by Angel Lawson
Chapter Twenty-Two
Draco
The trail pounds under his feet, dark soil with crumbling rocks. The higher he goes, the steeper the incline, the better chance to feel his calves burn. He climbs and climbs, keeping a jog the whole time, easily balancing on the rocky terrain.
There’s no maxing out athletically for Draco. He learned that at fifteen when he freaked out every man in the gym, adding weight after weight to the bar. Eventually he faked being worn out, wobbling his arms with false fatigue, realizing he’d gone too far. Exposed way too much. Emma tucked him onto a plane the following day with explicit instructions never to reveal himself like that again.
Since then, he’s trained on his own. It’s not about gaining speed or strength. He was born with that and given a boost by Project 12 to amplify what was already there. No, rather, he runs, lifts, climbs, races, and puts himself through the ringer every day to keep himself sane.
And after that encounter with Astrid the night before, he needs to clear his mind more than ever. At the very top of the hill he stops and strips off his long-sleeved shirt and looks out over Crescent City, skimming the horizon toward the harbor. It’s beautiful from up here but it doesn’t take his mind off of Astrid like he’d wanted. No, it simply gave him more time to think about her.
The woman has obliterated his world, his values, and everything he thought he knew about himself. She’s unconventional, strong, dedicated, and absolutely the hottest woman he’s ever encountered. Draco can barely reconcile the little girl with the tight hats and gloves from the group home with the sexy woman. Every day his urges grow stronger, and his resolve weakens.
And that kiss.
Goddamn, that kiss. He runs his hand over his sweaty face. He can still feel the heat of her lips against his and his groin tightens, again.
He’s been in a constant state of semi-erection for twelve hours now.
He wasn’t lying when he told her he wouldn’t share. He also meant it when he asked about her being a sex object for the other men. The thought of her being used brought out a primal, furious rage. But when she peeled back his shield and he got a good look at what was in her heart, he understood. She’s in control of this situation. She’s in control of herself—something she no doubt learned over the years of handling her gift. His doubt of her was the offense.
He should probably apologize again about the sex object statement. The sharing thing? Well, he’s still coming to terms with that idea.
The vibration on his watch tells him it’s time to get moving. He’s got an appointment to go see Demetria later today and a stack of WIND-E paperwork to go through. He already misses the idea of patrolling the city with the team, and the part of his brain he listens to—the one accentuated by his gifts—tells him they shouldn’t stray too far from their mission. Sometimes the bad guys need something a little bigger to stop them, and Draco’s not sure the Task Force is up to the job.
*
Showered, dressed, and lingering over his home office desk for the files he needs, Draco hears the screen behind him ding, and he turns to face Casper. The cyber hacker looks like he’s been up all night. He knows he didn’t appreciate being excluded the night before, but that’s a consequence of his situation.
“Hey,” Draco says, picking up the files. “What’s going on?”
“Ass-deep in the dark web.”
“Thought we agreed to back off of that.”
“I didn’t agree to shit. Astrid had to make her choice, but it’s been made perfectly clear I’m on the fringe of the group. They only call me when they need me.”
Draco sighs and sits on the edge of the desk. “I’m not sure that’s a fair comment.”
“It doesn’t have to be fair. It’s true.”
“Casper, you won’t leave the bunker. The rest of us are living our lives out here and we want you to be part of it.”
“You know that’s not possible.”
“I don’t know that. What I do know is that you’re stubborn and scared.”
He laughs. “Pot meet kettle.”
Draco raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“I know what’s going on between you and Astrid. I hear things—catch vibes—even from my limited distance. She wants you and you definitely want her, but you’re too scared to meet on her terms.”
Once again, Casper drops a truth bomb. How does the little bastard do it?
Draco crosses his arms and says, “Then how do we change that? I mean, we’re strong, genetically superior beings. You’re wicked smart and I’m, well,” he waves his hands down his body. No need to be modest. “How did this one woman get us so tied up?”
Casper thinks about it for a second. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe she’s supposed to tie us up to make us better.”
Draco already know this is true. He’s felt it, but it requires a buy-in from him that he has to be willing to give. He stares at Casper for so long that the guy says, “What are you looking at?”
“You’re onto something—about both of us. It’s time for us to push aside our fears.”
“And then what?” There’s no mistaking the nerves in his automated voice.
“Then maybe we’ll fill that hole in our chest that’s been there since we were kids.”
Draco takes one last look at Casper before leaving the office, but there’s no doubt the hacker knows exactly what he’s talking about, and they both know it’s time to fix it or lose out on the opportunity of their lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Astrid
“Have you seen Luby?” Astrid asks Mick as she walks up to the gym’s main desk. It’s been two days since the kid showed up to work. She’s aware he has to look after his grandmother, but whenever he’s missed before, he’s at least texted.
“Nope. No calls. I even checked the email.”
She snorts. “You know he’s not going to email.”
“Maybe he left us a tag on the 6th Street bridge?”
She raises an eyebrow. Maybe. Part of her worry is being off the streets. Her team decided to cut off all information including the scanner, news, and other details. She’s sure Casper is still tracking stuff, but he’s not saying anything. But being out of the loop is making her anxious.
She heads to the back office and grabs her jacket. Owen sits at the desk, going over footage of his training today. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
He narrows his eyes. “What kind of walk?”
“The I-need-some-fresh-air kind of walk. Is that a problem?” She pulls a hat over her head, covering her ears.
“I’ll go with you. I really should stretch my legs after that session today.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he agrees, sliding his arms into his own coat. He pulls a black beanie over his blond hair. “But spending time with you is never a chore. Come on.”
She feels the worry on him, but it’s tempered with confusion. She’s not trying to go out in her suit, which means she’s not breaking their agreement, but he also can sense she’s got ulterior motives.
He follows her out the back door and into the street. Fall is in full swing, Halloween just a few weeks away. The thought makes her say, “I’m really glad Demetria is locked up for Halloween. Can you imagine?”
He shakes his head and the grimace on his face is too real. “Total nightmare.”
“Too bad our alternative bad guy is a terrorist.”
“It’s killing you not to help, isn’t it?” he asks.
She walks through the iron gates into the park. “It’s not bothering you?”
“I don’t like being forced onto the sidelines, but things were getting a little intense. If Jensen and his team want to tackle this with better resources, I’m okay with that.”
She doesn’t want to admit he’s right. They don’t have the resources, other than Casper, to track or stop a terrorist.
“What I don’t like,” she says, passing the
gazebo in the middle of the park. A pole with community events tacked to the side is next to it. A poster for the soccer match hangs in the middle. It’s in three days. “Is that no one has called off the game. Why would they put so many people in danger?”
“Maybe it’s more complicated than that. Maybe they’re trying to trap the guy, or they’ve already caught him.”
She grunts, not liking it one bit, but she agreed to this and she has to accept it. Nudging him toward the eastern path, they exit the park a few blocks away from the Swamp.
“Where are we really headed?” Owen asks. They’re not too far from his house.
“I’m worried about Luby.”
He nods. “I noticed he wasn’t around.”
Astrid feels self-conscious without her suit, but she’s also out of place in the neighborhood in her regular clothes. What’s a girl like her doing roaming around this part of town? They get a few glances from kids hanging out on the street corners and twice Owen tosses up a shield, hiding them from Task Force patrols.
“How are we going in?” Owen asks when they reach the front gate of the housing project. The “guards” checking people in and out of the apartment are really just drug runners controlling the flow of visitors.
“Usually I go over the back wall. But I’m wearing a disguise.”
He glances over at the guards. “I still think the back wall may be the right way to go in.”
Agreeing, Astrid leads him around the back. She finds the spot she’s used before; grooves in the stone wall make perfect foot holds. Her gloves don’t have the rubber grips but her upper body strength is enough to get her to the top. Just as she’s cleared the top she pulls back, almost toppling.
“Shit,” she says, holding on to the edge.
“What?”
“There’s barbed wire up here. It’s new.”
“What’s that for?” Owen asks from down below. “To keep people in or out?”
“Hell if I know.” There’s no way for her to get over like this—not in regular clothing. The fabric on her suit could resist the barbs but not the cotton pants she’s wearing right now. She’d shred her legs. Turning around, she looks down at Owen, who is no longer looking at her. He tosses up a hand, a move she’s come to know for shielding, and she steadies herself. Even Owen’s shield won’t help if she falls.
She hears the heavy boots the Task Force members wear. Two voices bounce off the stone wall. One male, one female.
“Not sure I get why we have to patrol this community? Other than the petty bullshit that goes on down here, there’s nothing major going on.”
“I agree that it seems like a waste of skills,” the other voice replies. Astrid recognizes the female. One of her recruits. “But the mayor wants this area contained and for us to keep an eye out for the vigilantes. He’s convinced some of their intel comes from sympathizers in the complex.”
“Is that why they beat down on that kid the other night?” the male asks.
Astrid straightens. Beat down? Below, Owen flattens himself against the wall.
“He was involved in the property damage with Kincade. She helped get him out.”
“How do you know that?”
“That’s just what I was told. He was compromised. It’s not a surprise they eliminated him.”
Fear seizes Astrid.
“They killed him?” the guy asks.
“No, but he’s in the hospital. I doubt he’ll rub elbows with them again.”
The two guards keep walking and once they’re around the corner, Astrid drops down and lands next to Owen with a soft thud. He glances at her. “I’m sure you heard that.”
“Yep.” She’s already walking off.
“You think they’re talking about Luby?”
“Yes.” Her fists ball in rage and she picks up her pace. The hospital is three miles away. She reaches for her com, realizing she doesn’t have one. Dammit. “This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I reached out to him. More than once. I also backed off when I shouldn’t have. The Task Force doesn’t care about these people. They’re just lackeys for the mayor and whatever his stupid agenda is.”
“What is his agenda?” Owen asks, hand on her arm.
“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine Jensen is behind harming kids from the Swamp. After we check on Luby, I’m going to find out.”
*
The strong scent of antiseptic stings Astrid’s nostrils and she steadies herself.
“I know,” Owen says before she can speak. “I don’t like doctors or hospitals or needles either.”
Project 12 made that impossible.
Astrid did get ahold of Casper via phone and he got her everything she needed from the hospital. Luby didn’t need anyone knowing they’d come to check on him. Not the nurses or doctors. Especially not the mayor, who seems to have a long reach.
Using Casper’s directions, they find Luby’s room quickly. He’s propped in a bed, his pale face bruised. He turns when she walks in but there’s not much of a reaction.
“Hey,” she says, approaching the bed. His arm is in a cast. His left arm, thankfully. He paints with his right. “We got here as soon as we found out. Mick and Quinn will be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”
The kid winces when he swallows. “I think I’ve already talked too much. You probably should go.”
His eye is swollen shut. Whoever got him did a number on him. “This was about me? How?”
“Not about you, but my ‘hood doesn’t take to snitches lightly. Apparently, the wrong people found out about my relationship with Echo. They started following me back and forth to work. Your man Rowe must have seen me that day you made a fool of him in the gym.”
She reaches for his hand but Owen holds her back. He’s right. Luby trembles with fear and rage. His pain radiates above everything else.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sure Echo is, too. She never wanted people to get hurt like this.”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing at the blank TV hanging on the wall. “That’s the Swamp. They keep you down. There’s no getting out. Ask my grandma. Ask my ma. They lived there their entire lives, working to escape. There is no escape,” he says, “other than in the back of a police car or an ambulance.”
“Man, don’t think that,” Owen says. “This is a shitty situation, but you’re smart and talented.”
Tears brim in Luby’s eyes. Owen’s assurances do nothing to make him feel better. A wave of dark, depressing emotions crash into Astrid and she grabs onto Owen’s arm to stay upright.
“Where’s your grandmother?” she asks.
“Took her away. Some old folks’ home or something. They won’t tell me.”
“We’ll find out, okay?”
“Don’t,” he says. His dark eyes meet hers. They’re pleading. “Stay away from me and my family. Help from outsiders only causes more trouble.”
“Okay,” Astrid reluctantly agrees. “I understand, but be careful, and if you need me, you know where to find me.”
He turns his eyes back to the TV and clicks it on with the remote. The sound of cartoons fills the room. There’s nothing left to say and whatever she could, he’s not going to listen. They step into the hallway.
“I’m going to kill him,” she says, once the door is closed.
“Who?”
“Rowe,” she replies through clenched teeth. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’m taking that bastard down.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Astrid
The gas station only has one car at the pumps, an older gray Honda. The driver is a teenage girl and Astrid passes by her to park near the dumpster. Jensen’s black SUV idles in the spot next to hers. She gets out of her car and gets into his.
“Why the cloak and dagger?” he asks.
“Because I don’t trust your men and I don’t want to be seen with you at the agency.”
A line creases his forehead. “Did something happen?”
“Luby was attacked. He’s in the hospital. He says Rowe did it in retaliation for working with Echo and the Elites.”
The anguish on his face is indescribable. “I’ll deal with it.”
Unacceptable. “I was told backing away from the Swamp would make people safer, but that was a lie. Rowe is out of control and if you don’t manage him, I will.”
Jensen reaches across the center console and grabs my arm. “No. Before, I gave you a chance. Now? I’m insisting. Stay out of it, Astrid.”
She looks at where his hand touches her skin. It’s not palm-to-palm but she can sense his emotions. He’s terrified. Angry. “I will not let him hurt people.”
“It’s under control.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also not the truth. There’s something more brimming under Jensen’s surface.
“Hell no it isn’t. You need my help.”
“Astrid,” he says. She’s never seen him so flustered. “This is bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. But do not fuck it up. Walk away. I can’t protect you from what’s coming.”
“The terrorists?”
His eyes tell her there’s more. So much more.
And that’s when the trigger flips.
Her reflexes are fast and she grabs his hand, doing something she never had the guts to do before. She pushes past that first blast of fear to the top layer.
Rowe, the mayor, Kincade, Blaze. Jensen met with them all.
Blaze? How? Why? She grinds her teeth, fighting the betrayal, and digs deeper, past the mundane, to the buried truth. She rocks back when she finds it.
White house with a wide porch. Black SUV. Little faces. Blonde hair. Hats, coats. Kitty cat. Needles. Tests. Fire.
She takes his hand in both of hers, holding on as he tries to twist away.
“You were there,” she says, the images flooding her brain. The doctor that pricked her skin. Atticus, young and in a suit. Holden. Emma. Faces flash before her. Less gray hair. Fewer lines on their faces. Feeling the heat of the explosion. She recoils, yanking her hands away. “You knew everything.”
He looks helpless. Lost. The whole charade of their lives is crumbling. “You’re not my friend. You’re one of them.”
