Page 31 of The Last True Hero
McClain washed his hands in a bucket methodically, his shoulders stiff. Every movement was careful-like, as though this was some sort of routine he needed.
"Adam?" she whispered.
"They've taken her south, to one of the border towns," he replied quietly, still scrubbing each finger, as though to remove nonexistent blood. "We were right. This wasn't just the usual sort of raid. The man leading the reivers is named Rykker. He brought the group together for some sort of raiding party, but he's not one of them. There were two groups of reivers working under him, and his handpicked sortie of men. When they got here one of the groups wanted to"—his face screwed up in distaste—"enjoy the spoils of war. Rykker and his men preferred the girls were kept clean. They're worth more on the slavers’ blocks down south if they haven't been touched. That’s one good thing, at least. A fight broke out and Rykker's men killed half the reivers, but he was shot so he and his men pulled out, taking the best of the women and one or two of the young lads."
She took a moment to accept that. "Then Sage hasn't been—"
"Most likely not. Yet." McClain looked up, his eyes glittering with rage. "But when they arrive at Rust City there's a chance she'll be put on the auction block. I'm not sure, as the reiver muttered something about Rykker offering some of the women to a man named Cypher as tribute."
"Rust City?" Jake broke in, and she realized he was standing in the doorway, listening. "I've heard of that. It's not one of the border forts."
"Another day's ride south," McClain replied. "It's a trader town formed out of scrap and run by this Cypher. Filled with scavengers, reivers, slavers, and anything not good enough to get credit in the border forts."
Jake's eyebrows shot up. "The border forts have standards?"
"Apparently."
"And the reiver?" Mia asked, glancing at the slumped body.
"Dead." McClain grabbed his shirt and dried his hands on it, then paused, his voice a little hollow. "I broke his neck."
She'd never felt more like he needed her in his life. "Hey." Mia stepped forward, sliding her arms around his waist. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He drew away a little, trying to turn, but she wasn't going anywhere.
"Did I ever tell you how much I hate it when people lie to me?" she asked lightly, her hands resting on his hips.
That was when he met her eyes. Mia's heart broke a little in her chest. McClain looked like he'd been at a funeral. And worse, he looked like he'd been the one to put the body in the dirt.
"That man lived a life of rape and murder," she told him, rubbing her thumbs against his hips. "You shouldn't have done that alone."
McClain sighed and rubbed his face, but something about the set of his shoulders looked like he'd lost a little of the weight he'd been carrying. "I know that. Killing's never bothered me, not when it comes to reivers."
"Oh?"
"It's the... up close and personal of it," he muttered. "I can do hard things. That's always been my role."
"It doesn't mean they're any easier to do," she pointed out. "Or that you should do them alone."
This time he let her curl her arms around his waist. There was still some hesitancy in his eyes when he looked down at her. "Mia—"
This shouldn't happen, said his unspoken words. "Shush. Just let me hold you for a bit." Burying her face against his chest, she squeezed him tight. A part of her knew keeping him at arm's length would be the smarter, safer option. But he'd been there for her when she needed it. The least she could do was to return the favor. "This is the part where you wrap your arms around me too."
McClain hesitantly dragged her closer. He gave hugs that made everything feel better, even if it were just for a moment. Those muscular arms held a strength that could keep off the weight of the world.
Movement shuffled behind them. Mia caught Jake's eye. "Give us a moment," she mouthed, as he hesitated in the doorway.
He shot McClain a hard look, then nodded and disappeared.
Mia shut her eyes and sank into the embrace. Only an hour ago, he'd been the one offering her comfort. This time it was her turn.
"Thank you," she whispered, in the still, dark warmth of the room. "For riding with me, protecting the people that I know, and doing what it takes to get my sister back." Her nose wrinkled up. "But now I think we need to get some fresh air. It stinks in here. Come on," she said, drawing back and slipping her hand into his. "I've been doing a little bit of exploring, and I found something I think you should see."
Tugging on his hand, she drew him up the dirty stairwell. Dozens of years of dust and debris caked the upper stairs, and she even saw a faded pink toy of some description in the corner. Three flights up, a fracture line appeared in the walls.
"Is this safe?" McClain asked.
"I've been poking around up here." She found the hole in the wall where she'd slipped through before, and ducked through it. "It feels secure."
