Page 20 of Ghosts of the Dead

“Why the hell do I only have one sock?” I ask.

Caspian looks over with a grin he’s trying and failing to suppress, and Jace outright snorts behind his hand.

Autumn’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, drawing my attention back to her mouth and making heat curl in my stomach. Her eyes gleam with mischief. “I may have used it…”

“You what?” I glance down at her feet, but they’re still sockless in her boots.

“Molotov emergency,” she says with innocent eyes that fool no one.

I gape at her. “That was my favorite pair.”

“You have a favorite pair of socks?”

“Of course I do. They matched. Do you know how rare that is nowadays?”

She laughs. It starts out soft, then bubbles out of her, melting some of the tension coiled beneath her skin. The sound does something to me. It makes me want to hear it again and again. I can’t help but grin, especially at the sparkle that appears in her eyes when she speaks. “You know, you never decided if you’re going to be my guardian angel or the grim reaper.”

The question makes me frown for a moment before I remember her slamming against my chest in her attempt to outrun a city full of rotters, and I smile. “Come on, purple. Isn’t it obvious?”

“You’re my guardian angel because you’re trying to give me the painkillers that you won’t admit you need more than I do?”

I force my face into a plain expression. “Pretty sure guardian angels have two socks.”

Her laugh is short but genuine, and damn if that doesn’t make the headache and near-death experience worth it. Even better is the way both Jace and Caspian are watching her with the same captivated expression I’m probably wearing.

Yeah, this is going to be complicated, alright.

But looking at Autumn’s smile?

I can’t bring myself to care.

The car rattleslike it’s holding itself together out of sheer spite.

Jace coasts it off the broken asphalt onto a gravel path that crunches loud beneath the tires. The suspension cracks with every dip, begging to give out. Something clunks under the hood with a deep, metallic cough that makes Jace’s grip tighten on the wheel until his knuckles turn white. Something tells me he doesn’t trust it to last long.

Still, it’s enough to get us started, and that’s all that matters for now.

Caspian, who’s been silent since we pulled away from our temporary camp, sits behind Jace. With his hoodie down now, his platinum blond hair falls into his eyes while he stares through the spiderwebbed window. Sunlight streaks across his pale cheekbones and the shadows carved beneath his eyes. He’s quiet, but he’s not calm. Not even close.

They told me what happened while I was out. About the bar, the alley, the sniper’s fate. Even the gun pressed against Autumn’s temple. I already knew Caspian was wrestling with some demons from his past, but I never knew how deep they ran or how far they could drive him. It must be worse than I assumed. Jace shouldn’t have brought him onthis mission. While he didn’t break completely, something inside him still bent enough to splinter.

And that something almost got Autumn killed.

I lean my head back against the passenger seat and glance over my shoulder. Autumn sits behind me with her hands folded in her lap. Her fingers move in small, absent circles, brushing the edge of her wrapped wrist. I doubt she realizes she’s doing it. That wrist, though. It’s a constant reminder of my failure. The mistake I missed. The one I should have seen coming before I turned my back and let her bolt, pushing herself too far. Of all the people I’ve saved in my career, she’s the only one who’s ever gotten hurt. I should have kept a better watch over her.

When we told her we wanted to investigate where Summer disappeared, to start from the beginning and look for clues she might have missed, she fought us on it. Hard. Said she’d been over every inch of that ground a dozen times already and there was nothing left to find. But we pushed, because we’re stubborn bastards, and eventually she gave in, agreeing that fresh eyes might catch what grief and desperation couldn’t see. Still, I can tell the decision is eating at her. She’s been retreating into herself ever since we started driving, building walls I can practically see going up brick by brick.

“You should have taken the front seat.” I’d offered it to her before we left. Hell, I insisted, but she refused.

She glances at me with her hazel eyes and shakes her head. “You’re still recovering, and I didn’t want to play musical chairs over seating arrangements.”

“Bullshit. You wanted to hide in the back, even though you’re the one giving directions. If you pull this shit again, I’ll lift you out of the backseat and buckle you into my lap myself.” The thought sends heat curling through me that has nothing to do with my concussion. “Actually, Jace, pull over.”

Jace ignores me. Autumn’s cheeks flush, and she looks away, returning her gaze to the window. “I’m fine where I am.”

“You’re not fine,” I say, keeping my voice low so Jace and Caspian have to strain to overhear. “You’ve been building walls since we got in this car.”

She doesn’t respond, but her shoulders tense even more, proving my point.

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