Nameless (Broken City 1)

I smile then bite into the cupcake again. The tension in his expression eases, and he reaches toward my mouth. I stiffen as he drags his thumb across my bottom lip then pulls his hand back.

"You had frosting on your lip," he explains, putting his thumb to his lips. I watch in fascination as he licks the glob of frosting off and closes his eyes. "God, I forgot how good that is."

I hold the cupcake out. "Are you sure you don't want more?"

Shaking his head, he opens his eyes. "Nope. That's all yours." He moves past me, snagging my elbow and towing me along with him.

I finish the cupcake while he makes a quick stop to tell Zaire he'll be back in a few minutes to discuss what he found out in his Tracker research. Then we shove our way through the crowd and to the back wall with all the doors. He knocks on the door farthest to the right, and within seconds, an older, frail-looking woman with chin-length grey hair answers.

She smiles when she sees Blaise and steps forward to give him a hug.

"Hey, Mable," Blaise says, stiffly patting her back.

I realize something then. It's not just me Blaise seems nervous about touching. It's almost everyone. I wonder why that is.

"Hey, yourself." She moves back but keeps her hand on his arm. "Where have you been? The last time you left, there was a storm. I think a lot of people thought you were dead."

"Not dead, just busy," he says, shrugging. "The station has been slamming us with missions left and right. No one's had a break in months."

"Well, you need to make sure you rest." She leans against the doorjamb with her arms folded. "I know you boys think saving the world is important, but you also need to take care of yourself."

"We do," he assures her. "We just work hard."

"You work too hard," she scolds him. "You need to take a break sometimes and have some fun."

Blaise shakes his head. "Fun doesn't exist anymore, Mable. You know that."

"Yes, it does, honey. You just don't understand that part of life yet. You will, though, in time." She smiles at him before her attention drifts to me. "And who's this lovely, young lady?"

"Oh, this Allura. She works at Leviter Station, too." He nods his head at her. "Allura, this is Mable, Zaire's wife."

I try to smile and appear calm, but her scrutiny puts me on edge.

She skims me over from head to toe, a frown forming on her lips. "You've been overworking her, Blaise. She's all skin and bones."

I open my mouth to tell her that it's not his fault, but Blaise talks over me.

"I know. We had a rough mission, though," he says breezily. "A Tracker attacked us and threw the car at least a couple of miles. We were in the trunk, and her arm got jacked up. I was hoping you could help her get cleaned up, get her some clothes and a proper sling, while I go make her something to eat."

She arches her brows. "You better make her a feast. I'm serious, Blaise. This girl needs more than just some biscuits and gravy."

Blaise bobs his head up and down. "Yes, ma'am."

I don't know why, but I find it almost amusing that someone as tough as Blaise is letting this tiny, older woman lecture him. It clicks then, what amusement is, as if my brain has pieced together something I forgot about long ago.

"Good. Now go get busy." She snaps her fingers and points at the counter. "And make my husband help you. He needs something else to do other than sit around and serve drinks to people who've had too many already."

Blaise nods then turns to me, seeming hesitant. "You'll be okay?"

"Of course she'll be okay." Mable snags ahold of my hand and hauls me toward her while shooing Blaise away. "Now go make her dinner. The girl looks like she'll barely last a couple more hours without any food."

Blaise still appears reluctant to leave, so I offer him a smile, trying to reassure him I'll be fine. At least, I hope I will.

"I'll be right over there if you need anything," he tells me, hitching his thumb over his shoulder.

I nod, and he backs away. I haven't left his side in hours, and watching him leave restores the anxiety I felt when Ryder and him showed up at my cell.

"Come on, honey." Mable gently pulls on my arm. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Tearing my gaze off Blaise, I follow her through the doorway.

She closes the door behind us, sealing out the noise and the chatter. "Do you know your size?" she asks me then waves herself off. "Never mind. You're probably a small, if that." She crosses the small room, stops in front of a series of handmade shelves, and begins sifting through stacks of clothes, boots, bags, and boxes.

I turn in a circle, taking in the room: some mattresses; a couple of wooden crates with boxes of ammo on them; blankets and pillows; and a clear, rectangular shaped box in the corner, large enough for a person to stand in. It kind of reminds me of the scanner at the channels, but without the lights.

"I know it's smaller than the showers at the station," Mable says, coming up beside me with a pile of clothes in her hands. "But it gets the job done."

I take the clothes from her then warily eyeball the shower. Blaise said a shower was like a bath but different, yet he never explained the difference.

"Um ..." I cross my fingers I'm not asking a bizarre question. "How do I use it?"

"Here. I'll show you."

She gives me a brief rundown of how to make the water turn off and on by tipping the head and pulling the plastic handle. "It'll be a little cold, but it's better than nothing," she says, more right than she knows. "There's a towel in the stack of clothes and soap, shampoo, and a razor in the shower if you need it. I'll step out for a while then come back and check on you in a bit. You'll want to lock the door when I leave. And I'll knock three times when I come back so you'll know it's me."

"Okay," I say, noting she seems reluctant to leave me alone, too. Blaise warned me to be careful down here, that not everyone is trustworthy. I wonder just how dangerous this place is.

She finally offers me a kind smile then walks out of the room, I hurry over and flip the latch, locking the door. Then I set down the clothes, untie the sling, and toss it aside. Getting Blaise's jacket off is a bit more complicated, and by the time I get my injured arm out of the sleeve, tears sting my eyes. Next comes the ratty T-shirt. I decide to tear that off my body since the fabric is pretty flimsy.

After I've peeled the clothing from my body, I step inside the shower and pull the handle like Mable showed me. Lukewarm water spurts out of the nozzle and streams across my body. I shut my eyes and tip my head back, allowing the water to river over my hair and face. My skin feels so refreshed I don't ever want to get out, but Mable warned me the water would run out within minutes, so I quickly try to scrub off as much grime as I can.

As I'm trying to figure out how to work the razor without cutting my skin, I hear a loud boom, and the walls begin to shake. I nearly stop breathing. Tracker? Has it found us already?

I glance at the steel walls. I'm safe here, I try to tell myself. Then I hear the faint, haunting whisper I've heard before.

"Allura," it hisses. "Allura, I'm coming for you."

My skin crawls as the hissing turns to a voice, a voice that sounds an awful lot like Lex.

Chapter Eight

The Danger that Lurks Everywhere

"Who said that?" I stumble back, covering myself with my arms.

No. There's no way Lex could be here. Or could he? Maybe wardens can get down here. But I don't see anything other than an empty room.

The voice and hissing stop, the only noise coming from the showerhead. I try to convince myself I imagined it, that the fear of being in this room alone is getting to me. I should just focus on enjoying the shower. But as much as I love getting clean, I'm too nervous to be alone and want to go back to Blaise where I feel safe.

I quickly finish shaving, cutting myself at least a dozen times, but the pain is minimal to what I'm used to. Then I shut off the water and step out. I dig through the clothes until I find what I think is the towel and dry myself off. Th

e clothes Mable left me are a long-sleeved black shirt, a pair of cargo pants, socks, and clunky boots, along with a sling. I don't remember the last time I wore so many clothes. Add that to the fact that I can barely move my arm, and it takes me forever to get dressed. I leave Blaise's jacket off, mostly because I'm warm, and I can't tie the laces of the boots, so I leave them undone.

By the time I'm slipping the sling onto my shoulder, someone is knocking on the door. I wait for the second and third knock, but they never come. I tiptoe over to the door and listen. Hushed whispers flow through the other side, male and female, I think.

"Are you sure she went in there?" a guy says.

"Yes, I'm sure," a girl snaps. "I'm never wrong."

"You're wrong a lot," the guy replies. "And if she's in there, why isn't she answering?"

"Probably because she's scared shitless." The girl laughs. "Did you see how terrified she looked? Seriously. No one looks that terrified."

"Unless she's one of them."

"My thoughts exactly."

Another knock and then the doorknob jiggles.