Page 110 of Jump or Fall
Together, they moved the barricade and hopped back on the bike.
“From now on, you’re carrying a gun,” Gordon said.
She jerked her head in agreement.
The city had unraveled. What had once been a place of relative safety had turned into a war zone of paranoia and bloodshed. People were being maimed over petty grievances—over nothing.
It was no wonder Asher had fled his apartment. If the mob would attack a man for being an asshole, what would they do to someone who worked for Hyperion? The average person wouldn’t know who Millon was or care that he was the one who sent out the list. Hyperion was a place for the elite, and the Silvers weretheelite.
Did Millon know the city would fall apart this way? Was this all part of his plan?
Maybe he wanted to be the one to pick up the pieces.
Chapter 37
Mara
Gordon took extra care on the rest of their journey, avoiding any places they might get pinned again. Even when traffic was tight, he worked his way through it rather than taking desolate side roads.
At the edge of Eight, they wheeled the bike into a tangle of heavy brush, shoving it deep enough to keep it hidden. It was too expensive to leave exposed.
Gordon let out a breath and raked a hand through his hair.
“I hope the sticks don’t scratch the paint,” he said. “Silva always jokes about getting choked out by that robot arm. Seeing it in person is a whole other thing.”
Mara fell into step beside him as they headed toward a path into Eight. “I think we’re pretty low on his kill list. Besides, hurting you would piss off Kimmie, which I think he’d prefer to avoid.”
“The night I left for Naxos, I told her to find a guy her age.” Gordon shook his head. “Now she’s hooking up with someone even older.”
Mara shrugged. “If it gets her off of you, she can fuck a grandpa.”
He shot her a crooked smile. “I like this possessive side of you, but Kimmie’s never been a threat. I’ve been crazy about you since we met.”
She laced her fingers through his as they climbed a set of stairs and wove between people. A coil of wires hung from a hook on the wall and she ducked under it.
“Hmm, unconscious and then vomiting,” she teased. “You have unusual tastes, Gordon.”
He chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze before they reached the door.
Inside, the sight of their bed was almost too inviting. Her whole body ached for it. If she gave in, she’d be out in seconds.
Using the synth-mind so soon probably hadn’t been the best idea, but it still gave them an edge. The image of the dead boy’s face appeared in her mind again and she swallowed hard, trying to bury it away.
This is how revolutions go. People get hurt.
A dull burn spread through her cheekbone. She closed her eyes against it, breathing through the discomfort.
She needed to find her salve, which meant another confrontation with the mirror.
Mara shook out her hands and entered the bathroom while Gordon rummaged through a bag for the remotes.
Her reflection wasn’t as jarring this time, but it was going to take a while to get used to her new face. At least she had the false eye now, instead of an empty socket. The scars were still ugly, and the skin irritated, but the salve provided relief.
How could Gordon look at her and think she was beautiful?
I want to believe him.
She tucked the jar into her pocket since they might not be back for a while. Tonight would be more than the trade—she could feel it.
