by Driza, Debra
I had little doubt that the answers I sought would be hiding in the secure network, GrSecureNet.
Once again, I opened myself to the energy shimmering around me, and felt for the slippery, less solid pathway that led to the hidden network.
There. Found it, and slam! Hit up against a mental door.
Access denied, the network communicated. Verify user?
Oh, no you don’t.
The command slid from me with ease:
Override lock.
That familiar roar. Muffled at first, then growing in volume; like a wave crashing toward shore. A surge in current. Then, the barrier holding me out yielded, a door swung open.
GrSecureNet: Access granted.
An exhilarating rush surged beneath my skin. Grady couldn’t keep me out. No one could.
I traced his pathways, like tracing dangling threads back to their spools. The threads led to little green boxes, hovering in midair.
Files.
I shifted their positions, trying to get an idea of which would be the best place to start.
Recently Downloaded—Confidential.
That seemed like as good a place as any.
Open file.
Access restricted: Protected data.
Even before I tried the usual command, I knew that something about this door felt different. More secure.
Override lock?
Intruder suspected. Enter password or system lockdown will commence in 5, 4—
Crap! Password? I didn’t have the password. Given enough time, I could probably hack one, but not in—
3—
Three seconds!
In desperation, I tried one more time.
Override lock! Admit user!
Illegal command. System lockdown commencing now.
It was like a dimmer switch had been turned on, inside my head. The shimmering green faded, and in the next instant, vanished. In its wake was a hollow echo—a void where mere moments ago, there had been life.
Damn.
A rapid-fire blinking filled the void a moment later, the lights rearranging themselves into words.
Nice try but no dice. Don’t worry—I have the files you need upstairs.
Grady. Shock shot me to my feet, and I stumbled back from the desk. What . . . ? How . . . ?
Are you coming?
I only hesitated for a split second.
Yes.
Creak. My head whipped toward the door. I’d been so involved in the search, so engrossed in unlocking levels, that I hadn’t monitored my external environment.
“Grandpa? Grandpa, I have to show you something—”
Ashleigh appeared in the doorway, still in her shredded jeans and T-shirt from earlier, clutching her phone in her hand. She froze when she saw me heading her way.
“Where’s Gramps?” Her arm shot out to block my path and I stopped short to avoid a collision. No smile now; her mouth was a grim line as she studied my face. “Pretty good, but they got the chin wrong. Still, I knew it was you.”
I drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, keeping my voice even while creasing my brow into an expression of confusion. “What chin?”
“I ran a search when you let it slip you knew Gramps worked for the government. Took a photo with my phone and uploaded it, and hit on the police sketch. If that’s not you, then you can explain why it looks exactly like you to the cops.”
I stepped forward. “Look, it’s not what you think,” I said urgently. “I didn’t do anything. I swear, I’m not planning on hurting anyone. Just let me leave and we’ll be out of here. We won’t bother you again. Ask your Grandpa—he knew my mom!” I said.
“Yeah, right.”
I ducked to cross under her arm, but her foot whipped out, catching me in the stomach. I tumbled onto my butt, the gray carpet masking any sounds of my fall.
“You aren’t going anywhere. The cops are on their way—they’ll be here soon.”
Cops.
Pushing hard on the palms of my hands, I launched to my feet in one smooth, effortless motion. Ashleigh still blocked the doorway, her body lowered into a defensive stance, but all I saw was an obstacle to my escape.
I would not let the police find me. No matter what.
Human threat detected.
Engage?
Yes.
I feinted left, followed her motion that way, then darted right at the last second, when she was still midlunge. She recovered her balance in time to shoot out her right hand, but I saw it coming a mile away.
Block target’s attack with left arm.
Spin toward target, initiate choke hold.
I spun to face her back and reached out to wrap my arm around her neck, but hesitated. She wasn’t a bad guy—just a girl trying to protect her grandfather.
Initiate choke hold.
Block—
Too late. Her elbow smashed into my face. I hit the edge of the doorjamb before stumbling out into the hall. While I regained my balance, all the while cursing my hesitation, she picked up the chair and swung.
Obstacle, 8 in. from impact. Block.
This time, I was ready.
As the chair back flew for my face, I grabbed it with my right hand, stopping the motion with ease as anger flared.
I watched Ashleigh’s eyes widen, heard her gasp. Felt the wood crumble beneath my fingers as my hand clenched harder and harder. Pieces fell to the floor like so much sawdust, and she scrabbled backward like a crab.
“What are you?” she whispered, gaze glued to the ruined chair.
Her horror-stricken expression said it all.
Freak.
That triggered an answering fear inside me, but I shoved it away, allowing the anger to take its place. So when her foot shot out, I grabbed it. I wrenched her ankle to the side. Her body followed, twisting into the air before slamming the wooden floor with a loud thud.
Target: Down.
In the far off distance, a siren wailed.
No more time for games.
I allowed her to push to her knees, wincing, but her tense shoulders and narrowed eyes told me she was still full of fight. This time, I didn’t hesitate. When she stumbled to her feet, I grabbed her arm, whirling her around. As I wrapped one arm around her neck and used the other as a brace, pushing her head down until I started to feel her body weaken, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
And when her body slipped to the floor, and the red light flashed—
Target: Immobilized.
—I tried to take comfort in the knowledge that the effects were only temporary. When she regained consciousness, she would be fine. Now, I had to get upstairs, get my files from Grady, and grab Hunter—before the police arrived.
Here I’d been preparing myself to let Hunter go, and as it turned out, the circumstances behind having to take him with me hurt a thousand times worse. I could possibly use him for leverage. At the very least I needed to find out what he knew.
Thumps sounded from overhead. “Ashleigh?” Grady yelled from his bedroom. “Everything okay?”
Out of time. I leaped over her body and raced up the stairs, when Grady burst from his room. His thin hair was disheveled, his striped pajamas rumpled. He held a gun.
“What the hell is going on? Where’s Ashleigh?”
He pointed the gun straight at me, but that wasn’t what held the oxygen captive in my chest. It was the rectangular piece of plastic in his left hand.
I zeroed in on the object. An SM card.
The siren in the distance was still far away—too far for Grady to catch with his normal human ears—but I knew they were drawing closer.
“Is that for me?” I said, nodding at the card.
He cocked his head, brows hunched over grim eyes. He lowered the gun. “Tripped something when I pulled it off the computer. Some kind of alarm that shouldn’t have been there.”
“Why would they—”
“Files are encrypted. Does them no good without a deco
der.”
Who knew about the files, had set the alarm? The V.O.? Or Holland? At this point, I didn’t know if it mattered. All I knew was that I had to get out of here.
“Here, take it,” Grady said. “I can’t break into the files, but I know you can.” I know you can.
Slowly, I raised my eyes from the tiny scrap of plastic and metal up to his face, in time to see him give one curt nod. He knew. He knew what I was. He was afraid, but he was helping anyway.
“Before I forget, Nicole wanted me to tell you that the answer is always close to your heart.”
Before I could process that, a faint moan rose from downstairs. I stepped closer to Grady. Close enough to catch a faint whiff of his cinnamon toothpaste, and the sudden flare of his nostrils. There was no time to explain. My hand snaked out and closed on the drive before he could snatch it away while he scooted to the side to peer down the stairs.
“Ashleigh?” he whispered. Then, his eyes narrowed and the gun lifted.
“You know that can’t hurt me,” I said, then cursed my impulsive tongue. He put two and two together almost as fast as I did, and lunged for the guest room door.
For an instant, my feet stayed planted, a logical voice insisting that this might solve one of my problems. If Hunter were dead, he couldn’t talk.
No.
My emotions rejected the voice, overpowering it with a single surge, freeing my feet to lunge after him. I grabbed the collar of his pajama top at the same time he reached for the door handle. He turned while I yanked him backward, the door smacking against the frame.
He contorted against me, surprisingly strong. His gun hand whipped in my direction.
I thrust my hand out, pushing his hand up, up, toward the ceiling. A shot rang out and echoed.
Twist gun hand to break grip.
Left knee to groin.
This time, there was no hesitation. I disarmed him, and sent him crashing to the floor, doubled over in pain an instant later. Guilt swelled in my chest like a balloon full of dirty air, but I pushed past it and darted into my room.
Hunter was still lying on the bed, headphones in place. He hadn’t heard a freaking thing.
When I saw his motionless figure, a sliver of doubt poked a hole in my certainty. Would a V.O. operative really check out at a time like this?
Then I remembered the other coincidences and my certainty resealed. No time for this now, not with the alarm Grady had triggered. Right now, we had to go.
I tucked the gun into my waistband—who knew when I might need it?—and jerked the earbuds from his ears. “Get up!” I shouted, as I raced over to grab our bags. “We’re leaving! Life or death,” I added, when he looked like he was going to take his time.
“What? Are you—?” But the expression on my face cut him off. He shot to his feet. Barefoot—his shoes were in the duffel bag—he stumbled after me. “I thought we were spending the night?”
“Change of plans. I’ll explain later but right now, we need to go.”
I wanted to believe it was testimony to his trust in me, but it was more likely proof of his guilt that he followed without question. At least, until we got to the top of the stairs, where Grady was still doubled over on the floor.
“Jesus, Mila, what’s going—?”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grady,” I shouted over him, hurrying past. “I promise—Ashleigh will be fine. Just a choke hold. Hunter, he’ll be fine, and I can’t wait for you,” I added, giving Hunter’s arm a harsh yank when he stooped over to check on Grady. “The car. Now.”
Looking like he’d just been blindsided by a semi, Hunter turned away from Grady and stumbled after me. I was sure to a normal guy, this would look like a total train wreck. Grady down upstairs, Ashleigh slowly crawling to her feet downstairs. Being yanked out of bed and shoved out the door in the middle of the night, without warning. But Hunter wasn’t a normal guy.
He was just an incredibly skilled liar.
I made swift work of the stairs, passing a worse-for-the-wear-looking Ashleigh at the bottom. “Your grandfather needs your help.”
Hunter followed, but in his silence, I swear I felt the sting of his accusatory stare, drilling into the back of my neck. We burst out the front door, and all of a sudden, the siren’s screech was magnified. They were close.
“Are we running from the police?” Hunter finally gasped, as he tried to keep up with me. We raced across the brick-lined path, onto the concrete drive, the night wind cold and biting as it whipped our faces. Unlike last night, the dark sky tonight was backlit with what looked like a thousand stars, their sparkle gleefully illuminating us for anyone who cared to watch.
“I’m not taking another step until you answer me,” he shouted. I craned my neck, and sure enough, he’d stopped, hands on his thighs, gasping for breath.
Suddenly furious at his subterfuge, I whirled, ready to unload the full brunt of my rage. He was vermin. Lower than low. Worse than Holland, who at least hadn’t whispered sweet nothings to me when he tried to stab me in the heart. No, Holland would stare straight into my eyes, and let me see the blade coming. Whereas Hunter . . . Hunter would slip it between my shoulder blades with one hand, while the other pretended to hold me tight.
But I couldn’t just unleash on him. I had to act the same as before. Like I had no idea he was V.O. I had to best him at his own game.
I grappled for an excuse.
Think, Mila! What would you have said to get him to go before you knew his real identity?
Simple. Prebetrayal Mila would have stuck as close to the truth as possible. And now, there was even less reason to stray. He already knew, everything.
“Look, you’re going to have to trust me on this. They made a mistake—they think I’m someone else. A girl wanted by the police. I could explain it to the cops, but we’re underage, traveling without guardians . . . I had to defend myself. Do you want to be taken in to the station?”
“Do I want . . . ?” He trailed off, lips parted in disbelief, eyes sweeping over my face like he was trying to place a stranger.
From the south, I heard a new siren, its wail joining the other. I couldn’t wait—but I couldn’t leave Hunter, either. He had to come with me. Even if I had to drag him.
I’d taken one step toward him, to do just that, when he picked up his feet and kicked into a run. “Once we get in the car, I want to know exactly what the hell is going on here.”
Yeah, so do I. I want to know who you really are and why you’re truly with me.
I commanded the gate to open when we were still many strides away. We slipped through the widening gap and sprinted for the Jeep.
The sirens were so close now.
I jumped into the driver’s seat and flung the bags into the back. I didn’t even wait for Hunter to close his door before I peeled away from the curb. I was sure the closest siren was coming from the north, so I whipped the car in a one-eighty and headed the opposite way. Terror pounded a rapid rhythm in my heart. If we passed them going the other way, and they bothered to get a good look inside . . . I couldn’t allow that to happen.
And all the time, I was acutely aware of the GPS device. Blinking away like an armed bomb beneath my feet. Reminding me that as long as I had Hunter with me, the V.O. would follow my every move.
I floored the gas and after a brief hesitation, the car lunged forward. Hunter didn’t speak, but his hand was gripping the handle on the ceiling, so tightly his knuckles whitened. I made it two blocks before I heard the siren around the corner. I shut off the lights and whipped into an empty driveway on my right.
I turned off the engine and scooted down in the seat. “Duck,” I hissed, and Hunter followed suit.
Through the window, blue and red lights flashed, moving quickly. When they disappeared, I peeked out the window, to see the taillights fading. I restarted the car and a moment later, we were hauling butt toward the freeway.
Meanwhile, the flash drive pressed into my thigh through the material of my jeans. A reminder, I gues
s, that no good deed went unpunished. I curled my hand around it. Hopefully whatever was on here would give us a new lead on what to do next, because if it didn’t . . . I was lost. Alone in a world with no purpose.
Hunter shifted positions, slouching away from me and brushing at his wayward lock of hair, and my android heart rang hollow. Alone in a world where, no matter how hard I tried to sustain it, hope bled out all around me.
I patted my pocket one more time. And if the files were some kind of trap? Well, then . . . then I was as good as dead.
Even though some would argue that I was never alive to begin with.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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EIGHT
I steered the Jeep away from Grady’s house, on high alert. Every car we passed was a potential threat; every pedestrian, a potential soldier—coming to take us back. The night sky loomed overhead, much too festive with its parade of stars. At least this time, I’d remembered to use the lights.
Hunter remained silent, watching the flashing scenery as if slightly catatonic. Feigning shock—a wise choice. What kind of person wouldn’t succumb to it after being hauled out of bed by his girlfriend to run from the cops?”
The kind who worked for a secret espionage group. I snuck a sideways glance at his tall form, slumped against the passenger seat with his mussed hair spilling across the window. He didn’t look like a fraud. He looked like a normal—gorgeous but normal—boy.
Then again, I looked like a normal girl, so that proved exactly nothing.
He remained motionless, except for his left hand, clenching and unclenching in his lap. The silence drew out between us, making the interior heavy with tension.
After a few more tenths of a mile, he turned to face me. No quirky smile now. Not a hint of that tenderness I’d caught in his eyes earlier. Just incredible strain, attacking his forehead with lines, pulling his lips downward. Making his hands ball into fists.
