by Jaime Rush
Darkwell walked across the expanse of lawn, as much bloodlust in his eyes as in Jerryl’s. “Find him! If he’s going to get away, take him out.”
Those words shot fear through his chest as surely as what a gunshot would feel like. Another guard ran past, rifle at the ready.
Darkwell remained, within a few yards of Nicholas, his face cast in hard lines by the lights. He stared at the hedges, studying every section one foot at a time. Nicholas froze as the man’s black gaze moved closer to his position. How much did the light expose? He couldn’t move now. The slightest twitch would give him away.
“I may not be psychic, but I can feel you, Braden. There have been studies. Even ordinary people can feel when someone is watching them.” Darkwell’s gaze shifted, then moved on. He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “I think he’s in the maze. I want Jones on the south end, Canton on the north. Move in. Evrard’s already in there.”
Jerryl called out from several yards away. “Sir? I know he’s in here somewhere, but…I seem to be lost.”
Darkwell said, “Hold your position. Stay alert.”
He walked out of view. Nicholas disentangled himself from the hedge and tore across the lawn.
“I see him!” a man called out.
Damn. Too soon.
A bullet zinged past him. They were going to shoot him in the back! He didn’t even know in which direction he was running. All he knew was he’d eventually reach a fence or a gate, and he didn’t have enough of a lead to climb over either without getting shot.
In the distance he saw the tennis courts at the edge of the property. He sprinted toward them. A tall chain-link fence, overgrown by trees, bordered the estate and the one next door. The trees would camouflage him, especially since they were in the shadows. He ran into the darkness behind the trees and darted to the right. His fingers grabbed on to the chain-link fence. His feet had a harder time getting a hold. Metal jangled as he climbed.
Behind him, footsteps thumped across the lawn.
“Spread out! I hear him climbing the fence.”
And Darkwell: “Do not let him get away!”
The jagged edges of fence scratched him as he launched himself over and dropped to the ground. Dogs started barking and snarling. Their eyes glittered as two dark forms raced toward him.
Crap. No time for dogs.
He sidestepped them, arcing to the right. Behind him the fence jangled even louder as probably three men climbed over. That should keep the dogs busy.
Except he could hear one of them panting as it chased him.
The wall around this property was topped by sharp spikes. Not climbable. He spotted the lights at the entrance gate. He aimed for that, hoping it wasn’t as enormous as Darkwell’s gate.
Teeth grabbed at the leg of his jeans, accompanied by a growl. In the distance, he heard the other dog barking at the second set of intruders. He liked animals. He really did. So he whispered, “Sorry, pooch,” before he kicked at the dog. “I can’t let you get me killed.”
The dog fell back, but it came at him again. Nicholas reached the gate, yes, every bit as tall as Darkwell’s. It also had what was probably the family crest emblazoned in metal on the bars. With the dog tearing at his jeans, Nicholas grabbed on to part of the crest.
He heard the other dog in the distance whimper in pain. Don’t kill the dog! His dog let go and ran back to help his comrade. Footsteps pounded across the ground toward him. He climbed up the crest and, careful of the spikes, began to pull himself over.
A bullet hit the metal next to his hand. He felt the heat as he dropped down on the other side.
Another bullet clanged.
He tore into the darkness flanking the driveway. Beyond was a road. He ran toward it, stepping into the oncoming lane and waving his arms at the next vehicle. The man’s eyes widened as he slammed on the brakes. Thank God it was a man. He didn’t want to put a woman through this.
“Sorry,” Nicholas said, opening the passenger door and jumping in. “I’m being chased by muggers. Get out of here.” When the man only stared, he added, “Now!”
He jammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car lurched forward. Jerryl and one of the guards ran into the road just as the car passed.
“I…I don’t want to get involved in an-n-nything dangerous,” the man said.
Neither did he. “Take me down the road a few minutes and let me out.”
With relief, the man nodded and hit the gas even harder. Five minutes later, Nicholas said, “Stop here. And thanks. You saved my life.”
He got out and ran across a field toward an angled building in the near distance. He hid in the alcove of a doorway and reached behind him. The folder was still there. He pulled out the tightly coiled tube. On aching legs, he limped over to a bit of light coming out of an office window and unfurled the folder.
It was empty.
CHAPTER 12
Olivia waited by the balcony in her father’s office as he’d ordered, her insides knotted so tight, she was sure she’d snap at any second. Her father and three others were hunting down Nicholas. The man who’d just kissed her crazy, who’d seen a part of her she kept well hidden. Who’d not only betrayed her father and the government, but her. Used her. But she didn’t want him hurt. The orders Jerryl had taken so eagerly weighed heavily on her chest: Any way you can.
She couldn’t believe her father would kill someone for stealing. Arrest him, yes. Fire him, definitely. Not kill. Not hurt.
She had given Nicholas away. As soon as her father saw her expression, he knew something was up. If Nicholas got hurt, though, it would be her fault.
Liam. No, not again. She couldn’t endure it a second time, two men she’d had feelings for, dead. One common denominator: her father. And that I fell for men who were wrong. Wrong according to her father. She paced, coiling a lock of hair around her finger, winding it as tight as she felt inside.
The cell phone she wore clipped to her belt rang. Gerard. She could barely squeeze out the words, “Did you find him?”
“No. He climbed over the fence and got away.”
Relief engulfed her, guilt fast on its tail. She should be as angry as her father.
He continued. “Our men are still on his trail, though. We’ll get him. I want you to go down to the courtyard and grab the papers that fell. I have to find out what he got. Dammit to hell!” He hung up.
She knew it was bad when her father lost his temper. At the top of the stairs, she thought of the fastest way to get downstairs. She’d often mused how fun it would be to slide down the curving banister, but she’d never had the guts to do so.
So what was wrong with following rules? Being a good girl?
You tell me.
She went out through the parlor and found one folder and papers scattered everywhere. He’d grabbed Lucas Vanderwyck’s mother’s folder for some reason. Next to a huge ceramic pot were several more papers. Nicholas’s father. So he hadn’t gotten them, or at least all of them. A small consolation for her father.
Her gaze went to words on the page. Dates. Second administration of Booster…behavior erratic.
She tucked the papers inside the folder. Whatever had happened in the first program was beyond the scope of her classification—and her father’s trust.
Why didn’t he trust her? For the first time she realized it bothered her. She hesitated, wondering what was in this folder that was so vitriolic? That Nicholas would risk everything to get, and Darkwell would kill him to make sure he didn’t. She flipped it open, but the thought of betraying him more than she already had forced her to slap it closed.
She went back upstairs to find him in his office. He was even angrier than he’d been when the Rogues had broken out Rand Brandenburg. She saw the fire in his eyes, the rigid tension in his face.
He snatched the folder from her, poring over the contents. “His father’s information. And…Vanderwyck’s. Why?”
Words about finding Nicholas in here before pushed up her throat. Honesty is v
irtuous. Lying is a betrayal of your name, your family, and yourself. But what came out was, “He wanted to know about his father. It must have driven him over the edge.”
“He got the folder, but it looks like that’s all he got. How did he get in here?”
“He took my keys. I left them in the kitchen.”
He found them on the desk and shoved them at her. “Never leave these out.” He went to the credenza and opened the drawer, his fingers flipping through the folders. When he reached the end of them, his expression relaxed. “Nothing else is missing.” He closed the drawer. “I should have let him go as soon as I saw his doubts. I was hoping he’d come around. I even offered him a bonus. But he’d been corrupted.”
“Corrupted?”
“By the Rogues. They got to him somehow.” He turned his hard gaze on her. “Didn’t I tell you he was bad news? This is why you cannot socialize with the subjects.”
She nodded, submissive, contrite Olivia.
To make sure she felt as bad as she could, he added, “He was only using you. You almost let your silly romantic notions override your common sense. Something else I hope you’ve learned today: I’m always right.”
She wasn’t quite going to agree to that. “What will happen if he’s caught?”
“If he resists arrest, it may get ugly.” His expression hardened. “Get that fretful look off your face. The man betrayed all of us.”
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a gun Olivia had never seen and set it on his desk. “Hopefully, they’ll find him. Then he’ll be dealt with.”
Olivia shivered at the darkness in her father’s eyes.
Nicholas took a breath, clearing his mind. His body ached, his skin burned from the scratches, and his chest hurt. His first thought was to go home. He couldn’t go home. Not now. Not for a long time. He couldn’t go to his mother’s. No way could he explain this or involve her.
That left the Rogues. They weren’t the good guys, either. He had seen their violence, and he knew they distrusted him. Damn, he hated gray. Now he was gray, neither black nor white. Could he trust the Rogues?
No. They had betrayed him.
Yes, you can. Think about it.
Lucas had killed a man after promising he wouldn’t hurt him. That should be black-and-white, but something about it wasn’t. He mentally took himself back to the car just before Robbins was shot.
Robbins was telling them about Darkwell’s bringing another Offspring aboard. A dangerous Offspring. He was about to tell them something else, something important. Lucas shot him before he could say it.
That was it. Lucas shot him before he could give them a piece of vital information. If Lucas’s intention had been to kill Robbins, why wouldn’t he have waited until the man had spilled everything?
Hadn’t Darkwell told Jerryl to get into Eric Aruda’s head?
Hell.
He pulled out the cell phone he’d been keeping in his pocket in case they called. His finger hesitated on the button. If he called, he would be joining them. There was no going back.
Too late, buddy. You’re already at the point of no return.
What he really hated was needing someone to bail him out. He’d always prided himself on his independence. But he knew when to ask for help.
One of the men answered, his voice wary. “Yeah?”
“It’s Nicholas. I’m in a little trouble. I broke in to Darkwell’s office. I had my father’s file. And Lucas’s mother’s file. And he caught me.”
“You had my mother’s folder?”
“Had. I lost them both when I jumped from the balcony.”
Lucas said, “Where are you?”
“In Potomac. I’m at Norwood School, off River Road near Harrington Drive.”
“We’ll call you right back.”
The sound of a car engine snagged his attention. A car cruised into the parking lot.
CHAPTER 13
Nicholas ducked as a spotlight from the car played along the buildings. He couldn’t see the driver’s face, but he was sure it was one of Darkwell’s men. The car turned around and began heading away. Then it stopped. A man got out, his body language that of a cop or someone who’d been in the military. He wasn’t as built as Jerryl, so it had to be one of the guards.
The man disappeared into the darkness. Nicholas’s heart thudded right up into his throat. He moved in the opposite direction, staying in the building’s shadows. The lawn led down to a swale and woods. They’d provide good cover, but twigs and dried leaves could give away his footsteps.
His phone vibrated. He pressed the TALK button and blew into the phone to let them know he was there but couldn’t talk.
“Nicholas, you there? This is Lucas.”
One breath. Didn’t that mean yes in Morse code?
“Okay, you can’t talk. Listen. I’m looking at a satellite picture of where you are. Go past where the Dumpsters are and into the woods, going east. You’re going to cross a street. You’ll be in the woods from there on out. You’ll come up on a creek. Follow that north. We’ll meet you where Bradley Boulevard intersects with the creek. It’s going to take us about an hour to get to you. We’ll—”
Nicholas heard a thump and a woman’s startled cry. He started to ask, What happened? but stopped the impulse.
“It’s Rand. Lucas collapsed. He has these, well, we call them storms. He sees images of things that are either happening or about to happen. And I gotta tell you, dude, they’re not good. Get out of there. We’ll catch up to you soon.”
Nicholas closed the phone, his throat tighter than ever. He scanned the surroundings. No movement. He ran into the woods between a fence and a line of evergreens. His footsteps sounded loud, every branch he broke a crash. When he was deep in the trees, he stopped and listened, trying to still his rapid breathing. He heard footsteps in the distance. He checked the compass on his diver’s watch and headed east.
Jerryl could remote-view him, which was probably why the guard had stopped at the park. Jerryl obviously wasn’t good at locating exact places, since Nicholas had been tasked with that.
It was Jerryl’s other skill that worried him most.
He pushed that from his mind, staying tuned to any sensation out of the ordinary. Lucas’s descriptions of the area were accurate enough to guide him. The sliver of moon didn’t help much, but its reflection on the rippling water kept him from walking into the creek. It flowed quietly and blended in with the woods around him.
He double-checked his compass and walked north. The night chill clung to his skin and seeped through his clothes. The scent of pine trees and earth filled his nose. He jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and, for some reason, imagined Olivia back at the estate. Olivia, who thought he was a traitor. In her eyes he was. What did it matter? He’d never see her again. Unless he got caught and became a prisoner like Lucas had once been. She said she’d taken care of him, had obviously worried about him.
That was the kind of person she was.
So it’s good you broke the bond between you. Broke it? More like tore it into a thousand pieces.
An eerie sensation prickled up the back of his neck, shooting the hairs to attention. He swung around, ready to face his opponent. No one there.
Not physically. But he felt someone. Pressure in his brain…
Nicholas, turn yourself in. You know it’s the right thing to do.
The voice in his head…so compelling. Jerryl. He felt his body turning. Fought it.
Call out your location.
His mouth opened. He clamped it shut, his jaw cramping from the effort.
Fight, he thought. No, fighting doesn’t work. I’m sure Eric fought.
Darkwell had taught him to shut out an enemy intrusion. Nicholas envisioned steel doors slamming shut, and Jerryl being thrown backward out of his mind. He put all of his energy, both physical and psychic, into it. The pressure lessened. Only his thoughts. It was little comfort. He had no idea how much Jerryl had seen. Or how close he was.
But he could find out. He closed his eyes and focused on the feral face he’d grown to despise. Tremors shook his body. Flashes of Jerryl came and went and then he homed in. His eyes snapped open, his heart jump-started again. He was close, too close.
He picked up his pace. His nightmare hadn’t been about being shot in the woods. Why didn’t he take some comfort in that? Because circumstances could change the future.
He kept looking behind him. He wouldn’t see Jerryl, though. He would attack suddenly and swiftly. With a hard swallow, Nicholas walked faster.
He heard stealth footsteps and spun around, not sure which direction they were coming from. Two sets: one from behind, one several yards ahead. He wasn’t going to outrun them. Time to go on the offensive.
The cold metal of a gun’s barrel rammed into his back. “Gotcha.” Jerryl’s voice, low and sinister, filled with his smile.
Nicholas started to raise his arms in surrender but jerked his elbow back instead, hitting flesh and cartilage. The gun fell to the ground. He shoved his body backward, slamming Jerryl into a tree. They landed in a heap, Nicholas on top, faceup. Driven by instinct, he drove his elbow into Jerryl again, hitting what he thought was his chest. Disable him, grab his gun, and get the hell out of there.
Jerryl, however, had both training and instincts. Nicholas’s fingers had just grabbed the cold metal when Jerryl shoved him forward. The gun flew out of his hands and landed in the darkness. Blood gushed from Jerryl’s nose as he faced Nicholas, arms spread as though he were going to give him a bear hug. He was even growling.
Two sets of footsteps pounded toward them. Jerryl’s comrades? It’s over.
Except the big guy who materialized out of the shadows took aim at Jerryl, who raced off. Bullets hit the dirt with heavy thuds. The guy chased after him.
The second guy whispered, “Nicholas, it’s Lucas. That was Eric.”
Nicholas turned in time to see another man step up behind Lucas, gun pointed at his head. “Drop your weapon.”
Nicholas didn’t think, just acted. He slammed into the man, and both hit the ground. The gun went off, the bullet dinging a tree. Nicholas grabbed the man’s wrist, pushing it, and the gun, away. The guy brought his knee up into Nicholas’s stomach, driving the air out of his lungs. In that second, the guard brought the gun up to Nicholas’s face. His finger tensed. The bullet exploded, ringing in Nicholas’s ears.
