by J. M. Madden
She gave him a knowing smile. “I’ve been in my share of scraps.”
Noah snorted. “Seriously? You’re too pretty to fight.”
Raine laughed, making a face. “I’ve done some ass kicking in my time.”
Noah blinked at her, trying to keep his amusement in check. “You have, hm? All five feet and five inches of you.”
“I have. In fifth grade, Nicole Peters tried to take my unicorn notebook, and I wouldn’t let her have it. And in ninth grade, Grace Lindt tried to steal my boyfriend away at the Sadie Hawkins dance. I didn’t let her, either. She was harder to convince,” she said thoughtfully, looking off into the distance. “I had to take her out behind the gym and convince her.”
Noah laughed. “Oh, shit. You are a little badass.”
Raine gave him a cocky nod. “Yup. Plus, I had two sisters and two brothers. But Daddy taught us right.”
“Was he a fighter?” Noah asked, genuinely curious.
“No,” Raine admitted, glancing at him. “He was a hard-working man, but never mean or prone to fighting. If anything, he was the one getting people out of trouble, but he would stand up for what he believed in. He was incredibly smart, though he only barely got through high school. Never had a chance to go to college. Mama got pregnant in her junior year with my older sister and she ended up dropping out. They got married, though they were both just children themselves. Even though they had family against them, they were in love. I never doubted that once. I was born a few years after they got married, and my other sister a couple years later. My brothers are the babies, all six feet plus of them. There were seven of us, altogether. And if anyone was the fighter, it was probably Mama,” she said, smiling fondly. “Cancer ate at her for a couple years, but she fought with everything she could to stay with us.”
“I’m sorry about your mother. She sounds like she was an incredible woman.”
“Oh, she was,” Raine breathed, “and my best friend. She believed in everything I did.”
They sat there on the bench on the sunlight, just enjoying the moment.
“What about your family,” she asked.
Immediately, he felt himself tense up. “Well, they were okay. My mother raised me the best she could, I suppose. My Noni raised me most of the time, along with a couple cousins. We were together so much we didn’t even realize we weren’t brothers till junior high.”
“And your dad,” she asked carefully.
“He…wasn’t in the picture much. Got in trouble when he was younger and seemed to go through life blaming everything on that past decision.”
Raine nodded calmly. “I had an uncle like that. My grandparents got him out of every scrap of trouble they could, and the one time they let him pay for his crimes he ended up blaming them for the rest of his life. The man is almost sixty years old and blames his shitty life on something that happened forty years ago.”
“How can they be so blind to their own faults?” He asked, kind of rhetorically.
Raine patted him on the arm. “I think they reach a point in their lives when they realize that anger is all they have to hang onto, so they grip it that much harder.”
“Which makes it difficult for everyone.”
“Yes, but they feel justified.” She shrugged. “You can’t change people when they’ve carried it that long, so you let them go.”
Yeah, she was probably right. It had been years since he’d seen his father, but he counted it as a win. The man brought drama after drama, and it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with on a regular basis. “The last time I saw my father it was at Noni’s funeral. Instead of remembering the incredible woman she was, I had to deal his crazy ass. The cops were called and all it did was tarnish the memory of the incredible woman she was.”
She gripped his hand. “Don’t let it tarnish your memory of her. She had nothing to do with it. Remember her the way she was, not the way he painted her.”
Noah nodded, looking down at their clasped hands. Raine’s skin was ever so pale, with faint blue lines running beneath her skin. His own hand was scarred all to hell from fighting and doing things in life she’d never experienced before, and he hoped she never would. As if in answer to his thoughts, her thumb ran over a long scar on the back of his hand, crossing almost perfectly diagonal. “How did you do this?”
“I didn’t move fast enough,” he admitted.
She looked at him for a long moment. “This was from a knife?”
He shrugged a little and she turned toward him. “Seriously?”
“Hey, it was better than across my face,” he said, thinking back to the fight that had caused the cut.
Her mouth fell open and she stared. Lifting his hand, he showed her the position he’d been in when attacked. For a moment she didn’t do anything, then she took his hand in her own again and drew it to her lips. She pressed a kiss there and brushed her fingers over the ridged skin.
Noah knew she was trying to be kind, but his body just felt her lips on his skin, and he reacted completely inappropriately. Pulling his hand away, he stared at her for a long moment, then, as if choreographed, they both began to lean in. Noah didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. Cupping her head with the hand she’d just kissed, he pulled her to him, his lips pressing tight.
The dull humming in his ears of the park goers faded away as he focused on her. The fabric of her nylon jacket made a slithering noise as she raised her arm to touch his face. Her backpack was between them so they couldn’t get especially close, but this wasn’t the place anyway. Noah listened to her breathing as he moved his lips over hers and when he stroked his thumb over her cheek, her breath caught and held.
Noah drew back, looking down into her flushed face. Some small part of him had worried that she wouldn’t want to kiss him in public. He was so different from her, and not just physically. He looked at the world with a wary eye, expecting to be disappointed. This woman, on the other hand, looked at everything with excitement and hope. Was he too jaded to be with her? The thought angered him, in a way. He knew she deserved better than the situation she was in, looking for a fugitive and a corrupt politician. If he had his choice, she would never have learned of anything dark like the world he was used to.
Noah started to pull away but her fists curled into his jacket, pulling him close again. “I want to kiss you again,” she breathed, fitting her mouth against his, then drawing back and kissing him again.
Noah was glad the backpack was between them, because any closer and she would realize how desperately he was enjoying her careful movements. If he had his way, he would drag her across his lap. His hands ached to pull her against him.
As if she’d been in his mind and heard his words, she dropped the backpack to the ground and shifted to her knees. Then she lifted one knee over his lap, settling her weight onto his thighs. Immediately, his hands drifted down to her ass and he pulled her tight against him. They both groaned at the incredibly intimate contact, and it took everything in him not to grind up into her pussy.
Raine gasped as a shudder wracked her body, and she looked down at him with stars in her eyes. “We’re being really bad,” she whispered, before she leaned in to kiss him again. This time her tongue darted out to tease at the seam of his lips. Noah opened his mouth to her and let her taste, swallowed down by his own reaction. Her breathing sped up and her jeans rasped against his and he knew they would have to stop soon. This wasn’t the place, though he was sorely tempted.
It was uncanny how in sync they were, because she pulled away with a final nibble, then wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug. Noah could feel her heart thudding against his own and he forced his hands higher to return the hug. Actually, this was nice too.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Raine drew back enough that he could retrieve it, though she didn’t move from his lap.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt but I thought you might want to know that we spotted McCullough again.”
Haven opened his eyes. When no one said anyt
hing, he glanced around. It appeared as though he was alone in the room. His heart raced as he flexed his hands and feet. Feet he could move; hands not so much. He thought perhaps he could sit up, though.
Clenching his teeth in preparation of pain, he rolled up onto his butt. There was pain, but it was distant, as if he’d had a nerve block or something. Glancing down he tried to see his chest wound where he’d been shot, but it was covered.
For a moment he sat on the bed and breathed, gathering his thoughts. The crazy thing was- his thoughts were coherent. Blinking in the dim light, he glanced around the room. Seemed like a normal bedroom. The bed was nice, and there appeared to be a bathroom across the room he dearly needed.
Could he stand? Pushing to his feet, he braced, waiting for the normal dizziness to assault him, but it didn’t. He glanced around, his vision clearer than he could remember it being in a long time. Or was it just his mind being clear, and he was registering everything differently?
The clear, precise thoughts were a little chilling. It had been years since he’d been able to reason things through this easily.
Belladonna. She had been the last thing he remembered before falling unconscious. What had she done to him?
Haven looked down at his unbound hands, and somehow knew that they were stronger;. Walking into the bathroom he used the facilities, washed his hands and went back to the bedroom. For shits and giggles he went to the bedroom door and paused. There were two guards out there, one on each side of the hallway.
He wondered where the woman had gone. Glancing at the window, he tried to decide what time it was. Afternoon, maybe? He drew back the curtains. The sun was beyond its apex, shadows going long on the street in front of the building. Surprisingly he had a direct view of Central Park, though it was at least twenty-five floors down.
Haven scanned the window, but he could tell without even touching it that it was sealed shut, and there were iron bars over the expanse. If he wanted to get out of this room the window would not be the way to go.
Sitting down on the bed, he tried to think about the feel of the woman’s mind. If she had changed something in him, maybe he could locate her.
Almost immediately he received a sharp mental rebuke. No words, just a strong impression of ‘shove off’. Then, clear as day, ‘I’ll be there in a bit’.
Rocking back on the bed, Haven tried not to be shocked. After everything he had seen at the camps, then later at the Elton Building, hearing a few words in his mind shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did.
The woman was… worrisome. Obviously, she worked for the enemy, but he felt like it wasn’t so cut and dried.
The bedroom door opened suddenly and a man walked in. Tall, with close-cropped brown hair and hazel eyes, he wasn’t anyone Haven recognized. The man smiled but Haven could see the cunning in his expression. “Hello, Mr. Wendell. My name is McCullough. I have a few questions for you.”
Haven saw the fist flying toward his face but he didn’t have time to react. Pain blossomed across his nose and his head snapped back, but he didn’t lose consciousness. He lolled to the side on the mattress, trying to catch his breath. Anger stirred and he felt for his own mental ability. Belladonna was no longer blocking him. He called his guardians.
What was the man’s name? McCullough? As soon as the apparitions appeared, he stepped back from Haven, grinning as he looked between the two specters. “Ah, now this is interesting,” he murmured. Walking toward the first one, he reached out a hand to touch, but Haven forced them to disappear. What the hell was this guy’s game?
Haven reached for the sheet, mopping at the blood flowing from his nose, but he kept his eyes on the other man.
“I find that a direct assault usually tells me more than anything about the abilities a man has developed. But that’s very different, creating a manifestation. I guess it’s a form of telepathy. Has anyone ever talked to you about it?”
Haven shook his head, not willing to admit that he probably wouldn’t have understood if anyone had tried before Belladonna did the cleanup in his brain. Now that she had, though, he wasn’t sure how he should acknowledge what he did. It was some kind of mental ability. His brain had adapted to his environment and created a way to deal with what came at him.
Would have been nice if it could have helped him dodge that punch.
McCullough cocked his head and Haven realized he’d lost track of what the man had said. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Why did you come here?” McCullough repeated, voice tight.
“I thought… I felt her energy and I thought if I made a big enough demonstration that she would come find me.”
“Instead it got you shot in an alley,” McCullough said, reaching toward his chest bandage.
Haven pulled away but only enough to peel down the corner of the pad. Beneath it, the wound looked pretty good. He tore the pad away, impressed that his skin had healed so quickly. It still hurt, but it had only been a few hours, he thought.
McCullough was watching him carefully and Haven still wasn’t sure how he felt about the guy. “Do you work with them?”
The man made a bit of a face. “Not exactly. I clean up their messes when the need arises. Right now, I’m deciding if you are a mess I need to clean up.”
Haven didn’t like the sound of that. “Listen, I never meant to cause a problem. I felt this power source and I wanted to see who it was.”
“Where did you come from, though?” His gaze bore into Haven, and he suddenly had the thought that the man must be enhanced. Immediately, Haven tried to blank his mind, unwilling to be exposed to this man. “You’re not one of the lame ducks they’re trying to fix from down there in Arlington, are you?”
Haven shook his head, unwilling to tell the man anything. “I left that place a while ago. I’ve been on the streets. When I felt her in Washington, I didn’t know who she was. I followed her up here to the city but couldn’t pinpoint where she’d gone. I could feel her in an area, but not which building. There are too many people stacked on top of one another in this damn place. I thought if I expended enough energy of my own, she would find me.”
The words were true, the timeline was just a lot shorter than he’d said. McCullough regarded him thoughtfully. “And the blonde woman on the street?”
Haven blinked. “She used to be a nurse at a hospital I was in.”
“And the oversized black dude with the scowl that was following her?”
“Her boyfriend, probably.”
McCullough cocked his head again and Haven had the wild thought that he could feel the guy scrabbling around in his head, looking for a finger hold. Keeping his gaze steady, he poured as much power as possible into keeping the man out, but he tried to stay relaxed. Eventually, McCullough turned away. Haven maintained his shields, though, because this guy seemed dirty. If he spotted a weakness, Haven had a feeling he would jab for a finger hold in his brain and burrow in.
“So, what are your plans, Mr. Wendell?”
“Well,” Haven said slowly. “I don’t know exactly. I’m not sure what my options are.”
McCullough cocked his head. “How about we remove your options, shall we? I think we can find a place for you in the organization. Not sure where yet, but we’ll see what you can do.”
“No option two?” Haven asked with a shaky laugh.
McCullough grinned. “Option two, I can kill you and leave you in a dumpster like I planned on when I came in here. It would be less headache for everyone, but I hate to waste a resource.”
Clenching his jaw, Haven gave a single nod of his head. “Option one it is, then.”
“I thought you’d choose that one. Stay here until someone comes to get you.”
And he was gone. Haven focused on keeping his shields up, just so that he wouldn’t be taken by surprise. McCullough seemed like a dirty dog, the exact type that had hung around with the people that had run the camp. They’d had no consideration for human life, seeing them all as expendable if they didn’t p
erform correctly or show the correct results. When he’d been in the camp, he’d tried to keep track of the bodies, but it just wasn’t possible.
Crossing to the bathroom Haven cleaned up his nose as well as he could. It wouldn’t be pretty for a while.
After stripping off the bloody sheet and tossing it to the side, he sank down onto the mattress again to reevaluate. His physical body hurt, but it was not nearly as bad as yesterday when he’d come in. The topmost layer of skin had healed almost completely over. Angling his head, he brushed away the stitches, having to pull a couple because they were embedded in the skin. He lifted his arm and rotated. Painful, but usable.
He shook his head, unable to believe how clear his thinking was. He hadn’t had this level of clarity since, well, probably since he actually went into the Spartan Program. How fucked up was that?
McCullough had way too many details about him, and he had to wonder where he’d gotten them. The security at the Elton Building was pretty significant, even by an Army Ranger’s standards. He’d had to use a massive amount of power just to walk out of the building, cloaked as Paul, the other nurse on his floor. Paul had been more his size than Nurse Raine had been.
The fact that McCullough had spotted Raine and Noah and linked them to the Elton Building was disturbing. When he’d taken off to find the woman in his nightmares, he hadn’t planned on anyone coming after him, but he should have. Raine cared about her people too much, and Noah, whether he wanted to admit it or not, cared about Raine too much to let her go alone. He thought about the resources at his disposal and snorted. He had nothing. No phone, no radio, no way to contact them at all. There was no way he had the range to reach them mentally, either. The way McCullough had talked, he knew they were going to use him for something, but he had no idea what. Maybe when they let him out of the room, he would be able to use a phone. He doubted it, but he would do his best to try.
Haven sank down onto the bed, tiredness overcoming him. It frustrated the hell out of him that exertion cost him so much. His stomach gnawed with hunger and he almost thought about gaining the guard’s attention, but he shrugged off the idea. He didn’t want to draw attention any sooner than he needed to.
