Despite how bright she knew most of them were, the vapid conversations that floated to her ears reinforced the dumb cheerleader stereotype. With their combined brainpower they could rule the school, if not the world. She wondered why all they seemed capable of discussing was boys and makeup tips. She knew she shouldn’t generalize. After all, Adrienne was a cheerleader, and she’d been Tess’s best friend—once. Now, Tess wasn’t so sure. Adrienne had come to visit Tess just one time during her year of recuperation. Tess hadn’t been ready to talk to her—to anyone—and had turned her best friend away. Adrienne had never come back.
The cheerleaders’ table went silent as she and Oliver passed, and Tess felt their laser stares excising holes in her flesh and her soul. The low-pitched laughter of the boys at the next table reverberated loudly in the absence of competing chatter from the girls. Tess straightened and aimed her sightless eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the snub of the girls’ silence.
“What a bitch,” someone muttered as she passed.
“She’s such a chonky,” someone else said.
Tess bit her lip and choked back a sob.
They think I’m being rude? Do they think I’m supposed to automatically say hello to people I can’t even see?
Tess felt Oliver’s fingers tighten on her arm for a second, but he didn’t say anything. She followed hesitantly as he took small steps, pulling her through the maze of chairs, tables, and moving students.
He suddenly tugged on her arm. Instinctively, she stopped and jerked upright to maintain her balance. His fingers left her arm altogether. From the floor in front of her came a soft thud. Gales of laughter erupted a few feet away.
“Talk about the blind leading the blind,” a voice said.
Tess recognized it immediately, and the warmth flushing her face came as much from anger as embarrassment.
She whirled toward the source. “What did you do, Carl?”
“Carl who?” the voice said mockingly. “I’m not Carl.”
“I’m blind, not deaf,” Tess said. “I’d know your voice anywhere, Carl.”
She heard scuffling at her feet, and felt Oliver’s presence at her side, his subtle scent increasingly familiar and oddly comforting.
“No big deal,” Oliver murmured in her ear. “Guy’s a jerk, but no harm done.”
“Who you callin’ a jerk?” Carl said.
A chair scraped on the floor.
“Did he trip you?” Tess said to Oliver.
“The dweeb’s a klutz, Barrett,” Carl said, his voice closer now. “You’d have been better off with a dog. Oh, I forgot. You eat dogs, don’t you?”
Laughter surrounded her once more.
“Shut up, Carl!” Tess said.
Oliver murmured in her ear again. “It’s okay. I can handle this. Let’s just go sit down.”
“Not till you apologize for callin’ me a jerk,” Carl said.
“Excuse us, jerk,” Oliver said. “Please.”
“Hey, butthead, you can’t—”
“What’s going on?” another voice asked.
Tess caught a whiff of woodsy cologne and trembled involuntarily. She knew this voice, too, but she wished she’d been able to forget it in the months since the accident. Toby Cavanaugh.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Oliver said.
“Yeah,” Carl said, “nothing you can’t handle without a blind girl’s help.”
“Carl!” Toby said. “Give it a rest.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“You okay, Tess?” Toby said.
“I’m fine,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from quavering. “It’s Oliver you should be asking. After Carl tripped him . . .”
“Oliver, is it? I’m Toby. Everything cool?”
“Sure, everything’s cool. We were just finding a place to sit.”
“We can make room at our table. C’mon, sit over here.”
“We—” Tess started to object, but Oliver spoke over her.
“Thanks, we’ll take you up on that.”
Oliver’s hand cupped her elbow and steered her forward. Before she knew it, a chair was slipped under her and she was scooted up until her elbows gently bumped a table.
“Is everything all right, Toby?” a girl said.
Tess shuddered inside, but she plastered a smile on her face.
“Yeah, babe, it’s all good,” Toby said.
“Hello, Adrienne,” Tess said quietly.
“Tess! I . . . I didn’t . . .”
“You didn’t think I’d recognize you? Because I can’t see? I do know your voice, Addie. It’s not like we weren’t—oh, I don’t know—friends once.”
“We still are, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know, Adrienne. You tell me. I haven’t seen you in, what, a year?”
“You haven’t seen me because, well, you can’t see, Tess.”
Tess’s ears burned. “You know what I mean. I haven’t heard from you in that long, either. And I can still hear.”
“Ladies, ladies,” Oliver said. “No reason we can’t all get along, is there? Tess, what do you want for lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” she muttered.
Oliver put his lips next to her ear and spoke softly. “We went to all the trouble of finding a table; you’re having something to eat. Sandwich? Turkey and cheese?”
Tess reached up, found the back of his neck, and held him still.
“Don’t leave me here with them,” she whispered. “Please.”
Oliver patted her hand and straightened, pulling away from her grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he said cheerfully.
“So,” Adrienne said, “how are you, Tess?”
“Peachy. I nearly died. I can’t see. How do you think I am?”
“Lay off, Tess,” Toby said.
Tess could hardly believe her ears. “You’re defending her?”
“She just asked how you’re doing. No need to give her a hard time.”
“Oh, my God, Toby!” Tess said. “Are you, like, seeing her? Are you and Addie together?”
She didn’t want to know the answer. She jumped up, a sob escaping her lips, and stumbled away from the table. Arms flailing, she ran into someone.
“Hey! Watch it!”
She turned bounced off and ran into a chair. Fighting back tears, she felt her way past one obstacle after another, with no idea where she was going, only the desperate desire to get away.
“Tess!” Toby called. “Tess, stop!”
She forged ahead, jeers and laughter surrounding her frantic attempts to feel her way through the maze of bodies and furniture.
“Tess, please stop,” Toby said, his voice now directly in front of her.
She whirled to one side. A hand latched onto her arm gently.
“I’ve got you,” Oliver said into her ear.
She clutched at him, and a sob broke loose from her throat.
“Take me home! Please, Oliver!”
“Where are you going?” Toby said. “Tess?”
“I’m getting her out of here,” Oliver said. “She’s had enough.”
She hung onto Oliver’s arm as he led her to a door leading outside. The cool air on her face had never felt so good. The door slammed behind them, shutting out the lunchroom cacophony, all the snide comments and hoots of amusement that she knew were accompanied by stares of disgust and, worse, pity. She swiped at the wet tracks on her face.
“I can’t leave you alone for ten seconds,” Oliver muttered.
“What? This is my fault?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and she hoped he felt guilty for even suggesting she’d caused that awful lunchroom scene.
“High school sucks,” Oliver said.
She couldn’t have agreed more, but it went without saying.
“You’ve gotta get over it, Tess,” Oliver went on. “I know this is your first day, and it’s been rough on you. But every day is going to have its bumps. There will always be some inconsiderate ass that belittles you or
insults you or makes fun of you.”
“You’re such a jerk. I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”
“That’s my point. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, or put you down. I just think you’re going to have to grow thicker skin if you want to get out of this place alive. You’ve got, what, three months? Less? Then you’re off to college.”
Tess wanted to pound him with her fists and scream at him, but she didn’t. Part of her knew he was right. She didn’t need Toby or Adrienne. She’d gotten along fine without them for a year.
“My books!” she said suddenly.
“I’ve got them right here,” Oliver said.
“Thanks,” she said, relief washing over her.
“You sure this is okay? Skipping out on your last class?”
“No, but I can’t take any more. Please, Oliver?”
“Hey, I’m not the one going to high school here. Guess you’ll have to figure out how to make it up.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she said.
“No need to get touchy. I’m just saying, is all.”
“Got it. Now can we please go home?”
“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
Oliver tugged gently on her arm, bringing her to a stop. A car alarm chirped next to her, and then the car door opened. Tess felt for the doorframe, faced out, and eased into the passenger seat. She swung her legs into the car. Oliver reached over her, set her bag on the floor at her feet, and shut the door.
Tess’s cell phone beeped. She reached down, felt her bag for the right pocket and fished it out. Feeling carefully, she pressed some keys on the keyboard to activate the text-to-voice feature.
“You have one unread e-mail,” intoned a voice, “from Dad.”
Tess screamed.
CHAPTER 14
One year earlier. . .
Travis turned into the drive with a nod to the workman at the side of the road. The workman stood a few yards from a cable company truck, bent over an open manhole. A beefy man with a five-day-old beard, he looked up briefly as Travis passed, his expression impassive. Travis knew another man sat inside the vehicle. The one outside was Fred. The one in the truck was a short little fireplug named Barney, and Travis knew that anyone who cracked a joke about the pair’s names faced the threat of a mouthful of fist.
They were both armed with .9mm semiautomatic pistols and had access to a veritable arsenal of assault rifles, rocket-propelled grenade launchers, flash-bangs, smoke bombs, and other weaponry in the truck. Travis had handpicked them from a list General Turnbull had provided. They’d all washed out of the armed services for one reason or another. On one hand, that presented potential trouble. They were mercenaries. They were loyal only to a paycheck. Which was why Travis had been so careful in selecting the team of six.
One of them—Red, a former Navy SEAL—had simply grown too old, by some standards, to continue serving in the field. He’d chosen to resign rather than become a desk jockey and try to climb the ranks. Fred and Barney—Special Forces soldiers who’d known each other in Afghanistan—had been bounced out for infractions, but none serious enough to give Travis too much pause. He’d figured after reviewing their files and talking with them that they hadn’t gotten a fair shake. Neither had complained, however, simply chalked up their misfortune to being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Travis could live with mistakes. Striking an officer was one thing, but hitting an officer by accident in the middle of a barroom brawl was plain bad luck. Worse luck when the officer was a butthead who insisted on pressing charges.
At least none of them appeared to be a psychopath. The only one who worried him was Kenny, a former Army Ranger who’d been drummed out with an OTH—other than honorable—discharge for sleeping with a captain’s wife. That was bad enough, but Kenny’s file read like a fifth-grade troublemaker’s jacket. Insubordination, fighting, harassment—Kenny definitely liked to mix it up, but when it came down to crunch time, every man in his unit had sworn that Kenny was their go-to guy. Fearless and a crack shot, Kenny had saved his unit more than once in Iraq, so Travis knew he had the goods. But he didn’t trust Kenny, so he’d put him on yard duty to keep him close.
Travis rounded a curve in the drive and saw Kenny trimming the grass around a tree with a hand mower. Kenny had worked up a good sweat despite the cold, gray spring weather. It was good for the kid. He’d gotten a little flabby and could use the exercise. Travis saw Kenny spy the car from the corner of his eye, and knew Kenny had checked him out as soon as Travis’s SUV had entered his field of vision. Travis saw Kenny glance in his direction once more as he drove past, just to make sure of the vehicle’s occupant.
Luis, the only ex-marine in the group, raked a garden bed fifty yards away. There was a sad case. Kid had been decorated three times in Iraq. Someone in his unit had panicked one night on patrol and had shot an innocent civilian headed for home. Roused by the gunfire, a neighbor had burst out of the house next door, shouting and waving a kitchen knife. Feeling threatened, the nearest marine had shot him, too. Luis had tried to wave the others off, but a sort of madness overtook them all and they went through the house shooting everything that breathed to cover up their mistake. Everyone but Luis, that is. He’d kept his mouth shut, but word had eventually gotten out, and when the court-martial was over, Luis had been convicted of involuntary manslaughter even though he’d tried to stop the slaughter. Go figure.
Luis watched Travis with the same surreptitious gaze, the same wary expression as the others Travis had driven past. Travis grunted with satisfaction. They’d all proved to be alert. Travis feared that they might become complacent. Their biggest enemy was boredom. Hours and days of watchful anticipation could easily make them inattentive and careless. So far at least, they hadn’t relaxed their vigilance.
Travis swung the SUV around in a tight circle at the end of the drive and backed it up to the far garage bay door. He wanted it nose-out in case they had to leave in a hurry. He’d returned the rental sedan and bought the big SUV—with James’s money, of course. Travis couldn’t take a chance on someone in the company wondering about all the sudden expenses for mostly military equipment, so James paid for it out of his own pocket. The SUV had a powerful engine, a lot more room, and a few extras like run-flat tires, bullet-resistant glass, and bulletproof ceramic plates lining the doors. He’d taken James’s Range Rover in for the same modifications under the guise of an “oil change.”
On his way to the house, Travis scanned the water. Two hundred yards offshore, a small fishing boat bobbed gently. A lone man in a slicker and a floppy hat sat in the stern, holding a fishing pole out over the lake. He didn’t look like much of a deterrent, but Travis knew that Red could swim the entire distance to shore underwater, slip out without a sound, and kill a man a dozen different ways before he even knew Red was there. Age might have mellowed Red’s temper, but it hadn’t diminished his skills much.
Marcus, the sixth man and Travis’s second-in-command, was at school shadowing Tess. Marcus had also been Special Forces, and was the only one in the bunch other than Red to have an honorable discharge. In fact, his record was spotless. He’d left the army to work private security in Iraq. The money was better.
Everyone in place and all was calm. Things were too normal. It wasn’t just the transition from war zone in the ’Stans to the peace and quiet of civilian life that made the hairs on the back of Travis’s neck stand up and his skin itch. This was more like the calm before the storm, the silence before the first shot was fired during an incursion. Travis had felt it many times before. A muscle at the corner of his eye twitched. Something was going to happen—soon. Travis just hoped he’d prepared adequately to handle whatever threat materialized. The key was planning and preparation, but Travis knew that even backups to backup plans could fall apart. The question was how well he could improvise if all else failed. Especially with three civilians in tow.
He locked the vehicle and walked to the front of the house. Off to one side, Yoshi
pruned a rose bush. He nodded curtly as Travis went up the steps, then quickly shifted his glance to the two men working in the yard, eyes narrowing as he watched them work. Travis shrugged and opened the front door. James stood in the entryway, staring absently out a side window.
“You’re home early,” Travis said.
“What?” James turned. “Oh, yeah. Slow day.”
“Everything all right at work?”
“Fine.” James turned to the window again. “I feel trapped in my own home, Travis.”
Travis followed his gaze to the two ex-military men posing as gardeners. “At least you have the nicest yard in the neighborhood.”
“You know what I mean. I feel like someone’s watching me all the time. I can’t turn around without feeling like someone’s there.”
Outside, Yoshi rose and walked briskly toward Luis, gesturing with his hands. Luis looked up with a puzzled expression. Yoshi snatched the rake from Luis and took two careful swipes at the flowerbed, looked at Luis, and thrust the rake back into his hands.
Travis sighed. “No one’s happy with the situation, least of all me. Despite those guys out there, you’re still too unprotected.”
“We’ve never needed protection before.”
“Until we’ve identified and neutralized the threat the general alluded to, I don’t think we have a choice.”
“And you trust him?”
“Jack?” Travis had never given it a second thought. “Why wouldn’t I?”
James shrugged. “You’re the one who said a lot of people would do anything to get their hands on the technology.”
“He already does. Well, did, until I let the prototype get blown up. What good would it do him to harm you or the family?”
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