Death in Time

by Robyn Nyx

  Jackson grinned. “I didn’t blame you for being wary of me. It could just as easily have been one of Delaney’s plans to get you to give up your time stick thing without letting Simson hurt you…more.”

  Jackson’s words once again reminded her that Delaney hadn’t let her rabid dog loose. She’d been playing for time, clearly hoping that something other than Simson’s action would force Landry to give her the PRU. It was another sliver of hope that Delaney could still be redeemed.

  “How come you know so much about how Delaney was thinking?”

  “Army training in behavioral sciences. I was already pretty good at reading people and that made me better at it. When I went with Delaney to scope out where Kelly was holding Muniz, I put it to her that she was struggling with what she was having to do to get what she wanted.” Jackson shrugged like it was nothing. “She didn’t deny it. Changed the subject, but didn’t tell me I couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “That was the conversation that blew your cover. Up to that point, you’d played your role as a cocksure gunslinger for hire without a care in the world. You showed too much depth.”

  Jackson dropped her head back and groaned. “You’re right, of course. That was a novice move.”

  Landry leaned forward. She could feel Jackson was going to be a quick study. “What did you do?”

  Jackson smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. “I underestimated her.”

  Landry nodded, smiling at the way Jackson admonished herself. Being super critical of her own performance was essential extractor behavior. “Exactly, kid. You were insightful enough to see Delaney’s vision was clouded and you made the right decision to try to exploit that. But you equated it with a loss of sharpness and you were too eager—”

  “I didn’t think it through. I lost sight of my cover and let the mask slip.”

  “Was this your first gig undercover?” Landry was relieved when she nodded. Jackson had good instincts, but they needed to be refined. It seemed she was receptive to the process though, and the insistent hum Landry felt through the whole of her being while they were talking told her she wanted Jackson to be good enough to come home with her, perhaps even more than Jackson wanted it herself. As long as Jackson does want to come with us.

  Chapter Twenty

  Brooke liked the way Donovan took her aside. It reminded her of all the times she’d sit beside her dad, breathing in his every word as if they were her oxygen. It bummed her out that she’d made what could have been a fatal mistake with Delaney and hoped it hadn’t ruined any chance she might have of going to the future with them. Donovan was unbelievably calm and measured. Brooke would bet a month’s pay that Donovan’s pulse never went above sixty.

  “Jesus.”

  Makenzie’s exclamation piqued Donovan’s interest in Delaney’s conversation, and they went back to the surveillance station.

  “What?”

  “Sounds like Delaney broke Simson’s face on the table.” Makenzie laughed.

  “Wouldn’t hurt for her to get some of her own medicine.” Brooke didn’t really know Simson, but she knew she wore her sadism like a badge of intent. “Was she like that at Pulsus?”

  Landry nodded and slapped Makenzie on the back. “Yeah, but some of the recruits gave back more than she could give, eh, Mason?”

  Really?

  “You look surprised, poker face,” Makenzie said, clearly unimpressed with whatever expression Brooke had made.

  “Uh, me…no. Why would you think that?”

  “Because your jaw just hit the floor,” Donovan replied in Makenzie’s stead. She lifted Makenzie’s arm and squeezed her bicep. “She’s stronger than she looks, but if you don’t believe me, why don’t you challenge her to an arm wrestle?”

  Before Brooke could answer with a witty retort she hadn’t yet thought of, Donovan held her finger to her lips and tuned back in to Delaney’s conversation.

  “I want you to make him a jacket with the C4 you’ve got left,” Delaney said.

  “What kind of detonator? Remote, I hope.”

  “Remote and a body trigger. No matter what happens, Jenkin isn’t getting her hands on Muniz.”

  Makenzie and Donovan shared another secret glance at each other. They were getting to be infuriating. “What? Why is that important?”

  Donovan shook her head. “Sh.”

  “Fuck, Delaney. We’re going all in?”

  “We are. Unless we succeed in securing Jenkin and Elena, our future is fucked, and Donovan will come back to retrieve us anyway.”

  “And we’re back to the problem that everything we do from now might be a fat-ass waste of time.”

  “And it could just as easily be our ticket to taking control of Pulsus. If it pays off, Donovan won’t be coming back because she’ll be under our control…or maybe we won’t even recruit her in the first place.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Simson replied.

  The room went quiet, and neither Donovan nor Makenzie spoke for what felt like an age. Brooke didn’t fully understand the mechanics of the future and time travel, but surely they knew what Delaney had done in their past.

  “We have to go in tonight. As soon as they go dark.”

  Donovan spoke with an urgency Brooke wasn’t expecting. “Because of the suicide vest?”

  Donovan and Makenzie nodded in unison. “We can’t risk waiting in case they suit Muniz up for the journey. They need him docile and compliant. Ten pounds of C4 connected to a remote detonator will do that to anyone.”

  Donovan grabbed the legal pad on the table and began to sketch the layout of the building. It was remarkably accurate and to scale given that Donovan had been dragged into the place half-conscious and had left in such a hurry.

  “Jackson, mark on here where Delaney and Simson usually hunker down for the night.”

  Brooke took the pen, did as she was told, and pushed the paper back to Donovan.

  She studied the drawing for a moment. “It’s likely that Delaney will have Muniz close by, but not close enough so that he might overhear any conversation between her and Simson.”

  “And not between them and the main exit. Is there another exit, Jackson?”

  Brooke tried not to focus on the way Makenzie made her name sound. She was used to being called by her last name, and it seemed natural for Donovan to do that, but for some reason, she thought Makenzie would use her first name. Stupid. She was obviously just as much of a soldier as Donovan was. Regardless, Brooke liked the way Makenzie said it.

  Brooke picked up the pen again and added the emergency exit stairs Donovan had missed. “There’s a locked door on the west of the building which accesses these stairs. It’s secured by a combination padlock that I could easily crack.” And no doubt so could you two. She needed to dial down her eagerness.

  “Okay. Mason and I will use the main entrance. Jackson, you come through the west side, seek out Muniz, and get the hell out of there, no matter what’s happening.”

  “You’re kidding, right? What if you need my help?” Brooke regretted the words as soon as her brain had formed them, let alone before her voice box gave them audibility and her stupid mouth had released them. Like Donovan can’t handle Simson. Donovan raised her eyebrows, and Brooke saw her jaw clench, maybe indicating her irritation. “Sorry. You didn’t hear that. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  Makenzie looked at her with obvious amusement, like Brooke was an adolescent bird trying to pull a stubborn worm from the ground. Brooke tried to look suitably chided to save Donovan from the trouble.

  “Muniz is the most important part of this mission, Jackson. I can’t risk him being caught in anything or used as a hostage. Do you understand?”

  Brooke nodded, thankful Donovan seemed to be allowing her some slack. “When I’ve got him to safety, do you want me to come back?”

  “No. Bring him back to the truck and wait for us to join you.”

  Brooke wanted to believe this would be easy and that Donovan and Makenzie woul
d have no trouble taking down Delaney and Simson. But what if there were complications? What use was Muniz without Donovan to take him to safety? “Are you taking Muniz somewhere safe to continue his research?” Brooke didn’t miss another look that she couldn’t interpret between Donovan and Makenzie. “If it’s ‘need-to-know-classified,’ I understand. It’s just…if anything goes wrong, what do I do with him?”

  Donovan pulled out a folded piece of paper from her jeans pocket and handed it to Brooke. “Take my truck and haul ass to DC to the address on there. Tell them everything I’ve told you, including the original failed mission. There’s a couple of things on there that only I could know about.”

  Brooke began to open it, but Donovan reached out and stopped her.

  “No need. It’s only for an emergency.”

  “Sure.” Brooke unzipped a pocket in her leather jacket and locked it away while Donovan watched.

  She turned her attention back to the sketch. “Mason, you take Simson down, and I’ll take Delaney. We all take guns but avoid using them unless absolutely necessary. We don’t want the police answering a ‘shots fired in the vicinity’ call complicating things.”

  “Seriously?”

  It took a moment before Brooke realized Makenzie’s question was directed at her. She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking pretty pissed off and staring directly at Brooke.

  Damn, you’re sexy when you’re mad. “What have I done now?”

  “How about the look of incredulity that you just had plastered all over your face when the chief said I was taking down Simson?”

  That’s a big chip on your shoulder was what Brooke wanted to say, but instead she went with, “I’m pretty sure that’s not what my face did. I get it. You’re tough as nails, and some people are stupid enough not to take your word for it. But if Donovan says it’s true, I’m not questioning it.” She held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry for my face.” She gave her best cheeky, you-can’t-be-mad-at-this-face grin and felt her body relax when Makenzie broke into a smile. Donovan offered a quick nod as if to say “Well handled.”

  Donovan resumed the planning. “We’ll bring them out, get back to the PRU, and head home.” She sighed, but it seemed heavy and labored. “Easy.”

  “You’re taking him to the future? Are you allowed to do that?” Once again, she wanted to retract her words and crush them before they reached Donovan’s ears. Allowed? Am I back at college?

  Donovan ran her hand through her hair and rolled her neck. The way too loud crack made Brooke queasy.

  “Yeah. We’re allowed.”

  There was amusement in her voice, and Makenzie winked at her. She may as well have said, Aw, bless your heart in a Southern accent. She let it go and let the cogs whir instead. If they were taking Muniz back, there was no reason why they wouldn’t be able to take Brooke back too. As long as I prove myself.

  “I need to pee,” she said and walked away. Makenzie obviously thought she was dumb as a box of rocks, but something about the way Donovan was interacting with her made her think she still had a chance of convincing them to take her back.

  She pulled down her jeans and sat on the toilet. She patted the pocket where she’d stored Donovan’s secret piece of paper and bit the inside of her lip. She said it was for an emergency. Brooke slowly opened her pocket and retrieved it. She flipped the folded piece of paper over and over between her fingers, wondering what Donovan had written on it that was just for her mom. This could be part of the test. She put it back in her pocket. I don’t even know if any of this is a test. Out it came again, and this time she used both hands to smooth the hard creases. She realized she wasn’t peeing, possibly because she was thinking of disobeying an order. It wasn’t really an order. She slipped the tempting letter away and concentrated on emptying her bladder instead.

  Damn it. She tugged it out again and it caught on the teeth of her zipper, tearing it slightly. She carefully opened it and scanned past the address. Donovan’s writing was a readable black scrawl:

  I know about Dad and what he did in the Fall War. I know what he did to you. I’m sorry I keep running away. I promise I stop running in 2076. And keep up the hard work with Jenkin—she’s about to invent time travel, and you’re going to invent regenerative technology. I love you.

  Brooke leaned back against the cistern and sighed. Crap. She felt like she’d just read an extract from Donovan’s personal diary. Three solid knocks on the stall door nearly rattled it from its hinges and prompted a more substantial toilet entry from Brooke. She swallowed what must have been her heart from the shock and answered, “What?”

  “Do you have any supplies hidden away in this place? We’re starving and thirsty.”

  Makenzie. Brooke quickly hid the paper away, cleaned herself up, and opened the door. “You couldn’t have waited until I got back?”

  Makenzie leaned nonchalantly against the metal sinks, locked Brooke into her gaze, and shook her head. “Nope. If I want something, I want it right now.”

  Brooke bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying…anything. Makenzie might look like a sweet, blond all-American cheerleader type, but she had an edge sharp enough to draw blood. Brooke’s attraction to Makenzie was undeniable, but she could control it…for now.

  “I’ve got some basic snacks, sodas, and water. If you want anything else, maybe Donovan will let you order in.” Brooke gestured for Makenzie to leave the restroom first. It was small, and she would have had to squeeze past her. A question of etiquette—the ass or the crotch. Makenzie seemed to wait her out for a moment and then maybe thought better of it. My turn to check you out. Brooke followed her and was so busy appreciating her butt that she didn’t realize Makenzie was looking over her shoulder.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  Smooth. Say something smooth. Makenzie smiled brightly and managed to take away Brooke’s ability to speak at all.

  Donovan came around the corner into the corridor. “Where’s your stash, Jackson? I could do with some energy. We’ve got maybe two hours before we go in.”

  Or say nothing at all. “This way.” She led them both to a small kitchen. The steel fridge looked out of place against the dingy tiles and peeling paint. She’d thought that before and had also thought about giving the place a coat of paint. Her final thought had been that was stupid to have had that train of thought in the first place. Donovan pulled it open and quickly selected a protein bar and water. Makenzie did the same but as she bent over to reach the water, Brooke looked at the ceiling. When she finally looked down, Donovan and Makenzie were unashamedly eyeballing her. “What?”

  “Nothing. Not a goddamn thing,” Donovan replied and they both left her in the kitchen feeling like an outsider.

  Suck it up. There was no entitlement here. She had to earn their respect, and maybe then she’d earn that coveted place in the future, learning how to be the best, from the best.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The wood creaked beneath her weight and Landry silently cursed. She lifted her foot slowly from the offending floorboard and paused to listen in case the noise stirred anyone. She’d sat with Jackson and Mason munching protein bars and chips for an hour while Delaney and Simson made their way through a bottle or two of liquor. When they finally headed to their bunks for the night, Landry expected it wouldn’t take long for them to pass out, but insisted they wait an hour before breaching the factory.

  Landry advanced with Mason a few steps behind her. She heard a loud crack before feeling the dead weight of Mason fall on her. She lost her footing and stumbled to the ground.

  “Nice to see you, Donovan,” Simson leaned over and smashed her fist into Landry’s face.

  Her head bounced off the concrete, dazing her. Simson grabbed hold of the collar of her jacket, pulled her up to her feet, and threw her against the wall. Her Glock came loose from her belt and fell to the ground. Simson kicked it away then swung a right hook which Landry ducked easily. She delivered her own right jab t
o Simson’s ribs and a left uppercut to her jaw. Simson rocked back, and Landry followed up with a fast combination of jabs and crosses.

  “No one to back you up tonight, Simson. I don’t like your chances.”

  Simson fell against the wall heavily and grunted. “You little shit. Is that all you’ve got?”

  Landry blocked Simson’s elbow, caught hold of Simson’s neck with both hands and yanked her head down as she propelled her right knee up. The sound of Simson’s nose cracking echoed along the corridor.

  “Nope. I’ve got plenty more just for you.” Landry grabbed Simson’s left ear to hold her in place and smashed the heel of her right palm into the side of Simson’s head repeatedly. She released her, flicked a back fist across Simson’s jaw, and her head snapped back and smashed through the glazed partition. Landry took hold of Simson’s shirt and threw her to the ground. She straddled Simson’s waist, fixed her right arm around her throat, and squeezed. Simson clawed and thudded at Landry’s arm, but as she was deprived of oxygen, the fight slowly began to leave her body. The last time I was in this position, I killed someone. “You’re not worth the guilt.” Landry pulled her grip a little tighter, and Simson slipped into unconsciousness. Landry let her drop to the floor. She rolled to the side and pushed Simson’s limp, heavy body away from her.

  “Landry.”

  She looked up to see Delaney a few feet away in the corridor in a tank, jeans, and bare feet. Even in the dim light and shadows, she could see Delaney was unarmed. Landry stood and walked toward her.

  “What now, buddy?” Landry asked, slightly uncertain. There was a chance Delaney could have a gun shoved in the waistband of her jeans, and at this distance, Landry would be helpless. As she drew closer though, there was something familiar and comforting in Delaney’s eyes. Landry reached out and put her hand on Delaney’s shoulder. “Wanna come home?”