Page 69 of Valkyrie Unknown

“Done.” Zeke grabbed the remote from the coffee table as Finn hooked an arm around his waist, pulling them both back onto the couch.

My gut curdled. I wasn’t here to watch them cuddl?—

Zeke snagged my wrist as they fell, and yanked me down with them. The three of us landed in a tangled pile of limbs that we took longer than needed to untangle ourselves from.

This was dangerous. The thought was back. This kind of fun and letting my guard down? Idiotic.

So far though, it was fun. Was I going to ignore the high points in my life while I was waiting for the next bad thing to happen?

And if this turned out not-fine, how much worse would it be than a city block exploding because I was being hunted?

Nineteen

Davyn

The last weekor so had been the perfect reset. Spending most of my time as an almost-bear, wandering various mountain ranges in Montana, turned out to be just what I needed.

When I got back, I’d have to thank Azzie for making me walk away. I may be relaxed enough to put up with another few years of urban monotony.

Part of me wished I hadn’t taken the trip alone. It didn’t make sense to have Azzie around when I was like that—my bear didn’t appreciate human company—but somehow I’d gotten used to her sarcasm and teasing and all around presence.

The way she looked with damp waves of red hair framing her face after she got out of the shower. Her scent after a workout. That she didn’t hold back when she was frustrated. Or happy. Or anything.

I pointed my truck toward an Evanston exit that promised gas, and navigated down a street that was only busy because it was the closest thing to a city for dozens of miles. Being here meant I was almost home.

Home. Odd thought. Odder sensation.

The potent scents of gasoline, people, and seagulls lingered in the air as I headed inside to pre-pay for the gas.

For the most part, I blocked out the chatter in places like this. I wasn’t concerned about where people were heading or how many in each car had to take a piss.

What I did want was cold water—one of those modern amenities I took advantage of. The jerky wasn’t bad either, especially in a place like this where someone local made it.

I grabbed enough of both for the last hour or so of my drive, and took my place in line by the register.

An unfamiliar tension coiled through me at the thought of being so close to my destination, but not there yet. A giddy sort of anxiousness at seeing Az?—

“The FBI made a statement this morning.”

Something about the man’s tone caught my attention as he talked to the cashier.

She looked interested. “I’ve been working since five. Haven’t had a chance to check in. What did they say?”

“They think it might’ve been domestic.” As he talked, he ran his credit card.

She put his chips and soda in a bag they didn’t quite fit in. “Like from here? Blowing crap up?”

Blowing what up?

“That’s what they’re saying.” He shrugged and pocketed his wallet.

“Who?” I knew better than to insert myself in conversations, but this one grabbed me and filled me with a new concern I couldn’t identify yet. “What happened?”

They both looked at me like I was a fucking idiot.

“The attack in Salt Lake City,” the cashier said. “The bombing and shooting and stuff.”

Thewhat? “The what?”

---