by Fiona Zedde
“I don’t have a choice.” The jeans in the pile are thankfully plain, but the T-shirt is a blinding tie-dye. “Hopefully these are for me.” The jeans scrape my bruised and aching thighs, but they fit well enough not to fall off my hips. “Because I’m taking them.”
Tia Ana steps in front of me. She doesn’t try to touch me this time.
“Why don’t you just teleport to wherever your uniform is? Isn’t that better than walking around looking colorblind?”
Our eyes meet. She knows.
Earlier, as soon as I woke up in this room, I tried to teleport and couldn’t. My power was drained completely from what I’d been through with the Redstones. I can stand upright and dress myself, but the space inside me where my power lay is a gaping wound.
“I can’t,” I confess.
Tia Ana curses. “You’re being foolish.” She touches me again, and the sensation of power from her fingers is immediate.
“Don’t!” Flinching back, I almost topple over, but her hand doesn’t leave my skin. “I can’t function with anything from you guys in my system.”
“It’s not that. You’ve made your decision. I’m giving you a little extra to help out until you’re back at a hundred percent.” She pulls her hand away, suddenly looking drained. Her cheekbones look sharper, and her hair looks gray now instead of the usual lustrous silver.
That’s when I feel the difference. A blush of power under my skin that’s different from my own. It’s warm, like the heat of an afternoon sun seeping up from the sidewalk and into bare feet. A light top-up. It’s not enough to help me stop a beast like Ethan Redstone, but it will at least keep me upright and moving forward.
“Tia, I don’t know what to say.” I grasp her hands in mine. They feel unbearably fragile.
“Don’t say a damn thing. Just get to work and come back to us safe.”
Tia Carmen’s hand rests on my back. “Don’t die.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Two of the three women I love most in the world hold on to me fiercely, their eyes bright with moisture. Then they let me go.
“We’ll see you soon.”
The air in the small room is warm, a comforting blanket over the anxiety of my thundering heartbeat, the worry for Mai, and everything else that’s blown my calm to pieces. Tia Carmen and Ana grip me tight, and the touch of their hands sears me deep. An uncomfortable heat glows behind my eyes, and I squeeze them tight to stop any betraying wetness from falling.
This won’t be the last time I see my tias. It can’t be.
“Yes, I’ll see you soon.” Then I tap my bracelet.
The channel opens immediately. “Go ahead, Commander.”
My tias step back and put their arms around each other’s waists. Moisture glows in their eyes.
“I need transport assist,” I say, firming my voice and my spine. At work, I can’t afford to be weak.
“Immediate?”
“Yes.”
“Stand by.”
The connection ends. “Thanks for the juice, Tia. I promise not to waste it.”
Tia Ana rolls her eyes. “That’s the last thing I’m worried a—”
Cold clamps around me as my sick room, my tias, and the small respite I had from all the bullshit disappears.
“What’s the status?” I snap as soon as the war room appears in all its stark, electronics-heavy glory.
For a split second, there’s only silence. Except for Pascale and Farr, the room is empty. They both stare like I’ve just popped in stark naked. Sure, I look rough and a little ridiculous in the tie-dye, but still.
Farr snaps out of it first. “Ah… On his way to the visitors’ room, Redstone got out of his stasis cuffs and took off. Not sure exactly how it happened, but the end result is that the bastard is gone.”
My team is all business, but the knowledge that Redstone is my woman’s cousin, and a danger to her, simmers between all of us. A muscle tics in my jaw.
Ethan Redstone is in the wind. Shit.
The plain fact is our facility isn’t meant to be a prison. Temporary holding is just that. It wouldn’t take long for someone to figure out a way to escape. A powerful Meta like Ethan Redstone should’ve been kept sedated most of the time and given a damn catheter and feeding tube, not asking for potty breaks and complaining about the food.
“All right.” I fight back a sigh. “Any leads on where he’s gone?”
“That’s where you come in,” Pascale says, though he stares hard at my baggy jeans and vision-destroying T-shirt, as surprised as Farr.
“Are you all right?” Farr comes right out and asks. “You look like shit.”
“If I ever need my ego stroked, I know where not to come,” I tell her, dry as the dessert. But a shivery pain in my side confirms her unprofessional opinion.
“Incoming,” Pascale announces seconds before Caleb steps out of nothing and into the room. His uniform is on, and he’s ready to work.
“What’s the situation with Redstone?” Caleb asks, gaze sweeping over everyone in the room. If I didn’t smell the sex on him, I’d assume we just got him out of his living room armchair from a morning of TV watching. He’s more prepared than I am.
My shoulder twinges with a distant pain. “Give me a sec.”
There’s a small door to the larger office that leads to the storage locker containing everything we usually need: clean uniforms, weapons, energy bars for long days or hours on the road. I slip into the locker and, as quickly as my healing body will allow, change into a spare uniform and grab some supplies, including a gun. When I get back to the room, Caleb is settled into a chair next to Farr and discussing a plan of attack.
I keep going like I never left the room. “I’d assume Redstone went back to Atlanta. Maybe not the house where he lived but definitely an area close to his family and allies. He has somebody trying to prove his innocence.”
Pascale snorts. “Innocence. Right.” He passes me a tablet with the report on Ethan’s escape.
“Exactly what I think.” I quickly look through the information. “But his little helper caused a lot of damage out there.”
Caleb eyes the bruises on my face. “Need some help with that?”
Briefly, I think of telling them what happened at the Redstone garden party but remember there’s no such thing as privacy here. The walls have ears, and I’m not in the mood to share with that many people. “No. At least not yet, but I might later on.”
Farr looks up from the data on the large screen she’s sharing with Caleb. “Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone.”
She has a point. I nod sharply and turn to Pascale. “What else do we know?”
He pulls up the computer imagery on the largest screen for all of us to see. It takes up the entire front wall.
In the video, Redstone sits in his cell, acting listless and resigned when the two enforcers come to take him to the visitors’ room where Caressa is waiting for him. They have him out of his cell and standing between them for barely two seconds before he abruptly bends his wrists and the stasis cuffs pop open. By the time the cuffs clatter to the floor, Ethan is gone, teleported off to who knows where. It’s fast and practiced. He didn’t once hesitate.
“Shit,” Caleb breathes out.
“That’s one word for it.” For years, my team and I have been trying to get the higher-ups to create an anti-port space out of the entire “prison,” but they’ve always said it was unnecessary since we don’t keep prisoners, only hold them for a very limited time. Another reasoning of theirs is that a change like that would force teleporting enforcers to move off-site to use their power. Well, I’d rather have to go someplace else to port out than risk a dangerous animal like Redstone running to freedom.
“What about Caressa Redstone?” I scan the report again just to verify that she isn’t named other than being the rea
son Ethan was being moved from his cell.
“We don’t have a thing on her,” Pascale says. “When officers got to the visitor’s area, she acted as surprised as any of them.”
Farr taps something on her keyboard. “As soon as he disappeared from the facility, the computers noticed the unfamiliar shift signature and raised the alarm.”
“How much lead time does he have on us?” I ask, though I could easily just check the time stamp on the video.
“Less than thirty minutes.”
“Good.” I look at my watch. “We’ll need all the help we can get, especially since the family is going on the assumption that he’s innocent and we’re trying to frame him for someone else’s murders.”
“He tried to kill Mandaia Redstone’s heir,” Caleb says with a meaningful glance at me, his bad try at being subtle to avoid the cameras that record everything we do and say here. “He killed your sister. There’s nothing innocent about this piece of garbage.”
As if I need reminding. “Right. So let’s go get him and quit wasting time.”
A map of the Redstone mansion and grounds in Alpharetta goes up on the screen for everyone to quickly memorize. Then one of Caressa’s condo and a few of the other places we suspect Redstone might try to hide.
“So back to the question Farr asked before.” Pascale looks me up and down with a narrowed gaze. “You’re not at a hundred percent, right?”
I become aware then of just how closely they’re all listening for my response. Which they should be. We can’t have relevant secrets on an operation.
“Correct.” A sigh hisses from between my clenched teeth. “My strength is down by about half, and I can’t teleport.”
Pascale nods sharply. “But you can still find Redstone?”
“Yes. I would’ve said something if I couldn’t.” Maybe.
The brief moment of tension in the room dissipates. “Okay, now that you’re done questioning me, let’s get this job done.” I squeeze Pascale’s arm to let him know I’m not taking his questions personally. He’s just doing his job as my second in command.
Farr and Caleb turn away from the monitor and give me their full attention at the same time that Pascale lets out an amused grunt of acknowledgment. Laid-back and easy once again, he waves a hand my way. “Okay, boss. What’s the plan?”
Less than ten minutes later, everyone is briefed and ready—masks on, guns strapped to our thighs, and our utility belts fully stocked. We run a quick check of our shared mental link we only ever activate on stealth missions.
Ready? I check the team.
Yes, they each silently echo.
“Fantastic.” Farr gives a full-on evil grin. “I have this new stasis collar I’m just dying to try.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. Escape from us means the capture is dead or alive.” Caleb looks much too happy reminding us about this. His fingers tap restlessly against the buckle of his utility belt.
“My money is on dead.” Pascale’s gaze slips in my direction.
Yeah. Preferably with his bloody and beating heart in my clenched fist. Nobody hurts Mai and gets away with it. Not even me.
Chapter 24
Where is Ethan Redstone?
Because the simplest answer is usually the right one, we start with the Alpharetta house. Pascale ports us to the mansion, and immediately, the scent of flowers fills my nose. I breathe it quickly in to get used to it, then fan out the rest of the team, my internal radar on high alert for Redstone’s unique signature.
The house is protected. Wards and traps of all types are meant to trip up any human or Meta trying to enter uninvited. We tear through their defenses like they’re nothing but cobwebs.
Our boots are silent on the marble floors. I reach out all of my senses.
Only the Redstones are here. No maids. No personal assistants. Just the family—as if they had been expecting this moment with Ethan to come. A prodigal criminal returned to the den.
Right now is about work. Finding Ethan Redstone and getting him. But despite my focus, the first thing that jumps out at me is her. Mai. That brilliant ribbon of her consciousness is drifting through the halls of the large house like the most beautiful thing in the world.
Mai. My heart. Mine.
Focus.
Mai is with her parents. I sense them on the main level of the mansion along with Cayman and Abi. Caressa is here, too, but somewhere else in this large house. Very faintly, I hear her voice, the distinct tones that try for soothing with a touch of sensuality and just end up being annoying as fuck. But maybe I’m biased.
Ethan and Caressa are together. His overconfident tang is strong on the air, his particular stink from being in jail, remnants of his fear, and now triumph that he got away. Presumably, he’s happy enough and, once he makes his presence known to the family, expects Mandaia Redstone to shelter him now that there is doubt about who he did or didn’t murder in his spare time.
A growl rumbles through my chest as we prowl through the house.
“Chill, Commander,” Pascale cautions. “We’re not trying to get caught before we get to him. Remember that.”
He’s right. I swallow down that betraying growl of sound.
The team is silent, all the chatter taking place only between our minds as we move toward where the strong signature of Meta activity is.
Toward the salon. Up ahead. I gesture in that direction even though I don’t need to. The people in the house, in the room, are making no effect at being quiet.
Should we just take them all? Bloodlust strums through Caleb like a pulsing, purple line.
He is even less forgiving than I am. Unlike me, his family is large and power poor. Over the years, he’s seen how rich families like the Redstones have taken advantage of their position and stepped on people they considered beneath them. Through our link, I feel Caleb’s focus and fury. He’s ready to dismember Ethan Redstone and feast on his bones.
And I thought I’m the one a little out of control.
We’re only here for Ethan, I tell Caleb for the second time tonight.
They’re talking. Farr has hooked into all the electronics they carry with them. Cell phones and cameras. She has audio and visual.
Yes, they are.
Muting my awareness of the others on the team, I focus on what Farr is seeing and hearing.
The family is in the salon where Mai ended up the night I came here for dinner. From multiple cell-phone-camera angles, I see they’re sitting in a loose circle. Mandaia, her husband, and Cayman sit many inches apart on the long, L-shaped leather sectional. In one of the green velvet armchairs, Abi sits picking at the edge of her thumbnail. Mai is in the other armchair, sitting rigidly with her hands clamped to the chair’s rounded arms.
It looks like she can barely move.
Vines the thickness of her thighs bind her tightly to the chair. Two of them wind around her belly and biceps, and one latches each foot to the chair’s. Since the last time I saw her, she’s changed into short boots, jeans, and a tank top. The vines press into her bare arms but somehow leave the skin smooth and untouched.
This is her mother’s work.
The corners of her mouth are tight and unyielding, and fury pours out of her in a steady, hot stream. Her sadness blankets the room like a summer heat in Georgia.
She’s here. They didn’t hurt her.
The feeling of relief is so intense that I stagger and bump into a nearby pedestal.
“Fuck!” Standing just behind me, Pascal catches the porcelain vase on top of the pedestal before it can fall to the floor.
I curse myself as we all freeze.
Cayman’s head jerks up. “What was that noise?”
“What noise?” Abi leaves off mutilating her finger. “Are you being paranoid again?”
“I’m not being paranoid.” He jumps to his feet and h
eads for the closed door. “We just killed another Meta, and her body disappeared before we could do anything with it. What you call paranoid, I call careful.”
Quinn Redstone makes a tired motion in the air. “Sit down, Cayman.”
“But Dad—”
“Sit. Down.” Exhaustion drags at his father’s face. “We don’t have time for any more of your theatrics.” Actually, they all look tired, like they’ve been sitting around like this, talking or whatever, since they almost killed me two days ago.
Only Mandaia, in her unexpected jeans and white blouse, looks fresh and unbothered. With a nonchalant crossing of her legs, she fixes Mai with a cool glance.
“Daughter mine, I can’t keep you safe unless you tell me the truth about what’s been going on.”
“Safe?” Mai gives her mother a dirty look. “By making me your prisoner?” Growling, she jerks her restrained body hard enough that the vines around her creak and the chair jerks across the wooden floor.
“You’re safer here with us than out in the world, Mandaia-Pili.” Mandaia sighs like she’s talking to a particular stubborn child. Which in her mind, she is. “You got yourself involved with a killer, Mai. You don’t think the enforcers will come after you as some sort of accessory and throw you in the cell next to Ethan?”
“No, I don’t.”
A look of cunning gleams Mandaia’s amber eyes. “Then you must know something we don’t. What is it, Mai?”
A muscle clenches in Mai’s jaw when she clamps her mouth shut. Her mind is shut tight, but the pain she feels eddies around her like a river of blood. “Let me go, Mother. That’s all I have to say to you right now.”
My heart feels like a pulpy mess in the cage of my chest. I can’t listen to any more of this. Abruptly disconnecting from the conversation in the salon, I slip into Farr’s feed to see exactly where Ethan is hiding.
He’s close.
High in one of the upper rooms of the large house, arguing with Caressa. The feed from the smart TV that Farr has tapped into shows everything. In the short time he’s been out of jail, Redstone managed to have a shower and otherwise clean up. In pressed gray slacks and a white button-down shirt, he looks like he just left work on casual Friday instead of a prison cell. He still looks like a wild animal.
