Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

PATCH

W e'd arrived at the "rendezvous" location earlier. The fact it took hours to even reach the rendezvous location, that was also a couple of states away from where we'd been staying, put my teeth on edge. In the time since we arrived, we hadn't heard anything from McQuade or Remington. The unease that accompanied that realization was hard to set aside.

Now, we were one of about forty different rigs parked and tucked in for the night leaving little in the way of space in between the vehicles. Though the external lights were on, strategically placed every ten to fourteen feet. The floodlights created their own shadows. The rest area was pretty buttoned down for the night. Every time headlights flashed as a car or truck exited the highway, I leaned forward.

Eventually, I needed to get out of the cab. I could head over to use the facilities, or I could…

"Fallon," Locke said as he caught my arm and tugged me around. Our breath fogged in the chilly night air and I stared up at Locke. Despite the fact that I didn't think of myself as a short woman, all three of them towered over me. "Hey…"

He rubbed my biceps, frowning.

"You're freezing."

I was? I hadn't even taken notice of it, my heart kept racing and my stomach bottomed out. I hated waiting . Despite the sheer amount of patience my job had demanded of me over the years, I was not a fan of it when I had no control.

None.

I didn't even have a phone I could call them on and when I asked Locke, he'd merely shaken his head. Radio silence. It wasn't just for our safety.

"I hate this," I complained.

"I know," he murmured. There was something soothing in his voice. Rather than let me go or nudge me back to the rig, he kept rubbing my arms. The contact helped to ground me even as his hands seemed increasingly hotter the longer he touched me. "I wish I could give you answers but the best thing we can do right now is stick to the plan."

A low growl escaped me and I wasn't sure who it shocked more. Me or Locke. Still, one corner of his mouth quirked up into a hint of a smile.

"That was a fierce sound," he teased. At my bland stare, his grin grew a little wider.

"I'm frustrated." Not that he needed me to announce it. As it was, I shrugged off the contact and paced away.

"I got that." He wasn't letting me get far, which was fine. I was already pivoting to head back to him. The last thing I needed to do was yell or rage—even if it was exactly what I wanted to do. We were supposed to be hiding, and making a scene at a rest stop was not exactly the thing camouflage was made of.

"When you guys run ops, I'm usually in the chair, I am there if you need me. Right now, I'm nowhere."

"You are where we need you to be though," Locke said, the firm insistence in his voice offering me more in the way of a tether to this moment.

"In the middle of nowhere?" It wasn't quite the retort I wanted to fire back at him, but the simple truth of the matter was that I had never felt quite as useless as I was right now. I was running, and hiding. I was the passenger princess—and that was a term I hated—without the full weight of the plan.

This was where we were supposed to meet with Remington and McQuade. But what happened if they didn't make it here before dawn? Wouldn't we be noticeable if we just stayed here? I liked having a plan, as well as the backups for those plans. The only bad plan was the one you didn't take the time to make.

"Yes," Locke said slowly, curling an arm around me and pulling me closer to him. "But not quite the middle of nowhere so much as out of the line of direct fire. The last time we went into a live fire situation, you got hurt."

Hurt.

Almost as an afterthought, I raised a hand to touch the area of my temple where it was still a bit tender. The bruising there had been deep. The laceration, thankfully enough, had been shallow. It had also compromised my memory and left me with more nightmares—or maybe just new ones.

I sighed. "I know," I admitted. "I'm sorry I'm being difficult."

With a soft chuckle, Locke guided me back toward our rig. "I don't think you're being that difficult." Instead of climbing up directly into the cab, he opened a door on the side that I hadn't even realized was there. "You're frustrated."

I snorted. "Well, at least I know you can listen."

"It's one of my talents," he teased lightly with a wink before putting a hand to my elbow and nudging me up the steps that had dropped down from the door. Was this access to the back of the cab where we could sleep? He'd said there was far more room than I realized.

The interior felt… bigger ? It wasn't until the ratchet of the stairs being pulled up and the door closed behind us that a light came on. A light and…

"Holy shit," I whispered, as the lights turned on down the long hall formed by the container we were hauling. It wasn't just gear back here. There were bunks, weapons, a workstation for me—I assumed me anyway—and more. As I moved down the narrow aisle that bisected the container, I tried to take it all in. "This is insane."

"Maybe," Locke said, turning to something on the wall near the door and a dozen monitors came to life. It gave us 360 degree views all around the rig. "But we wanted a mobile unit that would let you rest, allow us to work and still protect you. 18-Wheelers are ubiquitous on the open roads in the U.S. It might not work as well in Canada or Mexico, but we'll deal with that if we end up going that far."

That was even more insane. I twisted around to study the monitors and then he was holding out a phone toward me. The monitors on the wall were reflected on the screen of the smartphone. All I had to do was tap one of the screens to enlarge it, or pinch it to make it smaller. Logical programming. I liked it.

"Won't people notice we went inside?" I really hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings. The lack of peripheral awareness was not a good sign.

"If they were looking," Locke said. "However, we moved into the side of the truck and when I opened the backdoor, the side door on the passenger side also opened. So unless they were right on top of us, they'd think we climbed up to sleep in the cab."

What he didn't add was, like all the other rigs parked around us. Not that he needed to point it out. Trying to summon some spit to my mouth, I ended up coughing.

"C'mon," Locke said as he moved up behind me. Hands on my shoulders, he walked me forward. Then we were in front of a wall of cabinets. When he reached past me to flip a switch, I goggled at the cabinet doors sliding open and a counter pushing out. A counter with an espresso machine on it and a small fridge. The espresso machine wasn't as large as the one at the house but it was more than sufficient. "Surprise."

I twisted to look at him. The soft smile on his lips was hard to resist. "You guys… you really meant roaming mobile command unit?"

Granted, I wasn't sure how many operations needed espresso the way I did but still.

"You needed it," he answered with a mild shrug. "What you need, you get. We've got bunks and a proper bed down here can be pulled down. We can pull out a table and chairs." As if to demonstrate, he slid round me and flipped another switch that transformed another set of cabinets.

I didn't mean to goggle but the last time I'd seen anything like this… "Tiny spaces."

He flashed a real smile at me. "You may have mentioned that a time or two."

In some Asian countries and in larger cities where the population density resulted in smaller footprints for homes, space was at a premium. They used items that could serve multiple functions for tables, chairs, and beds.

"How did you put something like this—" I stopped mid-question and met Locke's steady gaze. The deep, olive green of his eyes seemed almost opaque with all the secrets he kept housed in there. "I helped design it."

He nodded once. "Yes."

In the before time—the time after they came for me and before I was shot. The time I could no longer recall. "That's why you guys didn't tell me about this."

"Partially," Locke admitted, then he reached down to flip open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. When he offered it to me, I stared at it for a long moment before I took it. "We still aren't sure about pushing you to remember."

I made a face. "I'm sure."

"Fallon…"

Grimacing, I twisted the top off the bottle. "That's so weird."

"Your name?" The gentle tone turned a little more teasing.

"It's been years since anyone called me Fallon. Fallon pretty much died the day I walked. I've been Patch since then. So every time you call me Fallon, it's a jolt."

"It's your name," he reminded me. "You have a right to your name and those bastards do not have the right to take it from you."

I licked my lips. Not that I had much in the way of spit to wet them. So I took a deep drink of the water. I was far thirstier than I'd realized. I downed about half of it in short order. "Sorry," I said. "I should have offered you some."

"We have more," he told me. "Now, I'm going to fix you something to eat—not a fancy gourmet like Remy, but I'm sure I can whip something up. Then you're going to get some sleep so that beautiful brain of yours can heal."

I glanced down at the phone I was still carrying and all the monitors that showed all quiet around the rig. Then I glanced back up at him. "Are you going to sleep?"

"I'll be fine." That wasn't an answer.

"Okay, tell you what, let's make a deal." I set the water bottle on the makeshift counter then opened the fridge to get him a bottle of water. "I'll rest if you rest. I'll eat if you eat. If you need someone to take a watch, then I can do that. I'm more than capable of watching monitors."

In fact, I kind of craved it now that I'd brought it up.

Locke's eyes narrowed. "You're still healing."

"And currently, you're the only guy on deck." I rounded to face off with him. "You've been driving the rig all day. I'd offer to take over on that tomorrow, but I have no idea how to drive something this big. So, you need to rest."

"Fallon," he said with such an aggrieved sigh, I half-debated giving up the argument just so I wouldn't be badgering him.

The fact the three of them were so willing to take up the perimeter around me alternately filled me with waves of surprise and warmth. I'd been on my own for so long, it was almost impossible to imagine. Not trusting anyone had become so much simpler over the past five years.

Lonely, sure, but simpler. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to be alone anymore. While the desire to grasp that in both hands was definitely present , so was the need to protect myself.

Control issues aside, I needed to be an active part of my own life. That wasn't helped by letting them win these arguments of late. Arguments I wasn't sure how to make. Particularly when they had access to information about me that I didn't have.

The simple truth was, I may never get those days back and I could keep letting them call the shots or I could take back the control that I needed. It was better for all of us to assert this new reality sooner rather than later.

"Justus," I said his name in the exact same tone. "Feel free to argue with me, but I am not surrendering this battle. Not this time. You need the rest. Until we rendezvous with the guys, I'm the only backup you have. Use me."

"Use you?" He blinked at me, his lips parting in a silent ‘O' before he snapped it shut with a click of his teeth. Locke was usually much faster with his rapier wit. Making him speechless was an accomplishment. Truly. He flexed his hands on my biceps as he leaned his head back as though he both needed and didn't want distance. " Use you?"

"Yes," I insisted. "Use me."

His lips compressed into a thin line. I honestly couldn't tell if he was pissed off or confused. Then his hands tightened on my arms and he pulled me forward. Or maybe we fell into each other. Either way, his lips were on mine and they firmed in their demand.

Catching my breath became a distant thought as I fisted his shirt and he devoured my mouth. A silent little pulse of alarm rang in the back of my mind, but the rest of me just shut it off the moment his tongue tangled with mine.