“Mari, what does he mean about your arm?” Keene said as I reached for the numbers that would put me inside the apartment with the sniper.
“Maybe next time you’ll come along and find out.” The reference to using our abilities together was kind of mean, but I kept my voice light because I wasn’t angry at him. Just in a lot of pain. It would be better to let Jace go for the third guy, but it’d take him too long to get out of this building and inside that one, and now that the pain from my wound had hit, I doubted I could take care of these two alone unless he secured them first, and that would also take time. Every second that passed meant a greater chance of the last sniper getting trigger happy and someone outside that school dying.
Keene was silent for several heartbeats and then, “We’ll talk about it later.”
I shifted, appearing inside a small apartment.
I’d calculated ten feet from the window where I hoped the man would be. I had more numbers prepared that would take me five feet to the left and other coordinates that would take me even further away. There was no need.
A woman, not a man, knelt by the open window. She peered into the scope of her rifle. The lines of her body were rigid, determined. The apartment looked like a home. Maybe hers. She must have come and gone a million times to this place, and if that was the case, not even Stella could have pegged her as someone unusual. She wore headband earmuffs over her long brown hair so she didn’t hear me shift in.
Replacing my knife in my arm sheath, I picked up the lamp from a table and shifted closer to the woman, slamming it down against her temple. It wasn’t elegant or pretty and there might be lasting damage, but it was efficient and I was feeling weak enough that it was all I could do. My left hand did have limits, and this was safer for the woman than my knives. I caught her as she fell, protecting her head from the wood floor. As I laid her down, I recognized her as the woman who fled after the bombing this morning at Patrick’s house.
A wave of hot pain flooded my arm and blackness nibbled at the periphery of my vision. “Keene,” I said. “We’re clear, but I’m not sure I can make it back there now. I need time.” I was a mess anyway. How could I step out of the bathroom at the school covered in blood and with my skirt ripped halfway up the side? And tomorrow I’d never be able to explain to the world how I, supposedly a mortal, healed from a gunshot wound overnight.
“You can’t stay there.”
“I may not have a choice.” I slid to the floor. I’d been in several serious conflicts, but so far I’d been lucky not to get shot. I never dreamed there could be so much pain concentrated in a single spot. I didn’t know how Ritter could continue to fight with multiple bullet wounds.
“Mari,” Keene’s voice was hard. “You need to get out of there now. Shift to the car. I’ll figure out an excuse for the Secret Service. When Patrick leaves the school and no shots come, their friends waiting for the diversion are going to know something’s up and will go searching for their people. Jace has his hands full. Cort’s on his way, but he won’t make it in time, and I have to stay with Patrick.”
“I’ll come in a bit. Give me a minute.” The pain made my thoughts hazy. I just wanted to lie on the ground next to the unconscious woman and sleep for a week or two.
“Shift to the limo now! You remember the location, right?”
That made me find enough strength for a snort. “Of course.”
“Do it now, or I will come and get you. Patrick be damned.”
That got my attention. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
“I have your location on my GPS. If that doesn’t change in five seconds, I’m coming for you.”
“Okay!” I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d traced me. We all had tracking chips inside us, which in our line of work came in handy more often than not. Usually, I liked knowing my new “family” could always find me.
“Well?” Keene asked.
Numbers flickered inside my head. I could see Keene’s dark green, and I wanted more than anything to shift to him and let him take it from there, but that would compromise Patrick. My fingers tightened around the woman’s rifle, just in case her friends made it here before Cort did. “I’m shift—”
“—ing.” I finished the word in my new location. But instead of the limo appearing around me, I found myself on the floor in another bathroom. A plush throw rug in front of the sink pillowed my head. It was huge as far as bathrooms were concerned, but I was sick to death of them.
“Mari, what are you doing?” Keene sounded angry now, his voice almost obscured by static.
“I don’t know.” I gave myself up to the darkness.
THE SHARP JAB OF A needle awoke me. Pain followed, just as stabbing and bright as the overhead lights. Keene knelt beside me, his lean face set. He pulled out the needle and inserted it again in another place and then another until all the liquid in the syringe was gone.
“That better be some kind of painkiller,” I muttered.
“Mixed with curequick.”
He put the needle aside and began cleaning my wound. Pain again rippled through me, but less now than before. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my lips.
Keene chuckled. “Well, at least you came back to the house. I wasn’t sure there for a minute until my GPS finally pinpointed your signal.”
I was still lying on the bathroom floor, but there was a real pillow under my head now. A puffy white quilt I recognized as having been on my bed covered all of me but the arm, which lay on several equally white towels. The sleeve of my suit was gone, and the jagged edges told me Keene had cut it with a knife. He finished cleaning, and somehow the thread for stitches was already in his hands. I was happy he’d shot me with painkiller, but my body would get rid of it fast, so I hoped he hurried. I’d heal without the stitches, of course, but they would help the process. The curequick would also increase my already rapid ability to heal by up to five times.
Keene’s hands were gentle, and for no reason at all I thought of how his hands had felt touching other places on my body earlier in his room. The door opened, scattering the thoughts, and Patrick slid inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Okay, I think we’re good,” Patrick said. “The Secret Service doesn’t really believe your story about Mari leaving the bathroom without being seen, but since she’s here and they believe nothing weird happened at the school, they’re letting it go. They did post a couple extra agents here in case there’s any more bombs.” He knelt down next to me, smoothing my hair from my face where it blocked my vision. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too. But really, there wasn’t much danger. I just moved a little too slow. Didn’t know getting shot was this bad.”
Patrick grimaced. “You never get used to it. When the Emporium had me, they used to shoot me just for fun. Then they’d fill me with their version of curequick so I’d recover faster and then do it all again.” He shuddered. “That experience is what made me volunteer to be the face of the Unbounded. We can’t let the Emporium win.”
“Too bad Hunters don’t realize we’re on their side,” I said. “What about Lucinda? She okay?”
“She came back a while ago. She’s downstairs in the kitchen now. The Secret Service agent who works with my cook is apparently out sick today, so Luce volunteered to help with what’s going to be our very late lunch.”
“Lucinda got past the reporters then.”
“Actually, there aren’t any. The Secret Service threatened to throw them in jail, so they finally left. But she came in through the garden anyway.”
We were silent as Keene finished his stitches and began bandaging my arm. Already the effect of the painkiller was fading. “You got a pill or two I can take?” I asked Keene.
He smiled. “Not so tough now, eh?”
I rolled my eyes. “Contrary to what Ritter or Jace believe, there’s no glory in suffering unnecessarily.”
“The pills are here, but I’ll grab a bottle of water from the bar in your s
itting room.” Keene gathered the supplies back into our industrial-sized first aid kit.
Patrick put his arm around me and helped me sit up. He kept holding me as Keene opened the door, but let his arm fall as Keene disappeared. “I love doing that,” Patrick said with a chuckle.
“Doing what?”
“Touching you.” He laughed again. “Every time I do, Keene bristles.”
“He does not.”
“He hides it well, but he does. I know I shouldn’t enjoy torturing him, but I hate how suspicious he is of Luce, so it’s kind of innocent payback. You don’t mind, do you?”
I snorted. “I didn’t even notice.”
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but if you don’t like him that way, you’d better let him know.” Patrick’s smile showed he knew that I did like Keene that way.
After the kiss in Keene’s bedroom this morning, Patrick was probably right. What I didn’t know was if it would be enough to help Keene overcome his fear of blowing me up. Because we couldn’t have much of a relationship if he refused to investigate his gift. If he wasn’t willing to use it in our battle against the Emporium.
Then again, maybe he would blow me up if he gave in to me. It was a risk I was willing to take.
“Anyway,” I said, returning to something Patrick said earlier, “he has a point about Luce. She wasn’t there when this bloodbath would have gone down today. She skipped out. Now maybe that was because she was afraid of the media, but she wouldn’t have been the focus of attention. It’s almost like she knew something was going to happen.”
“No way. Luce loves me.”
But the quick way he said it told me he’d already considered it, or maybe Keene had forced it down his throat on the drive back.
“She wasn’t there, Patrick. Do you believe in coincidence?”
His jaw jutted forward now, no trace of his usual smile. “I do because I know Luce. She’s been a good sport about all of this. Despite her apparent relief at having you here, it’s not easy for her to let another woman be my fiancée. To watch me kiss you on national TV.”
“We still have to be careful and keep an eye on her. And on anyone else here. That reminds me. What’s this about a secretary? Who’s that?”
Now the wide smile was back. “Uh, yeah. Well, I did have a secretary at one point, but now I do everything on the Internet or through email. I have one of those neural headsets and with that I can take care of every communication in less than an hour—and there are a lot of them. Takes me less time than it did to tell my secretary what to do.”
“That’s believable. I’ve seen Stella at work.” I rested my head against the cabinets behind me. “Who’d have figured that the most popular man in America right now does all his own appointments?”
“Most wanted man, you mean, and I’m not talking about those women.” Patrick stood as we heard footsteps approaching.
“Those Hunters do seem out to get you.”
Keene entered with a bottle of water, giving it to me with four pills. “Bottom’s up. This should hold you for a bit.” He leaned against the wall and stared down at me as I swallowed.
“We need to find out who’s behind this,” I said.
Keene folded his arms, looking thoughtful. “These aren’t the actions of typical Hunters, so I’d say they’re new ones, but I’d go so far to bet that they’re being funded by the Emporium. That rifle you brought back with you isn’t something even Hunters would have access to. Only the government or the Emporium would be able to get their hands on something like that in the first place, much less have them smuggled into the US.”
“So you’re saying the Emporium might want me dead, even though I’m working to get mortals to accept all Unbounded.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I think their goal is to breed distrust and chaos until they come out on top and supposedly rescue the world. Cort’s having Stella track the weapons Jace recovered. They’re also going to send the Hunters back to Ava so she and Erin can look into their minds, but the Emporium has been at this a long time, and if they’re using new Hunters, they may have covered their tracks. Until we hear from them, we need to sit tight and make sure no one gets to Patrick, even if we have to cancel his appearances.” Keene was looking at me, but I knew he was speaking to Patrick.
“No!” Patrick protested. “I’ve got a schedule. Public opinion swings on a dime. I need to stay on this.”
“Keene’s right,” I told Patrick. “So stop glaring at us and help us find the inside person.”
“What if there is no inside person?”
“The Hunters always know where you’ll be,” I said.
“Uh, excuse me, but the press knows too. It’s not a stretch to think this could all be coming from strangers who are watching my movements.” Patrick paced two steps toward the door and back again, his strides jerky, his face worried.
“That girl got into the White House,” Keene reminded him.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “A lot of people work there. No one got in here.”
“Not yet,” Keene said.
I was tired of both them and the conversation that was getting us nowhere. “I guess I’d better change.” I’d prefer a nice hot shower, but it was simpler to wait until later tonight when the arm would be mostly healed.
Patrick hurried to help me rise, drawing his arm around me protectively. He winked when Keene couldn’t see, and I pushed away from him. “Thanks, I’m okay.” Both men followed me into my connecting bedroom. The bedroom door was closed to the sitting room, so at least I didn’t have to worry about Lucinda or anyone else barging in.
“Wait,” I said to Patrick as he started to the door. “Does Lucinda know what happened? Or that I was shot?”
He shook his head. “She’s already nervous enough. I haven’t told her anything.”
“Good.” I exchanged a glance with Keene, who now wore a hint of a smile on his lips.
Yes, it’d be a lot easier finding out whether or not she was in on the sniper attempt if she wasn’t told what had happened. Anything she might drop would help us nail her.
Patrick continued blithely to the door, unheeding of our exchanged looks. Keene waited until he was gone to say, “What if it is her?”
“Things aren’t always what they seem. You know that.” I walked into the closet and scanned the array of clothing Lucinda had finished hanging for me. I wanted jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that would be easy to pull over the bandage. I should use a sling to aid the healing process, but a jacket with a pocket would have to do to both cover the bandage and support my arm.
I felt for the pocket of my suit to remove my phone with my good hand, but the phone wasn’t the only thing there. Nestled next to the phone was what felt like a piece of rubbery plastic. Withdrawing both items, I blinked curiously at the slice of fake bacon. I shook my head, a smile coming to my face. My little friend at the school must have left me a present.
Keene’s chuckle made me look up. His grin was wide and knowing, and suddenly I remembered him bending over to pluck something out of the toy basket at the school. “You stole this from the school?” I asked as his laugh deepened.
“I wouldn’t call it stealing exactly. More like borrowing. I’ll send them a better set, if it makes you feel better.”
I laughed with him, and the laughter eased all the ugliness of snipers ready to shoot school children dead on their own playground. Keene must have put the bacon in my pocket before I’d gone after the snipers. How, I wasn’t sure. Maybe when we’d been whispering together in the hallway. It was sweet and silly and romantic. I loved him for it.
Loved him? My thoughts froze there and couldn’t move on. After that horrible last day with Trevor, I’d believed I wouldn’t love any man again. Opening your heart that way made you too vulnerable. But that was before I’d known I was Unbounded, that I had a destiny to help save humanity. That there were men like Cort and Jace and Dimitri and Ritter and Patrick who risked their lives an
d their own happiness to save people they didn’t know.
“Thanks,” I managed. Still holding the bacon and my phone, I awkwardly started unbuttoning my suit jacket.
“Need help?” Keene’s smile became teasing.
“Actually, yes.” There was no way I was going to be able to buckle those jeans or put on my shirt alone. I pulled a white blouse from the rack and tossed it at him.
“Okay then.” Did he suddenly sound nervous?
Unbounded generally didn’t think much of dressing in front of their comrades. Centuries of life and continuous ops where we had to sleep, eat, and dress in close quarters made nakedness lose its power. But I had only Changed four months ago, and while Keene had grown up inside the Emporium, three and a half decades did not equal centuries of experience. My heartbeat amplified as he stepped closer.
“Let your arms drop to your side and backwards a bit. Can your bad arm do that?”
Not comfortably, but I did it anyway. He eased my ruined jacket over my wound and the knives strapped to my wrists and let it slip to the floor. I wasn’t sure whether I should be relieved or offended that he kept his gaze averted from the lacy, hot pink bra that I’d worn more in protest to the boring blah blue of that suit than because of its usefulness. Then he leaned closer, his chin brushing my cheek as he put the blouse behind me and lifted the short sleeves over my extended arms, pulling the material together in front. My heart banged against my chest. He began buttoning the blouse, and now his eyes were forced to graze the swell of my breasts. My heart pounded more furiously. Leaving the last three buttons undone, his gaze slid slowly up to meet mine, like silk over my bare skin. Heat rushed between us. Numbers appeared in my head, more brilliant for the energy escaping from him.
“So, what about the skirt?” His voice sounded like gravel, as his eyes dipped to rest on my parted lips.
Lethal Engagement Page 10
