Page 19 of Empowereds

19

A t breakfast, Charity sat by Enzo. She hadn’t planned to. She meant to be careful around him until they figured out his identity. But when she saw him sitting by himself, staring bleakly at his plate, her legs carried her to him. She was used to seeing him with a look of private amusement, an expression that said he would tease her if he could. Today he seemed …wounded.

He clearly hadn’t been as unaffected by yesterday’s events as he claimed. And going through this thing together, well, it bonded them. Back on the road, he’d held her and done everything he could to comfort her. Last night, she’d held him, trying to return the favor.

When he leaned down to kiss her, she’d wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted to get lost in his arms and use the embrace to forget about the raiders. But if she’d started kissing Enzo, her ability to think about him in any sort of rational way would vanish.

As it was, one sad look on his part had drawn her to him. She sat beside him and put her plate on the table. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped.”

“I’ll give you a couple sleeping pills for tonight.”

His gaze fixed on his plate. The movements of his knife and fork through his pancake were quick and severe. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine tonight.”

They fell into silence, eating. Each moment felt wrong. She should be doing something to make him feel better. That’s what she’d come over here for.

“Did I ever thank you for saving my life? I can’t remember because I was in shock.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Well, it must not have been sufficient if neither of us remembers it.”

“I got a truck out of it. That’s sufficient.”

She nibbled a piece of her pancake. “True. I suppose any gratitude on my part couldn’t top that.”

He looked at her, and finally, a hint of teasing glinted in his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m willing to consider other offerings.”

“I was thinking something along the lines of sharing my apology chocolate with you.”

He finished off a bite. “As I recall, you rebuffed my apology, so the chocolate is still mine.”

“A technicality. I’ll let you have half.”

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “You don’t even know where it is. I might have eaten it all last night after you rejected me. It became consolation chocolate.”

“You’ve still got it.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I don’t think you’d give up that easily on something you want.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t know me.”

“What I said was I need to know you better.”

He shrugged. “I already told you about the time when I was eight and tried to hide a stray dog in my bedroom. That pretty much says it all. I’ve got a big heart and questionable planning skills.”

“You still have the chocolate, don’t you?”

He took a slow bite of his pancake, making her wait. “Yes, but before I give it to you, I want you to waltz with me again.”

Her stomach fluttered. Did he mean waltz or kiss? Maybe both. “Ok. We’ll waltz at the next dance.”

He shook his head. “We should practice before then.”

“Are you saying I’m not a good enough waltzer?”

“Not at all. I’m saying I’m vain and want us to look good in front of everyone.” His hand went to his chest. “See how much you’ve learned about me?”

She laughed despite herself. “True, and yet you’re mostly still a mystery to me.”

“We can remedy that while we dance. How about tonight after everyone goes to their bunkhouses?”

She pushed a piece of pancake around her plate, weighing the matter. “You’re tired. You need your sleep if you’re going to be able to work tomorrow.”

“After dinner, then. We’ll meet behind the machinery building. You bring the music, and I’ll bring some gloves.”

The machinery building sat between the farmhouse and the cornfield. A place for equipment that might or might not work. Farmers kept it all in hopes of getting the right parts someday.

The building was in a secluded area, but if Enzo brought gloves and agreed to meet in daylight, he meant for them to actually practice dancing. Perfectly respectable. She did need practice. And she shouldn’t worry about being alone with him. He couldn’t be someone dangerous to them, not if she was supposed to marry him.

Her father’s vision meant she could trust him. “Okay,” she said, “it’s a date.”

As Charity worked in the fields, she kept looking for Enzo. Whenever she spotted his broad shoulders, it was hard to drag her eyes away.

He wanted to spend time with her. Her. Even though she was a poor harvester with too many freckles. This happy, light feeling when she thought about him—this must be what falling in love felt like.

Then questions would pop up, doubts about his past. If he wanted a relationship with her, he needed to give her more answers.

Before dinner, she showered and changed clothes. She wished she had something nice to wear, something crisp and sophisticated or soft and form-fitting, something city women wore. Although perhaps it was best she didn’t. Even just changing into her least-faded shirt felt like an obvious gesture everyone would notice.

Enzo came late to the meal. He’d showered and changed clothes as well. The boy cleaned up nicely. Tall, toned, and tanned. He had such thick dark hair. A woman could get lost in his brown eyes.

When he sat down at the family’s table, Milo eyed him, and his gaze shot over to Charity. Milo must have noticed her showered state as well because he sighed and shook his head.

“Milo,” her father said, “I’ve got some things to set up in the orchard before we start work tomorrow. Will you help me after dinner?”

“Sure,” Milo said.

Her father nodded to Gregor. “I’d like your help too. Meet me in the area between the cornfield and the orchard.”

“Fine,” Gregor said.

At least they wouldn’t be working near the machinery building. She’d begun to question the time and location. Most of the harvesters relaxed after dinner. Some hit the showers immediately. Others congregated outside, shooting the breeze and drinking moonshine while they waited for the showers to free up. Some went off to play cards—claiming they weren’t gambling, which co-op rules prohibited.

Her father stopped the card games if he saw cash switching hands, so the players always kept out of sight. What if the gamblers met in that space behind the machinery building? What if a different couple was there?

The meal ended. Charity was on cleanup duty. Enzo had helped with preparations, so he disappeared. No, not disappeared. He’d gone to wait for her.

She shoved plates and cups into the sink, cleaned them, and hardly spoke with the other workers. When she’d washed her fair share, she left the kitchen instead of lingering to talk with anyone.

She went straight to the machinery building. It was old and painted brown, its metal roof dotted with dusty solar panels. Even though the doors were closed, the place smelled faintly of oil and gasoline, of rusted things. No one wandered around nearby, and she hadn’t passed anyone on her way here.

She turned the corner. Enzo was leaning against the building’s wall, texting on his phone. She’d seen him an hour ago, and yet part of her still marveled at how good he looked, at his rugged grace. He seemed out of place here in her mundane harvesting world. He wore his jacket even though the day was still warm. He must expect that they would be dancing for quite a while.

Well, she did need a lot of work.

He looked up and smiled a slow, sultry smile. One that probably stunned women into eager compliance. She’d have to remember to keep her head.

He slid his phone into his back pocket. Two pairs of weeding gloves lay on a stump near the building. He picked them up and held a pair out to her with a flourish. “Your dancing gloves, m’lady.”

She put on hers. “You didn’t skimp on elegance for the evening.”

“I’m all about elegance. You should include that on the list of things you’ve learned about me.” He slipped his gloves on. “Do you have a playlist ready?”

She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the area. “Are you sure you want to dance out here? Won’t you feel embarrassed if anyone comes by and sees us?”

“No one will come by. I took the signal booster out of my truck and let Reverend Russell use it to get the game on his screen. First football game of the season. All the guys are in the bunkhouse watching it.”

Removing a signal booster from the truck must have taken a lot of work. “That was nice of you.”

“I had ulterior motives.”

“A love of dancing, no doubt.”

“Add it to your list.”

She brought up her waltz playlist on her phone, started the first song, and set her phone against the side of the building. Despite the solitude, she kept the volume on low. She didn’t want anyone who might be wandering around to hear the sound and come to investigate.

Enzo took her hand in his. The gloves felt awkward, too thick. She missed the touch of his fingers closing around hers. Still, this was the proper way to do things.

His nearness made it hard to think. She wanted to trace the lines of his face, to admire the thick lashes that rimmed his dark eyes. She had to force herself to concentrate on the beat of the music.

1…2…3.

The feel of his hand on her waist brought back memories of the last time his hand had rested there, two nights ago when it had traveled up her back. She’d never thought the smell of the soap and shampoo the harvesters used was particularly intoxicating, but she wanted to close the space between them and breathe in that fresh scent from him. Was she fixating on Enzo’s neck? That wasn’t a normal thing, was it?

The earlier lessons had fled her mind, and she stumbled into him. “I’m sorry. I’m still not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” he murmured into her ear. “Mostly I just want to get to the part where we’re not waltzing anymore.”

She felt a blush rising in her cheeks. He wanted to kiss her. Or maybe he was teasing her. Telling her she was hopeless at dancing, and he wanted to stop. “What do you mean by that?”

“Let me show you.” He lowered his head to kiss her.

Sanity returned before his lips reached hers. She dropped her hands and moved away from him. “We should talk.”

He stepped toward her, undeterred. “That’s what you want to do right now?”

She continued backward, keeping distance between them. “I just need to know who you really are.”

He followed her, going the same slow pace, his eyes never leaving hers. “You already know who I am. You’ve got a list going.”

“I need to know more. I understand why you wanted to learn to shoot. I believe you about that. But where does a civilian get the bullets to practice? How could you afford them? You haven’t told me nearly enough about your past.”

“You’re about to run into the building.”

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. He was right. She stood less than a foot away. He stepped closer, his hands reaching for her. She backed up and felt the wall press against her. “Are you going to answer my questions?”

He put his arms on either side of her, trapping her. She should’ve anticipated this would happen. He hadn’t been moving fast. She could’ve darted away. But in truth, she didn’t want to run away from him. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, and they both wore these stupid gloves.

His gaze moved to her lips, and his voice turned husky. “One kiss and then we’ll talk.”

One kiss couldn’t hurt. Besides, it was hard to think of her questions, of anything, really, with him so close, with his rich brown eyes on her. She put a hand on his chest, unsure whether she meant to push him away or pull him closer. “You’ll explain everything?”

He leaned toward her. “Yes.”

His lips came down on hers, not a soft kiss like before. This kiss was insistent, his lips pressing hungrily against hers. A shock went through her at his touch. She felt warm, dizzy, and so uninhibited. She pulled off the gloves and let them drop onto the ground. Somehow, she didn’t care about them anymore. She ran her hands across the front of his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric.

He lifted his head, groaned, and suddenly his hands grasped her wrists, stopping her. He stared at her, breathing hard. He looked so flustered that she smiled. Perhaps he was right, and they were getting too carried away in a public place.

His voice came out low and serious. “What’s your deepest secret?”

“I suppose that I’m in love with you, and I probably shouldn’t be.” Her words were braver than she’d intended, as though her lips had spoken without her permission. The declaration was out in the open now. He knew and still stood here with her, still held onto her. She must not have scared him off.

“You love me?” His eyes widened with surprise. “You hardly know me. You just said so yourself.”

She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly, teasing his lips. “Apparently I know you well enough to love you.”

He kissed her for one more moment, then stepped away, still keeping hold of her wrists. “Are any of the harvesters Empowereds, and if so, what are they?”

“My father is a psychic.” She gasped as the words left her mouth. Realization hit her with a cold, horrified slap. “You gave me truth serum.” How had he done it? He still wore his gloves. And then she knew the answer. “It was on your lips.” She wanted to crumble. She wanted to kick him. He stood too close for the latter, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the former. But the betrayal was as good as a gut punch.

“You were right,” he said with a tone of regret. “You shouldn’t be in love with me. Anyone else?”

“No.” She didn’t want to speak to him and yet the word sprung from her mouth. If she didn’t get away from him, he’d know about New Salem too. He’d do something horrible. She thought of screaming, but it wouldn’t do any good. No one would hear, and she’d have to stop the moment he asked her another question. She thrashed, trying to free herself from his grip. “The government sent you, didn’t they?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Turns out, I don’t have time to explain everything after all. Why is he working as a harvester when he’s a psychic?”

Enzo’s brown eyes, which had looked at her with so much affection, had grown hard and dark. She yanked her wrists, twisted them. He was too strong. Words tumbled from her mouth against her will. “He’s finding people to join him. I can’t believe he ever trusted you.” She spit out the last part, tears constricting her throat.

“People to do what? Is he going to fight the government?”

“Only if the government fights him.” She stomped on Enzo’s foot. It did little in the way of damage. With the way he pressed against her, she couldn’t lift her foot far, and he wore thick boots.

“What is his goal?”

“To build a city.” It took all of her willpower not to say more, not to tell him everything about New Salem. Next, he would ask about the location. She had to get away. He had a hold of her wrists, but their closeness had its advantages.

“Please.” She looked upward as though pleading with heaven, then slammed her head into his.

He stumbled backward. She wrenched her wrists free and delivered a kick to his knee. He went down, cursing.

She sprinted toward the cornfield. She had to find her father and tell him what happened. Enzo was a spy. He’d forced her to reveal her family’s secrets.

Her arms pumped, and her feet spit up dirt and debris. Faster, she needed to go faster. She was gasping, crying. Enzo’s footsteps pounded the ground behind her. The kick to the knee hadn’t slowed him for long. How much of a head start did she have? A glance over her shoulder told her it wasn’t enough. He was going to catch her.

Charity bounded down a row of corn. At the first sign of an opening on the left, she pushed through the row to another, then plowed through another row. It wasn’t the best way to lose him. The waving stocks would give her away, but he’d have to slow down to follow.

The truth serum only lasted for seven minutes. She couldn’t let him catch her before then.

She cut through another row, then another, and ran straight for a bit, listening for his footsteps. The sound of her own desperate feet and labored breaths blotted out most sound. Had she shaken him? She looked over her shoulder and didn’t see him. But that didn’t mean much.

He knew her father was somewhere in the orchard with Milo and Gregor. He would go there looking for her father. She had to reach them first.

The end of the cornrow came into sight, widened. And there was her father with Gregor. Her brother held a ladder against a tree and her father perched high on its rungs.

“Dad, run!” she yelled. “Hide!”

He and Gregor turned to her with startled, worried expressions. “What’s wrong?” her father called, climbing down the ladder.

He wasn’t moving fast enough. He needed to jump. “Enzo knows!” Her strength was giving out, her strides becoming slower. She stumbled toward her father, had to make him understand. “He has truth serum.”

Her father reached the end of the ladder. Instead of running off, he exchanged a look with Gregor.

Enzo’s voice came from a few yards behind her. “Move away from your father!”

Charity turned to see him. He held a gun raised and pointed in her direction. She stood directly between Enzo and her father.

Did he mean to shoot her father on sight? She shook her head and lifted her hands, pleading. “Don’t do this. You aren’t like this.” A stupid thing to say. Clearly, he was like this. But she hoped he’d lower the gun. “Enzo,” she pleaded. “Please, don’t.”

A flicker of remorse went across his expression. “I’m sorry, Charity. I hoped things wouldn’t end this way, but I have to do this. You need to step aside and let me arrest your father. You too, Gregor. This doesn’t have to involve you.”

Perhaps it shouldn’t have amazed her that Enzo had changed so completely, but even staring at his outstretched gun, she wondered how he could be the same person. Where had the man gone who’d held her so tenderly after the raider attack?

“This will all go better for everyone,” Enzo went on, “if I can report you came peacefully.”

Behind her, she heard Gregor and her father murmuring to each other. Her father wasn’t actually thinking of letting himself be taken in, was he?

This was her fault, her fault, her fault.

“Step aside,” Enzo told her again. “Or I’ll arrest you for obstructing an officer.”

She held her ground. “I’m not going to. You’ll have to shoot me if you want to get to him.”

Enzo jaw tightened in frustration. “Charity.” The word was half-plea, half-growl. “Be reasonable. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, the system will go easy on him. All you're doing right now is making things worse for yourself.”

A movement behind Enzo caught her attention. Milo was padding through the cornrow, creeping up behind him. It would’ve been helpful if Milo had a weapon, but the only thing he carried was an ear of corn. What did he plan to do with that? Still, hope lifted her.

“We haven’t done anything wrong,” Charity called, perhaps too loudly. She didn’t want Enzo to hear Milo’s footsteps. “That doesn’t matter to the government. They never find Empowereds innocent. Don’t you have a conscience? How could you do this? Did you mean anything you ever said to me?”

His voice dropped. “I meant it all.”

That made it worse. “Would you really shoot me? After you?—”

“I don’t want to,” Enzo cut her off, “but I will if I have to.”

Milo reached Enzo and pressed the corncob into his back. “Funny, I want to shoot you, and I just might. You’d better drop your gun to convince me otherwise.”

Enzo stiffened but didn’t lower his gun. “Charity, does your brother have a gun?”

Her lips trembled, trying to hold back the truth. A lie right now would save her family. If she could form the word yes… The word “No” came out as a pained cough.

Enzo swung his elbow back, clipping Milo on the side of the head. Milo took a toppling step to regain his balance and lunged at Enzo. Enzo sidestepped him and lifted his gun toward Milo.

All Charity could do was scream, scream and watch as the man she’d just kissed aimed to shoot her brother. Would Enzo kill him?

She didn’t hear the sound of the gun, but a dart suddenly protruded from Enzo’s neck. The sort from their tranquilizer gun.

He swiped at it, and his shot at Milo went wide, loud as a drumbeat. A nearby cornstalk exploded.

Milo tackled him, pushing him to the ground. To Milo’s credit, he seemed to be trying to contain Enzo more than kill him. She’d seen her brother do worse to men.

The two struggled for a couple of minutes before the drug completely stole Enzo’s strength. Then he lay there, limp.

He turned and looked toward the apple trees as he lost consciousness. But even then, Charity could tell he was staring at her father, not at her. Those brown eyes she’d gazed into were only focused on him. She’d never been the important one to Enzo.