Confessing all of that lifted a huge weight from her shoulders. She hated being scared. Hated it. Fear was an emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge now that she had taken on the role of a keeper. There wasn’t room for fear, not when you had billions of people to protect.
But Phoenix understood. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She allowed him to comfort her this one time, and rested her head against his shoulder. “I worry about that, too,” he admitted.
That was hard to imagine. He was an expert at hiding his fear because she never saw him show it.
“You can’t let it take over your life,” he said. “It’s one threat. Do you know how many dangers are out there in the universe? The number is endless, and that’s why we can’t let it consume us, or keep us from living. If the Sae-yers make good on their threat, we’ll be ready.”
“How do you know that?” Doubt laced her voice. “I feel so useless. How can we stay positive, when we’re not preparing?”
That’s what bothered her the most, the not doing anything. In order to be ready, they should be getting ready. Preparing. Training. Learning about the enemy. Day in and day out, they should be doing…something.
But none of that was happening.
“Because planets are resilient. We’ll fight off what doesn’t belong.” He pulled back, and met her gaze. “Do you know why they call Earth a planet?”
She shook her head.
“Because it’s really just an overgrown plant.”
Analogies clearly weren’t up his alley, especially if that one was supposed to be encouraging.
“So if Earth is a plant, what are keepers?” she asked. “The bugs that crawl all over it?”
“No, we’re the thorns in the stem,” he said, his voice lowering. “We prick those who try to steal our flower.”
Hmm.
It made sense.
In a weird, freaky biological way she didn’t want to make sense of.
Phoenix kissed the top of her head and grinned down at her. “Stop worrying, my love. What happened to the girl who was all gung-ho about kicking some slayer ass?”
She missed everything after he called her my love. He still hadn’t told her he loved her, but her heart had skipped a beat as if he had.
Oblivious to the ecstatic joy she was feeling, Phoenix’s voice broke through her temporary la-la land. “You have to get mad. You have to want revenge.”
He was right.
When Professor Mason first broke the news that Sae-yers were coming here, she was angry. Angrier than she’d ever felt in her entire life. She almost looked forward to their arrival, ready to get retribution for everything they had done. For all the turmoil, all the unrest, the grief. For China…for the millions who lost their lives.
Maybe anger was a good thing. If she was ever going to get through this, she needed some of that anger to replace the fear.
“We should probably get some sleep,” Phoenix said, and she nodded against his chest. He helped her down from the balcony, and then went completely still. His gaze traveled across the front yard.
“What’s wrong?”
Icy currents tickled the back of her neck as she watched his black eyes sharpen. She turned around, and saw what he was looking at. Or rather, who he was looking at.
Hunter stared hard at Kennedy, slicing her open with the look in his eyes. Then he turned his back on her. Not one word was spoken as he headed towards his house. The silence grew so thick, even the crickets stopped chirping.
She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight. This wasn’t happening. Not now, not like this.
Except it was.
She weighed her options, wondering if she should chase after him. But what could she say? Denying it was pointless—she had a big fat label made out of construction tape that erased all former doubt. She couldn’t apologize either, even if she wanted to. It was way too soon for him to hear an I’m sorry.
She had a sinking feeling there was nothing she could say or do to make this better.
Phoenix started to ask her if she was all right, but she brushed past him. Looking at his face only made it worse. “I can’t right now,” she said over her shoulder and then went inside.
He didn’t push her to talk, and she was grateful for that. Showing how much this hurt her would only hurt him too, and not in an empathetic, caring way.
She had no one but herself. Honestly, that was a punishment enough on its own.
Eleven
The drive to Orlando was mostly spent in silence. Kennedy tried talking to Phoenix on the way there, but as soon as they got inside his rental car, he turned the stereo up, drowning out all room for conversation.
She didn’t blame him if he was mad. If she were in his shoes, she’d be upset too.
At least it didn’t take long to get there. Once they hopped on the turnpike, their car picked up speed, ranging between one and two hundred miles per hour, depending on the traffic. Since it stayed pretty clear, they reached their destination in just under an hour.
Penelope Little lived in a neighborhood called Islesworth, one of those ritzy, gated communities filled with mansion after mansion. Kennedy stared out the window as they passed a series of elegant homes, each one bigger and more beautiful than the last.
Mrs. Little’s house was on a cul-de-sac, and it was one of the biggest ones they’d seen so far. Kennedy peeled back her sunglasses as she got out of the car, taking it all in.
Holy mother of mansions.
This place was beyond extravagant. You could probably stuff ten of her houses in there, and still have room to spare.
“Her husband is a pro golfer,” Phoenix explained.
“He must be one of the best.” She was a little surprised he was speaking to her again.
Phoenix rang the doorbell, and a yapping came from inside. A slender brunette opened the door, cradling a growling teacup Yorkshire terrier in one arm. “Oh, shush,” she scolded the overgrown rodent, tapping it on the head. “He thinks he’s a pit bull,” she said, offering them a smile.
Kennedy exchanged an amused look with Phoenix. This lady was the epitome of the rich housewife. Little dog, designer clothes, jewel-encrusted wrists—all the traits were there.
“I’m Penelope Little.” She extended her free arm to shake their hands. “It’s an honor to meet you both. I can’t tell you how excited I was when I heard keepers would be stopping by for a visit.”
“Thank you,” Phoenix replied. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
Mrs. Little waved that aside. “Don’t worry about that. Come on in.” She opened the door wider for them.
As they walked into the foyer, Mrs. Little called for someone named Maya to bring them coffee and tea.
She took them to a formal living room. Kennedy sat down on the sofa next to Phoenix, and then jumped when it moved beneath her.
“Oh, that’s one of those hovering sofas, dear,” Mrs. Little said. “It adjusts to your frame and lifts you into the air for a weightless recline.”
Kennedy craned her neck and saw that her feet were, in fact, hovering over the ground. Beside her, Phoenix unsuccessfully tried to hide a grin.
He barely speaks to me all the way here, and now he’s making fun of me? Awesome.
“So I understand you’re here for an interview, right?” Mrs. Little asked. The yorkie settled into her lap, and she softly stroked it. “Is this about my husband?”
Phoenix shook his head. “No, Mrs. Little, this isn’t about—”
“Call me Penelope.” She batted her lashes at Phoenix, smiling brightly.
Kennedy nearly groaned out loud.
“Okay, Penelope,” he said, totally oblivious. “We’re actually here to ask you a few questions.”
She frowned at that answer. “This isn’t anything serious, right? I mean, I guess it has to be, if you two were sent.”
Phoenix leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands together. He stared at the floor, probably trying to figure out
how much to say. “It’s a matter of national security,” he said, meeting her worried gaze. “But you’re not in any trouble or anything like that.”
Penelope let out a dramatic sigh and held a hand to her chest. “What a relief, right?” She chuckled, and it eased some of the tension.
Taking some initiative, Kennedy said, “We brought a list of names with us, and we’d like to find out if you’re familiar with any of them.”
Penelope nodded. “Of course. I’d love to help, if I can.”
Phoenix pressed a few buttons on his brace, and the list of names appeared. “We’d like you to read through these. Let us know if you see any names you recognize.”
She did as he asked, scanning the list. The maid, Maya, came in and set down a tray filled with coffee, tea, and baked goods. Phoenix’s eyes lit up. He reached for a Danish and devoured it within seconds.
“I’ve heard of some of these,” Penelope said. “But I know none of them personally.”
“Which ones have you heard of?” Phoenix asked.
She pointed to one—Sameer Bengal. “I believe he is a famous geologist.” She lowered her finger to a cluster of names. “And I’m pretty sure these are all business owners and property investors.”
“But you’ve never met any of them?”
She shook her head. “No. Never. And trust me, I have a really good memory. I’ve become practiced at placing names with faces due to the industry my husband works in. You have to, or it gets embarrassing once you’ve met the same person several times, and you don’t know what to call them.”
Phoenix looked over at Kennedy, giving her a look that spoke volumes. This was the end of the road for them. Figuring out the secret behind Project 27 may turn out to be a bust after all.
But then Phoenix’s eyes flashed, and he turned back towards Penelope. “Wait—does the company Ryder Industries ring any bells?”
Penelope shifted in her seat. She cleared her throat before answering. “I’m familiar with the CEO, Maxwell Ryder.”
Yes.
Finally, they were onto something.
“How do you know him?”
“Well, I don’t know him very well,” she said, inspecting her manicure. “I sold him some property a few weeks ago, but that’s the extent of our relationship.”
This was getting interesting.
“What property?” he asked. “Where is it located?”
“Just north of Campeche, Mexico,” she replied. “Close to the beach.”
“Do you know why he wanted it?”
“No idea.” She shrugged. “He never told me.”
That was odd, Kennedy thought. Why wouldn’t she ask him what he planned to do with it?
“Is there anything unique about the land?”
She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. The yorkie grumbled in her lap from the movements. “Um, well, it’s thirty acres of uninhabited land. It was passed on to me through generations of Santiagos—that’s my maiden name,” she explained. “There’s an old house on property, but no one lives there anymore. Also, there are a couple of cenotes and an old Mayan archeological site. Nothing spectacular, just a few drawings and pottery that was dug up some fifty years or so ago.”
“Why did you sell it to him?” Kennedy asked. She hadn’t meant to pry, the question slipped out unexpectedly.
Penelope went silent for a long moment. “I…I had no more use for it.”
She was lying.
“I’ve always lived in Florida,” she continued. “Plus, my husband lives here. There was no need for me to keep that land.”
Still lying.
Kennedy was sure of it. Aside from her obvious discomfort, why would a mega-rich Mexican woman sell land that had been in her family for generations when she had no need of the money? Surely it couldn’t have cost her that much in taxes, especially if she could afford a gigantuous mansion and hovering sofas.
However, she supposed the reasons why were irrelevant. All that really mattered was why Ryder wanted it.
“Is Maxwell in some kind of trouble?” Penelope raised her brows, looking worried. Unless Kennedy was imagining it, the corners of her mouth had curled up and her eyes were gleaming wickedly beneath her innocent veneer.
“Not that we’re aware of,” Phoenix answered. “I think we’ve got all the info we need here. Thank you for your time and cooperation, Penelope.”
“Of course!” she said, all smiles again. “Anything for the keepers.”
Before they headed out, Penelope asked Phoenix and Kennedy to pose for a picture, and then more irritatingly, she asked Phoenix to pose for a picture of just the two of them.
The woman had no shame. She flung her hair back and pushed her breasts way up while the maid readied the camera. Kennedy rolled her eyes. How obvious can you be?
On the way back to the car, Phoenix chuckled and said, “I saw your look of disgust.”
She was glad to see his mood had improved, but she didn’t appreciate being the butt of some joke either. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
The doors of the sedan slid open at their presence. “You have no reason to be jealous, you know.”
“You have legions of admirers,” she reminded him, buckling herself into the car. “Or were you not aware?”
He turned around to face her, going completely still. “There is only you,” he said. “And you are all that matters.”
She might have come back with some sarcastic remark if it weren’t for the dead-serious look in his eyes. It lasted only a moment before he turned away and told the car to start, but that one moment was enough to leave her speechless.
He meant what he said. Deep down, she had already known that. But it hadn’t really hit her until that moment. She mattered to him.
They were halfway home by the time she found her voice again. “I think we should check out the land Mrs. Little sold to Maxwell Ryder.”
“I do, too.”
“Why do you think he bought it?”
Phoenix watched the blur of trees pass by, lost in thought. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to do some research. Dig up everything we can about our CEO.”
“Do you know anything about him?” she asked curiously. “Do you know what kind of company he runs?”
“All I know is that it’s technology related.”
She thought about that, wondering how the land in Mexico was connected. “I can help with the research.” Secretly, her mind spun together plans of going back to Olympus with him. “And if Mason sends you to Mexico, I’m going, too.”
“Kennedy.” She didn’t like the way he said her name. As if that wasn’t even an option. “You need to stay here. Be with your family.”
“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
He twisted around. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re not with your family,” she pointed out.
“Mason can’t send us all home at the same time. I’m scheduled to go home next month, as long as the Sae-yers haven’t passed the perimeter by that point.”
Kennedy sat back in her seat, surprised by his news. So she really wasn’t being singled out. That drove Matilda’s goodbye theory home for her, and the finality of it all sank in a little deeper.
“Don’t look so hopeless.” Phoenix’s voice grew lighter, teasing. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“That’s not funny.”
He shrugged. “I only joke to keep from weeping.”
The image of his handsome face turned a botchy red with tears streaming from his eyes seemed too ridiculous. He wasn’t the crying type. “You stole my line,” she said, arching a brow.
His fingertips softly caressed the side of her face. “And you, Kennedy Mitchell, stole my heart.”
Twelve
You would never guess how studious Reagan was unless you found her in the zone. When Kennedy walked in through the front door, that’s exactly how she found her. Reagan lounged on the sofa, her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head,
furiously typing on her laptop. Music blared from the stereo above the television.
Kennedy turned it down to get Reagan’s attention. It didn’t work. “Hey,” she called loudly. “Where’s Mom?”
Reagan didn’t look up from her screen. She smacked bubblegum against her teeth and said, “Out with Jake. But if she asks, she went to a book club meeting.”
Kennedy smiled, shaking her head. What a lame excuse. Ashley’s idea of reading consisted of skimming recipes and instruction manuals. And that was pretty much it.
“Where have you been all day?”
Although she would like to pick her sister’s analytical brain, she doubted DOE wanted her talking about classified projects. She hurried to come up with a semi-vague answer. “I spent the day with Phoenix. He um…had to run a few errands before heading back to Olympus.” And before Reagan could ask for more details, she quickly asked, “What are you working on?”
“A speech,” she said. “The school awarded me valedictorian.”
“What? That’s great, Rea!”
She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Thanks.”
“Aren’t you excited?” Kennedy sat in the recliner across from her sister, propping her feet up. “I mean, that pretty much means you’re smarter than all the other students, right?”
“No.” Reagan giggled. “It means I have more work to do. Plus, everyone expects me to go to some big-name school, and you already know how I feel about that.”
Kennedy frowned, wishing she didn’t. “Have you told Mom yet?”
“Nope.”
“When exactly are you going to do that?”
Another shrug. “Soon.” Her fingers stopped typing, and she looked up at Kennedy. “I heard what happened with Hunter.”
Kennedy felt her heart stop for the barest moment. “How did you find out?”
“He told me.”
Since when had her sister become her former best friend’s go-to confidant? Hunter made fun of Reagan and her kind all the time. One of his favorite things to say about her was All book smarts. No common sense whatsoever. Now he suddenly found her sister capable of sharing intimate conversations?
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