Chasing Silver Jamie Craig

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.A cassette deck.She had only ever seen one of those in the movies.She still hadn't said a word by the time they stepped back out into the cool night air, but when Nathan tried to lead her to the car, Remy yanked herself away from his grasp to go fumbling into her back pocket.The tiny piece of plastic she extracted was wet with blood that had seeped from her wound.Wiping away a smudge in the corner, she felt the air rush from her lungs as she stared at the date, achingly familiar, decades away from what the papers and rags inside had declared.It was the year she had been born.2058.If she believed the headlines, she wouldn't even exist for another fifty years.How was that possible?The sound of the slamming door startled Remy into lifting her head.Nathan stuck his hand out the window and waved."I'm leaving now."As if to emphasize his words, the Mustang's powerful engine flared to life.She took a stumbling step forward, but that wasn't fast enough for Nathan.The car rolled beside her, and he leaned over the passenger seat to push the door open."What the fuck is wrong with you? Get in the car."As soon as she was seated, Remy thrust her ID into his face."Tell me what that says." A note of panic crept into her voice, but she couldn't hold it back any longer."Tell me I'm not losing my fucking mind."Nathan plucked the ID from her fingers and held it up to the light."Remy Capra.Classification: C.Date of birth." He looked at her with narrowed eyes."What is this? A fake ID?" He snorted."You should get your money back."She snatched it back.Her fingers were trembling."It's not fake.It's."But she didn't know what it was.The situation, that is.It wasn't possible for her to be sitting in front of an Eleven-7 store with a guy fifty years before she had even been born.On the other side of the country.Fuck.What the hell did I grab?Her hand plunged back into her pockets, pulling out the coins she had stolen from the Henryk collection.Under the orange lights of the convenience store, they gleamed back at her, silver and gold reminders of the life she'd ran away from.She had no idea what any of them were; Remy only knew they were valuable and Kirsten Henryk protected them as fiercely as she fought.Kirsten's paranoia had been the only reason Remy needed to take them.Even now, though, they offered no clue as to their purpose, not even a date to prove she wasn't crazy.But they were real.As real as the newspapers inside.And somehow, some way, they had helped her escape.She glanced over at Nathan.He was still regarding her with the same intense gaze he'd leveled at her earlier, waiting for some kind of explanation.What was she supposed to say? He was going to think she was crazy, no matter how she painted it.Then it dawned on her.She was free.This was her chance to get away from her old existence and start over.There would be no cops coming after her, no psycho bitches who saw everything in only black or white.There wouldn't be family, but hell, Kirsten had slaughtered that possibility when she attacked the safe house.For Remy, this was the break of a lifetime.She smoothed her composure, shedding the crippling anxiety for the swagger she was more accustomed to wearing."Are we just going to sit here all night?" She sounded normal again.Thank god."No, my ice cream is melting," he said under his breath as he eased off the brake and rolled out of the parking lot.At the next red light, he spared a glance at her."Fake ID.Precious coins.Maybe I was right about your desire to avoid the cops, huh?"Remy refused to back down."I seem to remember hearing somebody tell me to get my ass in gear because he didn't want to deal with the cops, either." As she slipped the coins back into her pocket, it occurred to her she couldn't afford to lose the lone ally she had just yet.Nathan could still tow her off to the funny farm if he wanted."So.are we good?""I didn't want to deal with the cops because I am armed and you are injured, and they'd draw certain conclusions." The streets darkened as they made their way further from the freeway and deeper into the city, winding down side streets and rolling through empty intersections without stopping."Yeah, we're good.Your ID is almost cartoonish, which makes me think you're no criminal mastermind.And what do I care about a handful of coins?"He turned into a gated driveway, except the gate was broken and all the lights were dark.He led her up a sidewalk path to a narrow set of concrete stairs.Walking honed her attention back on her injuries, but while it took every ounce of her strength, Remy made it to the second floor without stumbling.She even refrained from leaning against the wall when he paused to unlock a door.It wouldn't last long, though.Her back was starting to spasm and her wrist to ache.Remy hoped he wouldn't waste any time in getting her fixed up.Nathan turned on the small apartment's single overhead lamp and gestured towards the vintage couch-the only piece of furniture in the room.There was a small clunky monitor on a stand in the corner, but she didn't see a keyboard near it; maybe it was rolled up out of sight.A bookshelf dominated the wall, stretching from the floor to the ceiling.Antique books, the sort she used to read in the detention center's library, lined the top three shelves.Glossy-covered magazines were stacked haphazardly on the next shelf, and her fingers itched to touch them, to see if they were as smooth as they looked.Beneath that were rows of thin, multi-colored boxes.They were too small to be more books.She supposed they could have been computer software of some sort, but they were larger than most computers, even the cheap ones.The other walls were bare, the floor uncluttered, and the kitchen counter empty of everything except what could have been a microwave, except it was enormous.A short hallway led to what must be the bathroom and bedroom, and he disappeared into the dark corridor after telling her to make herself comfortable.When he returned, he carried a small plastic box, white with a red cross on the top, a large white T-shirt, and a bottle labeled "hydrogen peroxide." Noticing she still stood in the middle of the room, Nathan nodded towards the couch again."Lay down and take off your shirt."Remy gave him her best smirk."Kind of hard to get the shirt off once I'm already down." Grabbing the hem, she whipped it over her head, ignoring the painful twinges in her back.It left her in cargoes, boots, and a tiny black bra barely covering her nipples.By the time she tossed the shirt aside, Nathan's eyes were no longer on her face.She took her time crossing to the couch, enjoying the heavy weight of his gaze on her body.This was better.A known situation.Remy had had to spend too much of her life using her looks as a weapon not to know when a man found her attractive.She sat down and bent down to take off her boots, making sure to display her breasts to their very full advantage.As she stretched out on her stomach, Nathan detoured into the kitchen for a bowl of hot water.Kneeling beside the couch when he returned, he set to work, gently wiping the blood from her skin.His fingers were light and skilled, as though he regularly cleaned and bandaged injured damsels in distress.But occasionally, his hands strayed, brushing against skin she knew couldn't be injured or stained with blood [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Pokrewne