Page 10 of Roma Queen
“I don’t know.”
It only seems to be getting colder; he pulled a beanie out of his pack about half a mile into the hike and now the ends of his hair are poking out from underneath the faded red wool, curling at the ends. I keep thinking he can’t get any more attractive, but then he produces something as normal and every day as a hat, for fuck’s sake, and I can’t stop staring at him. His leather jacket, he left back in the Mustang. Its replacement, some sort of black down vest, leaves his tattooed arms below the sleeves of his t-shirt bare against the cold.
I stop, hands on my hips, smoke pluming on my breath as I watch him continue up the steep slope ahead of us. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
He stops, too. “Before I left, we hadn’t done a head count in a while. People have kids. People die.” He shrugs. “The number of people living in the camp at any one time’s kind of fluid. It’s probably somewhere between forty and fifty, though.”
I squint at him, shaking my head. “How the hell did forty or fifty people do this hike without leaving a path or some kind of way marker?”
“They didn’t. They all went in the bus.”
What…the…fuck.
He did not just say what I think he did. He did not just say the word bus. Pasha’s left eyebrow arches rather dramatically. “You look like you’re about to bash my skull in with a rock.”
I close my eyes. “You’re saying…there’s a bus?”
“Not abusbus. A shuttle. It can take about fifteen people at a time. Patrin does a few runs to ferry everyone over.”
“And Patrin couldn’t have come to getus?”
Pasha grins. He looks up at the sky, eyes narrowed as he follows the path of a distant bird across the horizon. “Check your cell, Firefly.”
Slowly, I take my cell out of my back pocket. Admittedly, I’m a little horrified when I look down at the screen and see that I have no reception. Not a single bar.
“I could have texted him before we left Spokane. Let him know we were coming. He wouldn’t have received it, though. Cell phones are nothing more than expensive paperweights out here.” His gaze meets mine and winks. “Sure you’re not even a little bit afraid now?” he teases.
Like a child, I stick my tongue out at him. “No. I’m not.” I refuse to be. I willnotallow myself to be. I have to keep my shit together. I also know I have nothing to fear from Pasha. Well…scratch that. I have plenty to fear from Pasha. He is easily capable of destroying my heart and me right along with it. He could ruin me for all other men (already has, if I’m being honest) and then he could walk away. He could crack me open like a nut like he was trying to in the car, take whatever good he finds inside, and leave nothing but a hollowed out, empty husk behind. I’m trusting that he won’t, but this is all within his power.
He’s incapable of hurting me, though. Physically. He could never cause me bodily pain or allow anyone else to do so. He swore that he’d protect me, and I know beyond all reason that he won’t break that promise. Yes, I’m nervous as all hell as we get closer and closer to the Rivin camp, but Iknowhe’s going to keep me safe.
“So fierce. So determined,” Pasha says under his breath.
“Sorry to disappoint. I’m sure you like your women a little more meek and docile.”
“Far from it. Women who concede to everyone around them are the most boring creatures alive. Women who don’t have two brain cells to rub together are worse. Give me fire any day. Give me a raging argument if you disagree with me. Be braver than me. Be fucking smarter than me. I’ll only love you more for it.”
We follow a much broader river up through rising terrain until we crest a hill and reach a roaring, tumbling waterfall. The pillar of water is magnificent, deafening, and the fine mist that permeates the air clings to my hair and beads on Pasha’s beanie like morning dew. He offers to carry me across the water when he tells me we need to cross the surging current, but I shake my head. The water only comes up to the middle of my shins, and besides…I’m not going to let him think I’m worried about getting a little wet.
Once we’re across, we trudge down a deep ravine, my sneakers soaked, river water squelching up between my toes, and find ourselves at the genesis of a broad, flat plateau, skirted by Spruce trees. In the far distance, the Rivin camp is visible, nestled into an elbow of the river. Before I even lay eyes on the brightly painted wagons and the ramshackle trailers, I can smell the smoke from their camp fires, though. I can hear the raucous, giddy laughter of children.
A wariness tugs at me. I know how Roma people view outsiders now.Gadjeare frowned upon. Their business might keep the Midnight Fair afloat, putting food on the table for Pasha’s family, but their presence is heavily resented. A necessary evil. If it were up to Shelta and the rest of the clan, they wouldn’t have to deal with thegadjeat all. To have agadjeturn up in theircamp? I already know how well that shit is going to go down.
Pasha must sense my hesitancy. His arm weaves around my waist, his hand resting reassuringly on my hip, and the heat that radiates off him cuts all the way through my sweater, chasing away the cold and some of my doubt at the same time. “No need to look so grim. You aren’t facing judgement day.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I wanna be here way less than you do.” Pasha’s voice is low and sonorous, just like it always is, sending deep vibrations down to the core of my body, but there’s a tightness to it. A mark of his own hesitancy. I don’t know what he’s planning to do once we arrive in camp. I haven’t asked the question, too scared of his answer, but he really doesn’t look like he wants to be reunited with his family. “We’ll make this as quick as possible,” he says. “We’ll get back to the city, and we’ll find Sarah. I promise.”
But, as we begin the final walk toward the camp, a sinking dread settles over with me every tired step. Will we make it back in time? Will we be able to make contact with Lazlo again? Or will we be too late?
Five
PASHA
Shireen sees us first.Patrin’s wife is at the river, alone, when she looks up and spots us in the distance. She’s still pretty far away, but I know it’s her; the blazing blonde, nearly white hair is a dead giveaway. She stands, shielding her eyes against the sun as she squints in our direction, and Zara tenses. I take hold of her hand and squeeze. “Just breathe, Firefly. You’re gonna give yourself a fucking heart attack.”
She laughs, pulling a face at me, but I’m not stupid. The way she grips my hand, fingers digging into my skin, is evidence enough that sheisnervous. Shireen doesn’t turn and call the others. She stoops back down and disappears from sight.
