Envy

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Flint flicked a glance at his children. “They weren’t ready to act as a family. But they’re learning.” He shot a glance to Grace. “And we have her now. Grace has proven there’s hope. Don’t worry, we’ll get Evan back. Why don’t you start by going over some history that might shed some new light on this.”

  Flint went back to his seat and scrutinized the laptop. Mary inhaled deeply. Tension made the air thick. Then she began to flip the knife in her hand, catching it by the hilt and then flipping it again.

  She looked at her children and pointed with the knife. “Your birth mother Gloria knew so much about genetic engineering. She hid your full potential under a layer of genetic junk that would have taken a lifetime for any other scientist to unravel. It was a safeguard to stop your DNA from falling into the wrong hands. If they need Evan, then whoever runs this GODC lab must be linked to the lab that created you. It’s got to be Julius. At the start of the project, he persuaded Gloria to work for him and promised her that you all would be a balm—warriors who would protect and prevent. But the truth became apparent the older you all got. He kept bringing in new military partners from across the world. He wanted to weaponize you and use you to destroy half the world. What better way to isolate and eradicate sin than to have near invincible and lethal soldiers who could sense it.

  “This is a nightmare. Everything we tried to avoid all those years ago, is coming back to haunt us… worse. They could create an army of people like you. We have to stop them. We have to get Evan back before they collect the right samples.”

  “How are we going to find him? The tracker is off.”

  “He read out a few street signs as they were driving,” Grace said, mouth going dry. “Then Sara caught on to what he was doing and the line went dead.”

  “What were the signs?” Flint asked.

  Grace told him and they worked out a direction Sara had been heading.

  “We need more,” Parker said.

  “Maybe there is more.”

  All eyes locked on Grace.

  “His paintings and sketches,” she said.

  “Yes.” Mary rushed to her. “Have you seen something?”

  Grace nodded. “At his apartment there were mountains of sketches. He thought half of them were junk, but when I was there earlier, I saw something in one of them that he missed. It was of an event that really happened. He’s got some sort of second sight. There has to be more there.”

  Parker nodded. “Right. Grace, come down to the basement and we’ll take some samples of your blood. I know you feel fine, but better be safe than sorry about the poisoning. Mary, then you can go with Grace to Evan’s apartment, see what you can find. Sloan and Flint, you stay here and run comms. The rest of us, get into battle gear.”

  “No, I’m not getting dressed,” Liza said, gritting her teeth. “I’m going as a cop.”

  “Unacceptable. You can’t be seen with us. It will compromise your identity.”

  “I’ll just say I received an anonymous tip. Having a cop there will be convenient.”

  “That leaves only two of us in body armor,” Parker growled.

  “I don’t need it,” she replied.

  “Is that what you’d tell your SWAT team before sending them in?”

  Parker turned to Sloan. She lifted her palms. “Don’t look at me. I won’t even fit my armor.”

  “This family is a disgrace,” Parker mumbled as he stormed out.

  “Come on, Grace. Let’s go to Evan’s place,” Mary said, and then they left.

  Thirty-Six

  A dark rider approached the Escalade as Evan and Sara drove down the freeway.

  Evan’s heart rate picked up. A million thoughts raced through his mind. If it was Wyatt, what was he going to do?

  Sara noticed the power crackling in Evan’s hands. She glanced in her rearview then back at Evan. “I told you I’d make your life hell if you ruin this for me.”

  “I didn’t do anything.” But he would. If he couldn’t get to whoever pulled her strings, he’d stop Sara himself.

  She dialed on her phone. A voice came through the speaker on the handset.

  “Where are you?” It was a low voice, devoid of emotion. Just hearing the sound made Evan cringe.

  “I’m being followed,” Sara said. “We’re almost at the rendezvous point.”

  “I can see your coordinates. How many are following?”

  “So far, just one rider. Probably Wyatt.”

  “You’re not far. I’ll send backup. Protect the asset.”

  Evan took the phone out of Sara’s hand. “Asset speaking here.”

  No answer.

  “I want you to delete the CCTV footage you have of Grace at your lab otherwise I’m getting out of the car right now.”

  Still no answer.

  “Are you there? Who is this?” Evan tried again.

  “If you do not cooperate, your Grace won’t live to see another day.”

  And then the line went dead.

  Evan threw the phone on the floor.

  Sara planted her foot on the accelerator, lurching the car forward. She beeped her horn to get vehicles out of the way, but this was Cardinal City. Nobody moved for anybody.

  The sound of a bike engine revving got closer. And louder. And closer.

  Until the walls of the Escalade vibrated from the motorbike’s sound, and a dark shadow peered through Evan’s window, blocking out the sun. He recognized the gun metal gray helmet. A black stripe crossed the top from opaque visor to nape, like the shadow of a Mohawk. Black was the color of wrath.

  The bike nudged Evan’s side of the car, jolting it. Evan frowned at Wyatt and shook his head. Don’t do it, bro. But Wyatt slammed the car with his palm, then gestured for them to pull over.

  Some cars beeped, some ignored them. Some changed lanes to get away. But there was nowhere to go. They were on a three lane stretch of the freeway, headed west and toward the bridge that took them to the airport on the mainland.

  “Do something,” Sara said to Evan. “Get rid of him.”

  Evan hesitated.

  “Get rid of him. You heard the lady on the phone. If you don’t cooperate, your girl is dead. And believe me, Falcon follows through with her promises.”

  He ground his teeth and wound down the window, but Wyatt knew him. Once upon a time, Wyatt was Evan’s sparring partner. He taught Evan how to defend himself in elementary school, and he continued to mentor Evan as they grew. When Evan came back from his training years, Wyatt continued to spar with him. He knew how Evan fought. The bike dropped back and darted around the rear of the car to Sara’s side.

  Evan thought Wyatt might swerve into the car again, but he didn’t. He punched the windshield, gloved fist cracking the glass at Sara’s head. Evan’s eyes widened. That was bullet proof glass he cracked. He was seriously pissed.

  Sara blanched, and then steered the car into him, closing the gap between the Escalade and the bollards protecting the river—with Wyatt in between.

  Evan couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t put Wyatt in danger. He yanked on the steering wheel, and the car spun, tires screeched in a three-sixty tailspin that hit the bollard on Sara’s side and stopped. The smell of burned rubber filtered into the car.

  “You idiot!” Sara pulled the chef’s knife she’d stashed. “Now things have to get messy.”

  She tried to open her door, but it hit the bollard. She was stuck inside.

  Evan wasn’t. He got out of the car intending to get between her and Wyatt, but his brother torpedoed him, knocking him to the ground. The wind vaporized in Evan’s lungs and his eyes watered. Wyatt straddled him. His big body loomed over Evan, dark and ominous. He wore his battle gear, which meant extra padding beneath the leather, and extra weapons. Nothing could be seen beyond the black visor of the helmet except for Evan’s own startled reflection and the stormy sky above the river.

  A gloved fist met Evan’s cheekbone, snapping his head sideways, blurring his vision. Pain splintered, but h
e was used to pain. He worked his jaw. Still functional.

  That’s all he allowed Wyatt to have, and then he generated power in his internal battery. The currents shifted in the air, electrifying. He sensed movement from Wyatt a split second after he made it. Evan darted his head to the side and narrowly avoided Wyatt’s fist as it hit the asphalt beside him, spraying rock. Hell, that guy was strong.

  A muffled growl came from behind the visor.

  Wyatt removed his helmet and threw it across the lane. It bounced on the road, causing another car to swerve. Then the traffic continued to whiz by on the freeway. Nobody willing to stop. So they shouldn’t.

  Animosity poured off Wyatt in waves, just as tumultuous as the ones in the river, smashing against the bollards, spraying a fine mist over them. His face contorted. Tendons ticked in his jaw. Blue eyes reflected the storm about to break.

  “Why?” he growled and threw another punch.

  “It’s not me.” This time, Evan lifted his arms to block the blow. Shockwaves reverberated through him. He could take a beating. If it’s what Wyatt needed, he could give him that. He didn’t mean it, Evan knew. Wyatt just needed to let the devil out.

  “Stop it!” Sara shouted from somewhere. “You’re damaging the asset.”

  Her voice only kindled Wyatt’s wrath. He came at Evan again, and again, growling with feral frustration as his fists pummeled into him.

  Then, miraculously, the weight of Wyatt’s body disappeared from Evan.

  Hesitantly, Evan’s lowered his arms, but wish he hadn’t.

  Sara held Wyatt around the throat as she backed them into traffic across the freeway. Car horns beeped. Tires screeched. And then a glint of light sparked where her hand was, and Evan registered the knife.

  Panic gripped his heart.

  A cocktail of emotions swam across Wyatt’s face. Confusion, anger, betrayal, hurt. But he did nothing, no evasive maneuver, no negotiating with the terrorist. His body was limp and compliant in her arms.

  “What are you doing, Sara?” Wyatt asked, voice raw. “Just tell me the truth.”

  “I must protect the asset.”

  “The asset.” Slowly, Wyatt’s eyes tracked to Evan’s and narrowed.

  “Let him go, Sara,” Evan said, holding his hand out, reaching for his brother. “Stay in the car!” he shouted to the nearby people starting to get out of their vehicles.

  “You get back in the car,” Sara warned Evan. “We have places to be.”

  “My deal doesn’t include you hurting Wyatt.”

  “Screw Wyatt. You’re the only person I need to bring back.”

  “Somebody better start explaining,” Wyatt growled, eyes darting to the crowd.

  “Hey, lady! We’re driving here!” yelled an irate balding man with a mustache.

  “Shut up! Or you’re next.” Sara kicked Wyatt in the back of his knees, collapsing him execution style.

  “Sara,” Wyatt warned. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Oh stop being so stupid, Wyatt.” Sara leaned down so her lips hovered near his ear. “Love can’t conquer all.” She rapped his head. “It can’t fix a diseased heart.”

  Wyatt’s jaw clenched. “You could have told me. I would have helped you.”

  “You can’t fix me!” she screamed. “Some things can’t be saved with your fists.”

  Murder flickered in his eyes. “Of course we could help you. Why do you think they need Evan’s blood for their big breakthrough? They don’t have all the information. We do.”

  “No.” Sara gaped in disbelief. “They’re closer to the truth.”

  “Close?” Evan said cautiously. “I thought you already had the antidote. I thought you said they already fixed you?”

  Her silence was punctuated by a beeping horn, and the smell of exhaust fumes as more cars coalesced. She whipped her gaze over Evan’s head to the lanes behind him. The sound of a siren in the distance grew louder as did the high-pitched roar of motorcycles. Back up was arriving, but whose?

  Sara’s eyes widened at Evan, and her face paled as she realized she’d been caught in a lie. There was no antidote. And if she lied about that, had she lied about the poisoned smoothie? The footage?

  She pressed the knife into Wyatt’s throat. A thin sliver of blood trickled. “I’m done talking.”

  “Don’t!” Electricity crackled and sparked at Evan’s fingertips. All it would take was to unleash in Sara’s direction, but the jolt might make her spasm and cut Wyatt’s throat. He’d probably electrocute Wyatt too. And people were watching.

  Wyatt could twist out of the hold Sara had on him. He’d done that kind of thing before. It was a classic self-defense move, so why wasn’t he defending himself? Hurt. Pain. Agony echoed back at Evan when he turned to his brother.

  The sirens grew louder.

  “I’m sorry Wyatt,” Sara said. “But I want to live which means I have to protect the asset at all costs.”

  “I’m sorry about you getting sick, Sara.”

  “Sorry doesn’t cure me, Wyatt.”

  “But we could have been happy with the time we had.”

  Sara hesitated, sobbed. The knife dug into his neck, then a shot was fired. The sound ricocheted off the water, and it was impossible to tell where it came from.

  Red liquid dribbled out of Sara’s mouth.

  Then she sliced.

  Another shot had her violently jerking and the knife cut deep into Wyatt’s throat. Blood mingled on the road between them. Sara’s wide eyes pleaded for mercy, her red-stained hand reached toward Wyatt, but it was as she’d said, some things can’t be saved at all.

  It all happened in a daze from there. Evan moved underwater. Wyatt’s hands flew to his throat to staunch the blood spurting out. Red liquid went everywhere.

  Evan ran to his brother, dropped to his knees and tried to staunch the spurting with his hands, but Wyatt crawled toward Sara, dragging himself through his blood.

  “Stay put, brother,” Evan growled.

  Sara choked, chest convulsing, eyes never leaving her fiancé until their hands met in the middle.

  “Oh shit,” Evan said. “Don’t die on me, brother.”

  Wyatt gurgled. His body spasmed.

  “No,” Evan begged as the warm wet life-force bled through gaps in their hands. “A Lazarus never quits, remember?”

  Wyatt frowned at Evan, but in his eyes, a wealth of understanding flickered back at Evan.

  “I’m not going to let you die, brother. I won’t let that bitch have her way. Come on, bro. Shit. What do I do? What can I do?”

  An angel’s voice came from somewhere. “Keep applying pressure, hard. Here, let me take over,” Grace landed beside Evan and replaced his hands with hers. “We need to get him to the hospital. I have to pack the wound. He needs surgery.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently.

  “I’m sorry, Wyatt, but it’s not up to you,” Grace said. “I can’t do anything for you out here in the field.”

  Wyatt’s bloody hand snapped out to latch onto Evan’s wrist, and he pleaded with his eyes. No hospital.

  “Shit.” Adrenaline jackhammered Evan’s heart.

  His eyes darted around the scene. A bloody faced Sara was being helped up by two black uniformed soldiers, similar to the ones he fought at the GODC lab. Another two dark shadows dropped to the road between Evan and Sara. Pride and Greed. Liza was running up, in between halted traffic, gun pointed at Sara and her companions. The cavalry were here. But so were more hostiles. Guns. Rifles. Spectators. Like Sara had said, it was about to get messy.

  Evan stood and looked down at his beautiful Grace as she held pressure to Wyatt’s throat and spoke calmly and reassuringly to him.

  “Grace,” he choked. “It’s only me they want. I’ll hand myself over then you can take Wyatt to the hospital.”

  She turned her face up to him and frowned. “No. You are not doing that.”

  “But they have footage of you breaking into the lab with me
.” He swallowed hard. “And that smoothie was poisoned.”

  “They can’t use the footage without incriminating themselves, and I feel fine. Parker took some blood samples. If there’s anything wrong with me, we’ll deal with it. But I’m not letting you go. I should never have believed her lies in the first place.”

  Evan straightened. Of course. The human cloning tanks were in the footage. How could he be so stupid. The rest was probably all lies. Anger flared inside him, heating his bones with fire and napalm, humiliation... chagrin. He glanced down at Wyatt. His advanced physiology had staunched most of his blood flow, but there was damage to his throat. Real gaping damage. They needed to get him to safety so he could be looked after. Evan spotted the chef’s knife near Wyatt’s head and he bent down to retrieve it. Completely metal, the knife would conduct the lightning already bursting from Evan’s fingertips.

  “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll make her pay,” he said and narrowed his sights on Sara.

  She stood with her two armed companions, weapons pointed back at them.

  “No, Evan!” Grace exclaimed. “No more bloodshed.”

  He hesitated.

  Long enough for another loud crack to split the air and leave an echo along the road. People screamed and ducked in their cars. What the hell? What had just happened? It took Evan a moment to understand, but Sara’s two companions also fell to the ground, and he knew this was a cleaning operation. The Syndicate wanted all traces of their failed mission gone.

  “It wasn’t me!” Liza shouted, now pointing her weapon around the area, scanning for a second shooter.

  The sense of being watched sent every hair on the back of his neck standing up. Someone else was here. Evan crouched, knife ready. He couldn’t let anything happen to Wyatt and Grace. They were his priorities now.

  Sara was still alive and crawling toward Evan. No, not toward him... but toward Wyatt. Down at his feet, Wyatt did the same. With one hand clasping his throat, the other tried to pull himself through the puddle of his own blood, toward the woman who betrayed him.

  “Stop moving, Wyatt,” Grace ordered, but his determined free hand clawed the road, trying to get to Sara.

  Another shot and the asphalt exploded near Sara’s head and she whimpered, gurgling. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.”