Read Blackjack Dead or Alive (The Blackjack Series Book 3) for Free Online Page B

back, a sharp pain amongst the chorus of small aches that came from my crash landing. It was a grinding pressure that seemed focused right on my vertebrae and no amount of shifting made it comfortable. I dug behind me, my fingers scraping across a jagged surface, and I could tell it was porous rock, limestone, maybe coral.
    I brought my right hand close to my face, and the web work of scars stood out in the moonless starlight. I looked past my hand and saw her face in the stars, and even there, in my waking dreams, she was disapproving. Regardless of what we might feel or be to each other, she would default to the party line when it came to me. She hadn’t even showed up when I was taken. Jeff had at least told me what was happening face to face.
    I already knew I would be blamed for the plane’s destruction. It drove me crazy, but it was a teardrop in the ocean. What really got me is that she would probably just go with it. I flexed my right hand, the scars pulling against each other with the motion, my knuckles popping like firecrackers. My arm protested even this simple action, and I suddenly realized how tired I was. I leaned my head back, my hand feeling like it weighed tons more than I could lift, so I used it to cover my eyes. I had been chucked into the event horizon of a black hole and it was crushing me, I had no defense against it. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I felt warmth behind my eyes. All of it had been for nothing. I had accomplished nothing, there was nothing I could point to that wasn’t tarnished. The people I counted as friends had tossed me aside like garbage. I couldn’t even get arrested right.
    The thoughts swept in, implacable as the tide, certain as death. What I hadn’t done, the people I hadn’t saved, the life I didn’t have. The weight of my choices running through my mind, eroding my will more effectively than a thousand sets of manacles. I wanted to let it overtake me. It would have been easy, but something picked at the edges. I lifted my hand again, staring at the scars, seeing them as ridged shadows as my eyes had adjusted to the dark.
    When I looked at the scars, I usually thought of how they had been earned. Me versus the unbreakable door, and that was true. I was desperate. I would have extinguished the sun to save Apogee that day. The sound of my bones snapping echoed in my ears and I shuddered. As I turned my hand over, marveling that it still existed at all, I realized that had also been the first time I had used my gifts for something good. Until that point, everything I had applied my powers to had been an effort to feed my greed, narcissism, and of course, the giant chip on my shoulder.
    I couldn’t forget that, nor could I forget that Apogee saved me. More than just pressing her friends into treating my injuries, she had called me back from the abyss. Without her I would have died on a patch of sooty earth in Washington D.C. We had saved each other. That meant something, and the only person who could drain it of significance was me. I could use it as a beacon or a noose, and no matter what happened from this moment going forward, the choice would be mine.
    Feeling empowered, I tried to sit up and was rewarded with bone-rending pain. A laugh burbled forth, sounding dry and brittle and terrifying, my body quivering with pain. I found the pain hilarious, more laughter erupting from deep within me. I lay back on my stone bed, the rock digging into my back and surrendered to it, laughing at the insanity. It tapered off eventually, and when my lids felt heavy, I didn’t fight it. I was alive.
     
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    My hand shot out, and I felt something crunch under it, followed by a squelch and warm stickiness exploded around my open palm, oozing between my fingers, splashing across my thigh and butt, where whatever unfortunate thing had just died was picking. I opened my eyes and sunlight blinded