Together they entered the small living room, similar to Grace’s. The boys usually slept on the fold-out sofa together, but with Taco sick, Mason had taken to his aunt’s bed in the other room.
Taco laid on his side, curled into himself as though he were cold, but sweat caked his dark brown hair to his face. His usual healthy glowing olive skin was pallid and had a sheen to it. Grace set her bag down and set to work. Going on what she’d heard the other morning, she was almost a hundred percent sure he had a chest infection, but you could never be too careful. Pneumonia was a hop, skip and jump away. After some routine checks, she injected him with a dose of antibiotics.
“He’ll need some chest x-rays tomorrow,” Grace said to Juliet, who had hovered despite being late for work. “Take him to the clinic and I’ll make sure he’s seen. I won’t be there, but it’s important he goes.”
“Tomorrow? I have work tomorrow.” Juliet winced.
“You know what? I’ve got the day off. I’ll take him in.”
“Really?”
“Yes, not a problem. I need something to do. And you don’t want to lose your job.”
“Thank you, Grace. You’re a life saver.”
“No problem. I know how much you’ve been doing to help these boys. I think you’re doing a marvelous job. Don’t forget that. Parenting is hard. Even harder when they’re not your kids. Don’t be so tough on yourself. I’ll sit with him for a few hours, make sure he’s okay.”
Juliet’s eyes teared up. “Thank you.”
“Go.” Grace made a shooing motion with her hand. “I’ll check on Mason in a minute, and order us some lunch.”
“Thank you, thank you. There’s cold chicken in the fridge.” Juliet swept about the room and collected her belongings. “And left over Chinese on the bottom shelf.”
“Got it.” Grace smiled. It felt forced and fake after what she’d just been through with Evan, but she did it nonetheless. Couldn’t make Juliet think she was upset over staying with Taco.
When Juliet was gone, Grace set about checking on Mason. The little guy was still asleep. It was almost eight in the morning on a weekday. Was she supposed to send him to school? Grace had no idea of the time of month. Was it school holidays? She shrugged and ended up slipping onto the sofa next to Taco and turning the television on.
She was still flicking through the channels when Taco stirred an hour later.
“Hey,” she said softly as he opened his eyes. “How you feeling?”
“Doc?” His brow furrowed, but it was Grace who flinched. That was the nickname Evan used for her.
“Yeah, it’s me, buddy.” She wiped a traitorous tear from her eye.
“Why are you here?”
“Your aunt was worried about you. You didn’t go to the clinic like I asked.”
He groaned and covered his eyes. “Line was too long.”
“Well, you would have gotten in, eventually. And if you did, I wouldn’t have to come here and inject some antibiotics into your butt.”
“You said the what now?” Taco’s hand dropped from his face to reveal wide-eyes.
Grace nodded. “You didn’t even wake up.”
“Um. Thanks, I guess?”
“You’re welcome. Now, what would you like to eat?”
“Grace,” Taco said with serious eyes. “I’m not so sick you need to cry over me.” Then his eyes lit up as a thought hit. “Did something happen to Mr. Envy? Is he okay?”
She frowned. That’s right. He’d met Evan. “Uh...”
He gave her shifty eyes. “Remember I tried to tell you at the paper stand that there was someone special waiting for you at the hospital? He saved me from getting stabbed by a broken fire escape ladder. He also saved me from getting bashed by this really bad man. Did you see him? What’s he like? Did you ask him about the bombing? Did you see his face, too?”
“Um...” How could she burst this boy’s hero bubble? She pinched the bridge between her nose. “Taco, I didn’t see him.”
Taco’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he told me the purse I found in the trash belonged to you, and that he was returning it to you. Did he?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Wait. When did you find my purse? Were you out late at night when your aunt was working again? Did this have to do with the bad man?”
“Ah-ha! I was right.” Then he whined. “Come on. What’s he like? Have you met the rest of them? Can I get an autograph?”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” She ruffled his hair.
“Stop keeping secrets.”
Grace sighed. “It’s just that, he’s not who I thought he was.”
“What’s that mean?”
She couldn't believe she was baring her soul to an eleven-year-old. “It means, Taco, that some people make you believe they’re one thing, but they’re really another.”
“So, what is he? What happened? Did you find the bomber?”
Her throat closed up. “I thought I got her, but then… the two of them ran off together.”
“Like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
She nodded.
“Ew.”
“The eyes don’t lie, Taco.”
“His eyes lied?”
Grace gaped. Only from the mouth of a child did she realize she’d been thinking about this all wrong. Her eyes may have seen one thing, but Evan’s had told another story. “He… oh my dear lord. Taco, I think you’re right.”
Eyes were the windows to a soul, and Evan’s had been tortured. He never looked at Sara once, but kept his gaze intensely locked on Grace the entire time. The look on his face had been one of desperation and pain, not of embarrassment over the kiss.
It’s for your own good, Grace. He was trying to protect her.
Sara threatened Grace. Let her go, let her be safe.
For the first time in a while, thoughts of murder swam in Grace’s mind. That bitch! She did what she did best—manipulate.
Evan was only trying to keep Grace safe, and what did she do? She left him.
She clutched her chest. She’d left him alone, just like she’d begged him to not to do to her.
Grace stood. “I have to find him.”
“Go Grace!” Taco whooped with his fist in the air and jumped on the couch.
“Will you be okay?” Grace checked Taco’s forehead. Fever had gone down.
“Yeah, we’re cool.”
Good. Excellent. As she madly went about the room, gathering her belongings, she thought, I have to go to his family, somehow get them to trust her, get them to go after him. He was going into the lion’s den alone; handing himself over to the enemy. She couldn’t allow that for so many reasons. Finally, she saw things clearly. She would find Evan, help him, believe in him. Then tell him she loved him.
Thirty-Four
Evan sat in the passenger side of his brother’s Escalade, staring out the cracked window as they sped down the freeway leading out of Cardinal City. Morning rush hour was still in full swing and it was slow going. Big city towers gave way to crammed apartments and a crushing feeling in his chest that he should have felt better about doing what he did. So why was he so sick inside? It wasn’t the envy pouring from Sara in grimy waves, although, that was hard enough to stomach. No. It was his stupid idea to protect Grace, even if that meant breaking her heart.
He checked Sara in the driver's seat. Since they left HQ, she’d forced him to deactivate the tracking chip in the car, and shut down AIMI so no communication could get out.
Sara was the Trojan horse sent to destroy his family from the inside, he knew that now, but he was helpless to stop her.
They’d detoured at a bordered up townhouse where Sara got out and urged him inside. The room she’d squatted in was pure squalor. Cold, dank, and devoid of decor except a mattress on the floor, some empty packets of ramen, and a laptop.
Sara had taken a few moments to collect her laptop and call someone, outlining the progress
of her successful mission. She had him—their apparent Holy Grail or Rosetta Stone, or whatever the hell they’d called him—in her custody and was ready to bring him in. From what Evan could gather, they were to meet her puppet master at an undisclosed location for handover. That’s where they headed now.
Out of Cardinal City, away from his home, his family and… Grace.
A new wave of disgust flowed over him. He hated himself. He couldn’t do anything right. He should have followed his instincts about the smoothie and had it tested, and he should have made Grace stay in the car when they broke into the GODC. If he had, none of this would have happened. But Grace wasn’t the kind of woman to stand by idly and do nothing. He smiled. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined how great it would feel to have a woman so smart and kind like her in his arms. And he blew it.
Maybe he should have killed Sara when he had the chance. Maybe he still could.
Sara coughed. It started as short, random bursts but grew to big, phlegmy chokes. When she pulled her hand from her mouth, it was splattered with blood. Not just the heart disease then? Maybe more.
“What happened to you, Sara? Where did it go wrong?”
She wiped her hand on her clothes, scowling. “How come I get sick, and you don't? Who decides that you’re worthy of living, and not me?”
“Call me stupid, but you’re not exactly acting worthy.”
“Says you.”
“Says a lot of people.”
“I don’t care.” She flattened her lips in a stubborn move and ignored him.
Evan shrugged. Guessed that conversation was over. Maybe not.
She loved Wyatt once. He knew that was real. It had to be.
“You plan on getting Wyatt back after this?” Evan said.
Her grip tightened. “Wyatt’s not relevant anymore.”
“I don’t believe that. You loved him. I know it. It’s why you’re doing this. I know you worked at the pharmaceutical company while you were dating Wyatt, which means, if that’s where you found out your were sick, it happened after your engagement to him and didn’t want to leave him. When you discovered who we were, it was all too much. Instead of asking for help—” Evan choked on his own words.
Asking for help. Maybe that’s what he should have done. Instead, he’d gone off on his own. His vendetta had started out as a mission to reveal Sara’s dark secret, to discredit her and throw him into the light again. But it ended up being more than that. A mission to save his family. Maybe it wasn’t too late. There had to be a way out of this.
He slowly pulled his phone out of his side pocket and held it hidden between his leg and the door. There was only one person he could trust to not hang up on him. Grace was the last person dialed, so he hit redial and waited, keeping the phone hidden. Time to ask for help.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
Sara laughed. “As if I’d tell you that. Besides, I don’t know.”
“You know I’m only coming with you to save Grace. Now that I’m doing what you asked, I want you to uphold your end of the bargain—release the CCTV footage and an antidote for the poisoned smoothie.”
“Nice try. I said once you were delivered, we’d do that. Plus, I told you we don’t care about her as long as you comply.”
“And then what? How long do you want me? What will you do to me?”
She smirked. “Who the hell knows? My job is to deliver you to the Syndicate, and then my life is over. They take a sample of my DNA and create me all over again.” She slid a look at him. “This time, with the help of your unlocked DNA.”
“And without a heart,” Evan said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed this version of you is different. Will you lose a piece of yourself every time you come back?”
“Shut up.”
“He’s going to come after us. Even without the tracking chip in the car, he’ll find a way. Wyatt never gives up. He never quits.”
“We’ll deal with him if he does. You’re the asset, not him.”
The car approached an exit off ramp, but kept driving. Evan checked for a sign and read it out loud, hoping his voice carried through the receiver, and hoping even more that Grace actually listened.
After two street signs, Sara turned to him. “Why are you reading the signs aloud?”
He shrugged.
She wasn’t convinced. Her gaze darted down his arm to see his hand squished beside the seat and door.
“What’s in your hand, Evan?”
Crap.
“I swear to God if you ruin this for me, I’ll hunt you and your precious girlfriend and family down until there’s no one left. Now I’m not going to ask again. What’s in your hand?”
He lifted the phone.
She snatched it from him, rolled the window down and threw it outside.
Evan watched in the rear view as it burst into tiny pieces on the asphalt, dashing his hopes along with it. Something else caught his attention in the mirror: a black clad motorcyclist zipping in and out of traffic, coming up behind them.
Thirty-Five
Grace was back across town and at the entrance to Lazarus House, banging on the solid door between Heaven and Hell.
“I know you can see me. Open up,” she said to the camera pointed down at her. “I have new information. You need to let me in.”
She still clutched her phone in her hand even though Evan had inexplicably hung up minutes ago. She’d been surprised when the phone rang and Evan’s name had come up. With equal amounts of apprehension and excitement, she’d answered, only to hear the exchange going on in the background. Now, more than ever, she knew she had to fight for him. She had to get the rest of his family to join her, and if they didn’t, well, then she’d go it alone. Evan’s life was in danger.
She banged on the door again, shouting for them to let her in. People passing on the street gave her odd looks. To anyone else, the door was a simple gray rectangle in a recess, not belonging to neither restaurant nor nightclub. In the reflection of Hell’s dark window, her hair was wild, unkempt and her eyes bright and manic.
“Let me in, damn it!”
The door opened. It was Parker. “No need to make a scene.”
“Oh, thank God. Evan called.”
He stared.
“He hasn’t run off with her,” Grace said. “She’s blackmailed him.”
Parker darted a glance around the street. People were looking. After the recent attack nearby, locals were wary.
“Alright. Come in.”
Grace clutched her bag and phone to her chest, and followed him to the elevator, and then back up to the common apartment. When she got there, she found the living area had been transformed into a ground zero crisis center. The screen on the wall had footage from cameras around the city.
Taking a moment to evaluate the scene, Grace absorbed Evan’s family and their dynamic. The movie star was missing.
Evan’s father and Sloan sat on the sectional, leaning over their laptops perched on the coffee tables. Her dark pig-tails draped over each shoulder and was still in her sloppy sleep T-shirt. The sister who was a cop talked on the phone, pacing. The brother with the glasses was also on the phone. Evan’s mother rushed over to Grace. Well, it was more like a prowl than a rush. Grace couldn’t imagine the woman would ever let her emotions get the better of her. The only sign of her distress were the flyaway hairs in her otherwise slick braid. It was as though she’d been rubbing her head to rid herself from a headache. Mary still wore her black gym attire. Slick yoga pants, and black, long sleeved compression top.
“Grace, I’m glad you came back,” Mary said and gripped Grace’s arm.
Grace gave her a small smile and glanced around before hesitantly asking, “Where’s Wyatt?”
“He’s already gone after them,” Parker growled, his deep voice a rumble of discontent.
“But the tracking chip has been deactivated,” Grace said. “How will he find them?”
“How did you know the tracking chip was
disabled?” Sloan said from her sofa seat.
“Evan called me.”
All eyes swiveled toward Grace.
“I knew it!” Sloan slapped her palm on the coffee table her laptop rested on, shaking it. “There’s no way AIMI would hide from me. I made her.”
“Ahem.” Parker arched a wicked eyebrow.
Sloan flushed. “I mean, we made her together?”
“That’s better.”
“Ahem,” Flint added.
Both Sloan and Parker stared at him. “We all made her together?” Sloan amended.
“I made the best bits,” Parker mumbled, then turned back to Grace. “So, he called you?”
“It was a pocket dial, but I think he intended it. He said Sara had footage of me from when we broke into the lab, and that she was going to send it to the police if Evan didn’t go with her. Evan didn’t want that to happen, so he went with her. Plus, there was this smoothie left on my doorstop the other day. I think it was poisoned and intended for me, but I didn’t drink it. He knows that. I don’t know why he let her use that as blackmail. I’m completely fine.”
“Why would they want Evan?” Griffin came over.
“Because his DNA has been unlocked since he met me. I think it has something to do with their replicates not surviving long after they’re born from the tanks, and you all have advanced regeneration. It’s why Sara was so envious of you all. One thing we gleaned at the lab was mortality rates are high. Sara is sick again.”
A silence descended on the room. Mary paced the length of the floor writing her hands. “I hate this,” she said. “I hate not knowing what to do.”
Grace felt more meaning underlined the comment because of the look of pity her husband shot her. Flint stood and disappeared into another room. A few seconds later he was back and gently placed a throwing knife in his wife’s palm. He enclosed his big palms around hers and looked into her eyes.
“You still have your hands, and your brain. You don’t need visions to tell you what to do anymore. You’ve kept us all alive and hidden from danger all these years. Never forget that. Now it’s up to the kids to do what you’ve trained them to do.”
Envy (The Deadly Seven Book 1) Page 26