastard!”
Marcus comes forward to meet him, a giant grin on his face, eager for the confrontation, and I know this was his hope. He wants this fight. Maybe he even planned to provoke Caden into it. They’re cut off, several guys getting between them. Terrence’s arms wrap around Caden, holding him back.
“Tabatha was my friend,” Caden growls, one arm swiping for Marcus.
I realize I’m standing—that I’ve vaulted to my feet like so many others in the room. Only their expressions are bewildered as they look back and forth between Caden and Marcus. Clearly they’re reconsidering who should be leading them while the General is away, and this makes me feel a little panicky.
