Sentinels_The Supers of Project 12

by Angel Lawson

  “I think we’d both benefit from it,” she says. “You know, blow off a little steam. Like bowling.”

  Owen doesn’t fight the smile. “Right. Exactly like bowling.”

  Astrid licks her lips and tilts her head. He pulls her to him, leaning forward to meet her mouth. Her lips taste like syrup and she smells like sugar, and there’s no doubt in his mind she can hear his heart racing against his chest. Her hand moves to his neck, pulling him closer. He didn’t realize how much he wanted this—wanted her, until right now.

  She’s right, he thinks, pulling her onto his lap, trying not to grunt when she crushes his hard-on. He brushes her hair off her neck and presses his mouth against the smooth skin under her ear. There is a benefit to making out like this. A huge one, and he’s pretty sure that if kissing were really like bowling, he would have just rolled a strike.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Quinn

  It’s past midnight when Quinn sits in front of the computer in the Lair. He left Owen and Astrid upstairs to do…well, whatever it is they’re going to. Their talk at the bowling alley was a little awkward—he won’t deny it--but it was also true. Right now is about figuring out life. He’s not the jealous type. Protective, yes. Jealous? No.

  Although if Owen hurts her in any way, there will be hell to pay.

  But that’s the thing, he considers, watching all the screens come to life. He doesn’t think he will hurt her. And the closer they are with one another—with real bonds—the more they can trust each other. They’re not playing games here. What they’re doing in the suits and out in the city is dangerous, and they’ve got to be fully invested.

  “Casper,” he says, pressing the intercom button. “You there?”

  There’s no reply. Quinn uploads the camera footage from his interaction with Demetria on the street. He’s waited all day to check it out. It takes a minute to upload and just as it becomes available, static bounces through the speakers. Casper’s slightly tinny voice follows, and his avatar pops up in the corner of the screen.

  “Hey dude. I’m here. What’s up?”

  “I made contact with Wendy today,” he says, using her codename.

  “Outside the building? Like we planned?”

  “Yes, I recorded it. Want to see?” Quinn doesn’t wait for a reply, instead just presses the play button. This computer is linked up for visuals with Casper’s. The film is a little rough in the parts where he’s walking and moving, but Demetria is clear on the screen.

  “Did she just call you a Lost Boy? Like Peter Pan?”

  “Yeah.” Quinn mentions the psych evaluation. “I’m not sure how much of the time she’s living in reality.”

  “What was that ‘time to come home’ thing?”

  “No clue.”

  Casper rewinds the video and plays it again. “What the hell was going on with that fairy at the end?”

  “A test, maybe? She can’t work her abilities on me unless she’s using Pixie Dust. Maybe she wanted to see if I would react?”

  “Huh, I wonder what would have happened if it had worked? Turned you into a big, hulking unicorn?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Bite me.”

  Quinn leans back in the chair and the springs creak under his weight. “I’ve been wondering what’s up with all the mystery? The cartoon avatar. Going totally MIA and then resurfacing.”

  Casper’s avatar shrugs. “I don’t like Big Brother. Or Big Brother’s sister WIND-E, or any of the other snoops out there, especially those assholes at Project 12. I mean, these people tracked us as kids, dude. Shoved us in a group home and experimented on us.” The anger in his voice is tangible. “I don’t know why you’re not more paranoid. They killed your mentor. Mine, too. I’ve been on the run ever since.”

  None of this rant is a surprise, Casper has proven his paranoia over the short time Quinn has known him. And he’s right, they have reason to be afraid. The attempt on Owen and Astrid today were proof of that.

  “I don’t want to hide,” he finally replies. “Or run. I just want to help people.”

  Casper scoffs. “You and the princess. You’re going to get yourselves killed, or worse.”

  “Don’t let her hear you call her that,” he laughs. “Anyway, what could be worse than death?”

  “If you have to ask,” Casper says, “you don’t want to know.”

  His phone beeps, alerting him to a push notification. It flashes across the computer screen. Casper says, “Fire on Fifth and Sycamore.”

  “That’s on the Harbor Line.”

  A map pulls up on the screen. A red dot indicates the location; it’s only a few blocks away. Looks like a small, abandoned warehouse. “There could be squatters in there. Or maybe the arsonist is onsite.”

  “Suit up,” Casper tells him. “I’ll contact Astrid and Owen.”

  Quinn looks at the avatar on the screen. He knows Casper can see him, wondering if he can see the dread on his face. “You’ll be out there with us tonight?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take lead.”

  “Good, we need you out there. Astrid can’t have another night like the last one and frankly, neither can I.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Astrid

  “North side, clear.”

  “South, same,” Owen adds.

  Smoke billows from the warehouse and Astrid waits for Quinn to give the clear on the east side of the building. On first sight the building looks in trouble, but the closer she gets the more it seems like a lot of smoke and little fire. Has anyone called 911?

  She hears the undeniable pop of streetlamps.

  “Charger?” she says into her com. “Casper, I need visuals on Charger.”

  “I’m trying,” he says. “Shit. You’ve got visitors. Both of you, and they’ve got their hands on Charger.”

  “Where? How?” she asks, darting to the front of the building. The street is empty. Glass cracks under her feet and she looks up. Shattered light bulbs. Footsteps move behind her, one set light and quick on the ground, another dragged. Two heartbeats, one rapid. The smoke messes with her sense of smell and her eyes water. She spins, hand on her cuff, and finds Quinn captured by a man in a mask—a gun pressed to his skull.

  “Try anything, my shooter on the roof will take you out and both of your friends,” the man in the mask says.

  She slowly holds her hands up. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “My boss wants to speak to you.” He jerks his head at the building. “Inside.”

  “He’s not lying about the shooters,” Casper says in her ear. “Run at your own risk.”

  Astrid has no plans on running.

  “Sure,” she says, “I’m eager to meet your boss.”

  With the guns trained on her back and Quinn still held by the masked man, she enters the building. The inside isn’t damaged by fire. It’s clear this was some kind of trick to get them to show up. Owen is already standing in the middle of the room, his green and black hood tugged off, although his mask is still on. Do these people know their identities? Who they are beyond their masks?

  The thought is chilling.

  Three lights hang over the middle of the room and a long table sits in the center. Three chairs are on one side. One on the other. The single chair is occupied by a man Astrid has never seen before. He’s middle-aged and balding at the hairline. A thin scar slashes across his eyebrow. He has an associate standing next to him. Dark hair and stocky. His skin is pale. He stares at her with interest, but when the man in the chair speaks, his eyes move to him.

  “Look at that, it’s the Super Friends.” He smiles as they get closer. Quinn is pushed toward the chairs, his hands still tied behind his back. Do they know what he can do? What she can do?

  If he knows, the man in the chair doesn’t seem to care.

  “Sit, let’s talk. I’ve been eager to meet you.”

  Astrid takes the middle seat.

  “I can’t say the same, considering I don’t know who the hell you are
.” She counts six more heartbeats in the dark part of the warehouse and she’s fully aware of the weapons still trained on her and her teammates.

  “My name is Brutus Kincade. I own Metamorphosis.”

  “You’re the one trying to buy up all the Harbor Line property,” Quinn says. “Including the ones damaged by fire.”

  Kincade smiles. “You’ve heard of me, then.”

  “Only because you’re dismantling the Swamp to turn it into a hipster’s paradise,” Owen adds.

  “What can I say? I like money. I like clean, beautiful properties. I like my city productive and rising economically.” He seems absolutely sincere in his words.

  “So you think the Swamp needs to be demolished?”

  “’Rejuvenated’ is the word I like to use.”

  This guy is a pig. Astrid leans back in her seat and casually crosses her legs. “What do you want us for?”

  “I try to keep abreast of the happenings in Crescent City. Crime, beautification, business opportunities. The Pixie Dust trade was on my radar. I had plans on eradicating it by working with Mayor Steed. But suddenly it’s off the streets and no longer an issue.”

  “The police took down the ringleader,” Owen says.

  Kincade looks him up and down. “True. That was a disturbing event over at the university, but it’s odd that there’s not a drop left on the streets.”

  “And this is a bad thing?” Quinn asks.

  “No, no, it’s a good thing, very good, but I was curious as to how it happened.” He rests his arms casually on the table. It’s an attempt to appear non-threatening. Atticus taught her the tactic. The sheer number of guns backing him up takes away any comfort. “So I asked around and I kept hearing the same thing. Two or three people running around town, in colorful, creative outfits doing what the police can’t.” He shrugs. “Or won’t. See, I like this kind of initiative. Not waiting around for the government to do it for you. I’m about progress. Building toward the future, and I get the feeling you are too.”

  “I don’t think you understand anything about us,” Astrid replies, holding her temper in check.

  Kincade smiles. “No? You and I have more in common than you realize.”

  Owen snorts. Quinn looks like he may electrocute everyone in the room, but Astrid holds his gaze. “How so?”

  The chair legs scrape against the cement floor. He stands and walks around the table, revealing his height. He’s intimidatingly tall. His associate stays put. Leaning against the table he says, “We both want this community to be a better, safer place. We want the streets quiet, no drugs and no crime. You’ve already made my job easier by eliminating the Pixie Dust trade, but we both know that’s just the tip of the iceberg, and if some people in this city have their way, the less toxic element will continue to grow.”

  Astrid narrows her eyes. “We do want this community to be safe—for everyone. Not just the rich and wealthy.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Echo.” He tilts his head, amused that he surprises her by using her name. “You can’t have it both ways. Did you know the WIND-E Corporation owns all of the buildings that burned down? Did you know they own this warehouse?”

  None of them answer although, yes, they are aware.

  “WIND-E won’t sell me the properties, even though they’re useless to them now. They’re under investigation for code violations. If they find them liable, then the city will take over ownership of the property and sell them off. This building? They want to turn it into a homeless shelter.” He looks around. “I want to turn it into mixed-use real estate. I’m thinking a coffee shop would be great on the corner.” He points across the building. “Right over there.”

  Astrid can’t follow Kincade’s train of thought other than the fact he’s a greedy bastard. “What’s the end game, Kincade? What do you want us for?”

  “I need you to clean up the streets for me. Get the homeless and criminals out of the neighborhood. I need the mayor to sign off on me buying those burned-out properties so I can develop them, and I need WIND-E to understand that Harbor Line is no longer the place she grew up. It’s changed, and will to continue to change.”

  “And if we don’t help you?”

  He shrugs. “They’ve already lost three buildings. I’d hate to see what happens next.”

  Quinn barely contains his rage when he replies. “We don’t fight on the side of corporate stooges. Either side.”

  Kincade pulls a sheet of paper out of his pocket and holds it out. Astrid takes it from him. Dread pools in her stomach. It’s a photograph of the Elite Gym. “What is this?”

  “This property is terribly close to where the other fires happened. Prime location actually, right on the edge between the Harbor Line and the university.”

  “What are you implying?” The photo shakes in her hand no matter how much she tries to control her anger.

  “It just seems to me we may be in a spot to scratch one another’s backs. We’ll keep an eye on the Elite building if you keep the riff-raff to a manageable level on the Harbor Line.”

  Astrid holds the man’s eyes. They’re dark and filled with arrogance and deceit. He knows who she is. Who they all are and he’s going to use that as leverage against them. “And if we don’t do what you want?”

  Kincade snaps his fingers and a wicked smile lingers on his lips. “Then I think an organic market would be a fantastic addition in that spot, don’t you?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Astrid

  “Jensen just pulled up outside.”

  She looks up at the surveillance video that picks up the parking lot and perimeter. Jensen parks near the curb in his government-issue, basic sedan. She scans the other screens and locates Quinn training a client in the gym.

  “Thanks, Casper,” she says, then looks over at Owen. “I’m heading up to the main office. You stay down here.”

  He lifts his hands and disappears, vanishing behind a protective shield. She shakes her head. “Nope. Let me have a minute alone with him.” She looks at Casper’s avatar. “You too.”

  “Hiding something?” Casper asks.

  “He’s family. I just need a minute alone, okay?”

  She leaves them in the Lair and slides into her seat behind the desk just a few seconds before he knocks on the door.

  “Hey girl,” he says, entering the office after a quick knock. She smiles when she sees him. He is family. But there are secrets between them now and she’s not sure where they stand. Even so, he doesn’t hesitate to give her a hug across the desk.

  “Hey, didn’t know you were coming by today.”

  He releases her and sits in the chair opposite of the desk. “I had a few minutes and wanted to check in on the next group of recruits.”

  She locates the file with her list of candidates. “We should start next week. I’ve got eight candidates. Three women and five men. Four are former military. One cop, and then two culled from MMA programs around the country.”

  “Sounds hopeful.” He leans back in his seat and crosses one leg over the other. Jensen studies her. She knows why—it’s unspoken, and finally she just acknowledges it.

  “Are you concerned about me doing this without Atticus?”

  “Are you concerned?” he asks back. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

  “He and I built the training program together.” What Jensen doesn’t know is Astrid really ran the project. Atticus was busy with other things—like building super suits and locating missing Project 12 survivors. “I’m confident I can manage. I’ve taken Quinn on to handle the gym management. Mick is still out there too—he’s good with the staff and clients.”

  “Hire anyone else?”

  She pauses, getting a feel for that question, or rather the intent behind it. She scans his pulse. His breathing. The dilation of his pupils. All are steady. “No, no other new hires. I’m keeping it tight around here, like always.”

  He nods. “Good. The program is doing well. I’ve assigned missions to
all of the candidates that just graduated. You’d be proud.”

  She tilts her head. “Even Rowe?”

  “He’s a son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Jensen laughs.

  “That’s the nice way to put it.”

  “I’ve assigned him a specific case. We’ll see how he does.”

  Astrid knows that case involves Owen. What she wants to know is does it involve her. For the first time she wants to dig into Jensen’s head—hear his echo to find the truth. Her fingers tingle under her gloves. But she’s also afraid.

  “I do have a question,” she says. “What do you know about the Metamorphosis Group?”

  “The real estate company?”

  “Yep, that’s the one.”

  “Not much. Mayor Steed likes them—keeps giving them tax exemptions to develop the Harbor Line.” He frowns. “Has he approached you about the gym?”

  That’s a nice way to put it. “Kind of.”

  “He’s doing good things for the city, but it’s also causing tension among the new and old residents. Standard side effect of progress.”

  It’s an interesting way to put it. Progress. Does he not know about the fires and the battle over the property? Maybe not. Maybe he’s hiding something. There’s one simple way for her to find out. Under the desk, she tugs the gloves off her fingers.

  “I’m not sure I like his tactics for getting property, is all,” she says. “He was a little pushy.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. Did he threaten you?”

  “Not exactly.” The lie comes too easily. “But I got the feeling he’s not used to getting no for an answer.”

  Jensen’s phone beeps. “You call me if he comes in here again.”

  “I will.”

  The phone beeps again and he gives her an apologetic look before checking the message.

  “Gotta take this one,” he says, standing. With her hands behind her back, she stands too.

  “That’s okay. Thanks for coming in.” She forces a smile. “It was good to see you. I miss having you around.”

  He meets her at the door and spreads his arms. She steps into them. “I miss you too. And Atticus. Things have been hard since he’s been gone.”