Remy pushed his engines as hard as they’d go over the dusty hills north of New Madison as the sun cracked over the horizon. Outlander communities clung to brown snaking rivers and rusted out shells of old cities. He’d heard a few bullets ricochet off the outer edge of his speeder and fought the urge to fire back. Outlanders had to live out here, that was punishment enough.

  He’d hardly slept despite his exhaustion. Stefanie left three messages on his comm unit and he couldn’t bear talking to her now. Whatever he once thought about being lost in a tumble of cinnamon hair and legs without end, he couldn’t think about that with Josie in the Inspector’s clutches.

  He had snatched two nutrient bars with sludge-strength coffee and he was out the door. Franklin hadn’t slept either. He’d told him about the auction and what went wrong. It seems someone else had the same idea as they did with the Displacers and struck first when the lights went out. Remy knew that it had been Fernando, but kept that to himself. He promised to come visit when he came back. He didn’t say from where.

  The coffee was gone before the green glow of the Ghostfence faded in his rear view mirror and he tried to sleep as the autopilot engaged. It was no use. His stomach churned from the night before. A vile swirl of Displacement hangover, bad coffee, and guilt. Josie taken. Claire murdered. That bloody, carved rose on her breast. Just to send him a message. The worst part was that he didn’t even know what that message was. Not to interfere in future jobs? Sure thing. Money? No problem, Remy’d rob a bank if he had to. He’d rob a dozen banks. He just wanted to get Josie and go home. Make a new home somewhere else. Start a new life. He didn’t know if that new life was with Stefanie or Josie but he knew it had to be new.

  The middle parts of North America outside the ghostfences were a cruel, impoverished, and hopeless places. Pretty but unprosperous before the war, they couldn’t afford even rudimentary defenses against the bombs and War-Vascs. Only cities could afford the ghostfences. Most cities that managed to survive in some way didn’t really bother with the outlands anymore. In the wild, militias armed with old-style rifles and the cheapest Vascs fought each other for scraps of land and ended up ruining it all. He’d flown over the outlands before, of course, but there wasn’t much to see. He couldn’t imagine the Inspector spending time out here. Those suits would be ruined by the dirt and grime in a day flat.

  The sun was fully over the horizon when he reached Fernando’s getaway. He settled the speeder down in an open field and double checked his Vasc. He’d loaded an upgraded Volt from Josie’s stock but had no idea if he could even use it. His blood still ached from the Displacer. An old-style hand gun rested in a holster under his duster. Might as well come with a gun for a gun fight.

  It was more of a shack than a getaway and not remotely the kind of place that he expected to find the Inspector. He supposed that was the point. A sleek blue speeder sat under a scraggly oak tree and smoke piped from a metal chimney. It was short, just one story with walls made of timber that was likely cut nearby. Remy trudged through a snow drift to the front door.

  Fernando opened it with a wolfish smile and motioned him inside. It smelled like frying butter and bubbling coffee.

  “Ah, you made good time, Remy. You are in time for my famous eggs benedict. My grandmother’s recipe. It is, truly, a treat to make and a treat to share.” A rush of warm air, toasted bread, burning wood, and bacon struck Remy and invited him in as much as Fernando’s words. He wore a navy sweater with his sleeves rolled back like he was your neighbor inviting you in for a cold beer. Calling him a wolf in sheep’s clothing would be unkind to wolves.

  “Where is she?” Remy growled. Fernando sighed loudly and shook his head.

  “Straight to business. You’ll work yourself to death, Remy. She is here and is not hurt. How could I hurt something as beautiful as dear Josephine? Come, eat something and we’ll talk, yes?”

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It took all of Remy’s restraint to follow him inside without pulling out his gun and giving Fernando some speed holes. Once inside, he was glad he resisted. Josie sat at a table in the corner, her left wrist restrained and two tiny drones buzzed around her head.

  “Josie!” He rushed over to her and was met with a buzzing drone in his own face.

  “I’m okay, Rem.” She smiled wearily. Her ear was swollen where Fernando had struck her in the alley but otherwise she looked to be in good shape. A drone buzzed around Remy’s head and whirred back to Josie.

  “What’s that?” he asked Fernando. The Inspector returned to the stove and stirred his hollandaise sauce.

  “Hmmm? Oh, that’s my insurance. They’re attached to an implant of my own invention. If I say the magic words, the drones shoot. If my heart should stop, they shoot. And so on. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Remy, I do, but, well, we’ve had some differences in the past and I’d prefer to not worry about you altering our deal. I hope you understand.”

  Loud and clear. Shoot him and they shoot her. A Mud-duck Standoff.

  “What do you want?” Remy asked. He was tired, irritable, and facing the man who took his girlfriend by force in a dark alley. The man who was her ex and also murdered another girl in cold blood just to send a message to Remy.

  Fernando sagged with an melodramatic sigh. “All work with you types. Okay, sit, and at least have some bacon for your trouble.”

  Remy sat. There wasn’t much arguing with a man who held all the chips. Fernando came over and dropped two pieces of toast and a few strips of thick-cut bacon.

  “I slaughtered them myself last summer. Butchering an animal yourself is truly a magical thing. You feel your meat and know how special it is, no? There’s just a better connection to your soul that way.”

  Remy took a bite out of duty. Fucking psychopath talking about butchering meat a day after a cold-blooded murder. Remy would do anything to get Josie out of there. He had to admit it was pretty good bacon though. His stomach rumbled and betrayed his hunger. Fernando returned to the stove and talked over his shoulder.

  “I’ll be blunt because you are a blunt man. I need you to kill someone, well, two someones, for me.”

  “I’m not a killer.” He said between bites. It was true. He had killed before, but there was almost always a better way to resolve a problem and dead people couldn’t owe you a favor.

  “Oh, no, Remy. I’m afraid you misunderstand me. This isn’t a request. These drones will also shoot if this is not done. The lovely Josephine does not deserve such a fate for the lives of these other people, no? I assure you, each person has done more than enough to warrant a death sentence.” Fernando returned to the table with a plate of Eggs Benedict for Josie and himself and sat down to eat. She picked at hers reluctantly but Fernando dug in with relish. “I have two envelopes on the table, over there. Finish your toast, take the envelopes, and go back home. If you do it, come back and we’ll drink the finest champagne in my stock. If you do not come back, we’ll, c’est la vie.”

  Josie stared at her eggs and tried not to react. Of course, she itched to tell him not to do it. Two lives weren’t worth hers, she’d say. That he was a better person than that and couldn’t live with himself if he did. But she was wrong. Remy wasn’t a better person than anyone. He didn’t know how many lives Josie’s was worth to him, but in that moment he knew that number was at least two. He didn’t even swallow before replying.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Fernando grinned widely.

  “See, Remy, we can understand each other, I think. Come back in a few days. Saturday will be too late, you understand.”

  Remy understood. By next Saturday, he’d come back to this shack and find Josie on the kitchen table, a single rose on her breast.

  “I better get on my way then.” He stood and leaned down to give Josie a kiss. Her lip was stiff and her eyes glistened. Her relief was palpable. How could she have ever doubted what he would do? Josie’s lips were cracked from the dry shack air but the kiss was sweeter than any he could remember.

  “I’ll be back for you.”

  “I know.” She smiled weakly, clearly unsure what to think. He didn’t know either.

  Remy retrieved the envelopes from the stand near the entrance and pulled up his collar against the cold December winds. Fernando waved to him like an idiot from clearing away the dishes in the kitchen and Josie just smiled.

  He was halfway back to New Madison when he opened the first envelope. The past day had given Remy plenty of reasons to be sick to his stomach but this put him over the edge. He tossed the open envelop onto the passenger’s seat and kicked at the dash.

  “Fuck.”

  Papers spilled out of the envelope showing full color pictures of a familiar red-haired woman, with legs longer than anyone had a right to. Remy could swear he smelled cinnamon right then.