Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  “Peters was right. You’ll use anyone and sell your soul to get what you want.”

  “You see that set of pictures?” Aviere pointed to the collage on Peters’s desk. “Tell me you wouldn’t for the beautiful woman in the wedding dress with her adorable smile and tender brown eyes. Kind of strange seeing you wearing a tux, but she’s a looker. Probably turned heads everywhere she went.”

  “We have an hour and fifty-five minutes. Stop staring at the photographs, grab your ammo, and let’s practice.”

  She tsked. “Travis, I complimented you. She’s a professional. Psychology? Doctor? School teacher?”

  “Pediatrician. Nothing as dangerous as you.”

  Aviere clapped a hand on Travis’s shoulder at his forlorn tone, backing off as pain throbbed through her delicate fingers. “Nah, I’m special. Listen… show me how you reload. Maybe I’ll learn a handy tip or two from you.”

  “Use the hand-warmers inside the top desk drawer. Warm your fingers a little so you’ll gain flexibility.” A key landed her in her bare hand. “No copying the master key, and no further questions about Lyssa, got it?”

  As she inserted the key inside the lock, Aviere nodded before she started to apologize, but stopped when Travis set the collage face down on the marble counter. The hand warmers were a pleasant distraction while she sat in Peters’s chair, until the pungent scent of Travis’s aftershave mixed with Peters’s cologne nauseated her.

  She buried her heartache underneath her cough, grabbed the Beretta, and unloaded the magazine before she could ask Travis any more personal questions.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two hours and seventeen minutes later, Aviere barreled through the never-ending compound, resisting the urge to throttle Travis with his trench coat after he chided her about her sluggish reload time.

  She replayed the events while a scowl crossed her features, deliberating how she’d misjudged her timing or forgot key aspects from her previous weapons training. Feigning dumb became harder the longer Travis explained each instruction, but she controlled herself by twirling her hair and asked airheaded questions at opportune times.

  Yawning disguised her boredom and maintained her scatterbrained persona, but she knew Travis’s analytical skills would see through the lies soon. Thinking about deceiving him made Aviere long for a comfortable mattress and a night to snuggle inside her electric blanket, burying her head inside a thick paperback novel.

  Instead, she continued storming through the drafty corridors of the Renegades compound to avoid her partner.

  “Mye, stop. You forgot the magazine, you moron!”

  Shots rang further down the corridor, blocking out the rest of Travis’s criticism.

  Aviere used the distraction and sprinted to her destination, throwing the door open when the scent of lavender, soft spiced apples, and Old Spice filled her nostrils. The metal door handle slammed into the drywall, and debris from the sickening white wall crumpled to the concrete floor, spilling from the hole like her self-confidence. Further down, she watched Peters shoot at a training dummy, his coffee-colored eyes narrowed as he used his last shot.

  She jumped when his final bullet landed between the mannequin’s eyes, missing the hostage held in tow. As the round pierced through its forehead, Aviere snarled softly, deepening her pitch when the sharp notes of Old Spice wafted through the air.

  Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding. If Peters wins, he’ll ruin my creditability.

  Aviere’s eyes darted past the short man and landed on the Jamaican several feet away, rubbing a shoulder while cracking his neck. Loose white hair trailed behind him with each movement until he tied his hair back. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  She shivered and closed her eyes as she inhaled cologne and spiced apples layering his scent.

  This day keeps getting better. Now my distant lover is stalking me because Peters is human.

  “Goddamn you.” The words surfaced before she stopped herself. “You took off, yet continue stalking me whenever humans are involved.”

  “Mye, Q’s hunting me, not you. I know you believe the world revolves around you, but—”

  “For a gentleman who despises his first name, you’re flaunting it with a letter,” Aviere said, ignoring Peters’s whiny retort. “I knew it’d catch on, sooner or later.”

  “Blow me, woman.” Brilliant white teeth flashed as Q’s canines showed underneath a teasing smile. “I’m not giving out my first name.”

  Aviere flashed a matching smirk as she cupped her chin. “You wish. This isn’t high school, where you won bets sleeping with women.”

  “At least you have one decent weapon,” Q said, gesturing to the Walther CCP inside her holster. “Damn good piece, too. Better than the Beretta you modified. Why would you commit such an atrocity?”

  “I’m not using it,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “The weasel won’t let me. Lim and I made my beauty a masterpiece. It’s made for my stature and sensitive hands. Took a few years, but I’m proud of our accomplishment.”

  “Whatever.”

  Aviere placed her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Berettas are fine guns without tinkering with them.”

  Her boots echoed against the concrete as she planted herself in a protective stance, glowering while Q’s gigantic form towered over her five-foot, three-inch frame. While her heartbeat raced, Aviere’s vision sharpened before her eyes turned to a sky-blue hue.

  Sweat furrowed on her forehead as she took exaggerated breaths, fending off the pressure in her tightening throat.

  We have never fought before. Nothing good will come of this, Vi. Stop agitating him while the human is watching you.

  “Wow, you’ve sharpened your claws since I went away, Vi. You’re not the mousy woman I worked for years ago. I’m not sure how to feel about this recent transformation.”

  “Don’t you get frisky with me,” she commanded while drawing the Walther CCP from her waist. “You walked out on me. By all rights, you should die where you stand. Others have died for less.”

  “Let me guess… you’re reciting cool monologues from manga books again”

  Ignore Q’s sinister look, Vi. Once you crumble, the façade disappears. He doesn’t dictate orders anymore… you do.

  Her fingers released the safety and rubbed against the material. Pain lanced her reddened digits and she narrowed her eyes to ignore the stabbing pain.

  “Explain why you’re here, Q. I’m not in a good mood.”

  “You have another pet human infecting the compound. You’re acquainted with how we approach normals.”

  She placed a hand on her hip, holding the gun on Q. “Yes.”

  “Our policy, not Sanderson’s, Aviere.”

  “It’s easier to profile someone when they’re face-to-face than over a freaking earpiece.”

  “You’re slipping. I found out about him first. Disappointing, considering you’re on point with these matters.”

  “Opportunities were scarce. Never mind being chased around Charm City by a bunch of lunatics and cleaning up my personal life afterward.”

  “I see.”

  “Peters is the empty suit playing pencil pusher with a fascinating personality quirk. The man shifts his mood and perception without copious amounts of medication.”

  She drew her eyes toward the smaller human and glared as Peters gave her a nasty hand signal.

  “Don’t go there with me.”

  “Sounds familiar, though, doesn’t it?”

  Gray eyes squinted as Q lowered himself to her level. “What did I just—”

  “It’s cute when you stoop, Q,” she complimented, patting his head. “Won’t lower my guard, though.”

  As he went to grab her, Aviere stepped back, earning a snide snicker from Peters’s direction. One eye turned toward Peters’s agitated expression before circling back to the Jamaican in faded blue jeans and a torn muscle shirt. She held in a longful sigh after noticing the muscles and
lean abdomen.

  His white hair splayed in different areas near his face, but the matching eyebrows furrowing at her sent shivers down her spine.

  No. Stop wandering around and focus. You don’t like Neuro, but he’s your responsibility. One wrong word and Qu—

  “Mye, stop fucking around,” Peters said, barking out the order. “The sexual tension between you two is sickening. I thought Travis exaggerated about the other night in Kilgore Falls. But no, you’re screwing around with the deadliest son-of-a-bitch Sanderson hired.”

  “Shut up and fire your second round,” Aviere said, waving the handgun at Peters. “You wanted three rounds each, remember?”

  “I’d like to bask in my victory, not seem like a tool.”

  “Great, no different than usual.” Aviere played with her earring while directing the gun at the mannequins. “I shouldn’t worry, though. Your bloated ego will undermine your victory.”

  “I have money riding on this!” Peters yelled. “You’re not undermining my chances with your smartass comments!”

  “Travis mentioned something amusing in your office,” the Poisoner drawled as she flicked her earring again. “Something about being resigned to desk duty because of your temper.”

  “Yeah,” Peters grunted before altering his stance. “You practically got me fired.”

  “I didn’t march into the intensive care unit and shoot a defenseless woman on painkillers and antibiotics. As I recall, I fixed your personality problem, which is why you’re still alive.”

  “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”

  “Probably not. Meanwhile, you’re wasting valuable time arguing with me.”

  A playful grin spread across Aviere’s lips when Q shook in place. She waggled her eyebrows before dragging her index finger across her lip. A finger pressed against the bridge of her nose and she pouted, longing for her glasses resting at the bottom of the Patapsco River.

  “Depending on your performance, I might reconsider lifting the director’s ban.”

  “I’ve tried appealing the director’s decision for the last few years. You’re dangling an absurd dream like a parent tricking their child with candy, Mye.”

  “Reload your magazine and fire, Peters. I can’t make a recommendation if you’re blowing hot air.”

  “You can read my credentials. The awards are listed inside every agent’s personnel file.”

  “People lie or omit things whenever it’s convenient. In your case, you can tamper with your records since you’re snooping into everyone’s files.” She flicked long strands of hair off her shoulders and twisted a finger before aiming at Peters’s Beretta 92MS. “Reload your goddamn weapon and shoot again. Get whatever you touched on for my circulation problem in your office after finishing your rounds.”

  “They were supposed to arrive an hour ago!”

  “No one came by your office,” she pointed out in a near demonic rumble. “I guess you scared away all the decent staff.”

  “And here you said your inner bitch was sleeping,” Peters grumbled. “If she’s back, there’s no reason to continue this match.”

  Aviere shrugged and her sky-blue eyes brightened at Peters’s surprise. “She was. Women are strange, you know. We’re like aliens. There’s a book on the subject, I believe.”

  “Well, I can’t brief you with company. I figured an impromptu setting might lighten the mood.”

  “Email is best. I can review it while waiting for data to process, or when Travis bores me with another lecture about being accident-prone.”

  “Some news is best delivered in person… away from prying eyes.”

  “Q’s my resident stalker,” Aviere explained, pressing her nose against Q’s. “He pretends to play bodyguard, forgetting he abandoned me several years ago. I’m sure he’s aware of the situation, so there’s no point with formalities.”

  “Bullshit. The chemistry between you two contradicts your stories, Mye.”

  Nosy bastard. Feline eyes flickered to brooding gray ones, which narrowed again as they connected with one other. I’m trying to be inconspicuous. Everyone else—

  “It’s certainly been an interesting morning,” Peters remarked with some pep to his voice. “Inner bitch found romance. It’s adorable, but sickening when you’re big on privacy.”

  “Reload your fucking weapon before I find something to stab you with,” she threatened, hostility lacing her voice while turning an eye to the specialist. “My previous relationships aren’t up for debate. I don’t question you about yours.”

  “I beg to differ. You’re showing off. Two hours ago, you hardly said a word. Now, you pretend you’re queen of the jungle when males are dominant in the wild.”

  “This isn’t about dominance,” she countered, ignoring her flushing cheeks. “You aren’t his to claim.”

  “You know, if I wasn’t a snoop, I’d believe you, but Rodriguez becomes the Energizer Bunny whenever somebody asks about you. Mention Q and the animosity oozes in spades. I felt bad Keith listened to her ranting the other night outside Kilgore Falls. Luckily, the signal sucked, so her accent didn’t drive me crazy.”

  From the side, Aviere caught a glance of Q’s fist. As he went to punch, she blocked with her palm, eyes widening from the collision and pinprick vibrations from her hand.

  “Aviere…”

  “You can’t pummel everyone who insults her.” Her voice hardened as his hands massaged her injured palm. “Her job is to piss people off, Q. You can’t dissuade Jemina from her opinions.”

  “Doesn’t mean—”

  “Now I understand why you’re so pissed off, Mye.” The magazine clicked when Peters unloaded the empty container. “Dealing with wackos and losing control of any situation would set me on edge.”

  Goddammit.

  Her eyes flashed to Peters’s hands, quicker than Travis’s did when he reloaded upon their first meeting.

  He’s better. Holy hell, he’s more sophisticated than Travis. Demoting him meant he shot a high-profile civilian, but Peters kept enough blackmail to buy their silence. How do I deal with another—

  “Control is the only gimmick you have. Without your pawns, you’re defenseless. No matter what you decide, you surrender one man.”

  The magazine slammed into the Beretta 92MS in tune with Aviere’s throbbing heartbeat.

  “Continuing on—if I was bearing down on you, I’d target someone influential inside your crew. Since everyone else has their own agenda, the most logical choice is Dalara.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Q interjected. “That pompous little—”

  “Go on,” she said, holding her hand out when Q growled beside her. “Finish your assessment.”

  “Travis isn’t strong enough. The werewolf is out for himself if you’re not making his booze. Maurice distances himself, but he’s not interested in your one-woman crusade. Rodriguez isn’t yours unless you pay her, but with you, that’s questionable. We’re always at odds. I don’t know enough about the Hulk to assess him.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Enough!” Aviere yelled, thrusting her elbow into Q’s abdomen. “Continue, please.”

  “Despite your rocky relationship with your half-brother and the guilt you two harbor, you use him as a confidant and rely on him more than anyone else. But that’s not why Dalara’s ideal.”

  “Aviere, he’s not and you—”

  “Shut up.” Her tiny lips pursed together when she rolled one eye in Q’s direction. “You’re not with me anymore, and the human’s right, for once. Otherwise, I’d agree.” She whipped her head to face Peters, brushing stringy strands away from her eyes. “Finish, Peters.”

  “Dalara knows about your blood and your serum. If he goes, no one you trust can duplicate it.”

  “There’s somebody.”

  “Besides Cray? Maybe. I wouldn’t doubt it, but that’d mean trusting Dalara’s associates, and you hate outsiders. Your pride won’t stand for it.”

  Whatever Peters did before d
esk duty, he’s good. He’s smart enough to pull off being a criminal profiler. They’re not on the field, so it makes sense… but then, why wouldn’t he do interrogations?

  “Either situation will cut you. It’s not easy when it’s siblings, particularly when they’re ripped away without any warning.”

  “There’s still a chance to save Limere.”

  “How long will you keep lying to yourself, Mye?”

  “It’s not a lie,” she insisted. “He’s not dead, so there’s a chance—”

  “I said that once years ago. It’s funny… some days, I find the lies comforting during the depression. I’m sure you can relate, though. You carry your broken dreams like a shield. Reminds me of Keith with his stupid trench coat.”

  “You mention people being ripped from you, but don’t understand how it feels, Peters. It’s not easy to let someone go.”

  “You know why I’m pissed at you? You have a chance to clear the air between you and Dalara. We never did. It was sudden, painful, and full of what-if scenarios. I’m not rooting for him, but Dalara deserves to die with dignity. He’s helping you while realizing he’s one foot in the grave. Maybe that’s what your mother had in mind when—”

  Anger lanced through her sky-blue eyes as they zoomed in on the shooting dummies as Aviere’s body moved gracefully into a tactical shooting position behind Peters. As soon as her feet planted, she aimed the Walther CCP over the man’s shoulder and fired, directing her rage through her hands and projecting it away when the bullets fired.

  Each shot, unlike her normal antics, fired and mirrored the agent’s holes, except for the sixth bullet. Peters’s shot had landed on the training dummy’s nose, but Aviere’s sixth one sailed through the hole and hit the bulletproof polycarbonate, where the bullet absorbed into the material. The kickback reverberated through her hands.

  “Wait, what just happened? When did you—”

  Aviere spun gracefully on one foot and popped one bullet at the stunned specialist behind her, hitting the wall behind him. When the tall Jamaican snorted, she aimed and fired.