The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

  shake my head.

  “Then I need to know what the hell is taking so long . . . This should’ve

  been a one to two-week mission, tops. The longer it takes for a family to sign

  the paperwork becomes exponentially that much harder for them to make the

  decision at all. It’s not easy to get them to go through with our unorthodox

  terms and actually sign on the dotted line. So you have to strike while the

  iron is hot, while the thrill and the honor of our prestigious organization

  knocking on their plywood door is still running rampant in their wee small-

  town hearts.” Exaggerated gestures and speech came to an abrupt halt.

  My turn. “I’m getting closer sir, but I’ve recently had a setback . . .”

  • 267 •

  Weston gavel-banged solid oak with his fist. It was a testament to years of self-control training that no one flinched. “Closer doesn’t amount to a hill-of-beans in this game. I want that PGC signed up and ready to ship out in a

  week’s time. Setback or no setback!”

  “Honestly, it may take more than a week now, sir,” I said.

  “What exactly is the hold up? Honestly.”

  “It’s the Connelly girl, sir. I’ve recently had to contain her, and she’s pretty

  upset with me at the moment.”

  “She has proven resistant,” Weston acknowledged. “But we knew going

  in she would be our greatest challenge. Isn’t that precisely what you’re for?”

  He indicated me with an expansive hand.

  Ranger’s smirk morphed into a sneer.

  I shifted in my seat. “Civilian Connelly doesn’t follow the normal pattern

  of behavior for civilian girls. She’s . . . stubborn and highly resistant to the

  idea of her beloved eight-year-old brother being sent away.”

  “And so the irresistible Peter Davenport has proven resistible after all.”

  Somehow Weston came off sounding amused by this bit of news.

  Ranger lifted half a lip.

  “She’s smarter than we gave her credit for,” I allowed.

  “So she’s a clever girl. Are you not a hundred times cleverer? If not, then

  we’ll have to reassess our whole program.” Weston chuckled, turning to his

  panel for support before swinging back my way. “You admire her?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Not really.”

  “It’s no use denying it. It comes off in your tone when you talk about her.

  When you say stubborn, you may as well have said sublime.”

  Reese’s hand fluttered to smooth back an imaginary hair that strayed

  from her chignon.

  Damn. “I guess Civilian Connelly has moral standards I admire,” I

  admitted to a lesser charge.

  Ranger loudly guffawed. Reese shifted in her seat. Davies remained

  impassive. Weston made a growling noise as if I were speaking nonsense.

  “Morals?” he spat out like a dirty word. “Let me tell you something about

  civilians’ morals, my dear boy—they are like those plastic rulers they give to

  schoolchildren—easily bent to the point of breaking if need be. And civilian

  females are shallower than a puddle of piss. You have the looks, the car, the

  smarts, the breeding,” he counted off, seeming to run out of adjectives before

  fingers. “Don’t tell me this civilian girl is impervious to al your assets?” He raised caterpillar brows. “Maybe you need a booster shot?”

  Ranger risked a chortle at that one.

  • 268 •

  I didn’t even deign a glance. “Civilian Connelly’s moral code is more important to her than external trappings. She is unlike most teenagers in

  that sense. Therefore, I need to take it slowly or else risk scaring her away

  completely.”

  Weston turned his outrage on Reese like this was partially her fault that

  he hadn’t received his shiny new toy yet. “I see from your reports, Cadet

  Caruthers, that the girl does indeed fancy your own Cadet Davenport,” he

  goaded her out of frustration. “What do you think is the hold up from a

  female’s perspective?”

  Reese cleared her throat lightly like one does before giving a long rehearsed

  speech. “Civilian Connelly has led a sheltered life, and is therefore, naturally

  cautious around outsiders. It took much longer for Ryan and me to win her

  over than anticipated.” She paused to emphasize her point: it wasn’t only

  Cadet Davenport having trouble making Civilian Connelly cooperate with

  their agenda. “She also has deeply entrenched religious beliefs, and would be

  reluctant to shed those beliefs in the course of two weeks. I agree with Cadet

  Davenport’s gradual approach in regards to her courtship . . .”

  Ranger snorted rudely. “Of course she would.”

  Weston held up a palm, and Reese continued. “Coming at her with

  too much too soon would likely result in her dismissing Cadet Davenport

  altogether as too worldly and amoral for her to bond with sufficiently. I-I

  think that was partly where Ryan went wrong,” she added in an aside. “In

  addition, the strong bond she has with her brothers would take longer than a

  couple of weeks to weaken. As you can see from my report, she’s not interested

  in being free of the burden of raising her brothers. It has actually become the

  most important thing in her life since the passing of her mother. I also agree

  with Cadet Davenport’s assessment that she doesn’t follow what is considered

  to be normal civilian behaviors.”

  Ranger interrupted again. “I respectfully disagree with Cadets Caruthers

  and Davenport. I’ve met the girl, and she struck me on both occasions as . . .

  I’ll use layman’s terms here—a clueless country bimbo. You should’ve seen

  the way she was dressed and out prancing around on the night we picked her

  up. In a trashy neighborhood no less.”

  My chest burned at the way he was spinning this. And I still couldn’t

  make sense of the way he became irate every time he talked about her.

  Realizing, or reading my mind, Ranger’s eyes cut to mine before

  composing himself. “And just for the record, I’ve never met a civilian girl I couldn’t nail in a week. Morals or no morals—I’ve hooked up with plenty of

  • 269 •

  church-going girls on Saturday night who just turn right around and wake up a little extra early for church on Sunday morning.”

  “May I interject, sir?” I asked.

  “By all means, son . . . shed the light upon us,” Weston said with no small

  amount of irony—religion had no place in this scientific institution.

  “Officer Nealson jumped to conclusions on the night he is referring.

  Civilian Connelly was most likely coerced into wearing something . . . out

  of the ordinary for the special occasion of her birthday. I’ve never seen her in

  anything other than demure skirts and jeans, except for that one exception.”

  Ranger huffed out an incredulous throat noise to convey how his opinion

  differed from mine.

  “I can corroborate Cadet Davenport’s intel,” Reese joined in. “At the

  camp, she was the only one not wearing shorts, despite the heat. Knowing her

  socioeconomic status and wanting to bond with her over clothes, I suggested

  she could borrow some of mine. She declined, citing her father as the reason.

  Apparently, he adheres to very strict, old-fashioned ideas of what is appropriate

  attire and behavior for young
ladies.”

  “Pish-posh!” Ranger slapped the table. “What is this?—a ladies’ tea party?

  Are we here to ascertain the exact measure of length of that skank’s skirt or

  whether or not her brother is really a gifted civilian?”

  Commander Davies spoke up for the first time: “Ranger is right here—

  this is all irrelevant information.”

  Ranger leaned back, his arms folding across his chest. Reese colored

  slightly. I continued to look impassive though I wanted to reach across the

  table and choke fathead till he deflated.

  “Do you have anything new to add in regards to the Potentially Gifted

  Civilian in question that is not currently in the report?”

  I loosened my jaw (and fist under the table) to answer Weston. “The

  Connelly boy is very advanced academically as is indicated by the preliminary

  test results highlighted in the report. He’s also physically superior—both in

  appearance and athletically—in relation to his peers.”

  “How did he score on that stress test again?”

  “He scored a 74.25,” I supplied then paused to let Weston mull this over.

  Civilians were required to score in the ninety-ninth percentile across the board

  to be considered—unless they were gifted.

  Weston stared out the window at a cloud formation, drifting across his

  California sun.

  “Unfortunately,” I continued, “I’ve yet to see any definitive evidence that

  points to giftedness above and beyond the indicators I’ve mentioned.”

  • 270 •

  “That’s for our team to decide,” Weston growled. “It’s your job to deliver him to us. Sometimes these gifts are hidden, or the subjects themselves are

  even unaware of their unique capabilities. Being born that way, it simply

  becomes their norm. Or they may even try to suppress their specialness to fit

  in. You mentioned the boy was deliberately missing test questions; he may

  also be hiding other aspects of his talents.”

  I nodded, allowing this.

  “Have they committed to sending the boy to headquarters for the

  physical?”

  “It’s in the works.”

  “It’d better be.” Weston eyeballed me straight. “Or I may have to send in

  reinforcements—I have high hopes for this particular boy.”

  “The father has proven to be almost as hard to pin down as his daughter,” I

  emphasized, trying to move some heat off Kate. “I believe he’s more unwilling

  to part with his trophy kid than initially thought. I just received a verbal

  commitment from him two days ago regarding the physical. He was willing

  to agree to it . . . provided that he be present during the screening.”

  Weston looked aggravated by this bit of news. “You let us handle the

  father—you concentrate on the daughter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We need her too preoccupied with Prince Charming to have the time, or

  the inclination, to whisper in Daddy’s ear about sending little brother away.”

  “She’s very upset with me at the moment—”

  “If you can’t handle this girl, Davenport, maybe it’s time to step down

  and allow Nealson to resume control!”

  Ranger lifted his brows, his palms rubbing together greedily. He followed

  up with his signature one-side-up lip curl.

  My stomach clenched. Could not have that. “With all due respect to

  Officer Nealson’s proven record, I believe that would work against The

  Academy’s objectives in this case.”

  “Why is that exactly? I was under the impression Mr. Connelly is a

  big fan.”

  “I believe his daughter has a different opinion . . . and it’s a strong one.”

  Weston looked aggravated again. “What makes you say that?”

  I shifted in my seat, slanting a look at Ranger before ratting him out. “I

  didn’t mention it in the report earlier, believing I could easily get around it,

  but Officer Nealson was most unprofessional in our initial encounters with

  Civilian Connelly.”

  Ranger’s face burst into the shade of someone about to commit murder.

  • 271 •

  He lunged across the table, a finger-stab aimed at my face. “You’re the one being unprofessional by allowing a seventeen-year-old girl to get one over on The Academy!—kind of like the tail wagging the dog, don’t you think?” My

  face remained placid as bathwater. Attempt to turn tables on me was a fail,

  so he redirected to Weston. “I guarantee the results you want within a week,

  or . . . you can demote me!”

  “That might be hard to accomplish when Kate absolutely loathes you, and

  Andy loves me,” I replied serenely.

  “Oh, so now it’s Kate and Andy, is it?” Ranger’s voice got all nasally. “Now who’s being unprofessional? You’re allowing your personal feelings to get in the way of your mission!”

  “Loathes?” Weston latched on to the word as though it were an

  impossibility for a product of The Academy. He shot Ranger a dark look

  before twisting his head back my way. “How could the girl possibly loath

  someone she’s barely met?”

  “It’s just another thing in which Officer Nealson seems to excel at

  exceedingly well,” I answered, not even trying to keep a straight face. Reese

  bit back her smile, and even Commander Davies looked amused. Weston

  looked the opposite of amused.

  Ranger’s complexion darkened further. “In my opinion,” he seethed

  through clenched teeth, “we’ve been too easy on this family already. If that

  girl won’t turn, and the father won’t sign, then maybe it’s time we make them see the light. Resistance has never stopped us from claiming a Potentially

  Gifted Civilian before.”

  “Strong arming and scare tactics would only succeed in the Connellys

  digging their heels in further,” I interjected. “These are not weak-willed

  individuals we’re dealing with. And it would shed the public spotlight on our

  very private organization. The whole town is well aware of the prestigious

  honor being offered to the Connelly boy . . . and is paying attention to the

  outcome.”

  Weston pursed his lips, contemplating. “Davenport’s right—” Ranger

  sulked immediately. “—claiming a PGC without parental consent is a sticky

  situation, even when we’re dealing with a different country, much less in our

  own back yard. We don’t want to end up on the evening news.”

  “We have enough sources in high places to squash a story before it gets

  out,” Ranger countered.

  “Calling in favors results in a redistribution of power and a deterioration

  of funds. Not to mention a story can survive on social media alone these days.

  • 272 •

  Even with our best tech guys on it, a story can snowball out of control in a matter of hours.”

  Commander Davies spoke up again: “If we’re unable to get Connelly

  to willingly sign the paperwork, Plan B is to get him denounced as an unfit

  father, giving us the opportunity to swoop in and save the young man from his

  neglectful, alcoholic father,” he reminded Weston. “How is our contingency

  plan going?”

  “Plan B is underway and Mr. Connelly is playing right along . . . He just

  happens to be neglectful at best and abusive at worse,” I said with obvious

  disdain.

&nb
sp; “You are, of course, documenting everything?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From my understanding, we have the school administration’s support,

  the Connelly boy is chomping at the bit, the father is almost on board, and

  the Connelly girl is contained. Would that be an accurate assessment of the

  current condition of your mission, Cadet Davenport?” Commander Davies

  summed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think another check at this point would grease the skids further?”

  Davies asked.

  I breathed in, deliberating. “I’m not sure.”

  Ranger snorted and shook his head. “You’re not sure of anything, rookie.

  I’ve never seen a civilian balk at free money. They all have ‘big principals’,” he air-quoted, “until you offer them a fat check. That’s what always tips them

  over the edge and actually gets the pen on paper. They’re all whores at the end

  of the day—just variations between streetwalkers and high-class call girls.”

  Nobody stopped him to argue. “. . . We paid them like a dime-store hooker,

  maybe they think they’re worth more? It’s probably worth it to us to save time

  and just cut the guy a check for fifty-thou and be done with it . . . once we

  know the Connelly boy is gifted.”

  I thought over what Ranger said; it actually made a lot of sense. I’d

  wondered for a while why The Academy was trying so hard to sign Andrew.

  Didn’t even appear he was gifted. I felt there was something more—some vital

  piece of information I was missing or wasn’t privy to.

  “Another check could help at this point, or hinder, because this particular

  family has some pride about accepting charity,” I deliberated. “The father

  cashed the check, but only because we framed it in just the right manner and

  just the right amount so as not to be considered either a bribe or charity.”

  “I agree with Cadet Davenport,” Reese said.

  • 273 •

  “Surprise, surprise,” Ranger addressed the ceiling then me: “If only you had this much influence over Miss Connelly.”

  Like a public fart, I continued to ignore Ranger. Reese shot him a withering

  look before continuing: “She is already suspicious of our organization to begin

  with and already considers the check to be a bribe. She is currently citing this as evidence that The Academy has ulterior motives and is trying to bribe