It was what she'd been intending to say to him. She blinked, surprised.
"You stole my paranoia," she said. "I was going to say, Don't go. But you're going to, no matter what I say, aren't you?"
That threw him off just a little. "Well, yeah, of course I am, but--"
"But nothing. I'll be with Amelie; I'll be okay. You? You're going off with the cast of WWE Raw to fight a cage match or something. It's not the same thing."
"Since when do you ever watch wrestling?"
"Shut up. That's not the point, and you know it. Shane, don't go." Claire put everything she had into it.
It wasn't enough.
Shane smoothed her hair and bent down to kiss her. It was the sweetest, gentlest kiss he'd ever given her, and it melted all the tense muscles of her neck, her shoulders, and her back. It was a promise without words, and when he finally pulled back, he passed his thumb across her lips gently, to seal it all in.
"There's something I really ought to tell you," he said. "I was kind of waiting for the right time."
They were in a room full of people, Morganville was in chaos outside, and they probably didn't have a chance of surviving until sunrise, but Claire felt her heart stutter and then race faster. The whole world seemed to go silent around her. He's going to say it.
Shane leaned in, so close that she felt his lips brush her ear, and whispered, "My dad's coming back to town."
That so wasn't what she was hoping he'd say. Claire jerked back, startled, and Shane put a hand over her mouth. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't say anything. We can't talk about this, Claire. I just wanted you to know."
They couldn't talk about it because Shane's father was Morganville's most wanted, public enemy number one, and any conversation they had--at least here--was in danger of being overheard by unfriendly, undead ears.
Not that Claire was a fan of Shane's father; he was a cold, brutal man who'd used and abused Shane, and she couldn't work up a lot of dread for seeing him behind bars . . . only she knew that Amelie and Oliver wouldn't stop at putting him in jail. Shane's father was marked for death if he came back. Death by burning. And while Claire wouldn't necessarily cry any big tears over him, she didn't want to put Shane through that, either.
"We'll talk about it," she said.
Shane snorted. "You mean, you'll yell at me? Trust me, I know what you're going to say. I just wanted you to know, in case--"
In case something happened to him. Claire tried to frame her question in a way that wouldn't tip their hand to any listening ears. "When should I expect him?"
"Next few days, probably. But you know how it is. I'm out of the loop." Shane's smile had a dark, painful edge to it now. He'd defied his dad once, because of Claire, and that meant cutting the ties to his last living family in the world. Claire doubted his dad had forgotten that, or ever would.
"Why now?" she whispered. "The last thing we need is--"
"Help?"
"He's not help. He's chaos!"
Shane gestured at the burning town. "Take a good look, Claire. How much worse can it get?"
Lots, she thought. Shane, in some ways, still had a rosecolored view of his father. It had been a while since his dad had blown out of town, and she thought that Shane had probably convinced himself that the guy wasn't all that bad. He was probably thinking now that his dad would come sweeping in to save them.
It wasn't going to happen. Frank Collins was a fanatic, carbomb variety, and he didn't care who got hurt.
Not even his own son.
"Let's just--" She chewed her lip for a second, staring at him. "Let's just get through the day, okay? Please? Be careful. Call me."
He had his cell phone, and he showed it to her in mute promise. Then he stepped closer, and when his arms closed around her, she felt a sweet, trembling relief.
"Better get ready," he said. "It's going to be a long day."
Chapter Two
Claire wasn't sure if get ready meant put on her game face, brush her teeth, or pack up a lot of weapons, but she followed Shane to say goodbye to Michael first.