by Brenna Lyons
*
Steven watched the play of emotions on Jonas’ face. He couldn’t see what was in the box, but whatever it was affected the DoPT operative deeply. The initial sadness dissolved into shock. Jonas closed the box and pressed it to his chest. A tear escaped down his cheek.
Steven cleared his throat. “What is it?”
Neither Jonas nor Markham answered him. Jonas didn’t seem to realize that he had spoken. Markham looked at Jonas nervously, as if waiting for him to snap.
“How?” Jonas rasped out. “Tell me how, Evan.”
The older man took a deep breath. “Let’s call it sabotage and leave it at that. You know how they—”
“They set me up? They did this to keep me on the rolls?”
Markham shrugged and reached his hands behind him. “They needed something you cared about.”
Jonas launched at him with a scream of rage. Markham pulled a small spray can from behind his back and unloaded it in Jonas’ face. He tossed the can away and caught Jonas smoothly as the larger man crumpled. Markham lowered him to the floor with a sigh.
“I’m not your enemy, Jonas, and I’m not your keeper anymore. You know who the enemy is, but to get to him, you have to play his game.” He checked Jonas’ pulse and glanced at his watch. “Four minutes fifty. I know what this is like for you.”
Keith shook his head. “What did you do to him?”
“Stun-spray.” Markham swore fluently and turned to Katie. “Mrs. Randall, I can’t— I know you don’t owe him anything, but you can do class seven controls, and I can’t. Could you force his breathing for him?”
Her eyes widened. “I thought stun-spray was benign.”
“It is. He—has a phobia.”
“And you sprayed him?”
“It was that or the pistol. He’ll recover from stun-spray a lot quicker than a bullet. He’s not wearing Kevlar silk tonight.”
Katie knelt at his head and started working on Jonas. “What phobia?”
Evan darkened and flicked a glance at Steven. “Restraints.”
Steven rubbed his chest at the memory. He looked at Jonas, remembering his reactions when he saw Evan and when he tried to say he’d walk away from Sarah if she asked. “He was in those damned training academies?” he demanded of Markham.
He nodded. “Six years. They offered him the chance to be emancipated at sixteen if he signed his contract. Who wouldn’t in his place? A keeper instead of iso? For Jonas, it was the best offer he had.”
Steven did some quick mental math. “He was already hunting when—”
“Yeah. Remember the cell of terrorists in Fort Lauderdale the day before the Supreme Court decision was announced?”
Steven nodded. “A single DoPT agent,” he quoted. “Jonas? Jonas killed fourteen terrorists?”
“Thirteen, all with three thousand series shields, and a renegade. The other renegade shot him in the chest. Jonas was wearing Kevlar silk, but it was a cop-killer bullet. He was seventeen.”
Steven rubbed his ribs with a grimace. “Why didn’t he get out of his contract after the ruling?”
“He was scared. His family turned him over at ten. He had no home to go to. He was an emancipated seventeen-year-old with nowhere to go, no prospects, and an associate’s degree from Clinton in a society that hated talents. You figure it out.”
“So, he stayed in.”
Markham scooped the box up and threw it to him. “Fourteen years ago, Jonas had nothing to get out for. He was safer in than out. Now he does have something, if your sister gives him the chance to make this right.”
Steven looked at the box in confusion.
Markham sighed. “He loves her. He’s always loved her. Take a look. Look inside and see what he’s lost. See what the stakes are.”
Steven opened the lid. He pulled out the ring and put it on his pinky finger. It was the ring he bought Sarah on their thirteenth birthday, a simulated emerald in a silver band. She’d worn it for half of her life. Steven had never seen Sarah without it.
He moved the peach knitted band aside. That was no doubt a piece of her favorite peach sweater. His eyes locked on the test strip at the bottom. That was what set Jonas off.
“Christ. Oh hell,” he whispered. Steven stumbled back until he collapsed in a chair.
“What is it?” his mother asked, calm in her concentration.
Steven looked to Markham for confirmation.
The older man nodded and answered for him. “She’s pregnant. She found out this afternoon.”
Keith groaned. “Sarah wouldn’t—”
Markham rubbed his neck. “Do you need to know the technical side, Dr. Randall?”
“Yes. I think I do.”
Markham flipped a red packet to him; his father examined, his brow furrowed.
Keith shrugged. “So? It’s a Trojan twenty-twenty. They’re the best on the market, nearly foolproof. If Sarah and Jonas were using these, there should have been no problem.”
“Unless they’re tampered with. Put some water in it.”
“What will I see?”
“Tiny droplets outside the reservoir tip. Not much, but if you spend more than a minute or two inside after climax, it’s enough. They weakened the Plastilyte with citric acid and replaced the spermicide with Hypoglide thirty. I imagine they did years of testing, finding the perfect balance to make them useless without making it obvious that they were useless.”
Keith’s face paled. “Hypoglide? But that—”
Markham grimaced. “Yeah. They educated me in its clinical uses.”
Steven shook his head. “Let me in on it.”
His father nodded. “Hypoglide thirty is used in fertility clinics to supercharge sperm and keep it alive long enough to find an egg. It helps men with a low sperm count or poor motility manage natural pregnancy. If they fixed these to let a few sperm out, the Hypoglide would keep them alive and moving long enough to do the job.”
Jonas made a sound halfway between a groan and a whimper.
Markham checked his watch. “Two minutes, Jonas. Hang on for me.”
“Why do this? If he loved her anyway, why arrange this?” Steven asked.
Markham squatted next to Jonas and checked his pulse, nodding his thanks to Katie. “Two reasons. The psych guys decided that a baby would give them forty-five percent more control over Jonas than Sarah alone.”
Keith ground his teeth in fury. “They said what?”
“Oh, yeah. You’ll love these guys, Dr. Randall. They said there was an eighty percent chance that Sarah wouldn’t abort before they nabbed her. They said there was a sixty percent higher probability that they would fall for each other if Jonas had to save her life, without any forewarning that it was coming, of course. Wanna know how they arranged that little treat?”
Steven’s stomach lurched. “The renegade.”
“What renegade?” Alex demanded.
Steven jumped. He had almost forgotten Alex was in the room. “The—mugger. Oh hell. That was their doing?”
Markham nodded. “Oh, yeah. Once Jonas cleaned the blood off his hands, he almost went and replenished it with Baker’s.”
Keith shook his head at Steven. “The mugger was a renegade, and Jonas killed him. You knew all of this and decided not to share?”
Steven felt his face darken and looked away. Seeking safer ground, he changed the subject. “What was the other reason for the baby?”
“Take a guess. Jonas is Alpha One, and Sarah is a Randall. You do the genetic number crunch on that one and see what it looks like to you.”
“Bastards.”
Steven startled at the sound of it coming from Katie’s mouth. He nodded in agreement. “What’s Jonas supposed to do?”
Markham cleared his throat. “Get you and your mother. Get as many of you as we can to help him take down a powerful renegade. We know Kyle will pass. Beyond that—”
Steven shook his head. “If it’s a renegade, what’s the problem? What are you so nervous about?”
Alex spoke up again. “What is he?”
“A former operative who found out something he shouldn’t have.”
“I’m out. I can’t do this.”
Steven snapped a look of disbelief at him. “Alex, this is Sarah we’re talking about. We don’t have to kill this guy, right?”
“I won’t turn an innocent man over to them.”
Evan cracked a smile. “You’re off the hook, Alex. The psych guys said you’re the least suited to this, anyway. We weren’t seriously looking to take you with us.”
Alex sighed in relief. “You still can’t hand an innocent man over to them.”
“Jonas will work out the details. They’re not going to let Sarah go either way. She’s the key to Jonas and to all of you. Our only chance is playing their game long enough to get to her.”
*
Jonas watched the briefing. Actually, he spent most of the time staring at his hands and listening to the sound of Baker’s voice, promising Sarah justice under his breath.
The pertinent facts filtered in. Griffin was a dead or alive assignment. Jonas wondered what Griffin knew to rate that. They were headed for Virginia Beach. That wasn’t a surprise. Griffin worked renegade con there before he was convinced to sign his contract.
Evan turned off the player.
Jonas looked at him in confusion. “That wasn’t the end. The marker didn’t flash. Why did you turn it off, Evan?”
He blushed. Evan never blushed. “It was private— For your eyes only. Baker’s way of rubbing it in and reminding you what the stakes are.”
“You watched it?”
“I had to know what I’m dealing with if you decide to watch it.”
“If?”
Evan looked ill. “Christ, Jonas. I wouldn’t suggest it.”
“Afraid you’ll have to stun-spray me again?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Jonas rubbed his temple, wincing at the dull ache settled in there. “I have to do this.”
Steven leaned toward the player to switch it back on.
Evan seized his wrist. “No way. You’re not seeing this one.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Which is exactly why you’re not watching it.”
Katie rose and pulled her son up with her. She motioned to Keith to follow them. “I get the feeling that this one is too personal. Let’s go.”
Steven shook his head, and a flurry of telepathic messages flew back and forth between mother and son. He nodded to Evan. “You get your way this time. Don’t expect it every time.”
Katie placed a hand on Jonas’ shoulder on their way to the stairs. “You don’t have to do this, Jonas.”
“I do. Believe me, I do. I have to know his game.”
She kissed his forehead and nodded before she left. Jonas touched the spot in surprise. His own mother had never treated him like that, at least not that he could remember. They were upstairs before Evan reached for the play button.
“Last chance to back out, Jonas. Nothing will be the same after this.”
“Show me.”
Evan pressed the play button and turned his back on the screen with a pained look.
Baker’s face appeared, gloating already. “Well Paige, it seems you’ve done your job perfectly.” He steepled his fingers in front of his face. “According to section ten subsection bravo of your contract, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that you complete your current assignment before discharge. At any time during that assignment, you may choose to withdraw your resignation with full reinstatement.”
Jonas gnashed his teeth. “Dream on.”
“I thought I’d leave you with some memories of this assignment. I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I have.”
Jonas felt the bile rising in his throat.
Evan asked his question hurriedly. “Are you sure? You don’t have to—”
“I have to know,” Jonas snapped at him.
A montage of images assaulted his mind. Sarah was pressed to her door the first time he kissed her. Snips he recognized from the first time they made love, Sarah against the wall in her kitchen, in her shower, on the cushions in her living room, months of sexual encounters flipped by, making him dizzy.
“That bastard watched us. Every time, he had us taped.”
Switch. Sarah stared into his face, her hands on his shoulders while Jonas was poised over her. “I love you, Jonas.”
Switch. Sarah sat in her living room with Steven, Jonas’ shirt clearly visible in the open neckline of her robe. “It’s my life, Steven. I need this, maybe forever. Please don’t mess this up for me.”
“Oh, Sarah.”
Switch. Jonas brushed her hair back from her face. “I love you, Sarah. I’ll always love you.”
Switch. Sarah flopped on the couch, dropping her chin to her chest as she reached for something on the coffee table. Her hand shook. She sobbed, dropping the test back on the table and curling into a ball on the couch.
“Oh, Christ. What do I do now?” She paled and put her head in her hands, groaning. “He won’t even believe it’s his.”
“I would have. Why didn’t I let you tell me?”
Switch. Sarah rushed up Arlington Avenue.
A man stepped into her path, smiling. “You have the time?”
Sarah shook her head and ducked around him, mumbling the beginnings of an answer.
Jonas’ eyes locked on the can of stun-spray. His hands fisted on the arms of the chair.
The spray hit her full in the face, and she recoiled.
“No.” He shook his head. “No. Not that.”
Sarah crumpled into the man’s arms, and he smiled his victory. As he swung her to his chest, his face was outlined in the light. It was Pendle. He passed her into a panel van.
Baker filled the screen. “That’s quite a woman, Paige. You got close. You got as close as I hoped you would. Getting close means someone can be used against you.”
He moved, and the camera followed him, pulling back to reveal Sarah, unconscious on a stretcher. Baker touched her cheek, and Jonas fought the tightness in his chest.
“Don’t worry. It’s just something to help her sleep. It won’t hurt her.” Baker caressed her stomach. “It won’t hurt the baby, either. You’ve naively given me everything I ever wanted, Paige.”
Evan tackled him, as Jonas launched out of his seat with a scream of pure fury. “No. Don’t destroy it,” he shouted over him.
On the screen, Baker looked at Sarah and laughed. “Your girlfriend and baby are waiting for you, Paige. Make the right choice for them.”
Jonas fisted his hands. The only right choice was getting her out of Baker’s hands. Killing that bastard would be icing on the cake.
Chapter Six
May 11th
Sarah felt the spike of pain in her head first, followed by the swirl of morning sickness. She swallowed the sour wave and tried to shift position but found she couldn’t move. She snapped her eyes open in a panic and pulled against the web bands holding her nearly immobile.
She reached out to Steven, desperate to touch his mind. Sarah couldn’t feel him or hear him. Even when his shield was fully up, she typically had a sense of his presence no matter how far away he was. She had nothing. She couldn’t find anything, no emotions. Sarah was always surrounded by emotions. Even shielding didn’t completely block them out.
She screamed, the sound echoing off the plain white walls and ceiling. Tears ran down her face as she fought the bands holding her down to the lightly padded surface beneath her. Where was she? How were they doing this to her?
They let her struggle for several minutes before a voice interrupted her. “Calm down.”
She tried to find the man whose voice she heard, but she couldn’t feel anyone or see anyone. She panted as she ran her eyes over the smooth walls. Was he on a speaker?
“That’s better.”
It was definitely a speaker. The voice came from
above her and to the back right. Tracking that voice gave her some measure of purpose to calm her mind. Sarah sniffed back her tears. There were people. She simply couldn’t feel them for some reason.
“The silent treatment?” the man asked, trying to prompt some response from her.
Sarah fought to keep her hands from shaking. “What is there to say? You’re not going to open the door and let me go home.”
His laughter wafted back to her, ethereal in the misty white around her. Was the lack of sensation making her other senses play tricks on her or was she still drugged? She couldn’t seem to tell which.
“Not the outside door. No. We need to understand each other, Sarah. You know how the academy runs. Unless you force us to, we won’t hurt you. You don’t like being restrained in the iso chamber, do you?”
“No.” That was it. She couldn’t feel anyone because she was trapped inside the psi wave. She calmed her heart rate. All she had to do was get outside the isolation chamber, and she’d be able to talk to Steven.
“If you promise not to cause any trouble, we’ll take the restraints off. Will you work with us?”
Sarah bit her lip. They thought she had offensive talents? Would it be better to admit that she didn’t and put them at ease or let them fear what she was so they’d keep their distance?
“Sarah, I’m not like other headmasters. I will have your word, and I will hold you to that word. That’s the way things run at Clinton. Do I have your word that you won’t cause trouble if the restraints come off?”
“Yes. You have my word. I won’t cause any trouble.” Let them worry.
The voice didn’t respond.
Sarah forced herself to take slow, even breaths. Her heart started pounding again. “Hello?” she called. “Hey, did you hear me? I said you had my word.” She bit back a sob. They were playing with her.
She started humming a tune to help her keep track of the time. That would only work for the first few songs, but it might be enough.
It was five minutes before she heard the click of metal and felt a rush of fresh air. Two men moved into her field of vision, watching her warily. Sarah swallowed a laugh when the first one turned his head. A silver disk was settled behind his ear. They were wearing industrial E-shields against her. One man removed her restraints while the other kept a can of the spray pointed at her.
