by Angel Lawson
“Tonight was shitty,” she says. “All around shitty.”
He swallows a gulp of beer. “It really was.” He runs the back of his fingers over her cheek. “You want to tell me what happened out there?”
He’s known her long enough to know she’s rattled. That whatever transpired between her and the woman was intense.
She presses her forehead to his and speaks quietly. “One second I’m pushing on her chest, feeling nothing—she was slipping way—and then the next it’s the most wonderful feeling, something I can’t describe. It felt so good. So perfectly right. Peaceful. And then…” Tears spill down her cheeks. It’s an unusual sight. He wipes them away with his thumb. “And then she was back and the contrast…it was like having my soul ripped apart.”
A sob catches in her throat, and Quinn is far from an empath, but her sorrow is palpable.
“What can I do?” he asks her, eager to heal her pain.
Her fingers slip around his neck. There’s no doubt Astrid gets affectionate after an adrenaline boost or a mission. It’s when they shared their first kiss. How they first made love. But this? This is different.
“Thank you for being sweet and trying, but there’s really nothing you can do.”
His smile is determined. “You underestimate me?”
“No, but it’s hard to explain how deep it goes. I just want to make it go away.” She exhales and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Maybe I should start taking Pixie Dust, you know, something to make me forget.”
“You don’t need a drug to feel better, Astrid. I know you’re not used to relying on other people, but I’m here. Owen’s here. Our offers to help aren’t false. But you’ve got to let us in.” He touches her chin. “Will you? Let me in?”
She wipes a tear off her face and nods.
He leaves the bottle on the counter and pushes her knees apart so he can get closer. She tugs him forward, pressing her lips to his. Her hands explore his upper body, his chest and shoulders. She desperately inches toward him, nails dragging down his exposed arms. The kisses come harder, more intense, and he hooks his fingers over the edge of her shorts.
“Let me help you forget,” he whispers into her mouth. A tear rolls down her check and he kisses the salt away.
“Lift up,” he tells her, and she obliges, letting him remove her shorts and panties. He kisses her knee, down to her inner thigh and touches her core. She’s wet, hot, and she leans back, knocking the pizza box and the beer into the sink with a clatter.
One last time, he finds her lips and kisses her hard on the mouth. He makes a promise with his eye and drops between her legs.
Quinn may not be able to take away the truth of Astrid’s experiences or soothe the Echo part of her psyche, but he’ll do everything he can to make her forget the pain and burdens she carries. He swipes his tongue across her warm core and knows that he can at least start by giving her the best damn orgasm of her life.
Chapter Four
Astrid
The feel of his mouth…
Like, how did he know how to do all that? The stuff with his tongue? The flutter thing and the sucking and--
Wham!
“What the hell, dude!” she shouts, stumbling backward from the punch that just landed on her arm. She manages not to fall on her ass in the ring, which would have been embarrassing in front of everyone in the gym. As it is, only a few people glance over from their workouts.
Owen holds up his glove-covered hands. “I’m sorry! Are you okay? I thought you were with me!”
“I was,” she snaps. But no, she wasn’t. She can’t stop thinking about Quinn and his magic tongue from the night before. He promised to make her forget. He did not warn her about seeing stars.
Sweet, merciful...
“Astrid!” Owen’s voice slams into her consciousness again. “Are you okay? Because if you’re still upset, we can take a break today.”
“What?” Man, she needs to get her head together. “Sorry, I’m fine.”
He makes a disbelieving face.
“Seriously. Totally fine.” She shakes it off and looks at her student. Owen isn’t a bad fighter. He’s got the accentuated skills enhanced by the project, but he needs to work on his accuracy and form. She lifts her hands to spar with him again when a figure catches her eye at the front door. “Crap. It’s Jensen. Get out of sight.”
He’s tossed up a false shield, an image concealing him from Jensen’s eyes, before she even gets her gloves off.
Her mentor’s former partner strolls through the gym. He’s older, mid-fifties with graying hair, and fit from his work with the FBI. If her mentor was a father figure, then Jensen was his serious older brother. He and Atticus developed the Elite gym and a program to recruit and train highly skilled men and women for specialized government missions. Astrid took over training the recruits when she turned twenty-one. Soon after, Atticus started letting her out in the field to do her own work—off the record. Jensen knows Astrid, and now Quinn, help protect the city. He doesn’t know about Project 12, the group home, or the other survivors.
She hops out of the ring and he opens his arms, giving her a big hug. Abruptly, he pulls back and looks her over. “Are you okay? I heard you and Quinn were at the fire last night.”
“Yeah, we’re okay. It was pretty intense, though.”
“At no point did we agree you could head into a blaze like that. It’s too dangerous.”
“We saved lives, Jensen. You can’t make me feel bad about that decision.”
“You risked yours. What would Atticus think?” He looks apologetic as soon as he brings up her former mentor. “Astrid, I just want you to be safe.”
“And I just want to do my job. We are being safe.” She sighs, knowing they’re at a standoff, and waves him toward her office at the back of the gym. “Did you stop by to tell me something? Is Rowe causing you problems? Because I told you he was a hot-head and may not be a good fit for the program.”
Rowe was one of the top recruits from the last session. He’s a massive physical threat. Skilled in martial arts, hand-to-hand, as well as with a variety of weapons. But he has an awful attitude and may be a sociopath.
“No, Rowe’s okay. A little rough around the edges, but he’ll be a good fit for a few assignments we’ve got lined up.” She pauses at the office door, fussing with the handle to give Owen time to scram if he came in. One look says the room is clear, and she enters with Jensen following. “Is it wrong for me to just come and check in on you?”
“No,” she says, sitting behind the desk. “But you’re busy and the bags under your eyes tell me you haven’t been sleeping much, so I doubt this is a social call.”
He chuckles. “You’re starting to be a good detective.”
She shrugs.
“Heard anything from our missing guy? Owen Parsons?”
Jensen won’t let this one go.
She shakes her head and lies through her teeth. “No. Should I have?”
“Not particularly. He vanished after the scene at the chemistry lab. I guess he skipped town.”
“Smart. If the Pixie Dust trade is really over, then there was no reason for him to stick around.” She does her best to keep her expression neutral. That becomes even harder when the air behind Jensen ripples and Owen appears for a brief second. Dammit. Sneaky bastard.
“Well, if you think he’s gone, then I’m going to close up that case. No reason to spend manpower on it.”
“What about WIND-E?”
“What about it?” he asks.
“James said the Pixie Dust was her business and that she had a much bigger plan to take down the city. He didn’t even mention this Owen guy. Why are you worried about him?”
“Ballistics came back on Atticus’s shooting. The evidence ties his death with a cold case tied to Owen Parsons’s house—another murder. At the very least, I need to talk to him about it. He could be a suspect or just a witness. This guy had his hands in a lot of pots.”
Jensen’s ta
lking about Owen’s mentor, or his “aunt,” as he thought of her. She was shot dead in their kitchen and evidence led him to believe the Pixie Dust dealers were involved. Quinn and Astrid were convinced the deaths were related—now they have proof. All three of the mentors that took them in after the Project 12 program imploded are dead.
Someone is hunting the survivors, their group, and it’s possible they’re next.
Unfortunately, Jensen doesn’t know about the project or Astrid’s connection to these people. He also doesn’t know that she saw him go into a meeting with one of Demetria’s men, and maybe Demetria herself, after James told them the truth about her plans.
“James was a desperate man. High on drugs and power. You saw how he flipped out at the end.”
He didn’t flip out. Owen mind-tricked him and Jensen killed him, before they could ask any more questions about Demetria and her plans. She’s kept her opinions on this to herself, tied up with confusion. Jensen has always stuck by her side. Atticus trusted him unconditionally, but now their worlds are colliding—Owen and Demetria—and it’s getting harder to pretend.
He’s hiding something, and it cuts Astrid to the bone, but she also understands. She’s got her secrets, too.
Chapter Five
Quinn
Arson or Building Disrepair?
Who’s Responsible for the Harbor Line Fires?
The headline of the paper catches Quinn’s eye.
“Can I have this?” he asks the cashier, Cassie, at the smoothie shop.
“Sure,” she says, flashing him a flirty smile. He returns it, taking the kale and honey smoothie and the paper. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He comes to the shop every morning when he’s finished his six-mile run. It gives him a chance to cool off and fuel up. He brought one back to Astrid a few weeks ago and she poured it down the sink when she thought he wasn’t looking, and then shoved a doughnut in her mouth.
Dropping the paper on the nearest table, he’s about to sit when his phone rings. A glance at the screen shows a strange number but the image flashing is familiar.
Project 12.
“Hello,” he says, waving to Cassie as he ducks out the door. This call requires a little privacy.
“Charger! How’s the hottie behind the counter this morning?”
“Casper?”
“Duh, of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”
“You’re tracking me?”
“I’ve got my ways, bro. And seriously, Cassie is way into you. You should ask her out.”
Quinn dodges a car and crosses the street. The park is nearby, and he wants to get off the road so he can talk to Casper in relative quiet. “What’s going on man?” Quinn asks. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, I had some work to do getting this place set up, but now I’ve got the phone lines secured so we can talk.”
“You’re sure it’s secure?”
“Do you think I’d call otherwise?”
Not a chance. Paranoia seems to be Casper’s number two character trait, with the first being a computer and technology genius.
“As much as I love chatting like this, I’m sure there’s a reason you called,” Quinn says, moving to a bench overlooking the lake. It’s early enough there are only a few joggers out.
“Let’s talk about these fires. I saw the footage on TV and had access to your screen cameras. Shit looked intense.”
“It was. Scary as hell. We’ve trained for a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.”
“The media is pushing these fires back on the building’s owner. Calling them unsafe and out of code.”
“What do you think?”
“Demetria and her company, WIND-E, owns them, so anything is possible.”
“Fuck. Seriously?” That woman’s claws are in everything. “What about all her talk about saving the Swamp and the less fortunate? Burning down their homes doesn’t fit with that narrative.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Charger,” Casper laughs. “I did a little more digging and found records of offers on all three buildings in the last three years. All rejected by WIND-E. Someone wants them and she won’t sell.”
Quinn leans over and stares out at the lake. “Who made the offers?”
“A company named Metamorphosis. They’re the ones behind ninety percent of the building on the Harbor Line.”
“Wow, okay. I’ll do a little ground work and see what I can find about this business.”
“Great, thanks.” Casper pauses. “Is Echo okay? Last night got a little rocky for her.”
“Yeah, no doubt she had a nasty experience last night. She avoids using her power so much that when she does, it knocks her on her ass. But we worked through it.” He curbs the smile on his face and shakes the smugness out of his voice. “I definitely think she’s better now.”
“Keep helping her,” Casper says. “Owen, too. I’ve been reading up on Atticus’s notes about her ability. It’s more emotionally complex than we can understand. Very taxing. She’s going to have to address it at some point, including a way to control it better.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“You learned how to manage your electrical input and output. I think she can, but it will take some work and training.” A chime rings in the background. “That’s my breakfast burrito. Gotta run, man. Keep up the good work and don’t forget: I’ll be watching.”
The line disconnects, and Quinn sighs and leans back into the bench, trying to figure out if Casper watching is a good thing or just a really weird pervy thing.
Probably both.
Chapter Six
Owen
“Casper is worried about you,” Quinn informs Astrid when he returns from his run.
“You talked to him?”
“Yeah, the little punk is definitely spying on us,” he looks around the room, searching for cameras or anything else out of place. He even holds up his hands, trying to feel the electrical current or whatever it is he does. He shakes his head.
“How much is he spying?” Astrid asks. She and Quinn exchange a look. “Like when I’m in the shower spying?”
“I’ll break his ghost face if he is,” Quinn promises.
“Not if I get there first,” she counters. Owen watches the exchange with little interest. He’s still shaken from Jensen appearing out of the blue today. Wanting to question him about Pixie Dust was one thing, but about the murder of his Aunt Sylvie? That’s insane.
“Too bad he didn’t give us a warning about Jensen’s visit,” he says. “That dude has a hard-on for me.” Astrid makes a face of disgust at his wording. “What gives?”
“He’s a Fed. And wants to close the case completely. It’s not unusual.” She tells Quinn what he said about the bullets matching in Owen’s aunt’s murder and Atticus’s. “They’re connected. Like we thought.”
“Except now I’m a suspect.”
“We’ll find the real killer and clear your name,” she says. “Until then, stay out of sight.”
He shrugs, not wanting to argue about it. He’d just like to roam about freely without the risk of going to jail.
“So what did Casper say?” she asks Quinn. He describes the real estate information and the connection to the fires.
“The stuff about WIND-E and Metamorphosis makes sense,” Owen says. “That property is hot and a lot of lower-income families are getting the boot.”
“If Demetria is serious about her desire to help the Swamp, this has to be a problem for her.”
“Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “Casper had something else to say.” He locks eyes with Astrid. “Something about you and your echo.”
“Oh yeah, what’s his great insight?” Her sarcasm is unmistakable.
“That you’ve got to get control over it, the way I’ve gained control over the currents.” He looks at me. “And how Owen uses his manipulation.”
“It’s not that easy,” she says. “I’ve tried.”
> “Have you?” he asks. “Holden locked me in a room until I figured it out. I fried the electrical system on our house so many times. He eventually made me learn how to repair it myself. Owen, what about you?”
“Man, I spent hours working with mine. I mean, there were a few scares when I first moved in with my Aunt Sylvie. Like, shit would happen, and I couldn’t always tell what was real or not. Like if I got scared or angry, it would just come out in these subconscious bursts. My aunt got tired of it and I hated not being in control, so I practiced. A lot.”
Quinn jerks his chin at Astrid. “What did Atticus do to help you?”
Her jaw locks. “I’m not talking about this.”
“Astrid, it’s important; what happened last night was really bad.”
“Shut up, Quinn. I handled it. And what Atticus did was give me gloves and didn’t bitch at me when I needed a minute alone. It works, and it doesn’t hurt anyone. Last night was a freaking anomaly.” She glances at Owen for help.
He can’t back her on this one. Quinn and Casper are right. “He has a point.”
She tosses her hands in the air and rises like she’s about to leave the room.
He grabs her arm. “It’s not just about protecting yourself. These gifts…they’re bigger than we realize. It’s important that we keep testing them. I’m not convinced they’re limited.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn asks.
“The more I use mine, the more it expands. The more I can do. Like shielding myself when Jensen got here. Took me a while to master that.” He releases Astrid’s arm. If she wants to leave, she can. He’s not going to fight her. “You’re stagnant, Astrid. Don’t let your ability control you—control it first. Use it. Own it.”
A hot tear builds in the corner of her eye. She doesn’t wipe it away, she just looks at them with a glare of death and storms from the room.
Quinn sighs. “Well, that went well.”
“Yeah. She’s stubborn.”
“She’s just trying to protect herself.”