Page 66 of Devil's Bargain

Borden called for the check. They argued over who was going to pay it, but in the end, she let him put it on the GPL tab. They exited into a rush of late commuters and a cool whisper of wind, and walked together like a couple along the sidewalk back toward the office. Borden silently took her shoulder bag; she just as silently let him. Her gun wasn’t in it, anyway.

“Is somebody going to start taking potshots at me again?” she asked him. He missed a step, stumbled and lengthened his stride as if trying to leave that awkwardness behind him.

“I doubt it,” he said. “Generally, once Leads are inside the Society, it’s not in the best interest of the opposition to try to get rid of them unless they really present a problem. Their best chance of success is before you’re fully informed, before there are others watching your back. Or to get to you first and put you on their side.”

“Huh,” she said. “So that’s why they tried to kill us in the parking garage. Because we hadn’t actually joined up yet, but we knew enough not to join them.”

“Yes. It was their last opportunity to stop you without directly coming after the Cross Society.”

“This thing—this L.A. thing—this isn’t just to get me out of the way, right? Because something’s going down here?”

He jammed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, looking lost in thought. “Interesting thought,” he said, “but I don’t think so. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be possible, but …”

“You don’t know?”

“Do I seem like the secret master of the world to you? No, I’m not sure. But I don’t think they’d do that.” Still, he was frowning, concentrating on his feet. She wished she hadn’t brought it up. “I suppose we’d better get you to the airport.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly.

They walked in silence for another few hundred feet, and then Borden unlocked a dark red rental car and handed her inside—literally, offered a hand, as if she was a lady in big skirts getting into a carriage. She was taken aback by that, but she had to admit, the warm touch of his fingers on hers was nice. And he hadn’t done it to be showy; it was, she sensed, just something he did. She remembered him doing it for Lucia, at the limo door … but not her. She supposed her body posture at the time had been in the language oftouch me and die.

The car felt small and intimate with the two of them inside of it. Borden drove competently, without any hesitation, although she knew he couldn’t possibly know his way around that well. Could he? She concentrated on traffic and taillights, on road noise and the peripheral glow of his face in the wash of headlights. When she looked over, she was struck by how …goodhe looked. A little rough around the edges, a little tired, a little worried. Human.

“Hey,” she said. He looked over at her, then back at the road. “I’m going to make sure nothing happens to him. You know that, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Make sure nothing happens to you, either, would you? As a favor to me?”

She hadn’t really noticed, but clouds had convened overhead while they were in the restaurant, and now big, fat raindrops began to pelt the windshield—a few at first, and then a silver shower. Borden activated the wipers. They were already on the freeway.Ten minutes,she thought to herself.Ten minutes and I’m at the airport, ready to get on a plane. This is not how I wanted today to end.

She drummed her fingers on the armrest nervously, watching the rain-smeared road, and was surprised when his right hand suddenly came down on her agitated left one, stopping her from tapping out a rhythm. He didn’t say anything. His long, tapering fingers wrapped slowly around hers, exploring. More sensual than anything she’d felt in a long time. This wasn’t reassurance, wasn’t a quick impersonal touch of the hand … this was something else.

She looked down, watching as he turned her hand over, palm up, and began to lightly trace fingernails down the center of it. She felt light-headed. Tense. Oddly out of breath.

“Come back safe,” he said softly. “That’s not a request, all right?”

“All right,” she agreed. Her pulse was hammering, and that was stupid,stupid.It was just skin, just a touch, not even a touch anywhere she could call intimate. But she could barely keep her voice level.

Borden reclaimed his right hand for the exit to the airport. She clenched hers into a fist, willing herself to stop feeling so … so …

She had no words for how she felt at the moment, except frustrated.

Borden pulled up at the curb, set his hazard lights and got out to grab her bag from the backseat. She was already out of the car by the time he’d managed it.

As she shouldered the strap, he stepped in closer and looked down at her. She looked up.

“See you,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She thought, for a blinding instant, that he was going to kiss her—the thought was right there, in his eyes, naked—and then something happened, something out of the corner of her eye, and she snapped around to watch … but it was just a car squealing up, a frantic father yelling at kids, people running late.

Normal life.

She turned back to Borden, but the thought was gone. He was behind a polite screen again.

“I should go,” she said, and nodded toward the door. He inclined his head, too. “Right. See you. Um … thanks for the ride.”

He didn’t say a word. When she looked back, he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking after her.

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