Defiant (Battle Born Book 13)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “I heard that Jenna Fermont was among the wounded. How badly was she hurt?” Morgan looked at him expectantly. Had she learned that he had accompanied the wounded, or had she noticed his interest in Jenna?

  “She required regeneration, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

  Morgan nodded. “I’m glad. I think she could be a real asset, if we ever managed to land on the same side of a conflict.”

  Drex couldn’t quite summon a smile. The day had been too frustrating and he was still worried about Jenna.

  “So, are you ready to compare notes?” Morgan folded her hands on the tabletop and looked from Raylon to him, then back.

  “We’d love to, but we don’t have much to offer,” Raylon warned.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t either. Maybe we can piece together a better glimpse at the puzzle.”

  Raylon nodded, then explained, “The assailants arrived before us. That’s why they weren’t confronted at one of the doors.”

  “They were already inside?” Morgan’s arched brows scrunched together. “Did they have a room or were they wandering around the lobby for hours?”

  “One of the gunmen was romantically involved with the waitress assigned to the meeting rooms. She let them in through a backdoor half an hour before our first security sweep and told them to wait in the break room until her shift ended. She swears she had no idea they were involved with any sort of terrorist organization and was completely unaware of their plans for today. She also claims that they have only been dating for a couple of weeks, so she was likely targeted because of her position.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  She’d asked Raylon, but Drex answered. “She was telling the truth.” When Morgan responded with a challenging look, he added, “I’m really good at reading people and she was horrified by what they’d done.”

  “How far in advance was this location chosen?” Morgan asked.

  “About two weeks,” Raylon told her.

  “Around the same time this new man came into her life,” she mused.

  “Exactly.”

  Morgan’s bright blue gaze shifted back to Drex. “Just how good are you at reading people? Have you been through the transformation program?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not battle born.”

  “But he is empathic,” Raylon told her.

  Drex glared at Raylon. They didn’t know Morgan well enough to reveal his abilities. In fact, he wasn’t sure how Raylon knew. Sedrik must have told him.

  “She needs to know why we’re so sure of our facts, what few of them there are,” Raylon replied, clearly not regretting his decision.

  “Relax,” Morgan urged. “I work with empowered people all the time.”

  “Her mate is remarkably powerful,” Raylon added.

  Morgan chuckled. “No secret is safe with you, I see.”

  “Didn’t know Nazerel’s abilities were a secret,” Raylon countered, still unapologetic.

  More than ready to move on, Drex said, “That’s basically all we know.”

  “Well, it fits in well with what little we’ve been able to learn,” Morgan assured them. “As you probably guessed, the Resistance Force formed in L.A. in the aftermath of the disaster. Their leader calls himself, or herself, Abaddon.”

  “Is there some significance to the name?” Raylon asked.

  She nodded. “The name appears in the Bible as both a person and a place. According to Revelation, he’s Angel of the Abyss or Destroyer. Some even believe Abaddon is another name for Satan.”

  “Charming,” Drex grumbled. “Do you have any idea about his or her real identity?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. And the information we have on the Resistance Force is just as sketchy. They had a rapidly growing social media following until we shut them down. They claimed responsibility for a string of demonstrations and riots. They haven’t yet claimed responsibility for what happened today, but we all know they will.”

  “How are they communicating if you shut down their social media accounts?” Drex asked.

  “Snapchat or email, we’re not sure. They create false identities as fast as we expose them. They’re frustratingly sophisticated for a grassroots organization.” She took half a sheet of paper out of her pocket and passed it to Raylon. “This symbol is popping up all over the place. At first we thought it was a new twist on the anarchy symbol, but it appeared in several places on Abaddon’s website and social media pages. I’m pretty sure it’s a sort of logo for the Resistance Force.”

  Raylon looked at the image, then passed it to Drex. The red outline of an angel, wings spread, had been drawn across a black background. On the angel’s chest was a stylized A, dripping with blood.

  “Both the gunmen are dead, and the waitress was the only one who knew anything about them.” Raylon sighed, taking the paper back from Drex. “I’m not sure what more we can learn here.”

  Morgan pushed back from the table and stood. “If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Actually, there is. Can you assign a team to protect Jenna?” It felt wrong to allow someone else to protect his mate, but Jenna hadn’t yet accepted his claim. Besides, her resentment of all things Rodyte was obvious. “She’ll throw a fit if battle born guards start following her around, but she needs protection. At least until the negotiation is complete.”

  “How long will she be… Which ship is she on?”

  The men exchanged looks before Raylon admitted, “She’s on the Triumphant.”

  Curiosity creased Morgan’s brow as she heard the name. “I haven’t heard of that one. More battle born secrets?” Raylon just smiled, so she looked at Drex. “A security team will be waiting for Jenna when she returns.”

  “Thank you.”

  They thanked the hotel manager for the use of his office and released the battle born soldiers who had been maintaining the lockdown. The police officer overseeing the crime scene looked even more relieved than the manager to finally see them leave. Interacting with humans was becoming trickier every day.

  “I’m heading back to Lunar Nine,” Raylon told him as their shuttle prepared for departure from the rooftop helipad a short time later. “Can you update Sedrik, or would you prefer I do it.”

  “It’s no trouble. Jenna is on the Triumphant.”

  “Good luck with that. She doesn’t strike me as the type to give in without a fight.”

  Drex shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “Just makes the surrender that much sweeter.” Raylon’s only response was a soft chuckle, so Drex watched the city recede in the main viewscreen. The immediate crisis might have passed, but his biggest challenge was waiting for him in clinic three.

  * * * * *

  Jenna woke up slowly, her awareness returning gradually. The consuming pain that had driven her into the blackness was gone, but oppressive fatigue made even the slightest movement difficult. “Where am I?” She could hear movement to her right, so she knew she wasn’t alone.

  “You’re aboard the Triumphant.”

  She wasn’t surprised to find Drexel at her side. She had a faint memory of him flying across the conference table and shielding her with his body. His heroic impulse had just been half a minute too late. She’d been shot repeatedly in the chest. How was she still alive?

  “Your injuries required regeneration, so Sedrik brought you to one of his clinics.”

  Sedrik owned clinics? She couldn’t get her muddled mind to focus. No, Sedrik commanded ships, lots and lots of ships. The Triumphant must be a battle born spaceship.

  She opened her eyes, blinked away the glare, and looked around. The room was small and orderly, like a budget cabin on a cruise ship. But there were no medical devices and no one but Drex and her. “This isn’t a clinic.”

  He smiled and pushed to his feet. “There was some sort of malfunction that caused a bunch of injuries, so they moved you here about an hour ago. Dr. Mintell said you need to rest for at least a day before you even thin
k of returning to Earth. Your injuries have been repaired, but there were complications.”

  She’d known Rodyte technology was advanced, but cellular regeneration? She swallowed hard, feeling a bit less dazed. “What sort of complications?” unsure if her body still functioned properly, she slowly sat up.

  Without answering her question, he moved to a small compartment inset in the wall and “printed” a bottle of water. She knew from her stay on the Destroyer that the device was called a nutrition generator, or nutri-gen. “Are you thirsty?” He loosened the cap then handed her the bottle.

  “What, do you need another DNA sample?”

  He tilted his head, looking mildly contrite. “I already apologized for that.”

  She was thirsty, but she was also curious. Why had he avoided her question? “If all I need is rest, you don’t need to babysit me.” She took a long drink as she waited for his response.

  Rather than sit on the edge of the bed, as he’d done when she awakened, he dragged a chair over and sat beside the bed. “Everyone presumed you were human, so the regen unit was calibrated with those parameters. The misconception nearly killed you before Dr. Mintell figured out what was going on.”

  Jenna felt her face heat and her heart thudded erratically. She held the water bottle with both hands, allowing the coolness to soothe her. “My heritage is no one’s business but my mother and me.”

  His head tilted again as he studied her. She’d seen the assessing expression so many times she wanted to smack him. “Are you battle born?”

  “My mother is human, not Bilarrian.” She shuddered then took another drink of water. Just the idea of capturing an enemy female and forcing her to bear a child for the slim possibility of reintroducing magic into one’s bloodline was horrific. The war between Bilarri and Rodymia might have been raging off and on for centuries, but nothing excused such a barbaric practice.

  “It’s an honest mistake. The doctor didn’t go into detail. She was reluctant to tell me anything because we aren’t a bounded pair.”

  “My parents were lovers, not captor and captive. My mother was not a war bride.” With another shiver, she set the water bottle on the bedside shelf and tossed back the covers. Seeing her bare legs, she gasped. All she wore was an oversized undershirt. “Where are my clothes?”

  “They had to be removed for regeneration.” To his credit, his gaze remained on her face. “Besides your jacket and blouse were ruined and your pants were splattered with blood. I’m not sure they can be restored.”

  She whipped the bedding over her legs, then folded them in front of her. “I can’t stay in bed and I won’t parade around half-naked. Can you please find me something to wear?”

  “I put a pair of exercise pants and a clean shirt in the utility room.” He motioned toward a door across from the bed. “I figured you might need the facilities.”

  If he was waiting for a show, he was going to be disappointed. “I’m fine. Please go get them for me.”

  A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. She was about to repeat the request, without the “please”, when he stood and walked to the bathroom. Damn the man was handsome—and persistent. She’d never dealt with a man who was obsessed with her before. He was keeping his actions on the sane side of stalking, but his tenacity was unsettling.

  Humans were far more pragmatic when it came to relationships, or at least she had always been. Genetic compatibility and supernatural “pulls” were never a concern. She’d been drawn to her lovers by mutual interests and compatible personalities. Physical attraction always played a part, but external beauty was so fleeting and undependable.

  Drexel returned with a stack of neatly folded garments. “Shall I turn my back?”

  The challenge in his smile made her change her answer from yes to no. “I suspect you’ve seen plenty of naked females. We’re all basically equipped the same.” She accepted the stack of clothes. His fingers brushed over hers and tingles skittered up her arms.

  He returned to his chair, but turned his head as she slipped into the clean clothes. The shirt was huge, which would have been helpful if it wasn’t so clingy. The pants were gathered at the ankles and had a drawstring at the waist, so they more or less fit. Feeling a bit more secure while fully clothed, she settled on the bed and picked up the half-full water bottle.

  “Tell me about your father,” he coaxed as she settled on top of the covers. “What was he doing on Earth, or did they meet somewhere else?”

  She felt weak and shaky, but she wasn’t really sleepy. Clearly he wasn’t going to let her leave the cabin, so a conversation might be her only hope for a distraction. “Never met the man, don’t even know what he looks like.”

  “Do you know what he was doing on Earth?”

  She smiled at his misconception and stacked a couple of pillows behind her back. “He was born here.”

  That surprised him and his blue-ringed gaze narrowed. “He was Tandori?”

  She nodded. “He was born to the Fairfax county clan, but joined one of the wilderness communities when he was in his teens.” Tandori Tribe, a large group of Rodyte refugees, had settled on Earth hundreds of years ago to avoid participating in a war they didn’t support. Most clans blended with humans, but some avoided them entirely by living in secluded, often primitive, villages.

  “Tandori Tribe is militant about bloodlines,” Drex pointed out. “Did your father claim your mother once he realized they were compatible?”

  She tensed. Even after all these years the truth was abrasive and hard to admit. Maybe they should have watched a movie. She sighed. She’d introduced the conversation. It was only fair to indulge his curiosity. “He wanted to claim her, badly. But Mom wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life in a secluded commune, cut off from her family and friends. You see, my mother came from money, and life in the Tandori village was very different from the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. The contrast was fascinating for a while. In fact, that was a large part of what drew her to him. But the novelty wore off fast and she began to miss her real life.”

  “Humans feel threatened by anything they don’t understand. There is safety in seclusion.”

  Of course he would defend Tandori Tribe. He was pureblood Rodyte. Had he forgotten she was half human? “What my mother felt ‘threatened by’ was his overbearing attitude and deceitful ways.”

  “Rodyte males are often overbearing,” he admitted. “How was he deceitful?”

  She paused for a sip of water, needing a moment to order her thoughts. “She refused to bond with him, so he convinced one of their healers to give her an injection that made it possible for her to conceive without the mating bond. Only problem was, dear old dad told Mom the shot was a vaccine.”

  Drex sighed and glanced away, looking suitably guilty. “I’ve heard of such things. I agree, their use is deceitful.”

  “So Mom found herself knocked up and terrified. She wasn’t sure she wanted a baby, much less a half-alien baby. She begged him to take her home, but he refused. So she went to the village elders.”

  “Did they help her?” The hesitation in his tone told her he already knew the answer.

  “To a very small degree. They moved her into her own cottage, away from my father. As you said, they’re militant about bloodlines and she was carrying a Tandori baby. They told her the guards who followed her around were to ensure my father stayed away, but she knew better. They had no intention of letting her go.”

  He nodded, but compassion warmed his gaze. “Did you grow up in the village? What happened to your mother?”

  She shrugged, feeling anything but indifferent. “Staying there until after I was born made sense. Their healers were better equipped to deal with any prenatal complications than human doctors, so she just hung out.”

  “And after you were born?” An odd intensity smoldered in his dark eyes. He looked angry, but she didn’t understand his reaction. Who was the target of his ire, her mother or Tandori Tribe? />
  “She’d convinced one of her guards to help her escape. He felt sorry for her, and had never liked my father, so he was happy to assist her.”

  After a tense pause, he asked, “Did your father come after her?”

  “He tried, but she knew how to find the village. She threatened to bring the media, and all the government agencies that might be interested in an alien settlement, right to his front door. A few months later the guard left her a message explaining that my father had been killed in a hunting accident and the elders decided she was more trouble than she was worth.”

  “I’m sorry she was treated so badly by Tandori Tribe.”

  His sudden desire to distance himself from them irritated. A few minutes before, he’d been defending their way of life. “She intended to pretend none of it ever happened and rear me as human, but…” She looked away from his handsome face, unsure she wanted to share the rest.

  “Your abilities made it impossible?”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. Was he guessing? “What makes you think I have abilities?”

  “Most members of Tandori Tribe do. Besides, I can’t sense you and that only happens with other empaths.”

  “I’m surprised that happened. My empathy is minimal.”

  “What is your primary talent?”

  His tone and expression were so casual, so nonjudgmental, it felt natural to answer. “It’s a form of clairvoyance and I occasionally have prophetic impressions and dreams. The Tandori call me a Sensitive.”

  “I’m not familiar with the term.”

  It wasn’t surprising. Tandori Tribe was notoriously secretive. “When I touch someone, I perceive random thoughts and images. This can also happen when I enter a room or touch an object. I call them psychic echoes. I’m able to control it now, but it was terrifying when it first started.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.” She looked past him as memories tugged at her mind. She unscrewed the water bottle’s cap, then screwed it back on. “I was so scared. I honestly thought I was going crazy. Then Mom told me about my father and I thought she was crazy.” She shook her head and returned her gaze to him. “It took a summer at Stargazer Ranch before I believed what she’d told me. Rachel and her staff were wonderful, so patient and kind.”