Pandemonium by Susanna Strom

Author:Susanna Strom [Strom, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dystopian, Suspense, Action
Publisher: Susanna Strom
Published: 2020-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

Kenzie

“Kyle is supposed to be in Boise with Ali and Jake. I have no idea what he’s doing here.”

Ripper dropped down into a crouch and spun the chair so we were face to face. He cupped my chin and fixed me in place with the intensity of his gaze. “What do you want to do, Mac?”

“We have to let him in. We can’t leave somebody I know standing on the street outside the gate. The city isn’t safe.”

“He’s your ex for a reason, right?”

I nodded mutely.

“If he hurt you, you owe him nothing, and I can make him go away.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

“No,” I said hastily. “No. Kyle isn’t a bad guy. We just...” I shrugged, at a loss for words. “We just weren’t good together. I wish he’d stayed in Boise, but now that he’s here, I can’t in good conscience leave him on the street. And I need to hear what he wants. Maybe he has a message from my best friend.”

“All right. Your call.” He leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on my lips. Over his shoulder, Miles’s eyes widened. Ripper stood, caught my hand, and pulled me to my feet.

“Miles, you wanna wait inside, or do you wanna come to the gate with us?” Ripper asked.

My cousin’s eyes moved from Ripper’s face to mine and back again. “I’ll wait inside with Hector.”

I followed Ripper as he strode to the gate. He released the locking mechanism and pushed the heavy, rolling door along its tracks, creating an opening a few feet wide. He stood back to allow Kyle to step inside the compound.

Kyle hurried through the entrance, his gaze sweeping the yard until he found me.

“Kenz.” A huge smile broke across his face, and he rushed toward me, his arms outstretched.

Ripper stepped between us and held up a hand to block Kyle’s advance.

“Hold on.” He looked Kyle up and down. “You sick?”

Kyle’s head jerked back, and his posture grew stiff, rooting him in place. He glanced back at me, confusion written across his features.

“I said, are you sick?” Ripper repeated. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet apart, making it abundantly clear that Kyle wasn’t getting past him until he answered.

No wonder Ripper was cautious. Kyle’s clothes were filthy, as if he had been sleeping in a ditch. He used to spend as much time fussing over his hair as I did mine—the man loved his styling products—but today his hair was a lank and greasy mess. But it wasn’t his clothes and grooming that gave me pause. His face was pale and pinched, and he held himself as if he were in pain.

Did Kyle have the flu? Dear lord, please no. No matter what had passed between us, I’d never want to see him suffer.

“No, I don’t have the flu. At least, not as far as I can tell,” Kyle said stiffly. “I’ve been on the road for almost a week, walking most of the way. A bullet grazed my shoulder in The Dalles, and I laid low for a couple of days.

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