Renegades: Book Two of the Scottstown Heroes Series

by A A Woods

  Aquila curled his lip in disgust, but he had more important things to do than argue about the ethics of power. “So what will you do to Moose if I figure out who he’s working for?”

  Hans retrieved his drink, giving it a swirl before taking a generous sip. “Well I certainly hope we can stop him and whatever foolish quest he’s on. But if not, then I’m afraid we’ll be forced to neutralize him.”

  “Neutralize him?” Aquila said, balling his fists.

  “As I have already explained, there is an inherent danger in how exposed you and your brothers have become. This whole ordeal has done tremendous damage to my effort at keeping things quiet, and your brother’s continued presence in my affairs puts more than just myself in jeopardy.”

  “From who?” Aquila almost shouted, losing his temper.

  “I believe I made myself clear before, Aquila. Information is not free. This particular knowledge is something that must be earned.”

  Aquila rubbed his head, wishing he could break something. “Look, I need to know that my brother and Eliza are safe. All my brothers, for that matter. I can’t do anything until I’m sure of that.”

  Hans took another sip of his drink. “Your brother is safe… for now. As for Miss Mason, she’s irrelevant to my plans at this point. Whatever danger she is in will not come from me.”

  Aquila’s muscles tensed. “She’s not irrelevant.”

  Hans released a long-suffering sigh. “I’m so tired of adolescent hormones. You will grow out of them, you know.”

  “I won’t grow out of being a nice person,” Aquila shot back.

  “You will, when you realize that nice can be the most poorly used, damaging thing of all.”

  Aquila only frowned.

  “You may leave now,” Hans said with a dismissive tip of his tumbler. “But remember, not a word of this to anyone. If you ever think I’m not watching, remember that your brother believed so as well.”

  Grinding his teeth, Aquila wished he could say something. Respond with anger or frustration or righteousness. But the truth was that he was in way over his head and all he could do was go along with it… for now.

  Keeping his spine straight and his expression unyielding, Aquila turned and made his way back to the balcony.

  The young woman followed him.

  “Why do you work for him?” Aquila asked as he put one foot on the balcony railing. He turned to watch her expression as she answered.

  “Because there’s no one else,” she said, and the strange viciousness in her expression made Aquila’s veins chill. “Good luck, birdie.”

  Before he could do something as stupid as punching one of Hans’s bodyguards, Aquila pushed off the railing and launched himself into the sky, feeling more unsettled than he’d been since they’d arrived in the city.

  Dammit Moose, what are you up to now?

  Chapter Twenty-Five: New Assignments

  Moose could get used to this.

  As he waited in an opulent sitting room for Victor to finish some phone call he was on, sipping fresh tea that Ricardo had brought, Moose allowed himself to imagine that this was his mansion, his assistant serving him, his enormous plush chair by a roaring fireplace. He was no stranger to luxury, having grown up with the run of Ian Eckelson’s massive estate. But that was different, it was his father’s wealth, money that existed in a nebulous, distant sort of way. No, Moose wanted to be like Bruce Wayne, with secret lairs and double-identities and the phone numbers of the rich and famous. He wanted what Victor had, with powers.

  Too bad I’d send people screaming if I took off my goggles, he thought ruefully, tipping his head back.

  Perhaps a reclusive millionaire then.

  Victor walked in, announced by the clacking of hard heels on granite floors. “Musca, my friend! I hear you have a surprise for me!”

  Unable to sit still, Moose leapt to his feet, digging into his pocket. “Of course, dude, you underestimated me. If you hire the best, you gotta be ready for it.” He extracted the three blue vials, holding them on his palm with his best smug-but-professional expression.

  Victor smiled, bringing his hands together in a slow clap. “I will admit, I’m impressed. And you weren’t seen?”

  Moose scoffed, waving the hand holding the vials and not noticing Victor’s flinch. “Don’t insult me. I’m a believer in being ahead of schedule.”

  “An overachiever,” Victor said, holding out his palm. “I like that.”

  A strange sensation overtook Moose, like he should hold onto the small glass canisters at all costs, like it was important for him to retain control of whatever liquid was inside. Moose couldn’t explain it, but it felt… wrong to give them up. Dangerous.

  Victor seemed to notice his hesitation. The previously warm smile cooled around the corners. “Everything ok?”

  “Course, yeah, totally,” Moose said, slapping the vials into the millionaire’s palm. “Just thinking about the look on that Hans guy’s face when he realizes they’re missing.”

  Victor’s eyes were slightly narrowed, but his smile returned in full force, a gregarious, well-trained expression that Moose suspected had been used to close hundreds, if not thousands, of important business deals.

  Moose tried to replicate it on his own face. “So what now? I totally proved myself, right? It’s time for the bigger shindigs, right?”

  Victor slapped Moose on the arm, leading him back to the plushy armchairs by the fire. “It is indeed, and you chose the perfect word for the next mission I need you for.”

  Moose flushed with excitement as he sat. He was needed. For missions. He sat as still as possible, waiting with bated breath.

  “Remember that party I’m throwing tomorrow evening?” Victor said, settling across from Moose. “It’s a rather large event. A shindig, if you will.”

  “You want me to come?” Moose said, almost vibrating with excitement.

  “Not quite. You see, there’s a very important guest who will be arriving. One I’d like to meet in private. I want you to stand guard while I greet him.”

  Moose’s mouth fell open. “Wait, so I’m going to play bouncer? Can’t your assistant do that?”

  “Ricardo will be there as well.” Victor leaned in. “It’s extremely important that no one at the event suspects what’s going on or finds out about this conversation.”

  “Then why do it during the party? Why not meet with this guy another time?”

  Victor only smiled, as if to say that’s my business.

  “Look man, no offense, but I think I can do more than that. Don’t you want me to, like, spy on the guests? Listen to important conversations? You know, real hero work.”

  “Musca, my friend, this is hero work. This is the part they don’t show in the movies, the drudgery and straightforward assistance to those who need it. To those doing good.” Victor spread his hands. “Unless you’d rather go back to stopping bar fights.”

  Moose wanted to respond that he hadn’t been stopping a bar fight, just a fight between bar owners outside a bar. And the woman had been screaming, so really it was a brave thing Moose had done, sprinting in there to face down that huge dude. But he didn’t say that, because Victor was right. Moose was being impatient and greedy. He wanted the fame and glory now, but he had to do the work to get there.

  He was paying his dues, right? Wasn’t that how this worked?

  “Ok, yeah, I guess I’ll be your bodyguard for the night or whatever.”

  “Good,” Victor said, settling back in his seat. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll—”

  Another clacking of heels announced a new figure at the doorway. Tall, narrow, statuesque, beautiful. Now Moose’s mouth fell open for a different reason, because you’d have to live under a rock to not recognize Scarlett Hill.

  Before Moose could gather his jaw off the ground, Victor swept to his feet and spread his arms. “Hi sweetheart, you’re here early.”

  Scarlett’s expression was unreadable as it moved from Victor’s welcome
to Moose’s surprise. It might have concerned Moose that she didn’t look surprised to see him, but such logical thoughts couldn’t break through his starstruck awe. He followed her Instagram. He knew how magnetic she was, how one couldn’t help but click on her livestreams because just looking at her was enough to make anyone’s head spin.

  But Scarlett in person was even more powerful, even stronger of a pull on his attention.

  Without her saying a word, Moose knew he would do whatever she asked of him.

  Her dark eyes shifted back to Victor. “I’ll meet you in the theater room,” she said with a haughty lift of her chin that she somehow managed to make attractive rather than off-putting.

  As she clicked off, Moose released a low whistle. “Wow man, I didn’t know you were dating Scarlett Hill. That must be crazy! She’s like uber-famous.”

  When Moose looked at Victor, he was surprised to find not pride but bitterness in the other man’s expression.

  “Yes, it’s… crazy.”

  Moose fidgeted, wondering if he was treading close to yet another messy relationship disagreement. “How did you two meet?”

  “Oh, we have similar interests.” Victor waved a hand. “You know how it is.”

  I really don’t, Moose thought, but he didn’t push. There was a weird undercurrent to Victor’s voice, like his gorgeous, super-hot, super-famous girlfriend was the last thing he wanted to talk about. Like Scarlett was not someone he was dating, but someone he was competing with.

  Rich people are so weird.

  Victor didn’t sit back down, so Moose didn’t either. After a moment of Victor seemingly lost in his own thoughts, he finally turned, that brilliant, photogenic smile hitched back in place.

  “Well thanks for coming. And for these,” he gestured with the hand still holding the three vials as delicately as fresh eggs. “I’ll expect you here tomorrow, around six p.m. Once again, be sure no one sees you. We don’t want anyone at the party to… suspect.”

  Moose tried not to see that as an order. They were partners, equals, working together to fight big bad crime bosses like this Hans guy.

  So why did it feel like Moose had suddenly become one of the help?

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there,” he said, trying to think of a way to regain control of the situation, to feel like he wasn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game. But all he could think to do was gesture dismissively at Ricardo for his coat, who wasn’t famous and didn’t have powers.

  Somehow, it only made Moose feel worse.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Underlying Tensions

  Eliza hadn’t accused. She hadn’t said anything, had pretended that she believed Aquila’s story that he was just getting some air. When she’d realized he snuck out, she’d made a conscious decision not to nag him or push him or be all the stereotypes of an angry girlfriend.

  No, she would be cool, calm, put-together, free of suspicion.

  And then she would figure out what the fuck was going on.

  Cracking open the door of the guest room Aquila was staying in, Eliza paused in the entrance to look at him. He was sprawled on his belly, wings spread out and draped over either side of the enormous king mattress. He’d taken off the shirt she knew rubbed his wing joints, despite the holes they’d cut in the back, and was wearing only his boxers. With his whole glorious back exposed, hidden only by those equally glorious feathers, Eliza couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the view.

  Even though she was angry at him for keeping secrets and frustrated that he didn’t see her as a partner in this mess, she still felt overcome with affection as she watched him breathe in and out, softly vulnerable in sleep. What he was doing, keeping her at arm’s length, was infuriating. But it was even more infuriating to know why he did it. He cared about her, took responsibility for her wellbeing. He did with everyone, but Eliza suspected that he especially worried about her. After all, she didn’t have powers. She wasn’t strong or fast or armored with scales. She was human, and therefore must be protected.

  It didn’t help that she kept having those troublesome flashbacks to the events on Fitzgerald base.

  Shaking her head to dislodge the nightmares that had kept her awake, Eliza focused on the room. She scanned over the normal mess that seemed inevitable with teenage boys, no matter their abilities. There were clothes tossed over chairs, balled-up socks on the floor, a toothbrush on the side-table, an old paperback upside-down on the floor. Moby Dick, which Eliza knew Aquila was only reading because it put him to sleep, which was hard for both of them these days.

  Scraping her memory for what Aquila had been wearing when he came back last night, flushed and quiet after whatever he hadn’t told her about, she dug through the pile of wrinkled clothes. She found his jeans at the top, but there was nothing in the pockets. The button-down shirt didn’t have anything either.

  Spinning in a slow circle, she wracked her brain.

  Coat!

  Hurrying over on silent tiptoes, she dug through the pockets and folds, looking for something. A card. A hint.

  Nothing.

  Frustrated, Eliza stood in the middle of the room, taking everything in. She felt degraded and dehumanized, sunk to the level of ransacking her boyfriend’s things. And why? Because she suspected he was up to something? Because she didn’t want to be left out?

  Closing her eyes, Eliza allowed herself a moment to feel overwhelmed. She’d come to think of the pressure in her brain like a volcano, where she had to acknowledge and release a bit of the steam every day or she might explode. Moose, Aquila, the media, the city, and now this? A billionaire who had, for some reason, taken an interest in Aquila that he wouldn’t tell her about?

  “Hey?” said a croaking voice, accompanied by the gentle shifting of thick fabrics. “What are you doing in here?”

  Her eyes flew open. “Sorry, I just…” but she couldn’t think of anything quick enough. Five months ago, she would have had an excuse on her lips before he’d even blinked fully conscious. She’d have been ready with a quip and a joke and a way to distract him. But her brain was too stuffed, and she didn’t have the space to think of something to say.

  Aquila’s expression was soft and understanding.

  He lifted one arm in invitation.

  Feeling like a child and hating herself for it, Eliza crawled into bed and let him squeeze her against his body.

  “You ok?” he asked, his deep voice like a massage against her spine.

  “Of course,” she said.

  Guess we’re both liars here.

  “Eliza, I’ve been thinking. When all this is over….” He took a deep breath that she could feel viscerally, like a regretful breeze. “We should get you some help.”

  She tensed and didn’t answer.

  “I just want you to be ok. You know that, right? There’s no shame in needing help, it’s a natural thing to be unsettled after what we went through.”

  “You’re not unsettled.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not true. But I’m used to weird.”

  Eliza wiggled out of his grasp, twisting in the bed sheets so she was looking at him. “What makes you think I’m not used to weird? I’m the queen of weird.”

  Aquila’s mouth curled into a smile warm enough to melt off some of her resentment. “Maybe.” His smile faded. “But still.”

  Eliza chewed her lip.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Dammit, I have to try. “How about you tell me what you’re up to?” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Tell me where you went last night, and I’ll call a shrink right now.”

  The warm glow of the morning withered when she saw him withdraw, saw the defenses snap up. And Eliza fought the urge to wince. She hadn’t meant to sound so antagonistic, but her anger was always there these days, simmering under the surface. And how could he tell her she needed help when he was one of the reasons she was so upset?

  “Eliza, I told you. Nothing’s going on.”

  “Yeah, and I’m a cheerl
eader.”

  “I’m sorry you think I’m lying to you—”

  “Because you are.”

  Her hard words settled between them like a curtain and she longed to take them back, stuff them into her mouth and pretend everything was fine. But she couldn’t stand it. He was holding her at a distance for her own good and she didn’t want him to. How could she explain that his attempt to keep her safe was making everything more painful?

  He sighed, this time with enough exhaustion to make her heart clench. “Can we start the morning over after I shower?”

  “Sure,” Eliza said, rolling off the bed. She wanted him to grab her, pull her on top of him as he’d done in that meadow on the Eckelson grounds.

  But he didn’t.

  Eliza watched numbly as he gathered his towel, spare underwear, and fresh clothes. He came over to give her a kiss, but the heat was gone. Fighting tears, she stepped back, turning away even as he strode into the private bathroom.

  Then she saw it.

  There, beneath Moby Dick, a card with some writing scrawled on it. Glancing over her shoulder, Eliza waited until she heard water running. Then she leapt over and pulled the book up.

  He’d been using it as a bookmark, but there it was. Proof. It wasn’t Hans Schneider’s card, as she’d thought it would be, but an invitation. For a party.

  At seven o’clock tonight.

  Memorizing the address, Eliza carefully put the invitation back. If he found out she knew, he’d stop her. Find some way to keep her here, safe. But she had no intention of sitting back on her heels while Aquila was off getting into trouble. No, this was her fight as much as his, and whatever was going on, she deserved to know about it. She deserved the opportunity to help.

  “Do you want tea?” she called to cover up the sound of her putting the book in place, just as it had been. She needn’t have bothered, since the waterfall shower was loud enough to drown out pretty much anything.

  “Sure,” he called back.

  Eliza nodded, full of a new determination. Because she had leverage now. She had power again.