told him how Sammi had asked her to pass along her message, but didn’t add that she recognized the hunger in Sammi’s eyes for an absent father, the hurt and confusion. These things she kept to herself, because she knew how fiercely she guarded her own pain-and she would not betray Sammi that way.
Especially because Dor did not react while she talked. He listened dispassionately, jaw set, strange eyes heavy-lidded and inscrutable. When she was done, he nodded, once, and turned his attention to the keyboard in front of him. He tapped at a couple of keys.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Well, what are you going to do?” Cass asked.
“Do?”
“About Sammi.”
“You said she’s doing well-as well as can be expected, under the circumstances, anyway.”
“Yes, but she wants to see you,” Cass said.
“What good would that do? The best way I can help her is by staying away.”
“That’s not-”
“Listen,” Dor snapped. “Pardon my bluntness, but you don’t know one fucking thing about what’s best for her. If I go to Silva now, I leave this place unattended. My people are good-the best I can find-and they are well trained. But they need a leader. Now, Aftertime, more than ever. There’s too much at stake, between the Rebuilders and the thieves and the damn zombies. There are people waiting and watching for a weakness and if you don’t think they’ll move in faster than you can turn around then you’re deluding yourself. Not that I blame you. Denial’s the best thing a lot of people have now, and you can look around this place and find proof of that at the bottom of every bottle, in every pill I sell, in the comfort tents. I don’t judge. I provide. But I do defend what’s mine.”
His fury escalated as he talked, and he smacked his palm down flat on the desk for emphasis, making a row of pens jump and skitter.
Cass knew he was right. The community he’d built here was thriving, practically teeming with life, even if it was tainted and self-destructive. But it couldn’t survive on its own energy alone; it needed a constant inflow of product and consumers, and someone to make sure the wheels of commerce kept turning.
“You could send supplies,” Smoke said. He turned to Cass.
“The road clearing we saw-he’s got a hand in that.”
“We play a minor part. Most of it’s the Rebuilders.”
“You work with them?” Cass demanded.
“Not with. But not against. I don’t take sides,” Dor said.
“I’m neutral and I intend to stay that way.”
“You’re not neutral if you’re supplying the resistance.”
“That’s Before thinking. It doesn’t apply anymore.”
“How can you say that? We’re still human. We’re never going to stop trying to build societies,” Smoke answered. “As long as there’s anyone left on this planet, people are going to be putting communities back together.”
“And going to war over them.”
Cass watched the interplay between the two men, as fascinated as she was repelled. An energy oscillated there, a sparking electric tension that seemed like it could erupt into violence at the slightest provocation. Two determined men, one passionate about justice, the other ruthless and cynical.
But she had her own quest to think about. Once she got Ruthie, she might have the luxury of arguing abstract points about the future of the planet. For now, she could only afford to be interested in how these two men could help her.
“I’m going into the Convent,” she said to Dor. “I don’t know if Smoke told you. I need some things. Personal stuff. And something I can trade.”
Dor regarded her with renewed interest. “Why would you want to go in there? You don’t strike me as a believer.”
Cass shrugged, pretending a calm she didn’t feel. She wasn’t about to tell him about Ruthie; he seemed like a man who sought to know everyone else’s trump card while keeping his own hand hidden. “I have my reasons.”
“Fair enough.” He let his gaze linger on her face. “It’s a waste of a damn fine woman, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Maybe I like other women.”
Dor laughed. “Won’t make any difference if you do-they take vows of celibacy.”
Cass raised an eyebrow-she doubted such a vow held much meaning. In a world where comforts were so desperately rare, it would be impossible to stop people from seeking out the few that remained.
“I don’t plan to be there long enough to get that hard up,” she said. “About those supplies…”
“I’ll cover her, MacFall,” Smoke said. His hand moved slightly lower on her back, his fingers dipping into the waistband of her pants. “Give her what she needs.”
Dor considered, his scar creasing as he furrowed his brow with thought. “I can give her an escort, someone they’ll trust. We can get the job done…provided you’re willing to pay a premium.”
“I think we’ve already established that I will.”
The iciness in Smoke’s voice highlighted the tension between the men and sent an unfamiliar thrill through Cass. There didn’t seem to be a limit to the sacrifices Smoke was willing to make for her. Which was exactly what she needed, right? She’d do whatever it took-cheat, lie, steal from him if need be-to get to Ruthie.
Only, he was giving her everything she needed, without being asked. And that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and being tempted to jump.
Cass forced the thought from her mind-there was nothing to be gained from questioning Smoke’s generosity. Besides, this was a drama that held no place for her, a negotiation about far more than just her passage into the Convent.
“In that case,” Dor said, pushing back from the desk and standing, “I believe our business here is done.”
Cass and Smoke stood in the shade of a bent pepper tree. Before, it had been one of Cass’s least favorite species, with its scabby bark and spiky, unadorned branches. Aftertime, it had endeared itself to her merely by surviving.
“I’ll be out as soon as I can,” Cass said. “As soon as I find Ruthie.”
Smoke reached out a rough-callused hand and touched her face, drawing a line from her cheek down to her mouth, tracing the line of her lower lip. “I wish I could go with you.”
Cass attempted a smile.
His eyes glinted with worry and frustration. “But I’ll be here waiting. And if you don’t come back soon…”
He didn’t finish the thought. What could he promise, after all? The task ahead was up to Cass alone. Others had helped her prepare, but once she went inside, she was on her own. “I
Smoke stroked her mouth softly with his thumb and it was all she could do not to part her lips and to taste his work-rough skin.
“I want to kiss you,” Smoke whispered, his face inches from hers, his voice rough and dangerous. “Let me kiss you.”
“No.” She shook her head, pushed his hand away, but he just pressed closer. She could feel his hot breath on her face.
“I’m not afraid.”
“I can’t. I can’t…I
For poisoning him, for the chance-no matter how small-that the disease lived within her, in her saliva, in her mouth and her throat, roiling and festering while she talked and breathed and swallowed. She would not take that chance. She would not let Smoke die because of her.
Like Bobby had. Like Ruthie almost had.
“I don’t care-”
“
