And if Rooney somehow found out about the email… Dave wasn’t even sure he cared about the consequences.

  * * *

  Jane awoke from her nap and went still at the strange sensation—someone was stroking her hair, slow, light touches running down her back and up again. Tingles spread over her skin, and she let out a sigh, cracking one eye open.

  Ryan’s arm froze mid-motion over her. She realized she’d dozed off while watching some documentary film, the two of them squeezed into Marco’s enormous recliner. The film was over, silence filling the room. Silence, and Ryan’s measured heartbeats.

  His hand lowered to rest on her back. He hadn’t left her side since the night Pain got shot, and while they hadn’t spoken much, at least he wasn’t acting weird anymore. She’d grown used to his quiet presence, the weight of his arm around her, the calm he radiated at all times.

  Except now. Because even without looking at him, she could feel the tension, the movement of his chest strained, heavy, as he breathed underneath her.

  “Was there ever anything between you and Dave?” he asked all of a sudden.

  She blinked. Not just at the words but at his tone, flat, the question barely there.

  Jane rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was still asleep, then remembered she had mascara on and stopped. She twisted to look at Ryan.

  “What?”

  His glassy gaze turned to her, slow, as if not quite awake. “You and Dave. Did you ever—”

  “No. What—why are you asking?” She frowned, propping herself up on her elbow.

  Ryan blinked and lifted one shoulder, as if unsure himself. “No reason. Just… go back to sleep.” He attempted to pull her down, but she shook her head.

  “I don’t want to sleep. Who told you that?”

  “No one.” The answer came too fast. His gaze cleared a little, but still, he looked strange. Almost… defeated.

  She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, he started talking. His eyes gazed off into space, his voice low, emotionless, “I never realized it, until he and Chad showed up. Until you started spending all your time with them. God, it drove me crazy.” His head shook, his hand flying up to rub at his face. “And then Pain and Chad… and Marco, with his—”

  He broke off, and Jane just stared at him. He wasn’t making any sense.

  “Now’s not the time,” he said, looking dazed. As if he just realized what he’d said. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”

  “Whoa!” She pressed a hand into his chest, keeping him down. “Don’t change the subject. Marco, what about him?”

  There was a sound between a sigh and a growl as he pulled himself up from the lounging position. She hadn’t seen him so distressed even when he was up to his neck in bandages in the infirmary. She leaned against him as she sat up.

  When he kept silent, she prodded, “Marco told you something about me and Dave?”

  Ryan nodded, frowning.

  “That gossip girl…” she hissed, anger stirring in her veins. “What did he make up this time?”

  “Maybe he misunderstood something,” Ryan said with a shrug. “He just said he’d seen you flirting.”

  Jane threw up a hand, her face incredulous. “Never happened! Why’d he say that?”

  Ryan chewed on his lip. “Cause he wants me to break his face?”

  “If I don’t do it first.”

  She breathed in deep, massaging her temples. “There was never anything between me and Dave. Why would you two talk about it, anyway?” Ryan just looked at her, that faraway look back in his eyes. “Oh.”

  Her heart picked up speed, her throat suddenly dry. She looked at his scarred arm to avoid his gaze, at the ragged mark the bullet had left. The bullet meant for her head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

  “I didn’t want to mess this up,” he said quietly. “It’s always been just the four of us. This friendship…” He trailed off again. Took a deep breath, looking up at her. “And when I couldn’t keep it in anymore, there was never a good moment. And now isn’t a good moment, either. You don’t have to say anything, just—”

  Her index finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t.”

  He was wrong about this being a bad moment. All the years they’d known each other, all the things they knew about each other—it had always felt right. She’d just never paused to think what it meant.

  Her palm slid over his cheek, over the sharp line of his jaw, and he leaned into the touch. She should’ve known two weeks ago, when they were chasing the Commando. He’d been so distressed, and she should’ve realized why.

  He tightened his arm around her, her eyes fluttering closed when his lips pressed to hers. This, too, felt right. She hadn’t even noticed how she ended up in his lap, his palm cradling her head, his lips hot on hers. She pressed closer still.

  The door snapped open, startling them apart.

  Marco stood at the threshold, such utter disinterest on his face, Jane almost laughed.

  “About goddamn time,” he grumbled. Then slammed the door shut.

  She turned to Ryan, arching a brow.

  “Ignore him.”

  Jane grinned. It felt strange, after all these days without a single smile. “You still want that lunch?”

  “No. And he’s not coming back.”

  “Where will he sleep?”

  “In the hall. With Chad. Don’t care.”

  Her smile returned as their noses touched.

  “Are we done with the questions?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “For now.”

  Chapter 32

  Chad sat in the canteen, staring at the table for what felt like hours.

  For two tables and six people, it was unusually quiet. Around him, Jane, Ryan, Dave, Marco, and Skull picked through their supper and exchanged rare, subdued words, pretending that everything was as usual—and Pain hadn’t been in a coma for six days.

  Marco poked an elbow in Chad’s side, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Want the chicken? I’m full,” he said, pointing at his tray.

  Chad looked at him for a long moment. If Marco couldn’t eat, then things were pretty damn bad.

  “No, thanks,” he said at last.

  Marco sighed. “You been running on that shitty coffee for days, man. One more day, and you’ll turn into a giant coffee cup.”

  “Not hungry,” Chad muttered. He caught Jane looking at him, her eyes shadowed by sleep deprivation, and averted his gaze. He knew he looked like shit. No need for others’ pitying stares.

  He lifted the cup to his mouth, only to gag at the smell of coffee and put it back down. Just then, Doc walked into the canteen, scanned the room, and pretended he hadn’t seen them. Chad still stared, long enough for Doc to sense it and look him in the eyes. Chad’s eyebrow rose in a silent question, and Doc shook his head, No, no changes.

  The chair gave an ugly screech as Chad pushed to his feet. The others stared, no doubt having noticed the exchange, but didn’t say a word. He turned around and stalked out of the room.

  He kept walking on autopilot, until a blast of cold air hit him in the face, and he realized he was on the rooftop. The two guards on both sides glanced at him, then returned to whatever they’d been gazing at before. Still like statues, unbothered by the wind and snow in their leather coats and shimmering shields.

  Chad closed the squeaky door behind him and walked to the edge, his sneakers leaving dark footprints in the thin layer of snow.

  He tugged on his own shield as he crouched on the ledge, spreading it just over his skin to ward off the snow, but it didn’t help against the winter’s bite. Good, he thought. He’d rather think about the cold than Pain’s pale face, her lifeless form down in the infirmary so different from her usual fiery self.

  Leaving the building, straying from her for longer than an hour seemed impossible, but he’d rather be out in the cold hunting the Commandos than sit here waiting. Except he wouldn’t even know where to start, and if he did find them? The heavy layer of grief that had been keeping his anger buried while around his friends wouldn’t do much. With the image of Pain’s body jerking as the bullets hit her still fresh in his mind, with her blood still seemingly covering his hands, he wouldn’t be able to stop at just tracking them down. He’d end up butchering a bunch of civilians who most likely had nothing to do with the shooting.

  He swallowed a frustrated growl, grabbing some snow from the rooftop and squishing it in his hand. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he said without turning to look, “Dave, I’m not in the mood—”

  “Who said anything about Dave?” Marco squatted at his side, huddled in a thick parka. He looked Chad in the eyes. “You gotta stop doing that.”

  “What?” Chad forced the word out through stiff lips.

  “Freaking out in front of others. If Jane can keep it together, so can you.”

  Chad gazed into the dark. “Sorry. I don’t know how you guys do it. How you make yourself believe she’ll wake up.”

  “I don’t believe she’ll wake up. I know it.”

  “How?”

  “I just do. I choose to. And if I turn out wrong, thinking about it now won’t make it any better, will it?”

  Chad blinked, speechless. Such simple truths, coming from Marco, of all people.

  Marco didn’t give him a chance to dwell on it, though. “I got something,” he said. “A possible lead. Gonna go check it out.”

  “A lead?” Chad’s heartbeat spiked as he turned to stare at Marco.

  The big fighter nodded. “It’s Archie. Said some new guy has been hanging at the bar. Talking to people more than drinking. Sounds like someone’s fishing for intel. Could be nothing, but Archie’s asked me to check it out anyway.”

  Chad jumped to his feet, only to grimace at the stiffness in his limbs. “Let’s go check it out then.”

  “We’ll have to be subtle about it.” Marco gave him a skeptical look, getting up. “Like we’re just there for a drink, which you definitely could use.”

  “No problem. I can be subtle.” Chad pointed back at the door. “I’ll go grab a jacket then.”

  Marco shook his head and shrugged off his parka, revealing a leather jacket underneath, which he took off and handed to Chad.

  It was Chad’s turn to narrow his eyes. “You knew I wouldn’t say no, didn’t you?”

  Marco only smirked and stepped off the rooftop.

  Jacket or no jacket, Chad felt like a big icicle by the time they landed near Archie’s. He’d kept close to Marco, who probably had some inbuilt compass for all his favorite bars or simply could smell liquor from miles away even in such nasty weather. Chad himself would’ve gotten lost in a minute up there, with the snow blurring his vision and the wind whipping at his face.

  They walked past groups of smoking men. Some acknowledged Marco with a nod; others simply stared, their looks far from friendly. Chad had no trouble ignoring curious looks shot his way. At the moment, he couldn’t care less.

  The bar blinked at them with its red-and-yellow sign, a welcome sight after the freezing flight. Marco pulled the door open and let him through before stepping inside himself.

  More staring and nodding, which Chad also ignored. He kept his breaths shallow, giving his senses time to adjust to the stuffy but warm atmosphere of the bar, and the dozen smells that assaulted his nostrils. At least his ears didn’t threaten to fall off anymore.

  “Find a table,” Marco said, nudging him to the corner of the room. “I’ll go say hi to Archie.”

  Chad took off the jacket and found a table by the wall, away from curious eyes. Marco stood by the bar, talking to Archie, whose gaze stayed on Chad even as he spoke to Marco. The man himself, brawny and gray-haired, was tough as nails. For a human among skyfolk, anyway.

  He put out a bottle and two glasses for Marco, nodded, and turned to another patron.

  Marco didn’t say a word as he joined Chad at the table and poured two fingers of whiskey for them. Chad’s stomach flipped at the smell.

  “To our girl,” Marco said, raising his glass. “May she never cease being a pain in our asses.”

  Chad made a face but threw back the drink. Again, they filled their glasses and emptied them, this time without a word. Marco’s eyes kept scanning the room, but even so, he noticed and caught Chad’s hand before he could grab the bottle and pour a third drink.

  “Okay, slow down, soldier. You should at least eat something.” He searched the bar for the waitress and beckoned to her.

  “And you shouldn’t?” Chad said, even though he agreed with Marco. The liquor was burning its way through his system much faster than usual.

  “Unlike you, I eat my supper. Sometimes two.” Marco turned to the stern-faced waitress, who bent down to hear his order. “Archie’s staring at you again,” he said once she’d left.

  Chad made an effort to look more sober than he felt. “Mm?”

  “It’s, like, the fifth time you’ve come here, and Archie still stares at you like he’s seen a ghost.”

  Chad looked Marco in the eyes, unsure if it was a poor joke, or if he truly didn’t realize what he’d just said. “He has,” he said after a moment. Marco just shrugged, pouring more whiskey for himself but not for Chad. “Were he and Michael friends?”

  Marco wiggled his hand in a vague gesture. “He’s friends with Peter. It was Peter who suggested taking Archie under our protection. Michael just tolerated him—and this place, and the fact that we were coming here so often.”

  Their food arrived, and Marco thanked the waitress. Chad looked at the heap of bacon and felt hunger stir for the first time in days.

  “But they sure met a lot,” Marco added, pushing the plate toward Chad. He glanced at Archie again and shrugged. “He’s probably just curious if the rumors about you are true.”

  Chad scoffed.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, until he saw Marco frown. “What?” Chad asked.

  “There’s our guy,” Marco muttered, his eyes on a couple of men by the bar. “The one in the khaki coat.”

  Vision swimming, Chad peered at the man. He was wearing a military coat, dark pants, and army boots, a beer bottle in his hand. For a man who’d come to a bar to enjoy a few beers, he didn’t seem relaxed, tapping his foot against the bar, his eyes darting all over the room.

  “Does he look familiar to you?” Marco asked, grabbing some bacon.

  The man’s companion tossed a couple of bills on the bar, got up, and left.

  Chad turned to Marco to say that no, he didn’t think he knew the man, when Marco froze.

  He went so unnaturally still, the forgotten bacon strip dangling from his fingers, Chad’s heart skipped a beat.

  “It’s him,” Marco whispered. He looked away when the man glanced their way, and Chad frowned, confused. “It’s the guy from the video!”

  “What video?”

  The man took out a cigarette, saw Archie shake his head, and got off his stool. He fished in his pocket for a second, dropped a bill on the bar, and headed to the door.

  Marco turned back to Chad, his eyes wide. “It’s a fucking Commando, here, in our bar!” he hissed.

  At this, Chad’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “No way.” Chad looked at the man’s back. As he opened the door, something made him turn and look over his shoulder, and his face…

  Chad bolted to his feet. “This fucking guy!”

  “I told you!” Marco’s fist slammed into the table as the door banged shut after the Commando.

  He gestured to Archie—either ‘gotta go’ or ‘gonna kill someone’—grabbed the bottle, and hauled them both to the exit. Chad barely had the time to grab his jacket.

  He focused on avoiding people’s feet and treacherous chair legs, but even as he stumbled through the bar, the fog over his brain began to lift. “Come on, come on,” Marco muttered, eyes wild. And if everyone wasn’t watching them before, now they sure were, their eyes hungry for action.

  “We’re gonna follow him. Inconspicuously,” Marco said, pushing the door open.

  Cold air hit them, sobering but not freezing, with the whiskey still burning through their blood—and not just that. Anger, hate, murderous thrill. Chad could barely hear Marco’s voice through the white noise in his head.

  “If he sees us— Hey, calm the fuck down,” Marco snapped.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes are all crazy!” Marco gestured wildly with his hands. “I said inconspicuously. If he sees you like this, he’s gonna run for his life, you drunk fuck.”

  “Inco-conspicuously. Got it.” Chad’s loud hiccup didn’t help him sound convincing. He caught Marco’s frustrated look and took a few deep breaths, shaking his head to clear it.

  Marco didn’t wait for him to recover and strode right to a group of men smoking a few feet from the door. “Hi there,” he said, shaking someone’s hand. “Seen a guy in a khaki coat? Where’d he go?”

  “That way,” someone pointed to the right.

  “Need help?” another one asked.

  “Nah, I don’t think so. You heading home?” The men nodded, and only then did Chad recognize them. “Do me a favor: If I’m not back in a half-hour, get Rooney to track us down, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, mate.”

  Marco returned to Chad, who’d waited by the door all this time, as much an outsider as ever. “Let’s go. The bastard ain’t gonna catch himself.”

  “What if it’s a trap?” Chad asked. “We’re doing exactly what we were told not to do—going after a Commando without backup.”

  Marco grimaced and started walking in the direction he’d been pointed. “They don’t know we got his face on tape. We’ll just follow him, no harm in that.” He sniffed, zipping up his parka.

  “What if they do know we’ve got them on tape? There could be a rat.”

  “Well, then the last thing they’d do is send him to a bar full of our men, don’t you think?”

  Chad chewed on his lip, nodding. “Unless!”

  “Oh, enough! What do you want me to say? Yes, it could be a trap. Yes, there might be a rat or a whole bunch of them. Does it change anything? You wanna go home instead?”