Exiled (TalentBorn Book 2)

by C. S. Churton

  “Hmm, I’ve heard AbGen pays pretty well,” Iain says with a mischievous smile. “Maybe I should see if they’re recruiting.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Come on,” he says, watching me over the top of his glass. “It is a little.”

  Well, okay, maybe just a little… I’m pretty sure Pearce scares him even more than he scares me, and that’s saying something. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

  “They’d never have you… you have terrible taste in suits.”

  “I’ll have you know that suit is considered very fine…” he says in a mock indignant tone, then loses his straight face, “by other people with terrible taste.”

  Suddenly we’re both laughing. My wine sloshes out of my glass and splashes across my top. I put my glass down but before I can do anything about it, Iain plucks a tissue from the table beside him and dabs at it. I look up at him, and his eyes meet mine. Oh, no. Before I can do anything to stop him, he leans down and presses his lips against mine. I freeze, then slam both my palms into chest, shoving him away.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” I snap, on my feet and shaking. He moves back, his face falling.

  “Anna, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m with Scott!”

  “I know, I’m sorry, I just thought–”

  “What, that I’d hook up with the first guy who crosses my path?”

  “No, I just– I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Oh my God, is that why you were helping me?”

  “What? No! How could you even think that?” He’s on his feet now, glaring at me like I’m the one who’s completely out of line.

  “Well, what the hell am I supposed to think? You just kissed me!”

  “And I’m s–”

  Guns N Roses’ iconic November Rain guitar solo cuts off what I’m sure was about to be another pointless apology. We glare at each other a moment longer, then Iain reaches into his pocket and pulls out his mobile, still eyeing me.

  “Yeah?”

  He listens intently while I stand there, torn between my instinct to get out of here, and my need to find out if his contact knows anything about Scott. I take a deep breath and force my trembling muscles to relax. Iain’s still watching me as he ends the call and puts his phone back into his pocket.

  “That was Gareth, my friend who’s been watching the CCTV footage.”

  I want to ask what he saw, but suddenly I don’t have enough breath to phrase the question.

  “He picked up the van leaving the area, they were heading north onto the M5. Does AbGen have any buildings out that way?”

  I shake my head.

  “I don’t know. I only ever went to Langford House.”

  “Gareth is going to get the motorway footage and see if he can find where they come off. It should give us an idea of what area they’re in, at least.”

  I sink back into my chair. We’re getting closer. It’s taking so much longer than I can stand, but we’re going to find him. We just need to buy a little time. And I need to be doing something – anything – before I lose what little of my mind I have left.

  *

  “Pull over here,” I tell Iain. I wanted to come alone, but he refused to be left out of it, so against my better judgement he’s sitting next to me as we drive through the overgrown countryside. After last night I’m not sure I want him by my side, but I’m smart enough to know I need him, and flawed enough to know that nobody’s perfect. We’re on the side of a dirt track, about as isolated as it’s possible to be. And hopefully a long way from any mobile phone towers. I don’t fully understand how tracking phones works, but I know it has something to do with being in range of several different towers. We’ve left our own phones behind – I’m probably being paranoid but who knows what technology AbGen has access to, and what it’s capable of doing – and I picked up a cheap mobile from a supermarket on the way here. ‘Here’ being about twenty miles outside of Whitelyn, because I don’t want them to have any idea of where we’re staying, and I’m hoping they’re underestimating me enough to think I’d go back home.

  I know the number for AbGen by heart – it’s not one I’m likely to forget – but I still hesitate before dialling. What I’m about to do might be incredibly stupid… or it might buy Scott a little breathing room. It’s worth the risk, as far as I’m concerned. Iain apparently agrees, or at least he’s not willing to let me be reckless alone, because he hasn’t tried to dissuade me. Maybe he’s just making up for trying to kiss me last night.

  I tap out the number and raise the phone to my ear. Iain’s going to warn me once I’ve been on the line for sixty seconds, and if I’m still talking after two minutes, he’s going to start driving around. No sense in making it easy for them.

  “Good morning.” She doesn’t identify herself, but I recognise Nora’s voice, and recall with a pang of sadness her reassuring me the first time I stepped into AbGen’s intimidating foyer. She’s Joe’s handler but she poses as a receptionist while he’s working the door.

  “It’s me. I need to talk to Pearce.”

  There’s a long silence, and I count the seconds as they tick away. Eventually she speaks again, her voice just a touch breathless, surprised.

  “He’s not here at the moment.”

  “Tell him to call me. In ten minutes, I’m destroying this phone, and you won’t hear from me again.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and end the call before I do anything stupid, like ask how Joe is holding up. I hope he doesn’t think we’re abandoning his family, I just don’t know what I can do to save them by myself. When I had Scott, and the Ishmaelians, it seemed like we could do anything, but now I’m on my own, just hoping I won’t be in a cage by the end of the day. Not quite on my own, I amend, glancing over at the cop sitting beside me.

  “We should keep moving,” I tell him. “They’re probably already tracking the phone.”

  And there’s nothing I can do about that, because the only way to stop it – that I know of – is to remove the battery, which I can’t do because I need Pearce to call me. At least if we’re on the move it’ll be harder for them to pin down our location. I should have seen this coming. Of course there was a chance Pearce wouldn’t be there – he was probably with Scott. I don’t like the image that conjures so I push it away. There’s a plus side: if he’s with Scott, I can demand he lets me speak to him. No, wait, that’s not a plus side. At least right now I only think he’s hurt. And Pearce would only use it as an opportunity to draw out the call, so he’s got more time to trace us. He knows my weaknesses better than I know his. I know one of his weaknesses though. Me. He wants my talent every bit as much as Gardiner did.

  We’ve been driving for just a couple of minutes when my new phone lights up. I don’t recognise the number but there’s only one person who would be calling me. I shoot a nervous glance at Iain, who gives me an encouraging nod. I hit answer and lift to my ear.

  “Yes?” I hope the tremor in my voice doesn’t travel along the line.

  “Anna, how lovely of you to get in touch.”

  A shudder runs the whole length of my body at the sound of his voice.

  “If you’ve hurt him, I swear to God I’ll kill you.” Dammit, so much for staying calm. But his smug voice goes right through me. How I never saw that he was worse than Gardiner is beyond me.

  “Now, now, Anna, there’s no need for that.” He chuckles, and I clench my fist around the phone. I see Iain give me a concerned look from the corner of my eye and force myself to take a breath instead of retorting.

  “I trust by now you’ve realised you’re not going to find him? Though I must say I’m impressed you managed to convince a member of the constabulary to run the van plates. You’re more resourceful than I gave you credit for.”

  I freeze. He knows we traced the plates. Of course he knows we traced the plates – it probably flagged up on the system the moment Gareth ran them. I hope he had the sense to log in under someone else’s ID. I don’t need anyon
e else getting hurt because of me.

  “I want to speak to him.” No! No, I can’t do that, I can’t speak to him. “Now.”

  “Whatever happened to your manners? You were such a sweet girl when I met you.”

  “Some bastard clipped my wings and tried to shove me in a cage. It tends to bring out the worst in me.”

  Pearce chuckles again and I grit my teeth.

  “So fiery. Very well. Scott, say hello to Anna.”

  “Anna?” My heart stops beating, and then pounds like it’s going to explode. I replay the single word a dozen times in a second, and each time it’s more strained. He’s hurt.

  “Scott.” So much I want to say to him. “Are you–” My stomach lurches, and I can’t finish the question, because I know he’s not okay. How could he be?

  “I’m okay.” I can hear the grimace in his voice. I want to tell him that we’re coming, that we’ll get him out of there, but I daren’t, not with Pearce listening. He has to believe I am completely without hope. I tell him the one thing I can.

  “I love you.”

  “I love… you too. Anna, don’t do anyth–” Abruptly he’s gone – Pearce has taken the phone away. But if he was about to tell me not to do anything stupid, that ship has already sailed.

  “As you can hear, Mr Logan is very much alive. It is up to you whether or not he remains that way.”

  I want to demand he puts Scott back on, but I force myself to focus. It won’t be long before I have him back by my side. I just have to play along with Pearce’s sick games.

  “Please don’t hurt him. I’m the one you want.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  I can hear the anticipation in his voice, and my lip curls in disgust.

  “Let him go, and you can have me instead.” And as I say it, I know I’d go through with it – if Pearce could be trusted to keep his end of the bargain. But I know him too well. He wants us both. And if he has Scott, he can use him to control me – and vice versa.

  “Very well, I’m not greedy. If you give yourself in to AbGen, I will allow Scott to leave.”

  “Not good enough. Bring him to a public place. You hand him over to some friends of mine, and I’ll leave with you.” Iain taps me on the shoulder and nods at the clock. I’m not sure how long he’s been trying to get my attention, but we must be pushing it on the time front. I need to wrap this up before AbGen manage to get a trace.

  “You don’t trust me? I’m hurt.”

  “Cut the crap, Pearce. Do we have a deal?”

  “Language, Miss Mason. Very well.”

  “Good. I’ll call you back.” I end the call, roll down the window, and toss the phone out.

  Iain floors the accelerator and we race through the back lanes, putting as much distance between us and the phone as possible. I stare out of the window, running the conversation back through my mind.

  “Stop the car.”

  “What?”

  “Stop the car! Now. Let me out.”

  Iain hits the breaks and we screech to a halt. I fling open the door and jump out, scrambling over the bank beside the road. On the other side I collapse to the ground, retching and gasping. Scott’s hurt. I could hear it in his voice. He tried to hide it, but he’s hurting bad. Because of me. Because Pearce set a trap for me.

  “Anna?”

  I lean back against the bank and try to catch my breath, but it’s not happening. Sobs burn through me and I don’t have the strength left to fight them. I need him.

  “Anna!”

  Iain drops down beside me. I try to pull away as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, but I don’t have the strength to do that either, so I give in and lean against him, letting his words of comfort wash over me without hearing them.

  “I have to take the deal,” I blurt. “If I can just force his hand, make him uphold his end of the deal-”

  “No. Anna, no.”

  I blink Iain’s face into focus and see he is staring at me, face contorted in horror.

  “I’m not going to let you give yourself to those people.”

  “You can’t stop me,” I say, shoving his arm away and pushing myself from the floor. He makes no move to follow me.

  “And what would Scott do when he found out you traded your freedom for his?”

  “Survive,” I snap back. Iain doesn’t bother to call me on the lie. There’s no way Scott would walk away and leave me in Pearce’s hands, any more than I can walk away and leave him there. I sigh. I’m tired of fighting. Pearce, Iain, myself. I’m just tired.

  “Come on,” Iain says quietly. “Let’s get you back to the car.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I slept for most of the journey, and when I wake, I have three things: a stiff neck, a pounding headache, and a plan.

  Well, the beginnings of a plan, at least. Iain is right, I can’t trade myself for Scott. But Pearce thinks I will, and that means he won’t be expecting us to make another move. I string him along, and keep his attention focussed on me. Meanwhile, we use the intel from Iain’s friend to track down exactly where Scott’s being held. We lure Pearce away to make the trade – he won’t bring Scott because he’ll be planning to double cross me – and keep him busy. Meanwhile, I shift in, get Scott and get out. We co-ordinate with a strike against AbGen so their system is in chaos, allowing us to disappear – and rescue Joe’s family too, if we’re right about them being on-site. But we can’t do it on our own.

  That’s the part I’m not happy about, because it means we have to involve the Ishmaelians, and I’m still not sure I trust them. I don’t think they deliberately sent Scott into Pearce’s trap, because otherwise they’d have wanted me to go with him, but that doesn’t absolve them of guilt. It merely means they were complacent, as opposed to complicit. I’ll deal with it. I’m guilty of the same.

  “I’m not happy about this.” That’s Iain. He’s not happy about this.

  “Which part, specifically?”

  “All of it. Any of it. Anna, this is madness. You can’t know what Pearce will do, and you already told me these… Ishmaelians can’t be trusted.”

  “Fine, so tell me your better plan, and we’ll do that instead,” I snap, silencing his objections, as he brings the car to a stop outside of the house. Neither of us move to get out.

  Eventually he grumbles, “Just because I don’t have a better plan doesn’t mean you should go running around trying to get yourself killed.”

  “No-one wants to kill me, remember?” I say with a grin. “I’m this season’s MVP.”

  “Not funny.”

  “No, it’s not. Any of it. So are you in, or out?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Good. Switch places. I’m driving.”

  “Nice try. You look like hell–”

  “Thank you.”

  “–and you need to be sharp if you’re going to deal with the Ishmaelites.”

  “Ishmaelians.”

  “See? You’re the only one who knows anything about them. You need to rest. Give me the address.”

  I reluctantly do, and we start the forty-five minute journey, which is forty-five minutes I have with nothing to do other than focus on everything that might go wrong. Probably part of Iain’s fiendish plan. I have no idea what sort of reception to expect from Ephraim and the Ishmaelians. Best case, they’re happy to see me, and ready to go to war against AbGen. Okay, I’ll admit that seems unlikely, but a girl can hope. Worst case… well, I’d rather not think about it. Let’s just say it’s a gamble and leave it at that.

  Mika will be pleased to see me – I hope – and she’ll be able to tell Ephraim that I’m telling the truth. Whether or not he’ll want to act on that truth is another matter. Rohan will want to help, he idolises Scott, and I’m not above accepting help wherever I can get it. But it will take more than the four of us to pull this off. I need Ephraim on board. I pass the journey by thinking of all the reasons he has for turning me away – turns out there’s a lot – and how I’m going
to convince him not to (I have no idea).

  We turn into a narrow country lane, deserted except for us. We’re close.

  “This is where you chased me,” Iain recalls.

  “Yeah, well, you suck at following people.”

  “A lot’s changed since then.”

  “Too much,” I agree. “Let’s go see if we can change some of it back.”

  He looks like he’s about to say something, but instead turns off the engine and gets out of the car. I follow suit, and we walk slowly up the trail towards the barn in the distance. We want to give them plenty of time to see us coming – I don’t want any of their half-trained soldiers getting twitchy trigger fingers. Iain has his hands tucked into his pockets and I give him a nudge.

  “Probably best to keep your hands where they can see them.”

  “Armed?” he asks, eyeing the barn warily.

  I shrug, playing it down. It’s not as if they’re likely to shoot us, anyway. Well, me, at least.

  “Maybe.”

  “Gee, Anna, you take me to all the best places.”

  We pause outside the barn – there’s no-one out here, probably thanks to the persistent drizzle that hasn’t stopped since we got off the motorway. My hair is already plastered to my skull, but all things considered I’d have to say that’s the least of my problems. I raise my hand and push the door open.

  We step inside, and I hear the gun cock before my eyes have adjusted to the gloom.

  “Maybe,” Iain mutters with a snort.

  “Stay where you are.”

  The voice comes from across the room, but I can’t see who spoke. It’s not a voice I recognise. I raise my hands slowly, and beside me Iain does the same. Behind us, someone closes the door. I keep my eyes locked on the speaker.

  “Tell Ephraim I’m back. Anna.”

  “I know who you are, Anna. What I don’t know is why you’re here.”

  My eyes start adjusting to the light and I make out several more figures surrounding us. They, too, are armed.

  “Anna…” Iain says quietly. I know, we’re surrounded, and cut off from the door by whoever’s behind us. But I don’t plan on backing out: I’m not leaving without what we came for.