Free Rifter (The Survival Project Duology Book 1) by Juliet Boyd Page B

going to happen.”
    “But you don’t know. I’m signed off for two days. I’ll have to be here on my own while you’re at work.”
    Here? In his flat? He hadn’t agreed to that, but he supposed it was the wrong time to mention it. He took her in his arms and hugged her close. She’d gone from feisty to vulnerable in no more than a few seconds.
    “No, I don’t know for certain, but you can lock yourself in here. Use the bolt if you want. I can knock when I get home.”
    “Does that mean I’ll have to stay in all day?”
    “Mayra, you can’t have it all ways.”
    “No. I guess not.
    It was another hour before Mayra was in bed and asleep. Leo wrestled with his thoughts for the rest of the night. He’d been hoping that Mayra hadn’t seen her attacker and now that it had been confirmed that she had, it was one more complication he had to deal with.

Ten
     
    Mara awoke with a start. The physical jolt that had caused it, she realised, was a cat jumping up onto the bench she’d used for a bed and knocking against her legs. Luckily, she hadn’t called out in alarm and no security guards were running towards where she lay. She kicked out and the cat removed itself from where it had settled on the arm of the bench and went wandering off into the bushes. She stifled a sneeze. Cat hair.
    When she was sure the sneeze was no more, she lifted her head.
    The sky was beginning to show hints of light and the park looked gloomy rather than dark. Not that it had ever been completely dark. Although there were no lights on in the park itself, they didn’t seem to turn the lights in the surrounding streets off at all until daylight took over.
    It looked like it was going to be another sunny day. There was barely a cloud overhead.
    A heavy dew had descended upon everything. The thick material of her jeans felt weighty against her skin and her hair was stuck to her face in places with damp. She was sure she looked a sight, but there was little she could do about it. She did have a basic comb in her pocket, but without a mirror she’d only end up making things worse.
    She pushed up and stretched out her limbs before attempting to stand. Her muscles ached badly, her legs were stiff from being scrunched up and her back hurt from where the slats of the bench had pressed into her spine. At that moment, she couldn’t have run even if she’d wanted to. She knew that if she didn’t ease herself into movement with the speed of a snail, she’d probably pull a muscle and that would not be good. Even her head ached, although she wasn’t sure why. Tiredness, perhaps. The hours of sleep she’d managed could probably be counted on one hand. The tiredness would pass. Even if it didn’t, it made no difference to what she needed to do.
    Part of her sleeplessness was undoubtedly down to the fact that a sense of guilt had racked at her brain. Guilt over what she had done, but also guilt over what she hadn’t. So many people back home were depending upon her and on the face of it, she’d done her best to screw that up. But there was also fear. The thought of that faceless man — she never did look properly at his face — when he grabbed her wrist, was a stark reminder that cities weren’t necessarily friendly places. This was not, in any way, like the small farming community she remembered from her childhood, or the close-knit community at The Facility.
    She was more shaken than she’d realised at the time. Although her training had been rigorous, she now felt that she’d been too cosseted on The Project. The training she’d received was too theoretical. Being attacked by someone you knew, on a practice mat, was nothing like tackling a person who really wanted to do you harm in the middle of the street, in the dead of night. The concerned gasps and coos of the other students were not comparable to a few distant figures walking past as if nothing untoward were happening at all. She knew she’d have plenty of suggestions if she ever got