Renegades: Book Two of the Scottstown Heroes Series

by A A Woods

  “I think you kidnapped me,” Eliza growled.

  “You broke into my house!”

  “You conspired to kill people.”

  Victor sighed. “So you did hear.”

  Eliza swallowed, wondering how much she’d just tipped her hand.

  “You know what we have to do,” the other man said in a low voice. “There’s no getting around it.”

  Victor shook his head before Eliza’s attacker was even done speaking. “No, no she’s not involved. She’s a bystander.”

  “So are half the attendants tonight.”

  “They signed up for the business.”

  “But what about the caterers? The servers?”

  Victor’s lip curled. “Are you trying to talk me out of it, Ricardo?”

  “No, I’m simply illuminating the reality of the situation. You can’t take down Hans if you’re weak.”

  Victor opened his mouth, fist clenched, and Eliza was sure he was about to shout at the shorter man, maybe give more of the plan away.

  But then the door burst open and in strode Scarlett Hill.

  “What the hell have you done?” Scarlett said, looking a lot less poised and polished than Eliza had ever seen her.

  Eliza had heard the rumors about Victor Smith and Scarlett Hill’s relationship. The tabloid stories were hard to miss. But why was Scarlett here, of all places? And why did she look so angry? She was still gorgeous and statuesque, still difficult to look away from, but something had clearly unsettled the Instagram star.

  Eliza had a bad feeling that something was her.

  “We caught her eavesdropping on our meeting with Ramison,” Victor snapped. “What were we supposed to do?”

  “Not have the meeting on the goddamned roof!” Scarlett said, voice ripping through two octaves.

  “I told you, we needed to act. There wasn’t much time.”

  “There would be plenty of time if that idiot you brought in hadn’t blown it.”

  “We needed an alibi.”

  “We needed to work clean and not get this all over our hands!” Scarlett turned away, rubbing her forehead. “This is such a mess.”

  “No, it’s not,” said the third man, Ricardo. “Things are still contained. The kid doesn’t know about her,” he pointed at Eliza. “And if he has cold feet, fine. We send him home, tell him not to worry about it.”

  “A loose end—” Scarlett began, but Ricardo cut her off.

  “That we can handle. He’s still obsessed with the hero shit. We can use that to keep him in line.”

  Scarlett nodded slowly, but Victor was looking at Eliza. She was doing her best to be small, to listen to the plan and not draw attention. But it was hard with her heart pounding and the distinct feeling that she was one of those loose ends that needed to be snipped.

  “Alright,” Scarlett said, regaining her composure. “We send the kid home. As for her, Ricardo, up the dosage to—”

  “No.”

  Victor’s statement cut through the conversation like a knife.

  “Excuse me?” Scarlett said, swinging toward him. “You screwed this up. I’m cleaning up your mess.”

  “We don’t kill teenagers just because they’re inconvenient.”

  Scarlett straightened, staring Victor down. “If that’s true, then I was right all along. You don’t have the balls to defeat Hans. Because he wouldn’t hesitate.”

  In two steps, Victor had covered the distance between him and his girlfriend. He grabbed her arms with bruising force, giving her a violent shake. “I’m tired of you telling me what to do. I’m tired of you acting like this is your game and we’re just playing it. This is my house and my plan, and you need to remember your place.”

  Scarlett smiled and for some reason Eliza couldn’t help but imagine her teeth stained red, even though they were as white as ever. “Anyone who has to remind others of his power doesn’t actually have any.”

  For a moment, Eliza wondered if Victor was going to hit her. Then he let her go with a curl of his lip. “No murder in my house, Scarlett. Or else you’ll need to find someone else to fund your damn ambitions.”

  Victor stormed out. All three of them watched him go.

  Ricardo shook his head. “He needs to be reminded how replaceable he is.”

  “He will be. But not yet.” Scarlett turned to Eliza and Eliza felt like a cloud had just drifted away, leaving her under the full blast of the sun’s attention. She fought the urge to squirm. “For now, we do it his way.”

  “It’s a risk.”

  Scarlett sighed. “It appears we’re taking lots of those. But if she causes any complications…” her gaze drilled into Eliza, “kill her.”

  Eliza swallowed.

  Ricardo grinned. “Of course.”

  Turning to leave, Scarlett called back over her shoulder. “Oh and send the idiot home. Make sure he understands the rules. Any interference and his chance at fame and glory goes away like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  Ricardo followed, closing the door behind him and muffling the two voices drifting into the distance.

  “Shit,” Eliza said, testing her voice. It was croaky but mercifully still worked. She hadn’t been sure. Watching that conversation unfold above her had made her feel like a statue, like an object to be dealt with, not a terrified human being. And it hadn’t helped that she’d been frozen, locked with the pounding terror that had become a familiar companion these last few months. Old Eliza would have snarled and spat. Old Eliza wouldn’t have cringed with fear, listening to nefarious agents make plans of how to deal with her.

  Old Eliza wouldn’t have tolerated that.

  Tears bubbled out of her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. God dammit. She’d been trying to help Aquila, trying to prove herself, but here she was fulfilling the very role she’d sworn to avoid: the helpless girlfriend in need of rescuing. That wasn’t supposed to be her. She was brave and strong and bold and troublesome.

  Wasn’t she?

  Gritting her teeth, Eliza swallowed the tears. She might have been captured, but she’d be damned if she was going to fall to pieces because of it. Looking around the room, Eliza took stock of her surroundings. She was still wearing her winter coat, but pressing her hip against the leg of the bedframe told her that her phone was gone. No luck there. But she had her boots, nice and heavy-duty. Good for kicking. Perhaps good for something else.

  Using the rope to pull herself upright, Eliza felt something wonderful.

  A slight give in the wood.

  Bending closer, Eliza saw that a small, hairline crack had formed where the post was nailed into the frame. She pulled again.

  It widened.

  Eliza grinned, glancing over her shoulder. They hadn’t locked the door. She assumed Ricardo would be coming back soon, after they told Moose to leave.

  She had to work fast.

  With the desperation bubbling in her chest, Eliza didn’t think that would be a problem.

  Turning back toward the four-poster bed, Eliza began to rock back and forth on her heels, wiggling the wood loose, all the while thinking, over and over, I am not a fucking damsel.

  Chapter Forty-One: Bad Vibes

  Moose couldn’t help himself.

  He fidgeted.

  It didn’t help that the chair in front of Victor’s desk was terribly uncomfortable. But really, it was so much more than that. Moose’s already-overactive brain was stuffed full of tall young men with owl wings who liked violence and parties in just a few hours whose attendants might be in danger. How did the bioagent work? Would it kill all of them? Most of them? Just Hans?

  Moose really should have asked before he handed it over.

  The door behind him opened and Ricardo walked in, face as flat and unreadable as ever.

  Moose leapt to his feet. “Where’s Victor? I need to ask him about what happened.”

  “Victor is quite busy, I’m afraid. He’s got a lot to plan for.”

  “Like murder?” Moose asked, throwing his hands
out. “Look, this is getting kind of serious and I’m not sure—”

  “We thought you’d expressed a desire to take down, as you called him, the Big Bad.” Ricardo cocked his head. “Or was that all just talk?”

  Moose leaned back on his heels, more lost than he’d felt since years ago when their mother had died. He remembered the complicated feelings of rage, pain, confusion, all made worse because it had been, at least in some sense, Daisy’s doing. He remembered having to train himself, to learn that it wasn’t really his brother’s fault. Accidents happened. Mistakes are made, even tragic ones.

  But now it was his mistake, his potentially tragic misstep, and Moose wasn’t at all sure if it would be easier to forgive himself.

  Better to make sure it didn’t happen.

  He took a step forward. “I’m not comfortable with this. I need to talk to Victor.”

  Ricardo smiled and the expression reminded Moose of a snake about to swallow a rodent.

  Or a fly.

  “I told you, Victor’s busy.”

  “Then find him. This is important.”

  “I should remind you that you work for Mr. Smith, not the other way—”

  Moose leapt into action, rushing for the door. But Ricardo was ready for him, hand out, snagging his upper arm. Moose made to pull away, but something sharp pressed into his flesh, puncturing his windbreaker.

  He looked down in surprise.

  A thick nail, almost like a tooth, was pressed into the skin of his bicep, making an indent that was visible through the rip in the jacket. Instinct told Moose that something very bad would happen if that tooth pressed any deeper.

  “You too!” Moose said, looking up at Ricardo.

  “Did you really think you were the only Abnormal Victor decided to work with?” Ricardo asked, his expression unchanging even as he pressed harder. “Now, be a good boy and run along home. We’ll call you in the morning for your next assignment.” Ricardo’s strangely dead eyes gleamed. “By then, Victor will have much bigger jobs for you to do.”

  “I don’t want them,” Moose said without thinking, spitting out the words before his brain could catch up with their meaning.

  “You don’t want to be a hero?”

  “None of this is heroic.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Ricardo released him. “Heroism is in the eye of the beholder. After all, even the villains are heroes of their own story.”

  Moose stepped back, hating how much sense that made.

  Hating even more that he had no response.

  So, when Ricardo opened the door and gestured for him to leave, Moose stepped through, feeling distinctly like a whipped dog.

  “Don’t cause any trouble on your way home, ok?” Ricardo said as he led Moose to the back door. “We’ve got big plans and don’t have time to rescue you.”

  The house was still strewn with party paraphernalia, but the guests were gone. It felt eerie, like something horrible had happened here in the middle of something grand. And, creepiest of all, a strange, rhythmic squeaking, like someone working a loose floorboard free.

  “I don’t need rescuing,” Moose said with halfhearted arrogance.

  Ricardo’s smile was dismissive as he stood by the back door. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Brain spinning, thoughts a muddled mess, Moose stepped out.

  The door slammed shut behind him.

  He slumped, plopping down on the back stairs.

  What now?

  He knew they were planning an attack on the big party tonight, something that would kill more than just Hans. But the event was full of Hans’s agents, right? The men and women under his thumb. Did that make them villains too? Did that mean they deserved it? And what about the other people, guests and dignitaries and whoever-else-went-to-parties-like-these? Would they be spared?

  Numb and unsure, Moose pulled out his phone, wondering if he’d find an answer there.

  A text from Delilah illuminated his screen.

  Will be home late tonight. Big party, my presence is requested. Don’t wait up!

  Oh no.

  Delilah.

  He jumped to his feet.

  She’d be at the party. Moose had known she was baking for it, but he hadn’t expected her to be there. She rarely went to the parties she catered for, just for the really big orders that needed to be looked after or refreshed.

  But this was a big order, wasn’t it?

  The fanciest party of the year.

  Moose could imagine her in her pressed pantsuit, happy and beautiful as she watched over her plate of confections, making sure each and every one was as perfect as her client expected them to be.

  Never suspecting that the party was destined to end in chaos.

  That settles it, Moose thought storming down the steps and into the road. He’d get a safe distance from the mansion, far enough that no one would overhear. And then he’d do what he should have done ages ago.

  He’d call Aquila.

  Chapter Forty-Two: Sideways

  Glaring at Tasha’s door, Joe tried to control his anger. It wasn’t her fault that Eliza was missing and Moose was neck-deep in some serious shit and everything was going wrong. She hadn’t forced his parents to lie to him all his life and then, in the critical moment, refuse to tell him the truth. She hadn’t flown off in a fit of rage and refused to answer his damn phone for hours.

  But Tasha hadn’t answered his calls either.

  Now he was here, desperate for answers, time running out.

  He lifted his fist to hammer on the door

  It opened before he could knock.

  “You’re late,” Tasha said.

  Joe was about to say something snarky, but the look on her face cut him short. She was as pale as he’d ever seen her, skin blanched the color of milk. Her head was bare, no wig or hat to speak of. There were rings under her eyes and a deep exhaustion in her expression that Joe recognized.

  It was the same look Ian sometimes had when dealing with the Vagabonds.

  “What is it?” Joe asked, following her inside.

  “Nothing,” she said, rubbing her hairless skull and turning toward him. “You’re here because of Moose, aren’t you?”

  That and other things, Joe thought, but he didn’t mention Eliza. Not yet. “Tasha, what’s going on?”

  She bit her lip, casting around the cluttered apartment as if she might find answers there. She looked… lost. Confused. Like she had a huge, heavy decision to make and not much time to make it.

  Joe could sympathize.

  Finally, she looked at him. “Can I trust you?”

  “What? Of course.”

  “No,” she said, unblinking. “I mean it. Can I trust you?”

  Joe weighed the question, digesting its significance. This was personal, something deeper than the superficial knowledge she’d given him this far. If he said yes, he would learn something about her, perhaps for the first time.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She sighed, rubbing her head again and wincing. “Joe, things are worse than I thought. Worse than you can guess.”

  Try me, Joe wanted to say, but he waited, giving Tasha the space to speak.

  “Remember I told you that I escaped the Circus. Well, I didn’t do it alone. I had help.”

  “Who?”

  “Scarlett Hill.”

  Joe’s mouth fell open. “Scarlett Hill is an Abnormal?”

  Tasha nodded. “And a powerful one. That’s why we aren’t in touch anymore. I wanted to take out Hans, but Scarlett… she wanted more.”

  “But… how… she’s one of the biggest Internet stars out there. She’s famous!”

  “Yes, because no one can say no to her.” Tasha met his gaze. “Ever.”

  Joe had a cold feeling in the tips of his fingers, like the bad news was coming and his body was bracing for it. “What does she have to do with this?”

  Tasha’s eyes were full of anguish, as if she was pulling out teeth instead of secrets. “You know
the event tonight? The one your parents are attending?”

  “Yes….”

  “Scarlett is going to kill everyone there.”

  Joe’s knees failed him. He fell to the ground. “What…?”

  Tasha was there in a heartbeat, crouched down and speaking quicker, as if she’d broken some invisible dam and couldn’t stop. “Scarlett has Victor Smith wrapped around her finger. She’s been planning this for a long time, and your friend was pulled into her games. He stole a bioagent that Hans invented, an allergen that causes anaphylactic shock in everyone who isn’t Abnormal. It was discovered in Hans’s labs by accident and he’s been using it to terrorize everyone in his employ. It’s how he keeps control.”

  “The YouTube star…” Joe whispered.

  Tasha nodded. “And many others. Scarlett and Victor are going to release their supply at the party. They’re going to kill everyone there.”

  “Everyone who’s not like us,” Joe said, looking up.

  “Exactly.” Tasha bent in closer to look him in the eye. “There are those in the Circus, and elsewhere, who believe we have the right to rule. The right to power. We’re stronger, after all. Gifted. I think Scarlett might be one of them.”

  “One of… how many are there?” Joe asked, feeling desperate, dizzy. Once again, his life was tilting out of control.

  Tasha offered a sad smile. “The world is a lot bigger than Scottstown.”

  “You’re telling me,” Joe said. He looked at his hands, stronger and faster than they should be. Powerful in a way he’d never wanted. And yet still unable to hold things together. “My parents…”

  “And everyone else there.” Tasha reached out, tilting his face toward hers. “Look, I have issues with what your parents have done. Everyone in that room is complicit, as far as I’m concerned. But I’m no zealot.”

  Joe drank in the sincerity in her expression, latched onto it like a life rope. “You’re going to stop her.”

  “Yes. And I need your help.”

  “Because of my powers?”

  “Because of your parents.” Tasha’s smile hardened. “We’re going to crash the party.”

  “But…” Joe blinked, thinking of Eliza. Of Aquila, flying around the city. Of the mess he and Tasha were sure to make, a mess that might put his friends in even more danger.