by Angel Lawson
Casper updated him on Astrid’s version of the story; what she saw in his echo. Jensen’s part of the long game. Part of Project 12, and the thought makes his blood run cold.
He should have known.
Draco doesn’t use the sidewalk. He exits the car and leaps over the iron fence separating the street from the houses. Using the side of the house, a fire hydrant, and a gutter, he flies over the obstacles in his way and lands like a cat on his feet, inches from Jensen.
He disarms the agent in two moves, removing the bullets and saying, “We need to talk. But not here.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I’ve been compromised.”
Draco leads him back to the car and soon they’re climbing the hills back to Demetria’s home. Jensen is quiet for most of the ride but doesn’t seem surprised when they stop outside the massive gates. He doesn’t flinch when he sees the extravagant grounds and over-dramatic landscaping.
When he finally stops the car in front of the cottage, the agent does ask, “Is Astrid okay?”
He’s not sure he believes that he cares, but he nods. “She’s safe and recovering. Weak from her outburst. That may be good for you.”
Draco leads him into the house and points him to the living room. There’s a bar in the corner and he suggests the agent get a drink. Draco walks to the back of the house. His heart pounds when he sees Astrid on the bed, pale but awake. Casper sits next to her. The little goblin didn’t bail on her.
Her eyes perk up when she sees him but he holds up his hand. “There’s someone here to see you. You up for it?”
There’s no doubt she knows who and she swings her legs out of the bed—too fast—and he lunges to help her stay upright. “Sorry, just a little lightheaded.”
He links his arm with hers and glances at Casper. “You coming?”
“I’ll watch from your office.” He holds up his tablet. “I’ve already got eyes on him.”
It’s as much as he can give, but truthfully, Jensen may not know about Casper and keeping him hidden may be a good idea.
“I can’t believe this,” Astrid mutters on her way down the hall. “There was never any sign Jensen was involved. What if he’s an enemy, Draco? I’m not sure I can handle that.”
They enter the living room and Jensen stands by the bar with his drink half drained. He looks her over, eyes filled with concern. He also lingers on their closeness.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Not really. My whole life is a lie, but thanks for making it worse.”
“I never meant for you to find out like this.” He takes a long drink and sits in a leather chair near the fireplace. Astrid takes a seat across from him, keeping her distance. Draco stands by the door, ever vigilant.
“We never meant for you to find out at all. But when things started heating up in the city and Atticus insisted on sending you out…things escalated in a way I never expected. You’re good at this—you all are. We should have seen it coming.”
“Who’s we?”
“The mentors.” He laughs bitterly at their surprised expressions. “Yeah, I’m a mentor, too.”
“Is everyone I know tied into this? And how far does it go?” Astrid asks.
“The project started when pediatricians created a database of special children. Kids who had hypersensitivities or extreme skills. You were being tracked from a young age.”
“And then what? All our parents died around the same time?”
“Obviously not a coincidence. I won’t lie. The physicians knew something was wrong, collected you one by one, and took you off the grid to Rosalie. The plan was for her to raise you while the doctors figured out what was really going on with your special skills.”
“And how were the mentors picked?”
“We were people close to the program. Atticus and I were assigned because of safety protocol. Emma because she was a scientist studying the properties that made you unique. Holden was another genius…the list goes on. Everyone was properly vetted and secure.”
“Until someone tried to kill us at the group home.”
He nods. “We had an emergency protocol set up for a situation like this. Don’t get me wrong. We weren’t naïve. We knew someone would want to exploit you. We just hoped to keep you safe as long as possible. The bomb took us by surprise. Luckily Cedric was paying attention and got many of you out of the house.”
“How many?” Draco asks.
“At least nine.”
This is more than Atticus had documented in his files.
“And you know where everyone is?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I do know that the people that killed your parents and took out the group home are still out there. They want the mentors dead and they want you. That is who killed Atticus and the others.”
Astrid’s eyes narrow. Draco has no doubt she’s scanning him with every sense. “Why haven’t they killed you?”
“Because I’ve spent the last fourteen years playing both sides.”
“You’re a double agent?” she asks.
He nods. “After the group home was destroyed, I was sent undercover to figure out who we were fighting. It’s taken years to establish myself and I had everything under control until you started going on the streets. There was no way I could protect you out there other than making you a target. Do you understand that?”
The look on her face clearly says no, she does not.
Astrid’s voice is wobbly when she asks her next question. He knows it’s coming because he’s had to hold it back himself. He owes her the opportunity to clear the air on her own.
“Who was your mentee?” she asks, her hands balled in her lap. Draco has no doubt about the answer. He’s certain by now Astrid doesn’t either. She just needs to hear him say it.
“Demetria,” he replies, his eyes filled with pain. “I was her mentor and I failed her.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Astrid
Speechless.
It’s not one of the things people say about her.
Messy. Tough. Enigma. But speechless?
She touches her forehead to see if she’s lost consciousness or something. Thankfully, Draco seems to have more of his senses and says, “You’re Demetria’s mentor.”
“Didn’t you wonder?” is all Jensen replies.
Not really, Astrid thinks, but she vaguely recalls watching Jensen go into a building down in the Swamp with at least one of Demetria’s employees. She’d wondered at the time why he was down there. What was his connection? But then she got so caught up in Owen and Quinn and saving lives that the moment faded.
“She said you were dead,” Draco admits. “And I didn’t push further. The odds of her mentor being dead, like the rest of ours, seemed likely.”
“Jensen,” Astrid says, finally finding her voice. “What happened? How did it go so wrong?”
He leans back in his seat, nothing in his glass but ice. “After the group home was destroyed, we quickly removed all of you to safety. We didn’t have much information on one another. Things were chaotic and your safety was our highest priority. None of us wanted your abilities to be used for something evil, and too many of you had not refined your abilities yet. You were dangerous but also incredibly special. The doctors just wanted to know more. In the end it didn’t matter. We scattered.”
“How did you keep up with Atticus?”
“I didn’t. Not at first. I went underground with Demetria and the head of Project 12 asked me to work my way into a particular government agency. One that operates covertly on high risk cases. If anyone was hoping to weaponize you, it would be them.” He clinks the ice in his glass by swirling it. “It took a few years but with my background and skill set, I was able to get up the ranks and found myself in charge of recruits. That’s when I discovered Atticus and his gym. We made a plan to work together to have hands-on access to the people that could become your enemy.”
“So you intentionally trained them to be deadly weapons?” Draco says incr
edulously.
“And we trained Astrid to be the best of them all.” He smiles at her. “She’s our Super.”
God, this sounds insane.
“Where was Demetria during this?” she asks.
He inhales and exhales slowly. “Demetria came into that house damaged and she left even worse. The slips into fantasy were more and more. She had an incredible mastery over her skills at an early age and her psychosis didn’t help. When she was seventeen she had a complete mental breakdown. When she was eighteen she released herself from the hospital. I tried to get her to come home but she refused. She cut me off, completely.” He looks at Draco. “When she told you I was dead, she may have believed it.”
Astrid looks at Draco as she attempts to process all of this. His story makes sense but it’s too much. Too tidy. He happens to be in charge of the bad guys as well as having access to the survivors of the Project?
“I don’t know what to do with all of this information, Jensen. I have no idea what you and Atticus want us to do. Or if you even wanted the same thing.” Her hands grip the edge of the sofa. “I don’t trust you anymore. I don’t trust your program and I certainly don’t trust Rowe.”
“I don’t trust them either. They’re not good people,” he agrees. “It didn’t start off like this. I sent the men and women you recruited across the world to fight but then Demetria went off the rails and the Mayor started the Task Force…things are out of control.”
“You let them get out of control,” Draco says. There’s a hard, dangerous edge do this voice. “Your job was to protect Demetria. That’s it, because what has come from your being with the agency? What have you learned? Nothing that can help us. The city is under more threat now than before. There’s a terrorist planning to drop a bomb days from now, and you’ve side-lined your best soldiers. This is complete bullshit, Jensen.”
The anger rolls off him in waves. Dangerous waves, and Astrid half-expects him to pick up a chair and throw it out the window. Or maybe pick up Jensen and toss him. But he just runs his hands over his face and slams his fist into the wall, knocking three paintings to the floor.
Jensen chews on his bottom lip and says, “This bomb? It’s not a threat, it’s not about taking down the city, although they don’t mind making an impression.”
“Then what’s the point?” Draco asks.
“It’s a trap.” Guilt rolls off the man and his eyes hold hers. “For you.”
*
Despite their arguments, Jensen insists on leaving and heading back to try to stop his team. She senses he knows it’s futile. The two of them let a fox in their house. Astrid is just as guilty as Jensen when it comes to Rowe. She knew he was dangerous and she recommended him to a powerful position anyway.
Still feeling the wear of her burn-out from before, she walks back down the hall and gets back into Draco’s bed. She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t care. She just wants to be surrounded by the warmth of his delicious-smelling blankets. She wants to feel safe, even if it’s just for a few moments.
She hears voices in the hallway; Casper’s soft, frustrated stammer and Draco’s patient replies. Then the click of the back door as the hacker returns to his bunker and a shadow crosses over the threshold.
“You think he’ll ever come out of there again?”
He crosses his massive arms over his chest and leans against the door frame. “After meeting you face to face? I dare him to keep away.” He watches her carefully. “I know it’s been impossible for me.”
She rolls her eyes but can’t deny the hammer of her heart in her chest. She takes a chance and holds her hand out to him. He stares at it for a long, hard moment before walking over.
“Lay with me?”
To her surprise, he slips off his shoes and pulls back the covers. His body is large and there’s no way for him not to intrude on her space. She shifts to give him room but his hands grab her hips and he keeps her close.
“Change of heart?” she asks. There’s conflict running in his emotions, something different than before. He wants her—he always has, and the shield still remains--but there’s something else bubbling under the surface. A burst of something new.
His hand squeezes on her hip and she feels a jolt that runs between her legs. He’s so close and he smells so good. “When I saw you hurt today, I almost lost it.”
“I wasn’t hurt. Just stupid. I did it to myself.”
He shakes his head and she reaches out to push a lock of hair off his forehead. He leans his face into her hand and for the briefest of moments he closes his eyes.
Draco, she realizes with sudden clarity, is exhausted.
The thought hits her like a bolt of lightning. He’s worn out, spent, completely depleted. And why wouldn’t he be? All that time with Demetria, doing her bidding and trying to keep her on track. The mind-games, the crazy Lost Boy bullshit. Then he found us and dealing with Casper and he’s not like her or Quinn or Owen. He doesn’t have a safe place. A home that’s fun and silly and filled with video games and an adorable cat.
He’s all alone, with his books. His work.
No wonder he has up that fucking shield.
She strokes his face, runs her fingers through his hair, and slowly his shoulders relax. She takes a moment to run her hands over his chest, feeling the hard, defined muscles.
Unlike Quinn and Owen, Astrid isn’t sure where to go next—where to take it. She wants him and she knows, for a fact, with the heat and feel of his cock pressing into her thigh, he wants her back, but her senses tell her he needs something else. Something more, and she wants more than anything to give it to him.
“Come here,” she says, inching closer and snuggling into his chest. He wraps his arms around her and he exhales, the deep releasing kind that only happens when you’ve found peace.
If that’s what he needs, that’s what she’ll give him.
For now.
Until he’s ready.
Chapter Thirty
Owen
He’d hoped to sleep in, but the six-pound weight on his chest starts moving and licking his chin with sandpapery kisses.
He groans, “Are you fucking kidding me, cat?”
Harry stares at him and meows. It’s the cheese meow. He knows it well. “Go find your mom,” he says, rolling over, which forces the cat to the ground. He meows again.
“Dammit.”
Owen trudges from the bed, down the hall and into the kitchen. Quinn sits at the table, eating a heaping bowl of eggs and sausage. The cat darts in and out of his feet as he walks. “I don’t know why this cat is always trying to kill me while I’m actually trying to feed it.”
“Don’t look at me,” Quinn says. “I don’t get one thing about that animal.”
He opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a piece of cheese before making small balls. Harry jumps up on the counter and Owen blanches. “Fuck no cat, I’ll feed you but not on the counter. Gross.”
There are lines he won’t cross.
The cat hops down and begins eating. “Where’s your mama, anyway?” he asks the cat.
“Astrid didn’t come home last night,” Quinn says.
Owen jumps up. “What?”
“Casper texted after you went to bed. She stayed over.”
Makes sense. They watched the video of Jensen confessing his past to Astrid. It was a lot to take in.
“With him?” he asks.
Quinn rolls his eyes. “Nope. Draco.”
“Huh.” Not that he’s surprised. Astrid had been pushing him pretty hard. It’s just that Mr. Perfect didn’t seem into the idea. He seemed into her but not the complexity of their relationship. “Well, it’s clear we need him. Hopefully she can establish some trust.”
“After everything Jensen told her, I doubt Astrid’s going to trust anyone ever again.” He rubs his head. “I’m just not sure what we do from here.”
As usual, the decision isn’t up to them. Casper texts them both.
Head to the Lair. Shit just got real.
“Not again,” Owen mutters, reaching for the box of sugary cereal Astrid keeps over the refrigerator. “I was really hoping shit would just stay not real, you know?”
Quinn laughs and puts his plate in the sink. “You shouldn’t eat that crap.”
“I know, but something needs to make me happy, and I have a feeling whatever Casper is about to tell us isn’t going to do it.”
*
The warehouse isn’t in the Swamp. It’s down by the marina and packed with boats. They sit four stories high, one platform on top of the other, most expensive.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Charger asks over the com for the third time. He’s near the transformer on the outside of the building.
Owen understands his concern. This isn’t their typical target. It’s too clean. Too upscale.
They spent the day arguing about coming down here. In the end they took a vote whether or not they should check out the building for the bomb materials. Casper’s dark web intel said it was being held here. Owen’s spidey-senses tell him something’s off. He suspects the others know too—they just don’t care.
“I’m positive,” Casper says.
“So it’s a trap,” Owen declares. He just wants to say it.
“Yep,” Echo replies from her rooftop position. “Definitely.”
“And we’re going in?” he clarifies.
“Affirmative,” Draco shoots back. He’s stationed by the back door. “It’s not a trap if you know going into it.”
No one responds to that logic. Or illogic? Is that a thing?
Owen grimaces. He’s on the roof of the building across the street. His job is to help everyone get in the building unnoticed. It’s evening but not late enough for the place to be completely empty. Why now? Because according to Casper, the men building the bombs are coming in tonight and then planting them at the stadium for the game tomorrow. The clock is ticking.