Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  Her chest tightened as Aviere fought against her primal nature. Her goosebumps disappeared as her body temperature soared. A heavy hand propped on her shoulder and Aviere met Travis’s hazel eyes, wrinkling her nose as the scent of aftershave heightened from the agent’s apprehension.

  “Forget the director and let’s go, Mye. We got what we needed.”

  A rumbling growl vibrated deep in Aviere’s aching throat. “I’m not finished.”

  “Show him you’re better. But let your eyes return to normal before driving again.”

  Aviere fought through her primal rage to maintain her human characteristics. Her eyes lowered, then returned as she considered her partner. When Travis’s lip twitched, Aviere closed her eyes, letting them adjust while unfolding her glasses from her pocket. One handed, she tweaked their alignment until Roland captured her sharpening vision.

  Maybe I have changed, considering we didn’t attack each other.

  She thrust the gun inside her waist holster. “Call next time you need something, Da. My number hasn’t changed. Should, considering—”

  “You’re the only person I have left, Aviere.”

  Roland’s solemn tone and expression made Aviere gasp, and she hurried from the bar, camouflaging her tears behind her straight, long hair. Strong fingers seized Aviere’s bicep and steered her toward the parking lot, but the Poisoner said nothing as Travis guided her. She met his concerned eyes and tried to smile, but shifted and twirled her hair on her finger, cursing her temperament.

  Her chilled fingers reheated against her warm scalp and soothed the unbridled feelings threatening to engulf her.

  Once they arrived at the Ferrari, Aviere leaned against her precious car, stroking the side of Jet’s cerulean frame. “Tonight’s only the beginning if Roland visited me. He never visits—only calls if something serious has happened. I’m sorry you witnessed that, Travis. I pride myself on better professionalism.”

  One hand balled into a fist as she clutched the peridot, holding it until her lithe fingers turned white. When Travis didn’t speak, Aviere waved her hand, signaling for him to continue the conversation.

  I’m never questioning where Mye gets her temper from again, but damn, she’s making this conversation awkward.

  Travis relished the tempered air brushing his flushed face, wiping his bangs away while studying Aviere’s solemn form. He recognized some of the subtle moments she made, despite only knowing her several weeks. When she grabbed the clunky peridot hanging from her neck, Travis scratched at his stubble, muscles quivering as he resisted touching the Poisoner’s shoulder.

  The director’s stern with Mye, but I can understand why. Imagine his only daughter trapped in the Underground. My child—our child—didn’t live long enough, Lyssa. But would I accept our child under these circumstances?

  Silence lingered between them and Travis stiffened when Aviere’s forest-green aura peaked around her. The agent blinked as the hue caught his attention and the darkness shifted to form a shield around her aura. It was gradual, but Travis witnessed enough to be able to consider his next move.

  When Mye and I met, the darkness was in splotches. Whatever the Director did spiked her emotions. My night is just getting better and better.

  Travis pressed two fingers to his ear as his earpiece crackled.

  Oh Jesus, not now. If Peters works her up, I’ll strangle him before Sanderson does, Lyssa.

  “I should’ve remained calm, but Da left me,” Aviere started again, voice hardening. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Travis. Why doesn’t Da recognize I’m different?”

  “He does,” Travis answered. “Any father would be concerned, especially with your night job. You’re racing cars and breaking the law. I mean, your other abilities make you a fugitive by default, but your Underground connections—”

  “Da knew everything, yet said nothing.”

  The raw emotions from Aviere’s voice mirrored her darkening aura. Travis’s pulse raced, but he remained in place, racking his brain for reassuring words. He crossed his arms over his chest before standing beside Aviere, stealing a glance at the Poisoner’s seething eyes.

  “I can’t speak for the director’s actions.” Travis lowered the volume on his earpiece while Peters talked. “He’s always a hard ass and never discussed personal matters. But after the director’s threat about protecting you—”

  “I rather Da said it himself. Sending lackeys isn’t good enough.”

  “You can’t hold a double standard when you’re just as guilty, Aviere.”

  “At least I finished Vinny McSeeten myself!”

  Travis chuckled before shaking his head. “How is calling your friends solving anything on your own? You use people like pawns, even your family.”

  He sidestepped when Aviere reached for him, but Travis winced when her claws embedded into the muscled flesh of his arm. After a grunt, Travis managed to escape and seized his injured arm before recoiling at Aviere’s poisonous claws.

  “You have no right. Until you’re holding people’s lives in your hands, you’ll never understand.”

  “No, I’ve only handled their remains,” Travis shot back, rolling his eyes as pain laced his shoulder and forearm. “I go to people’s homes and stare into haunted eyes, grilling them about dead loved ones during investigations. Drug busts are the worst. Do you know why? Because people kill themselves escaping their problems. But I don’t need to continue, do I?”

  “Shootings are the worst.”

  The agent tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

  “Shootings. Drive-by shootings.” Keys jingled and Travis caught silver from the corner of his eye. “Usually some poor innocent’s involved—someone at the wrong place. Serial killers, unmedicated schizophrenics, and pedophiles are also on the list. Drug-related deaths are lower for most, but hold something personal for me.”

  Travis shuffled backward, calloused finger wavering as he pointed to Aviere’s aura. “Mye, your aura’s peaking. Calm down before you explode.”

  “Goddamn him,” she whispered, balling a first. “I could deal with Louis ruining my night, but Da, too? I’d rather deal with Agent Neuro then Roland, and that’s saying something.”

  A scathing remark erupted from Travis’s left ear before Peters’s voice cleared. “Well, damn. Mye and I share a common enemy.”

  “Peters says hello, Mye.”

  Travis waited for Aviere’s sardonic reply but was only met with melancholy eyes. She blinked a few times before turning to her iPhone, nails tapping against the glass while replying to a text message.

  “Aviere, say something, for god’s sake,” Travis pleaded. “I’ll even take ‘drop dead’ over self-pity.”

  “Goddammit, Limere’s on his way here,” Aviere muttered. “Let me text him. I don’t need him seeing Da.”

  Travis covered Aviere’s phone with his good hand and pressed lightly against the device as he stared into her eyes. Their normal hue clouded with sadness. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Travis, my father came and offered to acquit my brother, Limere’s ex-girlfriend murdered someone before you arrived, and seeing you reminded me my vacation is over tomorrow. Kind of a downer when you’re spending your last vacation day working and chasing people throughout Charm City.” She moved the phone and texted again. “Lim’s worse when my father is around, so I’m saving us trouble.”

  As Travis studied Aviere’s aura and willed his heartbeat to slow, Peters grunted in Travis’s ear. “I thought I had a rotten day, but listening to her drama is heartbreaking.”

  Before Travis responded, classical music blasted from his pocket. “It’s about to get worse, you guys.” He fetched the tiny black-cased Motorola and sneered at Sanderson’s nickname on the caller ID. “Brace yourself—it’s Sanderson.”

  The agent snickered when Aviere flung her hands apart. “Tonight just keeps getting better. Maybe he’ll say Lim’s in lockup and I need to post bail.”

  “I can make it happen,” Peters dec
lared, lifting his voice in excitement. “Would liven my Thursday night while I’m waiting on Chinese food. Asshole’s slow and I’ve waited forty-five minutes for egg foo young.”

  Travis snorted as Aviere hissed. “Fuck off, Neuro. Let Travis answer the damn call.”

  A wide grin crept across Travis’s lips before noticing Aviere’s aura simmer. “It’s been quiet since you received medical leave. Remember what I suggested.”

  “Then tell ‘My Lil’ Neuro’ to stop threatening my brother.”

  Travis scowled at Aviere and answered the call, turned on the speakerphone, and leaned against the Ferrari while holding his tingling arm. “Travis.”

  A resounding thud pierced the other line, followed by crinkling papers. Then Sanderson’s throat cleared. “You botched your meeting.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Aviere protested. “Ruin someone else’s night, Lowell!”

  “I don’t care about your feelings, Mye,” Sanderson interrupted. “But since you’re with Travis, I’ll assume Roland’s not dead. It’s always fascinating to hear about when you two visit. You curse his existence and he’s always feeling guilty about the little girl he abandoned.”

  Goddammit, Sanderson! Mye’s going to explode.

  Travis studied Aviere’s stiff position and watched as she scuffed her boot against the blacktop. Claws stabbed through her flesh and a trickle of blood leaked from her palm. The motion repeated three times before she wiped the blood off onto her bell bottoms.

  Every time Sanderson talks, Mye’s tormented. Everyone else she ignores. Why does Sanderson unnerve her so much?

  Despite her burning eyes, Travis swung his shoulder in her direction. He stepped closer, but she held a hand toward him and threw her head back.

  “Mye, what did Roland want?” Sanderson demanded.

  Weariness laced Aviere’s statement, but Travis released a breath as icy fingers brushed his rough hand. “Limere. Da wanted Limere as bait for the cartel.”

  His eyes met Aviere’s and relaxed at her gesture as the darkened aura dropped to a recognizable hue.

  Sanderson tsked on the other line. “You would assume that. However, I fought with Roland for hours for Dalara’s protection order, reminding him he was our only credible lead.”

  The darkness disappeared from Aviere’s aura as Travis saw her deflate. “Not like this, Sanderson. They’ll—”

  “Dalara’s a puppet,” Sanderson said. “Puppets should be used, no matter their relationship or condition. Besides, Dalara can earn retribution by teaching Travis about his growing abilities. Seems he’s having trouble controlling them, Mye.”

  Her dulled eyes met Travis’s face as the agent handed her the phone. Travis used his good arm and waved her over, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

  She coughed a few times, but Travis raised an eyebrow at her quiet demeanor.

  Before Travis spoke, loud beeping interrupted his sentence. Since Aviere huddled into his chest, Travis lowered his arm to check her bracelet, growling at the numbers displayed on the LED screen. Once he processed the numbers and broke it into simplistic terms, Travis cocked his head to the side.

  “Ten days, Sanderson?”

  “Mye knows about the Zodiac Cartel, so I don’t need to brief her,” Sanderson said. “Besides, you’ll need the extra time, since this case is complex. I also accounted for training time.”

  Aviere squeezed Travis’s hand, and he jumped at the pinprick sensation. Heat crept into his cheeks and Travis scouted the parking lot.

  “And for god’s sake, stop involving civilians,” Sanderson added. “You didn’t need to interrogate Greene. Just work the case and keep me informed.”

  Papers crinkled again and Sanderson muttered before ending the call.

  As Aviere handed Travis the Motorola, he stared at the fluctuating silver energy heading their way. She nudged him, but Travis kept checking the entrance. He cleared his throat at the third attempt to return his phone.

  “Mye, I have one arm.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Travis pointed at a maroon Toyota Camry driving through the lot. “Dalara didn’t listen, but I suspect—”

  “Goddammit, I told Lim to wait at home!” Aviere’s eyes widened intensely as she jabbed the air toward the advancing Camry. “Lim will—”

  “Aviere.” The mage’s hand grasped her frigid one, interrupting her rapid movement. Then he grabbed the keys from her pocket and dangled them in Aviere’s face. “Drive. I’ll ride with you.”

  Frightened eyes turned to shock as Aviere’s mouth parted. “What? You serious?”

  “You’re better after a long drive.” Travis’s face turned olive green. “Speed, drift—hell, I don’t care. But clear your head. You’re wound tighter than a spring, and it’s unbearable.” Bile rose in his throat and Travis swallowed, gulping. “Besides, I’d like to hear how your vacation went.”

  “Liar.” A soft smile crossed Aviere’s lips and Travis wiped perspiration from his flushed forehead. “You’re probing about the cartel.”

  Travis shrugged. “Perhaps.” He closed his eyes and dropped the keys in her hand. “I’ll tell Peters to call off the squad cars.”

  He ignored Peters’s vile objections in his ear.

  “Travis, I can’t let—”

  “Dalara isn’t alone. I sensed someone with him.”

  The door opened and Travis spotted Aviere ducking inside her Ferrari. “That’s Lim’s girlfriend. They’re almost inseparable. If she’s with him, I suppose we’ll leave. Hurry before I change my mind.”

  Lyssa, Travis prayed as Aviere unlocked his door, if I live through Mye’s driving, she better answer my questions. Otherwise, I’ll let Peters finish shooting her.

  Travis wanted to rescind his offer, but dashed to the passenger side and plopped in the leather seat, fastening his seatbelt with lightning speed. He gripped each leathery side, forcing deep breaths when the Ferrari sped in reverse.

  By the time Aviere had sped through the tunnel, Travis wished he had retracted his statement, especially when Peters kept snickering in his ear.

  Chapter Four

  “Limere, I don’t think we should’ve parked till Aviere left the Mistress.”

  His icy-blue eyes flitted between the mystery book displayed on the black Kindle and Aviere’s Ferrari as she sped away from the Tethered Mistress. Limere struggled to keep a straight face, but Celene’s words lingered as his hand jerked involuntarily.

  For a moment, Limere forgot about the Kindle and concentrated on his sister, flinching when the tires screeched against the asphalt. Seconds later, apprehension changed to snide chuckling as Limere heard thoughts from her partner’s inner monologue.

  His soft laughter turned rancorous the faster Aviere sped.

  “I wasn’t being funny,” the Latina beside him growled. “Aviere—”

  “I’m amused at Sis’s rent-a-agent, Celene. He’s broadcasting his thoughts, and he’s scared shitless of Sis’s driving. But Travis offered to let Sis drive, so he’s getting what he deserves, I guess.” Limere returned the Kindle to its tan leather case before shoving it inside the glovebox. “But something’s not right with the rent-a-agent, Cel.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Silver energy fluctuated as Aviere’s Ferrari disappeared down the narrow tunnel. Limere focused on the silver trail and Celene’s accent faded. He evaluated the peaks and valleys of the fluctuating spikes and raised an eyebrow.

  Great. His powers are growing, and I suspect no one is qualified to teach agent man. He’ll expose himself soon, and when he does—

  “Is it what you suspected, Limmy?” Celene’s acrylic nails grazed along his arm as her fingers glided along his warm flesh. “What I see in visions?”

  Limere stopped Celene’s movements as he patted her hand. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. I didn’t need this on top of Chelsea stalking me.”

  “Hmph.” The Latina’s comforting behavior stopped at the other woman’s name. “Chelsea—”

 
“Yes, yes,” Limere interrupted, patting Celene’s hand again. “She’ll get her dues, I know. But now that Sis left, we should meet Armandi before he thinks I blew him off.”

  Silence lingered and Limere rolled his eyes, stealing glances at the Latina as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Her long ebony tresses bounced as Celene moved, framing her sculpted face and tanned shoulders. Every time her chocolate orbs met Limere’s icy-blue ones, he flushed before glancing out the window.

  “By the Holy—”

  “Stop cursing the Lord’s name. He has nothing—”

  “Chelsea and I separated years ago, but you’re still holding a grudge.” Limere grabbed his elbows and leaned against the window. “You’re with me. Jesus—”

  “What did I say?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Celene!” Limere’s voice rose as he turned and snatched the woman’s wrists. “I didn’t come for Chelsea! I’m not selling drugs to people anymore! Made damn good money, but I’m tired of people judging me, including you!”

  “I’m not upset at you.”

  The single sentence stole the breath from the older man’s lungs and he released Celene’s slender wrists. “Oh.” He scratched the back of his head before adjusting his faded baseball cap. “Sorry. Just used to everyone’s preaching and lecturing, that’s all.”

  “I’m pissed at Chelsea. That woman has some nerve. It’s been years, yet she’s determined to steal you away. Chelsea’s done enough by killing Reggie.”

  When Celene swiped her fingers underneath her mascara-decorated eyes, Limere embraced her. “Yeah. I remember. Thank you.”

  Tearful sobs escaped her while Limere rubbed her back, forcing himself to focus on her grief, not how Celene’s skin felt against his fingers. The athletic workout shirt felt tight against his chest before the wet spots registered against his skin.

  Thank god it’s black. Cel’s mascara won’t ruin it once tears smear her makeup.

  “I’m sure Sis isn’t thrilled, either,” he murmured, brushing curly strands of hair behind Celene’s ear. “She’s probably told everyone I’m not getting involved, but—”