Free Defiance by C. J. Redwine Page A

of water. “I should’ve trusted you. I’m sorry.”
    “No, I’m sorry. Sorry I misjudged you. Sorry I got us caught tonight.” She sways closer to me.
    My gaze wanders to her lips, and I can’t see anything but a thin trail of water gliding over her skin, gathering at the corner of her mouth, and then slowly drifting toward her neck. She raises one shaky hand and presses her fingers against her lips. Her breath catches, a tiny sound that makes me realize how close I’m standing to her.
    Warmth rushes through me, and I dip my face toward hers.
    “Logan?” Her voice is soft, but the sound of my name slaps some sense into me.
    I jerk back a step and swear.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LOGAN
    “I ’m sorry,” I say and back up another step.
    She looks away and crosses her arms over her chest. “For what? Swearing?”
    “Yes. No. I mean, yes, but …” The haze of warmth sweeping my system drains away as cold reality sets in.
    I almost
kissed
Rachel.
    The realization isn’t nearly as shocking as the fact that despite our differences, our current situation, and the impossibility of it all, I still ache to press her against the wall and taste her.
    That thought does dangerous things to my self-control. I need something else to talk about—something else to
think
about—fast. Glancing around for inspiration, I spy the partially built invention on my table and say, “Do you see that?”
    Of course she sees it. She isn’t blind.
    “Are we changing the subject?”
    “Rachel …” Yes, we’re changing the subject. I don’t know what to say to explain my actions, and it’s either talk about technology, or I’m going to go take a walk in the rain.
    “Fine.” She won’t look at me. “What’s so special about that”—she flicks a hand toward the table—“that simply must be discussed right this second?”
    “It’s going to lead us to your dad.”
    She raises her eyes to mine, her expression cautiously hopeful. “How?”
    I’m grateful to be asked for an explanation I can readily give. “Your father’s wristmark has a tracking device embedded in it. All wristmarks do. It’s short range, just like all our tech. Designed to work within the Wall and nowhere else.”
    This isn’t news to her. All tech is specific to the city-state where it’s issued. Without a network of wires across the Wasteland, there’s no way to send any kind of long-range signal. A tracking device is useful outside the Wall only if you can get within two hundred yards of someone. Without a fairly exact location for Jared, we could wander for years and never get a ping.
    “The invention I’m working on is a tracker designed to pick up traces of your dad’s signal, even if he’s already moved on.”
    “How is that possible?” Cautious hope is edging toward enthusiasm in her voice.
    “Sound navigation ranging. A courier’s tracking signal uses active sonar, sending out sonic pulses that leave a unique echo in the environment. The guards can find a courier using an Identidisc to receive those echoes as they’re sent.”
    “So why can’t we just steal an Identidisc and use that to track Dad?”
    I shake my head. “Because Identidiscs aren’t designed to pick up a signal any older than two weeks.”
    “Why not?”
    I grin. “Because I didn’t design them. Besides, we aren’t going to steal anything and risk showing the Commander what we’re up to. The device I’m building uses passive sonar, which means it receives echoes without sending its own out. I’m tasking it to only receive the lingering echoes of Jared’s unique signal.”
    “But if it’s been months since he was in an area—”
    “Sound never really disappears. I’m building a powerful battery for this, so if he’s been in an area within the last six months, I’ll catch his echo and we’ll be able to find him.”
    She smiles, and genuine warmth fills her eyes. “You’re a genius. Thank you.”
    Her words make me feel like I’m standing taller.