The Recoil Trilogy 3 Book Boxed Set: Including Recoil, Refuse and Rebel

by Joanne Macgregor

  “Sorry,” I tell the crumpled heap of ragged cloth and flesh that was once a human being. “Hope you’re in a better place now.”

  I cover the body with a flattened appliance box extracted from the trash and step back to check it’s not visible from the alley.

  Back in the kitchen, I mop up the blood and gore from the wall and floor, then wipe down every last surface with bleach. I carry the mop, bucket and cloths downstairs to the basement and hurl them into the incinerator, along with my gloves, and stand and stare at the fire for a few minutes. The flames spark and blaze sulphur-yellow, warming my face and giving off toxic plastic fumes which catch in my throat. I close the iron door with the poker and hook the catch. Done.

  I stuff my rifle into a clean black garbage bag and bang on the door that leads to the hallway. Tallulah opens it, staring around in suspicious amazement at the clean, empty kitchen.

  “What in the name of all that’s holy happened in here?” she demands.

  “Nothing happened in here. Nothing at all. An M&M wandered in, I clanged pot lids together, and it got scared and ran off down the alley.”

  She narrows her eyes, studying me for long moments.

  “I took care of it, okay?”

  “Go tell Jared it’s safe to come out now,” she says. “I’m off to my office. I need to … have a drink.”

  I spend the rest of the day in my room, avoiding Tallulah and any difficult questions she might have for me. Surely there must be many secrets in a place like this? I can only hope that she’s good at keeping them.

  It’s early evening when there’s a soft knock at my door.

  “Yeah?”

  Carlos sticks his head around the door and beckons me with one crooked finger.

  “Suppertime?” I ask.

  He smiles cherubically. The boy sure does like his food.

  Tallulah is at the foot of the stairs, waiting for me.

  “You go on to the dining room, Carlos. But you, young lady, are coming with me.”

  My heart kicks into high gear as she clamps a broad hand over my forearm. Her voice is grave when she says, “There’s a man here to see you. He’s in my office — the rest of them are waiting outside.”

  “What?” Understanding hits. She’s turned me in. “No!”

  “Oh, yes. You’ve been puzzling me since you got here, but when I saw you with that rifle today, I finally put two and two together.” She pulls me down the hallway. “That hair sure had me fooled — I was on the lookout for a girl with long blond hair and no tattoos, not some raccoon-eyed, dip-dyed brunette. But today, in that PSA, I saw it. Your eyes are the eyes of that girl on the most wanted list. It don’t surprise me you can keep a calm head and shoot to kill. And they did say you’d likely have a weapon with you, and would be prepared to use it.”

  “No, Tallulah, please. You don’t understand — I can explain,” I plead, tugging against the iron grasp on my arm.

  “As soon as I saw you with that gun, the dots in my old brain connected up. I’d already had the alerts, so I knew what I had to do. And I made the call,” she says, dragging me inexorably down the hall to her office. Where a member of the extract team waits. Or perhaps Sarge himself, eager to get the restraints on Blue and drag her sorry ass back to the detention center for another go-round.

  I can’t. I cannot endure that again.

  “And now they’re here, relieved to have found you, and ready to fetch you away.”

  “Please, please, Tallulah! I’m not what they say, I’m not a terrorist.” I grab at a door handle on the way, try to brace my feet in the jam, but she jerks me free and walks on. “I’m begging you, just let me go. I’ll leave, tonight, I’ll just get lost and disappear.”

  We’re at the end of the hall, outside her door.

  “I reckon that’s precisely what they’re afraid of. But now he’s got you, he ain’t gonna want to lose you again.” Tallulah reaches out a hand, twists the doorknob and pushes me inside her dimly lit office, slamming the door shut behind me.

  For a moment I’m so shocked and confused that my mind can’t compute what my eyes are seeing.

  “Finally,” says the unmasked man getting up from the chair in the shadows beyond the lamp light. “I’ve found you.”

  Chapter 49

  Vow

  Quinn. Quinn? Quinn!

  It must be him. Who else would fold me in his arms and hold me tight? Who else would stroke my hair while he mutters, “Jinxy, my Jinxy. You’re safe. Ah, my wench. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Quinn?” I pull back to stare into gray eyes brimming with moisture.

  He tugs down my mask and kisses me softly on the lips once. And again.

  “It’s me, Jinxy. Faith,” he exclaims, pulling me back into his embrace, “but you had me tied up in knots. I thought for sure you’d … that they’d … but you’re safe.”

  “What are you doing here?” I’m still half-dazed by the shock.

  “I’ve come to fetch you, of course. Why did you run off like that? You made me vow never to leave you, then upped sticks and ran away from me!” Anger replaces the relief in his voice.

  “I had to go.”

  “No, you didn’t — not alone. I know what you think, that I was being torn between my loyalties to Connor and to you. Why didn’t you ask me to go with you, let me make my own decision?”

  “How could I ask you to make that choice?”

  “By leaving, you made the choice for me. And you don’t get to decide for me, Jinxy. I know what I’m letting myself in for, and I have a right to make up my own mind about it.”

  “But it’s your life at stake.”

  “That’s right, it’s my life. So it’s my decision.”

  “I’m sorry, I am. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t kill Hawke, and I was scared that they’d make me. And I knew I was bringing danger to everyone and heartbreak to you, Quinn. I knew you wanted to be with your brother.”

  “Aye, I did at that.” He sighs, cups his hand behind my neck and brings my forehead to rest against his. His skin is warm against mine. “Look at your hair,” he murmurs, running his hands through my short, dark hair, rubbing the red tips between his fingers. “Faith, but I love you.” He smiles. “I got in first.”

  I don’t want to move. Can’t move. But I force myself to speak.

  “So … Connor?”

  “I couldn’t make him see, Jinxy. I tried reasoning with him, but he’s set on his path, and I can’t go with him down that road. We’ve parted ways.”

  “You left him? Left the rebels?”

  “Yeah, I figured I had to. A few came with me, though.” Evyan, I’ll bet. And where Evyan goes, Mark would be sure to follow. “We’re what you might call a rebel splinter group, and our first mission was finding you.”

  “How did you?”

  “Tallulah. She’s a key informant on the underground rebel network. Keeps her eyes and ears open and gives us a safe place when one of us needs to hide out. She was one of our supporters that Zonia alerted when you disappeared. Of course, Zonia just wanted to get you back for her plans.”

  “Was there an attack on Hawke?”

  “Nah, I think they caught a hint that something was planned, and he went underground — literally.”

  “In the bunker?”

  Quinn nods. “I was desperate to know you were safe, I’ve been wanting to follow after you ever since you left, so I volunteered to man the comms. That way I would be the first to see any incoming messages like the one Tallulah sent today.”

  Once an intel, always an intel. “And Zonia let you?”

  “I acted like I was mad with you. Faith, I was mad! Running away like that.” He places his hands on my shoulders and gives me a slow, gentle shake. “But I told Connor and Zonia that I was finished with you, and I guess they believed me. I looked upset enough, and” — he traces a finger over the curve of my ear and softly flicks the earring — “I may have shed some tears.”

  “I’m sorry,
Quinn.” I catch his hand, squeeze it hard. “It pretty much broke me in half to leave you. It just seemed like the best — the only thing, really — to do.”

  He kisses me on the lips with infinite tenderness. “Say you’ll never leave me again, Jinxy, promise it.”

  There’s a catch in my voice when I speak the words I know I have to. “You can’t stay with me, Quinn, it’s too dangerous. I’m on the most wanted list. They’re showing my freaking face on T.V. Sooner or later they’re bound to catch up with me.”

  “Sooner or later they’re bound to catch up with all of us. Until then, we’ll be together, every moment. Swear it.”

  I want to. I want nothing more than to stay beside him, for always. I’m tired of running away from the people I love.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Say the words,” he insists.

  “I swear that I, Jinx E. James, will never again leave you, Quinn O’Riley.”

  “Damn straight!” There is pure love in his eyes, and it fills my chest with joy and stitches my heart back together.

  We kiss to seal the deal.

  After a long moment, I surface, corral my thoughts, and ask, “So, what happened when Tallulah contacted you?”

  “I alerted the others who’d told me they also wanted out, and soon as Zonia and her crew weren’t looking, we bugged out and came straight here.”

  “Like there was no time to lose,” I say, smiling.

  But his face is suddenly dead serious. “There isn’t any time to lose. Jinxy, I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  It takes only five words to send me from elated to frenzied.

  “It’s Robin. They’ve got him.”

  Chapter 50

  Circles never end

  “Robin? Who’s got him? When?” I demand.

  “Two days ago. But the message only came in from Sofia last night.”

  “Sofia? What’s she got to do with it?”

  “He’s being held at ASTA, well, at the PlayState programming unit next door.”

  “He got caught hacking,” I say. It’s not a question. A part of me has been dreading this would happen ever since Robin told me of his new passion.

  “Yeah. He hacked into The Game — can you believe that? But it must’ve triggered some alarms.”

  “Or Zonia ratted him out,” I say bitterly.

  “Either way, they tracked him down and hauled him off.”

  Mom! She must be falling to pieces. And Robin — what are they doing to him, even now? My own knees are weak. I sink into one of the chairs, and Quinn takes the other, swings it to face me and holds my hands tight in his warm ones.

  “But not to the detention center?” I check.

  “No. Well, not yet. Seems they wanted the techies to interview him first, try to find out how he managed to get round their firewalls and break into the system, so they could figure out where and how to fix the weak spots in the security. Apparently they didn’t get much in the way of evidence off his machine, he’d wiped it clean or something.”

  Good. He must have taken precautions when he got my message, even though he continued to hack. Crazy!

  But two words of what Quinn said stick in my brain.

  “You said, ‘not yet’?”

  “Sofia says he’s scheduled for interrogation, because they want to know exactly what he saw and how much of it he understood. They plan on moving him to the interrogation center as soon as the coding geeks have gleaned what they can from him. Which,” he answers my unasked question, “will probably be in the next week.”

  “How does Sofia know about it?”

  “She saw the news when it came through on the intel system and realized it was your brother. She suggested to her commanding officer that a representative from the intel unit go sit in on the interviews with the hacker, to establish whether their own systems might be vulnerable, and she volunteered to be that person.”

  “She’s seen Robin, met with him?”

  “Yeah. She says he’s doing okay. So far, they’ve treated him well.”

  So far. “How did she contact you?”

  “It’s complicated. Point is, if we plan on rescuing him, it needs to be before they transfer him to the detention center, because once he’s there, it’ll be impossible to break him out. We’ve been told that they’ve beefed up the security majorly since we snatched Connor.”

  I nod. “You said them? Rescue them?”

  “Sofia wants out, too. She knows it’s only a matter of time before they discover her leak and unauthorized searches. It’s not safe for her to stay.”

  “Right. So … we’re going to go back to ASTA to break into the very place where I escaped from less than two months ago?” It seems to me that I’ve spent most of the last year running away — from home, from my job, from the truth, from ASTA, from Quinn.

  Now I’m running back, running to.

  “The irony hasn’t escaped me,” Quinn says with a wry smile. “And it’s going to be dangerous as all hell, Jinxy. There’s a good chance that we’ll get captured, or worse.”

  “In that case, I love you, Quinn, and I got in last.”

  He smiles, but says earnestly, “Are you sure you want in?”

  “Am I sure I want in on the mission to save Robin? Of course. Besides, you’ll need me to have even the slightest chance of success.”

  “No argument there. Can we leave now?”

  “Just give me a minute to grab a few things.”

  “You still have the rifle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bring it.”

  Oh, I’ll bring it, alright.

  I’ll bring all of me, my outrage and anger at ASTA, my determination to save Robin and protect Quinn, my steady hands, and my perfect aim with my weapon. They trained me, they deceived me, they pissed me off. They’ve looked for me, and now they’re going to get me.

  I’m back downstairs in minutes, my backpack on my shoulders, my rifle in my hands. Tallulah pulls me against her bosom for a goodbye hug.

  “Good luck, child. May the angels watch over you.”

  Amen to that — I’ll need all the luck and any heavenly assistance I can get.

  “Thank you, Tallulah. For everything.”

  Quinn is waiting at the open door. “Ready?” he asks with a wild grin, his pirate eyes sparkling in the faint light.

  With him on my side, with him at my side, I can go anywhere. I can do anything.

  I feel strong and tough. Roth was right about one thing, I’m not a little girl anymore. I am a rebel, armed and dangerous. They don’t rate me as weak or ineffectual or insignificant. If they want me so badly, if they’re so determined to capture me, then it must be because they fear me and want to control me.

  I’m a threat.

  My back straightens. No more running, then. It’s time to take the fight to them. It’s beyond time that I accept — hell, that I embrace — who I am. And who I am is strong, expertly skilled and resolutely determined.

  I sling my rifle over my shoulder and pull Quinn close to give him one last fierce kiss.

  “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  “Together,” he says. It’s not a question.

  He takes my hand firmly in his own, and I hold on tight.

  “Together.”

  — End of Book 2 —

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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  - Joanne Macgregor

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank all my wonderful beta-readers for their invaluable help and feedback, and express my special gratitude to James Bristow of Magnum Shooting Academy for his patient advice on weapons and shooting — any inaccuracies are on me!

  REBEL

  (Recoil Trilogy Book 3)

  OTHER YOUNG ADULT BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

  Scarred (2015)

  Recoil (2016)

  Refuse (2016)

  Fault Lines (2016, Protea)

  Rock Steady (2013, Protea)

  Turtle Walk (2011, Protea)

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  First published in 2016 by KDP

  Copyright 2016 Joanne Macgregor

  The right of Joanne Macgregor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  ISBN: 978-0-620-70293-5

  ISBN: 978-0-620-70294-2 (eBook)

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form of by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or be stored in any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission from the author.