UnSouled (Unwind Dystology 3)

ves her something that could, from a certain angle, be considered a reluctant nod. “What do you think they’ll do with him?”

“He’s their golden child,” Risa says. “They’ll clean up the tarnish and make him shine again.” Then she smiles, her thoughts drifting off to him. “Of course, Cam would point out that gold doesn’t tarnish.”

That smile is a little too warm, and although Connor knows he’s playing with fire, he dares to say, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with him.”

She holds his gaze, a little coolly. “Do you really want to go there?”

“No,” Connor admits.

But Risa takes him there anyway. “I love what he did for us. I love that his heart is purer than anyone else believes. I love that he’s far more innocent than he is jaded, but doesn’t even know it.”

“And you love that he’s completely infatuated with you.”

Risa smiles and tosses her hair like a shampoo model. “Well, that goes without saying.” The move is so unlike her, it makes them both laugh.

Connor sits up, his head no longer spinning when he does. “I’m glad you chose me before they came for him.”

“I didn’t chose anything,” Risa says, just the slightest bit annoyed.

“Well, I’m just glad,” says Connor gently. “That’s all.” He touches her face with Roland’s hand, the shark only inches away, but finally realizes that it will never be close enough to bite.

• • •

Sonia, still downstairs, decides that taking a tranq for the team is more than enough to ask of Hannah. She can’t ask Hannah to keep fugitives in her home after last night’s attack.

“I’m sorry—but I’ve got Dierdre to think about now,” Hannah tells them with tears in her eyes. Holding the toddler in her arms, she wishes them all Godspeed. Connor finds he has a lump in his throat for the storked baby he saved and will never see again.

Sonia drives him, Risa, and Grace back to her shop in her dark-windowed Suburban. She decides to keep the shop closed today, and there in the back room, the five of them talk of issues weighty enough, it seems, to collapse the floor beneath them. Connor insists that Grace be included because, although she bounces her knees impatiently and appears to have little interest in the conversation, all of Grace’s appearances are deceiving.

“A reliable source working with Proactive Citizenry told me a very interesting story,” Connor begins. He has no idea if Trace Neuhauser even survived the crash in the Salton Sea. He thinks not, because Trace would never have allowed the massacres that Starkey is now orchestrating in the name of freedom. But at least Trace was able to pass what he knew on to Connor before he was forced to pilot that plane for Starkey. “My source talked about how the name of Janson Rheinschild still strikes fear into the hearts of Proactive Citizenry’s inner circle.”

Sonia gives a satisfied and somewhat sinister laugh. “Glad to hear it. I hope he’s always the ghost in their lousy machine.”

“So it’s true that they”—Connor tries to choose his words carefully, but realizes there’s no delicate way to say it—“that they took him out?”

“They didn’t have to,” Sonia says. “When you tear a man down to his roots, it doesn’t leave much behind. Janson died a broken man. He willed himself to die along with his dreams, and I couldn’t stop him.”

Risa, who’s hearing all this for the first time, asks, “Who was he?”

“My husband, dear.” And then Sonia heaves a sorrowful sigh. “And my partner in crime.”

That gets Grace’s attention, although she doesn’t say anything just yet.

“Proactive Citizenry wiped him from their history,” Connor says.

“Their history? They wiped him from world history! Did you know we won the Nobel Prize?”

Risa just stares at her dumbfounded, and her expression makes Sonia laugh.

“Bioscience, dear. Back then antiquing was just my hobby.”

“This was before the Heartland War?” she asks.

Sonia nods. “Wars have a way of reinventing people. And making too many things disappear.”

Connor’s chair scrapes on the wooden floor as he pulls it forward. “Lev and I looked for his name everywhere online. Totally gone. But there was one article that misspelled it—that was the only way we found him.” Then Connor adds, “Your picture was in the photo. That’s how we knew you were somehow involved.”

Sonia turns to spit on the ground. “Deleting us from history was the ultimate insult. But it made it easier for me to disappear from them. From everyone.”