sharkish. “You mean set myself up as bait. Use my ability to lure them in and then execute them when they show up.”
A shiver rolled through her. He didn’t sound offended; he sounded . . . intrigued. Silas studied his hands once more, as if he saw blood on them—and maybe he thought he could mitigate that with more. She didn’t know if she agreed, but she couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through either, if what he’d told her was true.
“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but essentially, yes. I coordinate all the agents from a secure location. Under most conditions, you would be working alone, though if we locate another facility like the one in Virginia, you would definitely be on the strike team sent to clear it.”
Silas froze. “There are others?”
“At least four. Two have been relocated since Shrike took out Dr. Rowan, and the other two never pop up on my informational grid. It’s possible those have shut down because they’re old—they were established in the seventies—but I won’t rest until I’ve liberated all the test subjects and shut down this program for good. If we make it too difficult and too expensive, the moneymen will cut off the research and close those divisions down. By yourself, you can go individually to each family and say you’re sorry for their loss. That’s all. With us, you can accomplish much more.”
“I’d work with him again,” Tanager said. “He’s cool in a crisis. He was swatting those bloodhounds like flies when I arrived.”
“How do you pay for all of this?” By Silas’s expression, he didn’t mean the rusty, abandoned warehouse.
“I won’t lie to you. My talent is such that I can skim from corporations without leaving virtual fingerprints. I set up numbered accounts for our operatives and we’re funded Robin Hood-style. But I target the parent companies behind the Foundation, if it makes you feel any better.”
“I have a couple of conditions,” Silas said. “If I work with you, I still need to visit those families. Otherwise, they’ll never know what happened to their children, their mothers and fathers.”
Juneau’s heart gave another little twist; his passion moved her. So few people cared about anything, anymore. God, she loved a man with a mission.
Tanager dropped lightly to her feet. “You’ll need some help with that, hoss. These people will have no reason to accept the truth from you.”
“And you’ll give them a reason?” Silas asked.
“It only works on men,” she answered, confirming Juneau’s hunch. “But chances are, we can find some male relative to convey the news. If I tell him we’re cops and we have news about Sally Missing, he’ll repeat it with one hundred percent conviction.”
“Why would you help me? This is personal.”
Her gaze went hard. “Because I want you onboard, and if this is what it takes, so be it. You can teach the Foundation to fear us—and what it feels like to be hunted.”
“Could you give me a few minutes to talk to Juneau in private?”
“Of course,” Mockingbird said. “Tanager, take the laptop to the back office. I have some things to discuss with you anyway.”
TWELVE
This was a new thing. Unlike most, his ability was constantly evolving. Two weeks ago, Mockingbird hadn’t been able to do this. Unfortunately, such power came at a high cost. He wouldn’t be able to do this forever, which meant he had to step up the recruitment and find someone who could take over for him. Which wouldn’t be easy. As far as he knew, he was unique. But then, everyone was.
What he was doing now, he guessed, was some form of technically powered astral projection, impossible to say for sure. Science hadn’t advanced anywhere near enough to try and chart the reasons why.
“You sure about this, Tan?” In this form, he could see her only in sparks of Tanager-shaped light.
God, he envied Silas. To be able to work out in the field, up close and personal with her? That sounded like a fucking dream come true. Lucky bastard. But the truth was, Mockingbird was far too vital—and too fragile—to survive outside his controlled environment. He hadn’t always been so weak, but the stronger his ability became, the more his body deteriorated. I am an imperfect adaptation , he thought, while waiting for her answer.
“I’m positive,” she said. “We need him. The combat abilities are rare, and even more rare for them to manifest in someone who isn’t batshit crazy.”
That much was certainly true. It seemed as though causing physical harm to others through paranormal means didn’t do the human psyche any good. Part of that could be attributed to the experiments, of course, and long captivity. But they’d found some subjects who’d come into their powers on their own, and to a man, they’d turned to mass murder as a hobby. But Silas was different, and Tanager was right. They had to have him. Her short-term cooperation with his personal penance was a small price to pay.
“Very well.”
He hated thinking of all the time she would spend with Silas in close proximity. Sometimes knowing an operative’s background provided too much insight. But of all his agents, she was the only one he’d formed a personal attachment to, even though he shouldn’t, even though it was stupid, and wrong, and pointless. She’d never even seen his face. Never would.
That’s me, the ultimate untouchable.
“It won’t be a big deal. I like him. And it’ll be nice to have someone around that I can talk to about shit. Plus, he’s had it worse than me, which takes some doing.”
He wished he offered the warning for altruistic reasons. “I think he has some attachment to the regular who came in with him.”
Her tone turned cold. “Yeah. I was going to ask—what do you want me to do about her?”
THIRTEEN
“You’re going to do it.” It wasn’t a question.
Juneau had borne all the weirdness with an almost unreasonable calm. Not that Silas wanted a woman by his side who couldn’t face the unexpected without melting down. But he didn’t know how much more she could take.
“Yeah. But I don’t know how it’s going to work. You and me.”
Juneau shrugged. “Hey, you’re in demand. I’m just somebody you dug out of a rock pile. I appreciate you looking out for me while we were in Ecuador, but I gather we’re stateside now. That means once I head out, I can take care of myself. I need to get new IDs made, replace my bank card, and go see my family. I’d really like to hug my mom.”
He would, too. But after so long, he couldn’t imagine what he’d tell her. Sorry for six years of silence. It wasn’t my fault, I swear. Yeah, that’d go over well. But he had to address the fundamental misconception in what she’d said.
“You’re not. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve trusted with who I am in years.” Since before he’d been taken. “I’m not ready to lose that. Maybe you’d rather walk away, I don’t know. It hasn’t been long enough to be sure what we feel isn’t what they call emotional response to extremity.”
“Any port in a storm?”
“Exactly.”
She nodded like she agreed with him, and his heart clenched. Doing the right thing sucked. He wanted to beg her to stay with him and never leave, because he might never find anyone like her again.
“So what do you suggest, then?”
He took a deep breath, nearly unable to voice the words for the razors in his throat. “We should part ways, at least for a while. Get some perspective. And maybe you’ll decide you want nothing more to do with me.”
“I should go to Chicago anyway. That’s where my family is.”
How funny—and sad—that despite what they’d shared, he hadn’t known that about her. “I’ll open an email account.”
Silas told her the name and service he’d use; she committed it to memory. Juneau pushed away from the wall. “I should bail before they get back. Something tells me they won’t like how much I know about their organization.”
“They don’t know if they can trust you yet.”
“Neither do you,” she said softly. “You’re taking a big ri
sk on me. I might be able to parlay what I know into a big payout from these corporations.”
He shook his head, smiling. “You teach English to impoverished children for a few dollars an hour. You don’t own more than you can carry. If money motivates you, then you have an odd way of showing it, Juneau Bright.”
Her eyes shone, as if she wanted to—but would not—weep. “I hate how well you know me already . . . and how hard this is. I know it’s the right thing, but this is the first time a man has ever asked me to go before I was good and ready.”
That hit him like a brick in the gut. “I’m trying to be noble here. You’re not making it easy.”
“Best quick and clean, then.” She crossed to him, set her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him as he’d never been kissed in his life, as if she wanted to steal his breath and keep it, so she’d always have some of him with her. It made him feel . . . loved. Maybe it was the wrong word, but he clutched it close to his chest. “Good-bye, Silas.”
Watching her leave hurt worse than killing with his hellish power. Grant that it’s not forever, he thought. Grant that she comes back to me. In his mind’s eye, he saw a painting his mother had owned—a tchotchke with a quote imprinted on it—something about loving something and setting it free. He suspected whoever wrote that down initially had never loved a woman like Juneau Bright.
This is best. She’d lived her whole life avoiding ties. The last thing she’d want is a permanent arrangement with someone like me. I’m damaged goods. At least this way, she may remember me fondly. I’ll always be a hero in her eyes. Sadly, those thoughts offered scant comfort.
When Tanager returned with the laptop, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Where’s the chick?”
“I cut her loose.” He met her stare measure for measure. “Is that a problem?”
She smiled. “Not for me. Mox may disagree.”
“Don’t call me that. We can’t have her in the wind, knowing what she knows.” A pause. “She’s got family in Naperville. I bet that’s where she’ll go. If she’s not with you, as in your personal business,” Mockingbird’s tone made it clear what he meant, “then we need to take care of her.”
“No. If she’s harmed, I’ll find you and make you sorry. I’m not working with people who think nothing of punishing innocents.”
“MB means bringing in our resident mind-fucker, hoss.” Tanager laughed softly. “She won’t be injured. She just won’t remember you.”
“You have someone who can do that?” he asked.
“You’d be surprised what Mockingbird’s turned up. He has an eye for talent.”
Much as he hated to consider becoming a blank spot in her memory, if she didn’t get in touch with him, it might be best. He could start this new life with no ties. Silas just wished that didn’t sound so fucking lonely. But at least he’d have purpose.
“Can you give me a window of opportunity?” he asked. “We’re not . . . together, but we were. Briefly. It’s up to her if we continue to be. She can’t make that decision if you cut me from her brain too quick.”
Mockingbird asked, “What sounds reasonable? If you trust her, I’m willing to give her a little time. I don’t think she’ll run right to the Foundation, and even if she did, it would take a while for her to find anyone who would believe her.”
“I think she’s solid,” Tanager said, unexpectedly. “I don’t think she’d sell him out. At least, not voluntarily.”
Silas froze. “Will the Foundation go after her?”
“They might, if anyone had survived the strike in Ecuador. But since you ended three and I drowned the others, nobody will be talking.”
He felt like ice water ran in his veins. “You’re sure they all died?”
“Positive.”
The Mockingbird holo cleared its throat. “How long, then?”
“A month?” Silas figured if she hadn’t emailed him in that time, then she’d have decided it was best to leave things be.
“Done. I won’t send Finch until I hear from you. And welcome aboard. Tanager has your first assignment.”
The woman nodded. “Foundation bloodhounds are hunting some poor bastard here in Texas, and we’re taking them out. It’ll be safer if we use my ability as bait this time. That way, Kestrel won’t know we’re working together. We can plan more on the move. Ready?”
Despite the lingering pain of farewell, he preferred to stay busy. So, “Yeah. The sooner, the better.”
“I like the way this guy thinks. Do you have anything else for us, MB?”
“The pharmacy on the corner of Fourth and Main has a prescription for you, Silas. It’ll help with the pain after you use your ability.”
“Tanager told you?”
She shrugged. “You were in bad shape when I showed up. Dealing with a few more guys would’ve put you on your ass. You need to countermand that.”
“Does your siren voice have a drawback?”
“Siren voice.” She laughed quietly. “I dig that. And yeah. But I’m not telling you what it is. It’s . . . personal.”
Shit. He was sorry he’d asked. “Thanks, Mockingbird. I appreciate the extrication. Not just for me either.”
“Thank me by kicking some goon ass.” The holo sounded almost . . . sad. But why would he?
“All set?” Tanager closed the laptop without a farewell and rolled into motion. “Then let’s hit it.”
FOURTEEN
The bus station in Houston was grungy. Not unusual in that regard.
When she’d emerged from the warehouse, Juneau hadn’t even known where the hell she was. They’d flown in at night and then hopped a second plane. They’d worn blindfolds, too, all enough to set off her fear-o-meter. Fortunately, it had been daytime when she slipped out, and she’d felt safe enough to ask directions from a couple of milling teenagers.
“Bus station’s about eight blocks that way,” one kid said.
His friend added, “Can’t miss it. It’s right by the McDonald’s.”
Easy enough. She felt conspicuous in her wrinkled shorts and tank top. The weather didn’t quite match her attire, but it was warm enough that she didn’t look crazy, at least. Just maybe . . . overly optimistic. A fair number of people hung around in the fast-food restaurant parking lot. Others made their way by crossing an actual set of railroad tracks. Doubtless the bus station’s on the wrong side, too.
But there was no help for it. She brushed past two seedy men who stood smoking by the front doors and found the pay phones. Deep breath. Her hand trembled as she reached for the handset. It shouldn’t be this complicated. Make the call. Leave all the crazy behind. And I have his email, if I decide I want to get in touch later. Thus bolstered, she dialed zero for the operator and asked to make a collect call.
“What number?”
She gave her mother’s and then spoke her name at the tone. Thirty seconds later, she had her mother on the other end of the line. “Where are you, honey? Can you talk more now?”
“I’m in Houston,” she answered. “And yes. But my stuff got buried in the quake. I’m going to need a hand getting home.”
“What can I do?”
Wiring money could be tricky, since she had no ID and no friends here. “Could you buy me a one-way ticket to Chicago, online, and then call to confirm my description with the ticket agent? I hope they’ll give me a break if my mother vouches for me.”
“Absolutely. I’ll book you on the next bus and be waiting for you at the station on this end. Give me ten minutes to make the purchase and then call.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
And she was. Juneau never minded the live up to your potential talks because her mother delivered them with warmth and concern, never nitpickery. But by this point, even her mom had accepted she would never fit the corporate mold. She went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands, and braid her hair. She used a thread unraveled from her tank top to tie it off. It was amazing what one could become accustomed to. In the mirror, her face loo
ked thin and tired.
She left the bathroom and headed up to the front counter. The woman seemed to recognize her by the slight smile. “I just talked to your mom. That hair’s unmistakable.”
“I don’t have ID. I lost everything in Ecuador. Now I’m just trying to get home.”
“Oh man. You’re a quake survivor.” The agent looked as though she wondered how the hell Juneau had wound up in Houston, but she didn’t ask. “It’s not a problem. You have twenty minutes until your bus arrives.”
“Good timing. Thank you so much for this.”
“Anytime. Enjoy your trip.”
Well, that would take some doing since she had no money. But fasting for twenty-four wouldn’t do her any harm. Spiritual types did it all the time.
The bus ride seemed interminable. She transferred in Dallas and then passed through Garland and Greenville. Juneau spent fifteen glorious minutes, drinking from a water fountain in Texarkana, trying to fill up to drive away the ache in her belly. She was weary and heartsick, so ready to come home. Midnight found her in Little Rock, and by four a.m., she was sitting in Memphis, waiting for the driver. They spent an hour there. At last exhaustion took its toll, and she slept. The next thing she knew, it was two fifteen in the afternoon, and she’d arrived in Chicago.
As promised, her mother was waiting for her. She hugged Juneau and then stepped back to look at her. “So glad to have you home, safe and sound. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
If, going forward, she never spent another minute in a bus station, that’d be fine. To Juneau’s vast delight, her mom had brought food. Praise the glorious midwestern obsession for feeding people in times of trouble. The nylon lunch bag held a chicken salad sandwich, an apple, and her favorite sweet: peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips. To cap it off, a bottle of sparkling water. She dug in while her mom drove, navigating the afternoon traffic. It was colder here than in Houston, so she was glad for the car’s heater.
“There’s a sweatshirt in back if you need it.”
Juneau finished the apple and then snagged the hoodie. She wriggled into it with a sigh of satisfaction and then went back to her meal. Her mom knew enough to be patient, so she could enjoy the food. She still makes the best chicken salad ever.
“Thanks.”
“It’s what moms do. I hope you intend to stay awhile this time.”
She thought about it. “Yeah. I think I’ve had enough traveling for a bit. You haven’t turned my room into a home gym yet?”
“No. I keep it up for you, since you don’t have your own place.” But there was no disapproval in her voice, just statement of fact.
“I feel like I could sleep for a week. After I shower. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. It must’ve been pretty rough.”
Juneau thought of her lost coworkers and the children, and the big, dark eyes of the survivors she’d left behind. Even she couldn’t muster up a light reply, so she merely nodded and turned her head against the window, wondering where Silas was right now. It felt strange to be alone; he had been right to call their bond one formed in extremity. But she didn’t feel whole without him nearby. Surely that would change in time. It wasn’t love. It had been sex—and a memory she could treasure.
Naperville. Juneau couldn’t believe she was here. It was all so . . . normal with the neighborhoods laid out in organized grids, streets planted with flowers, and trees standing stately in the yards. This time of year, everything was greening up. Springtime in the Midwest was beautiful. So different from the tropical climate she’d become accustomed to in Ecuador.
It took two days to prove her identity sufficiently to replace driver’s license and passport, and then fill out the requisite forms. Her mother fussed over her, and she didn’t mind. After everything, some TLC hit the spot.
For the rest of the week, Juneau tried not to think about Silas. She didn’t think about the sharp curve of his nose, how good he was in bed, or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Not about how he’d stepped between her and a bullet or how he’d protected her every step of the way.
That weekend, her brothers came from Chicago to check her out personally. They’d both called to make sure she was all right, but her mother insisted they should all be together her first weekend home. Not for the first time, she wondered how Jack and Joseph felt about being asked to drop everything just because she’d turned up like a bad penny. They never complained, though. Apart from the hideous teasing they’d forced her to endure as a tween, her brothers were pretty cool guys. Both were disgustingly successful—a credit to her mother, who’d raised them on her own. Juneau couldn’t remember her father; he’d died when she was four.
It’s a good thing I keep clothes in my old room, she thought, tugging on a pair of jeans. They fit loosely, even though they were at least ten years old. Juneau found a T-shirt and then went down to greet her brothers.
Jack was the oldest—and the tallest. He had dark hair and blue eyes; they all took after their father, leaning toward height. Growing up, Juneau had despaired of ever being as pretty as her mom. Even now, Melva Bright looked ten years younger than her actual age, and people were starting to mistake them for sisters—that could be depressing, if she let it. She didn’t.
Joseph looked more like Juneau, sharing similar features, along with gray eyes and lighter brown hair. They’d always been closer as kids, and still were today. He had slender hands, and each time she saw him, she marveled that he saved lives on a daily basis. She hugged them each in turn and suffered through a prolonged scrutiny.
“Yep,” Joe said at length. “She still has all her parts.”
Jack laughed. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“Absolutely.”
Her oldest brother kissed her forehead. “It’s good to see you, Junie. You had us worried shitless.”
“Don’t call me that.”
It was so good to see some things stayed the same, no matter how much everything else changed. They enjoyed a meal in her mother’s kitchen, catching up and laughing. Her mother focused on why her brothers hadn’t married yet.
“It’s not like you aren’t settled in your careers,” Melva said, gesturing with her fork. “And I want grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”
Jack choked on his antipasto. “Maybe you could let me find the right woman before you mentally impregnate her, Ma?”
Gazing around the table, Juneau knew she should be totally happy right now. No question. She’d survived an insane, incredible situation, but it was all over. By now, she ought to be thinking about her next job, checking lists online, and finding a new adventure.