Give Me War - Kate McCarthy Page 0,42
ready to leap in and grab him if he so much as moves a muscle in my direction. My gaze shifts to Mac. Being on the sidelines is her worst nightmare. Mine is clowns in a gutter drain, but the situation I’m standing in right now runs a pretty close second. She isn’t even watching me. She’s aiming narrowed eyes on the bomb technician headed in my direction, assessing the man as if my life depends on his explosives expertise, which scarily enough, it does.
I take another unsteady breath and drag my gaze from all of them, giving my attention to the man coming towards me. He’s kitted out in a heavy blast suit that makes him look better suited for a walk on the moon rather than a traipse through the outer scrubland of Sydney.
“You okay?” he asks as he reaches me, his voice deep and calm.
“Peachy,” I squeak out, studying his face through the clear panel that covers it. He’s handsome. His dark hair is long enough to curl against his forehead, but not long enough to get in his gold-flecked hazel eyes. Jesus, he looks like Henry Cavill. He would fit right in with the Badass Brigade, or as Mr January on the annual Bomb Technician Fund-Raising Calendar, which is probably not a thing, but if it was, I’d buy it.
Mr January says something that makes me want to kiss his face off. “I’m here to get you out of this vest.”
“That would great.” Understatement of the year.
He introduces himself. “I’m Moses. Moses O’Reilly.”
Of course he is, what with his biblical namesake parting the Red Sea and leading the Israelites from Egypt. This man has dedicated his life to saving others. He walks towards danger, defuses bomb-covered citizens, and looks like a total badass while doing it, even covered head to toe in a moon suit.
Me? I’m a singer. I sing songs for a living and spend my money on frivolous crap.
Why haven’t I done more with my life? Is this what they call an existential crisis?
A strange little hiccup escapes my throat and I get this panicked urge to run away, which is ridiculous because where would I go?
Moses cocks his head from inside his suit and I realise he’s actually holding out a hand as he introduces himself. It’s a normal, everyday gesture inside of an extraordinarily terrifying situation. An attempt to pull me from my sudden hysteria. I take his glove-covered hand in mine. He doesn’t shake it. He gives it a firm squeeze. My lungs deflate in a shaky sigh. “Evie.”
“I know,” he quips.
“You do?”
“Evie Valentine, lead singer of Jamieson, right?”
“You like our music?”
“Who doesn’t?” He grins then, and it’s a little boyish.
The abrupt transformation sets off a nervous flurry in my stomach. “This isn’t your first day on the job, is it?”
He looks me in the eye, his expression turning serious enough to reflect the gravity of the situation we’re in right now. “I did three tours of Afghanistan, Evie. It doesn’t get any more experienced than me.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Thank you for your service sounds woefully inadequate. My voice comes out low and soft, as reassured by his words as anyone could be while decorated in TNT. “Then I’m lucky to have you with me today.”
His eyes drop to my vest, studying it carefully. “Luck is not a word I’d use to describe any part of the day you’re having.”
“True. But I’m still alive so far. That can only be a good thing. Just …” I feel a little tug as he examines the device and my voice cracks, “… try and keep me that way, okay?”
His hazel eyes lift to mine, and suddenly it feels like we’re inside the eye of a storm. There’s a sense of hyperawareness where everyone and everything around us turns quiet and still. Not even the birds make a sound. It’s just him, me, and my imminent death. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Tears clog my throat.
“Okay?”
I swallow them down and nod.
It’s when Moses turns his attention back to the device strapped around me that I hear Coby yell my name. “Evie!”
My gaze shoots over the bomb technician’s shoulder. My brother is here, alongside Henry and Casey. The latter has his hand on my brother’s shoulder, keeping him in place.
Coby swipes a hand across his face as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Someone must have told him where I was and what was going down,