Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  Lyssa—I did not need this tonight. I really didn’t.

  “The Zodiac Cartel never cashed in on bounties until now. I think you understand where I’m going with this.”

  Travis swallowed before he nodded.

  “Yours rose quite a bit, but you’re still inexperienced and taking risks. It’ll get the three of you killed.”

  “I’m aware,” Travis said, voice hard. “I’ve been—”

  “So stop skirting around the rules and get your ass in gear.”

  “Sir, I’m asking Sanderson to reassign Mye.”

  The announcement surprised Roland, and Travis blinked when Roland’s jaw clenched. “You’ve worked for Sanderson for three years. Haven’t you learned anything?”

  “Every organization withdraws their agents if it’s a personal matter,” Travis continued, adjusting his cowboy hat. “Dalara’s a direct relation, so reassign Mye until we close this case.”

  “Normally, I’d agree. But Sanderson’s… well, you’ll understand later. For now, assume he won’t reassign her and proceed as normal.” Roland stiffened before thumbing toward the shattered glass. “Just make sure Aviere’s not murdered, Travis. No one will miss a junkie if Dalara dies.”

  Travis’s lip twitched as he passed Roland and headed inside the Tethered Mistress, resting a hand on his Desert Eagle. As he advanced through the contemporary setup, Travis’s heartbeat slowed. He scouted for Aviere and Travis groaned when he found her crouched over the lifeless victim.

  Loud raucous arguing interrupted Travis’s focus, and the mage slapped his forehead when he saw Roland enter the Tethered Mistress.

  Lyssa, I know Mye didn’t ask for this. She’ll need all the support she can tonight with the director. If he’s worked up about seeing his kid…

  Travis smirked as Aviere muttered curses to herself, tagging a half-filled blood vial with her fat Sharpie marker. He stomped to his colleague, swallowing as he considered her explosive temper. As he deliberated on how to deliver the news, the Poisoner cleared her throat.

  “What have I told you about your aftershave, Travis?”

  “Mye—”

  “Stop.” Aviere pointed at Roland before performing a slashing motion across her throat. “Don’t answer Roland’s questions unless it’s necessary.”

  “Look, he brought me here,” Travis insisted. “I didn’t know—”

  “Just chat with Armandi while I handle your director,” Aviere said, her eyes cold. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Mye—”

  “Travis, please.” She rose after concealing the vials in her handbag. “I’ll go over everything in the next few minutes. I assume it’s our next case, but I wanted to enjoy tonight before working tomorrow.”

  “Your father’s overbearing.”

  “You don’t understand.” Travis caught her wavering voice as Aviere shouldered her purse. “It’s not just Roland’s presence upsetting me. There are other underlying factors. But then, instead of explaining things, maybe Peters should do his damn job. He’s good at finding—”

  “Maybe I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “The last time I checked the dictionary for ‘complicated’, your picture wasn’t beside it,” he pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone. “Maybe the Guinness Book of World Records is doing tryouts for the world’s craziest people.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’re more than complicated. I’m not sure insanity is the right word to describe you.”

  He had another quip ready but stopped when she tucked the Sharpie inside her handbag.

  “All right. In return, I’m asking why you interrogated Karyn Greene.”

  Travis withheld a vexed sigh as Aviere grabbed the Sharpie once again, brandishing it like a knife in her stained, gloved hand, echoing the darkness creeping within her forest-green aura. “Works both ways, Mye. Be nicer to Peters.”

  “Don’t push your luck. Only one favor per meeting.”

  “Give me a freebie and lose the Sharpie. I don’t know if you’ve tampered with it and—how can you tolerate the smell of those over aftershave?”

  “I choose when to use it,” she answered in a pointed tone before honoring his request. “You bathe yourself in human chemicals.”

  Nice to see Mye hasn’t lost her touch, Travis smirked when she stomped toward Armandi and Roland. But I better follow Mye, Lyssa. She’s killed before and I like being paid by the FBI.

  When Travis spotted the slim silver pistol in Aviere’s hand, the agent grunted, remaining stealthy as he snuck up behind her. He paused after recalling Aviere’s statement about his aftershave and considered using a different brand with a more natural scent.

  Travis contemplated between colognes, vanilla or sandalwood, as he followed her, waiting for the moment Aviere unleashed her explosive temper on both men. He chortled before catching her sashaying hips and groaned when Aviere shoved the small bouncer aside.

  The agent knew Aviere would turn her anger at him afterward, but until she complained, Travis reveled in his boss’s temporary discomfort. The wavering silver aura seemed better than taped footage. Every pained expression and nervous twitch made Travis grin, and he retrieved the Blackberry, preparing to take a video for Peters.

  Then he slammed a fist into his thigh, cursing the Blackberry’s limited space and inability to stream the video to Peters in real time.

  It’s been fifteen years since I’ve seen you, Da.

  Aviere rested a hand on her silver-gripped gun, storming toward Armandi and the older graying brown-haired agent. Her muscles quivered as she fought to curb her turbulent emotions. Bile rose in Aviere’s throat before she gulped at the putrid liquid, resisting the lump forming in her throat. The soundless televisions displaying pointless information reflected the growing storm and her racing pulse, which blocked any sound through her ears.

  He’ll pretend to care, but Da’s more concerned about the cartel. She lowered her glasses and considered the figures, drawing quick breaths to soothe her panicked heartbeat. Roland will try lowering my guard before asking about Limere. However, I know Da’s game. I’m not the same child he abandoned fifteen years ago.

  Leather-gloved fingers massaged her aching throat as Marco intervened, dragging the Poisoner away from her targets. “You’re bitter, donna. Stop having a tantrum and sit before—”

  Her eyes turned a murky cerulean as they narrowed. Then Aviere used a lithe finger to force her glasses closer.

  “Why’s the Director of the FBI inside the Tethered Mistress, Marco? We can handle a failed drug bust.”

  “Ask Armandi, donna. He invited him.”

  I can’t blame Marco, Aviere reminded herself, shoving the Italian aside. He’s following orders. If I wasn’t crazy, I’d follow Armandi’s orders as well. But Roland’s troublesome. He’s colder than Sanderson.

  As she prepared to face the gentlemen, Aviere bared her canines, hissing softly as she approached them. After several seconds of hissing, the Poisoner stopped and rested her flinty eyes at Armandi, pointing at Roland. “What the hell? When were you—”

  “My apologies, Aviere.” The suave businessman held his hands out. “When you started discussing your meeting, it slipped my mind.”

  She tapped her boot against the wooden floor. “Louis—”

  “The FBI’s investigating the same people causing problems in South Baltimore.” Armandi stepped toward her and leaned forward with a stoic expression. “Roland’s acquainted with Sanderson It made sense to ask—”

  “I rather deal with Lowell Sanderson than Roland Wilkerson,” Aviere declared, spitting saliva as she hissed under her breath. “At least Lowell’s honest about fucking someone over or not giving a shit. Can’t say the same for Roland.”

  “Aviere, Myra’s death wasn’t easy for your father, either.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “You’re with me,” Armandi reminded her. “Act cordial. Roland came out of concern, d
espite other underlying motives. He might shock you, dear.”

  “Nothing surprises me about Roland,” she spat, sheathing her weapon. “However, since you asked, I’ll try.”

  “As long as Roland leaves alive.” Armandi drew out his last word. “Justifying the director’s death isn’t on my list of priorities, Aviere.”

  “You wouldn’t have to,” Aviere retorted. “But I get your point.”

  She pushed Armandi away and approached Roland, chuckling when nervousness permeated his scent. Her eyes blazed as they rested on Roland, and Aviere’s chuckling deepened to a full-blown snicker as he tried to match her glare through his oversized sunglasses. The silence lingered between them before she swallowed another large lump, praying she wouldn’t vomit or waver before him.

  You’re stronger now, Vi. Act like it.

  “Fifteen years, Da,” Aviere started, feigning searching inside her handbag. “I’m not sure what you expected, but a warm greeting isn’t warranted under these circumstances.”

  Movement caught her eye and she huffed when Roland scooted backward. Rubber connected with her gloves, but feeling the object helped assess the item she retrieved. She peeked at the iPhone before clenching it, raising her eyebrows as Roland leaned against the bar top behind him.

  A wise man, Da. Several bubble notifications greeted Aviere when she glanced at the screen. Shit, I’m gone six hours and everyone’s left voicemails. Screw it, they’ll wait till tomorrow.

  “I didn’t expect you to be involved with criminals,” Roland said, voice dripping with contempt. “But then, why expect different when—”

  “Don’t.” Aviere held a hand up as if warding her father away. “It’s awkward enough without mentioning certain people.” Fingers splayed across her exposed chest as she played with the cotton material below her neckline. “But then, our meetings never go well, Da.”

  “You’re comparing yourself as my equal, but you’re my daughter.”

  Glass shattered behind Roland and Aviere’s eyes sharpened when copper reached her nostrils. The Poisoner pocketed her glasses before the lenses hindered her vision, but her mouth parted as she let out a heavy sigh. When she identified the source of blood, Aviere grunted before taking a tentative step toward Roland.

  Hotheaded as ever, Da. Nevertheless… no.

  She paused, gazing at the jagged glass in Roland’s palm. “I might be, but you created the barrier, Da.” Two of her fingers tweaked the bridge of Aviere’s pale nose. “I grew up and became stronger.”

  “A donna isn’t strong if you’re dependent on your ragtag crew, Aviere.” The shattered glass dropped to the floor by the director’s feet. “Though, I wonder why you’re working for Lowell Sanderson. You didn’t need to work for the Underground to feel safe.” Roland lowered his sunglasses and his matching blue eyes softened. “That’s why I—”

  “Sanderson got me a month ago and life’s been a bit chaotic,” Aviere interrupted. “I didn’t choose Sanderson, but circumstances prevented me from objecting.” She slid into an adjacent booth and removed her gloves before folding her hands together. The silver bracelet and LED countdown timer lingering in Aviere’s peripheral vision and caused her to let out a softened sigh. “However, without your agent, I’d be dead. He’s reliable, Da. Travis, I mean—not the neurotic asshole.”

  “You weren’t meant to meet them.” The Director slid into the opposite side and Aviere snorted at Roland’s stiff movements. “But then—”

  “Da, let me explain the last month to you.” Aviere drummed her fingers on the table, growling when her claws snagged the wooden surface. “I took over Ma’s business once Limere made parole, to help sick people with medication. It’s successful because the humans’ corrupt government won’t let us get affordable meds. But Vinny McSeeten framed me by poisoning the Underground’s upper hierarchy. That’s how I met your Agents Travis and Neuro.”

  “I hoped it was a rumor,” Roland breathed. “I wanted it to stop at your mother, Aviere.”

  “Yeah, well—Travis didn’t tag me.” Aviere glanced at the floor, tapping her foot at the reminder. “Vinny’s assassins ruined my apartment, so I moved. Then they blew up our spare car. They shot Maurice and he almost died. The assignment lasted a week, but I could’ve lived without the stress.” She gestured toward Roland sitting across from her. “But rather than bore you, explain why you’re here. I don’t have long.”

  “Aviere, I’m here about the Zodiac Cartel.”

  The Poisoner tapped a claw on the table and winced when she delved further than intended. “The one meeting where I predicted you’d skirt around the issue. I had a feeling when I met Desmond and Chelsea outside the Mistress.”

  “Sanderson and I need them eliminated.” Roland produced a large tan envelope and set it on the dinner table. “We found weird toxicology results from the victims. Most died from overdoses, but we can’t figure out the compound.”

  “You’re dancing around the question, Da,” Aviere said, voice lifting when she glazed over the typed reports. “We’re familiar enough to cut through the bullshit.” She reached into the envelope and drew out three plastic bags containing marked vials of blood. “While I appreciate something useful, state why you’re here.”

  “I am.”

  Three bloody vials, Aviere assessed, raising an eyebrow as solid white strands rested at the bottom of a tube. Seems straightforward. I should have some answers after analyzing them at the shop.

  “Then I’ll answer your question.” She crammed the contents inside the bubbled envelope before shoving it inside her handbag. “Limere wasn’t with Chelsea, and he hasn’t spoken to her in years. She appeared with Desmond, who was attacking an underage teenager. Limere got out of the market after parole. He’s straightening up about using marijuana, too.”

  Her gaze wavered, aching to believe the hardened truths. As her tone lowered, Aviere let out another breath, her body relaxing at her unending faith for Limere’s reform. Despite being upbeat about Limere’s recent behavior, her stomach fluttered.

  Aviere’s hand covered the bracelet and the cool metal grounded her from revisiting the past.

  “You better hope Limere stays clean, Aviere. Otherwise, he’ll blow this chance.”

  A cream envelope slid toward Aviere and she spotted an executive Government District seal. Before she grabbed it, Roland showed Aviere the letter. His sleek cerulean eyes changed to feline slits, almost daring Aviere to doubt the letter’s authenticity.

  A thoughtful moan escaped Aviere’s tiny lips as she scanned the letter, whistling after she finished.

  “You’re giving Limere a complete pardon?”

  “I’m not sure pardoning Limere’s the right answer, but he’s the only lead we have. If Limere stops smoking marijuana, I have no problem honoring his pardon.”

  “He quit coke and heroin,” she countered, sliding the paper back to Roland. “I don’t feel comfortable involving Limere, Da. It may trigger his bad behavior again.”

  “Limere keeps breaking parole, but I’m willing to overlook it. We need him to help capture the cartel, Aviere.”

  Flashbacks reeled in her mind and she squeezed her palms together. “Da, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Since when are you hesitant, Aviere?”

  “Usually, I’m not,” she answered, clasping both hands. “But Limere’s my brother, even if you never recognized him.” Confidence and self-assurance faded as her voice sank to a gruff whisper. “After you left us, Limere started drugs. The heroin overdose should have killed him, but he survived. He quit listening to everybody once coke numbed the emptiness he felt. I blame coke for changing my brother.”

  As Aviere rose and grabbed her purse, she combed her cold fingers through her stringy hair. The scent of the tea tree shampoo faded after one sniff, and she shook off the goosebumps before continuing.

  “You state drug users never reform, but after parole, Limere’s changed. The last rehab program made him reconsider things after that zea
lot tried converting him to Christianity. Despite the chaos, things are better at home, Da. Even Maurice wouldn’t want Limere involved.”

  “It’s the only way—”

  “Limere’s got another six months before his parole is finished.” She fixed her shoulder straps before darting her eyes to her left side. “He’s earned it this far. We don’t require special favors.”

  “Limere doesn’t have six months if the Zodiac Cartel are dealing again.”

  “Maybe you didn’t understand me,” Aviere’s voice rumbled with emotion. “I’m not accepting your offer. Limere wouldn’t want it and there’s strings attached, like everything else you’ve offered me. Now, I suggest you leave before this ends like every other meeting. I’d hate to destroy Louis’s bar because you can’t control your temper.”

  The bolted table ripped from the wooden floor as Roland heaved it across the room.

  Instead of fleeing, Aviere locked her knees in a defensive stance, scrunching her eyebrows as she aimed her pistol at Roland. “I gave you fair warning It always comes to this.”

  “Aviere Mye!” Roland bellowed. “Put the gun down!”

  Roland chastises me as if I’m still a teenager, Aviere mused, finger resting against the trigger. Adorable. But he won’t listen to reason.

  “I’ll say this one more time, Da. I’m not getting Limere involved and ruining our lives again.” When her back foot started shaking, the Poisoner stretched her leg. When thundering footsteps signaled behind her, she groaned. “Christ, Travis, stay behind me.”

  “Killing the director would solve our problems,” the agent murmured near her ear. “You might get on Peters’s good side. Any other time, I’d support it to stop the bickering. However, Armandi’s already pissed someone died inside his bar, and you almost lost your sponsorship once. So think before you pull the trigger, Mye.”

  Aviere’s lips pursed together at Travis’s calm request before issuing a curt nod.

  “I should’ve expected this, Aviere,” Roland said, snickering under his breath while shaking his head. “You never took things from me willingly. The only time you do, you defend a felon atoning for his sins. I’m disappointed. Perhaps you’re no better.”