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“You’re not. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve trusted with who I am in years.” Since before he’d been taken. “I’m not ready to lose that. Maybe you’d rather walk away, I don’t know. It hasn’t been long enough to be sure what we feel isn’t what they call emotional response to extremity.”
“Any port in a storm?”
“Exactly.”
She nodded like she agreed with him, and his heart clenched. Doing the right thing sucked. He wanted to beg her to stay with him and never leave, because he might never find anyone like her again.
“So what do you suggest, then?”
He took a deep breath, nearly unable to voice the words for the razors in his throat. “We should part ways, at least for a while. Get some perspective. And maybe you’ll decide you want nothing more to do with me.”
“I should go to Chicago anyway. That’s where my family is.”
How funny—and sad—that despite what they’d shared, he hadn’t known that about her. “I’ll open an email account.”
Silas told her the name and service he’d use; she committed it to memory. Juneau pushed away from the wall. “I should bail before they get back. Something tells me they won’t like how much I know about their organization.”
“They don’t know if they can trust you yet.”
“Neither do you,” she said softly. “You’re taking a big ri
sk on me. I might be able to parlay what I know into a big payout from these corporations.”
He shook his head, smiling. “You teach English to impoverished children for a few dollars an hour. You don’t own more than you can carry. If money motivates you, then you have an odd way of showing it, Juneau Bright.”
Her eyes shone, as if she wanted to—but would not—weep. “I hate how well you know me already . . . and how hard this is. I know it’s the right thing, but this is the first time a man has ever asked me to go before I was good and ready.”
That hit him like a brick in the gut. “I’m trying to be noble here. You’re not making it easy.”
“Best quick and clean, then.” She crossed to him, set her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him as he’d never been kissed in his life, as if she wanted to steal his breath and keep it, so she’d always have some of him with her. It made him feel . . . loved. Maybe it was the wrong word, but he clutched it close to his chest. “Good-bye, Silas.”
Watching her leave hurt worse than killing with his hellish power. Grant that it’s not forever, he thought. Grant that she comes back to me. In his mind’s eye, he saw a painting his mother had owned—a tchotchke with a quote imprinted on it—something about loving something and setting it free. He suspected whoever wrote that down initially had never loved a woman like Juneau Bright.
This is best. She’d lived her whole life avoiding ties. The last thing she’d want is a permanent arrangement with someone like me. I’m damaged goods. At least this way, she may remember me fondly. I’ll always be a hero in her eyes. Sadly, those thoughts offered scant comfort.
When Tanager returned with the laptop, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Where’s the chick?”
“I cut her loose.” He met her stare measure for measure. “Is that a problem?”
She smiled. “Not for me. Mox may disagree.”
“Don’t call me that. We can’t have her in the wind, knowing what she knows.” A pause. “She’s got family in Naperville. I bet that’s where she’ll go. If she’s not with you, as in your personal business,” Mockingbird’s tone made it clear what he meant, “then we need to take care of her.”
“No. If she’s harmed, I’ll find you and make you sorry. I’m not working with people who think nothing of punishing innocents.”
“MB means bringing in our resident mind-fucker, hoss.” Tanager laughed softly. “She won’t be injured. She just won’t remember you.”
“You have someone who can do that?” he asked.
“You’d be surprised what Mockingbird’s turned up. He has an eye for talent.”
Much as he hated to consider becoming a blank spot in her memory, if she didn’t get in touch with him, it might be best. He could start this new life with no ties. Silas just wished that didn’t sound so fucking lonely. But at least he’d have purpose.
“Can you give me a window of opportunity?” he asked. “We’re not . . . together, but we were. Briefly. It’s up to her if we continue to be. She can’t make that decision if you cut me from her brain too quick.”
Mockingbird asked, “What sounds reasonable? If you trust her, I’m willing to give her a little time. I don’t think she’ll run right to the Foundation, and even if she did, it would take a while for her to find anyone who would believe her.”
“I think she’s solid,” Tanager said, unexpectedly. “I don’t think she’d sell him out. At least, not voluntarily.”
