Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  “I’ll join him soon enough. But come on… give Sis one last peaceful night before her world implodes.”

  “Limere, you can’t hide things forever.”

  “I’m not the one you need to watch out for, Reese. There are others within these organizations hiding deeper secrets than me.” Shaky fingers grabbed a joint before obtaining his lighter. “All you’ve got to understand is Sis wasn’t wrong about her convictions. But it’s finding the pieces that’ll suck.”

  A cocky grin crossed Maurice’s lips as Limere turned away, shielding the lighter’s weakened flame when another cool breeze passed through. After two or three tries, he lit up his joint, rolling his eyes behind closed eyelids after the familiar smell relaxed his overtaxed body.

  He recalled Celene’s voice the night before—the sorrow lacing her Latina accent—and held a strangled sob at the vision she’d recounted from her nightmare. Limere wanted to shake off the memory, to assure himself Celene’s predictions had some margin for error, but considered her brother’s demise and how she’d warned him of the mage interfering in Aviere’s life.

  Limere wanted Celene to be wrong and hoped his plan saved his family.

  But doubt remained as he thought of his own mortality, which provoked the temptress’s laughter once more.

  Chapter Nine

  Tires squealed against blacktop and metal music blared through Jet’s speakers as Aviere sped through the hills and valleys of Kilgore Falls, turning the leather steering wheel hard at every sharp turn.

  To the right came a groan, soon replaced by painful retching from her partner. Every few seconds, Aviere rolled her eyes, mouthing the words to the blaring song as she drove. From the opened window on Travis’s side, cool air rushed into the Ferrari’s interior, blowing stray strands of hair around her face.

  At another soft moan, Aviere’s right eye peeked in Travis’s direction.

  Peeling rubber made her eyes sparkle, but her excitement diminished when Travis’s face turned pale and he threw his head outside the open passenger window.

  Well, I peeled rubber for three miles. Guess not everyone is as passionate about racing as we are, Jet. But Travis will polish you if he vomits on you.

  Before a tree branch whacked the sick agent upside the head, Aviere dragged Travis’s bent form inside, grimacing when his head thudded against the cushioned headrest. Quickly, she grabbed the steering wheel, compensating for the sudden weight distribution while traveling through another steep curve.

  Rubber peeled against blacktop, smoking behind her. While burnt rubber made her pulse quicken, the dull groan from her partner brought the Poisoner down from her euphoric high.

  One foot smashed the brake as Aviere swerved away from another giant tree branch, then gasped when one back tire went into the mud beside the road. Her hands moved at a frenzied rate between the manual transmission, the steering wheel, and the pedals underneath her feet.

  Goddammit, Travis! Moving shifts the weight of the Ferrari! We almost crashed! No more passengers in the goddamn car, Jet! I knew Gunther stressed this rule for a reason!

  Travis’s muffled complaints and protests passed through Aviere’s ears as she focused on driving. Her efforts proved fruitful and she gasped in relief when Jet returned to the blacktop seconds later. Between her thunderous heartbeat and heightened senses, driving felt exhilarating again.

  As the adrenaline continued through her veins, she ventured another glance, shifter eyes honing in on Travis’s pallid face and cold, sweaty forehead.

  “Sorry for speeding here, but we were being tailed. I wish it was Donahue, but I’ve made numerous enemies through the racing circuit.” After peering through her rear-view and side mirrors and leaning against the leather seats, Aviere slowed the Ferrari to a reasonable speed. “I said you’d regret coming with me.”

  “I noticed.”

  “You had a shitty day, Travis. All of us did.” Aviere studied the course and glanced at the peeking moonlight before directing her attention back to the road. “I don’t understand magic much, but I imagine it’s scary.”

  From her passenger seat, the agent agreed with a soft hum.

  “Peters stopped arguing with me after you talked to your dead woman. He’s been silent the entire trip. Thought I’d get a wisecrack about squealing tires by now.”

  “Lyssa meant a lot to him, Aviere. She was his oldest sister.”

  She scouted for a shoulder strip along the single lane road and slapped her palm against Jet’s steering wheel after her search proved futile. “Damn, road’s too narrow to pull over.”

  “Keep going. It’s fine.”

  The subdued responses forced Aviere to turn Jet’s radio off, despite blasting her favorite song. The transition from driving without glasses with a quickened heartbeat to active listening vexed the Poisoner, but she breathed in, striving to silence the inner voice urging her to speed.

  “Travis, what’s your story? The Red Coat Society’s fussy about their prey and bounties.”

  “Started years ago.”

  Tonight is shot with two buzzkills grieving. Christ, I didn’t want Limere and Reese to assess Karyn. They’ll accuse me of avoiding her, but I can’t follow Karyn if Travis pukes inside Jet. My gag reflex will kick in.

  Aviere swallowed and wiped sweat from her neck, imagining the irony of dying in an automobile accident after someone vomited inside her vehicle.

  No. Stop. Focus on them. Peters can bitch, but Travis’s depression and crippling fear makes him useless, Vi. That’s dangerous, so fix it. You need a suitable bodyguard.

  The mental pep talk helped Aviere switch topics as she searched for a place to pull over. When Travis whispered to himself, Aviere interrupted the pity party.

  “I’ll give you something if you share a morsel or two with me,” she offered, softening her voice after hearing his monotone whispers. “I’m not screwing with you, but this isn’t a need-to-know basis anymore if Lim’s involved.”

  Travis’s secrecy and despondent expression killed any excitement gained from high-speed racing. Instead of listening to her body, Aviere contemplated her own losses and turned her hazard lights on while creating her own parking spot.

  When she parked the car, she drew the emergency brake toward her so Jet remained secure on the hilly road.

  “On any other occasion, I’d let you brood. In fact, I’m tempted to, but I can’t. If my crew is distracted, they won’t work right. When that happens, jobs get botched.”

  She played with a silver star earring dangling under her earlobe, pondering her next sentence. Aviere furrowed her eyebrows after reaching for the glasses no longer on her face. Each sentence retracted the agent further into his withdrawal as he gazed at her with tormented eyes before rolling up his window.

  “You’re not effective like this. Give me something, will you?”

  Aviere caught a tiny spark in his haunted eyes before he pressed a hand against the glass window.

  Christ, they’re pathetic, Gunther. I don’t understand why it’s difficult to accept that Lyssa’s dead. At least they saw her body during the mutilation, but something else happened. It’s not just her death haunting him.

  Clutching the peridot gave Aviere strength while she contemplated how to handle their delicate situation. Every few seconds, she glanced at the mirrors, praying no one caught her by surprise. She made a thoughtful expression while she watched Travis’s actions, then picked at her lower lip.

  “I’m not accusing you of screwing up the investigation. I know Peters moved in after I said to escape, which provoked your protective streak.”

  “Peters thought he could fight shadow wraiths with a fucking taser.”

  A slight smirk played on her lips at Travis’s sarcastic tone. “I’ll give Peters credit for trying to protect Carmella. But he triggered your killer persona.”

  The agent nodded, and Aviere frowned at his dimmed hazel eyes.

  “Look, I’m not the shining example of obedience, so I can’t say I wou
ld have followed that order, either. However, sitting there mourning over someone won’t bring her back.”

  “This coming from a woman on a holy crusade,” Travis responded, voice edgy as he faced her. “You’re hell-bent on bringing down Charm City to find your dead husband and reclaim everything he lost. You have no right to chastise me.”

  “No, I don’t. However, give me something to work with.” Aviere rested a gloved hand against Travis’s forearm. “I’m not asking for specifics, but Sanderson’s right—if we get catty, we’ll die. You like living, or so you proclaim.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I feel you. Getting out of bed sucks when you’re alone.” Aviere’s empty hand rubbed against the steering wheel before moving her head back and forth. “Sometimes, you hang onto things you shouldn’t. It’s stupid, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s all you have. Hell, I sleep on the couch instead of my bed most nights. It’s easier than waking up in an empty king-sized bed.”

  “What are you getting at, Mye?”

  How do you get into these discussions, Vi? Stop telling your secrets to make these idiots feel better. Goddammit, Jet… you’re turning into a portable office with wheels every time Travis rides with me.

  “My car isn’t mine,” she confessed, the words gutting her after a heavy weight lifted from her chest. “This car—Jet, I mean—he’s Gunther’s, not mine. I restored Jet after recovering the wrecked parts over a cliff.”

  An icy chill washed over the Poisoner as goosebumps trailed up her arms.

  “If I’d come across his dead body, I would’ve stopped looking.” She unfastened her seatbelt and grabbed her purse, fetching a ripped leather wallet with damaged credit cards inside. “But this was all I found. Everything—his license, all the credit cards, even $300 in cash left behind. And a note. A motherfucking note in cryptic messages that make no sense.”

  “But no body.”

  “Right.”

  She removed a glove and touched the plastic cards, recognizing the bumps over every inscribed letter of his name. Aviere kept the wallet close, masking any identification from her partner. A bare hand thumbed over his license before cramming the huge wallet inside her back pocket.

  Silence resumed, producing tension inside the stifling Ferrari, despite the breeze through the open window.

  “Look, I need to keep going, Travis. It’s almost dark, and it’s raining.” Her gloved hand clung to the frosty, pale fingers of her other hand, noting the tinge of blue on her fingertips and dark purple underneath her nails. “How ironic. It rained when the accident happened.”

  Rough fingers glided across her pallid hand. “I don’t believe in accidents. But I understand sentimentality.”

  Travis guided her hand until she touched something solid, but she registered cold metal after her palm pressed into the Desert Eagle. Her neck trickled sweat at the simplistic gesture.

  Something is off. He’d never allow me to touch a gun after the way I shot when we met.

  “The Red Coat Society kidnapped Lyssa years ago. It was a case assigned to the BCPD, but no one cracked it fast enough. The Soulstealer Massacre scattered and divided the feds and the precinct, especially after I didn’t call them after finding Lyssa’s body.”

  Travis’s hand maneuvered Aviere’s hand until it gripped the gun’s handle. As he wrapped his fingers around hers, Aviere spotted headlights coming toward them.

  Trembling, the Poisoner pulled her hand away and slipped the glove over her exposed skin, cradling it afterward. Fleeing heat left her frigid fingertips, but she hummed under her breath, thinking of his touch.

  He tries, unafraid of the consequences. But it’s not romantic, so why is it profound?

  “I’m aware of who killed Lyssa, Aviere. I’ll get Soulstealer if nobody else.”

  Aviere’s mouth dried up as she nodded and started the Ferrari, eyes wide while holding back unshed tears.

  “Tomorrow morning, after my coffee—which, I’ll finish this time—we’ll head out and order a few sets of thick gloves. Maybe Peters can manage to get some with a heat sensor or something… if he’s feeling nice. But pockets might be tricky, so don’t hold your breath.”

  Aviere almost uttered “thank you” until another set of headlights sailed past her in the blackened night. As she moved the manual transmission into the right gear, she imagined Travis’s warm fingers burning her fingertips every time he moved her hand across his handgun.

  Even at the agent’s innocent gesture, the Poisoner understood his loneliness for a different reason and realized no matter how much she struggled, her closest companions never understood her symptoms or strange afflictions. Travis’s statement stuck with her, knifing her every time she caught his voice complaining about her poor circulation.

  She ached and wanted to explain it was a side effect of her serum adapting to her tainted blood, but the secret never left her parted lips as she shifted the manual transmission into gear.

  Not even Travis’s soft moans encouraged Aviere to proceed as she donned her mask, warning herself to keep her partners safe in the midst of their self-pity.

  Fifteen minutes later, the pelting rain intensified the ringing in Aviere’s ears and the silence inside the Ferrari, despite encouraging her partner to talk about his problems.

  She hoped the conversation replaced the tension between them, but Travis returned to brooding against the passenger window. Each time he pressed against Jet’s window, Aviere’s eye twitched and she snatched her jeans, holding her breath instead of complaining about his behavior.

  Hot breath accented the smudges on Jet’s window and Aviere’s gaze returned to the windshield while letting out a shuddering groan.

  Instead, she concentrated on the gusty wind and torrential rainstorm, evaluating the course while pulling beside Maurice’s black and white Mercedes Benz 300. After a brief glance, followed by a grimace, Aviere flipped her hair back before releasing her seatbelt.

  Maurice, we’re supposed to be uniform… but then, Karyn’s driving a beat-up Stingray, so whatever. But a black and white paint job? That’s screaming for attention.

  “Mye, your family’s weird. Maurice placed a freaking bow tie on the grill of his Mercedes.”

  Travis’s mortified voice made Aviere giggle until she discovered the atrocity on the Mercedes.

  “It’s Karyn.” The image of the bobbed blonde-haired woman with her skinny body, full breasts, and small tank top made the vein by Aviere’s eye pulsate. “I forgot he’s still vying for her attention.”

  “You mentioned that.” The agent’s voice rose at her irritation. “But Greene shouldn’t rattle you. . Unless you’re scared of mages, of course.”

  When Aviere raised an eyebrow, she flashed a nasty glare to Travis before spotting Karyn with her siblings. As she rubbed her nose, Aviere hummed, fishing through her purse for her silver-rimmed spectacles. “When did I mention Maurice?”

  “You remember—hospital room, when you complained Maurice raised your cable bill. Then you declared he’s for the ladies, not for the other team.”

  Aviere snorted before cleaning her glasses, thinking of the bubbly blonde lingering with her brothers. “Yeah. I almost wish Reese batted for the other side. Least he wouldn’t obsess on Karyn. I don’t think he accepts being friend-zoned.”

  “I should have asked you about Karyn Greene, Mye.” The rumbling tone in Travis’s voice stopped her from exiting Jet. “Around her, things turned freaky. I never witnessed someone’s death from another’s memories before.”

  Aviere stopped mid-movement and slid her palm over Jet’s locking mechanism. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw her spouse’s death. Gruesome way to go, pinned underneath a Stingray. Merciful, compared to some, but—”

  “You asked Karyn about Reggie?” She whirled her head toward Travis and pursed her lips, releasing a resound sigh after her voice raised an octave. “Armandi and I saw you with her last night, but we didn’t know why.”

 
“Sanderson assigned us to knock off the Zodiac Cartel a week ago while you were on leave. I tried getting you reassigned before you returned.”

  She rested a hand on her ample chest as Travis scratched the back of his head. “Really?”

  “Personal ties are horrible for cases and after learning Dalara started—”

  “Please use Limere’s name,” she said, dropping her voice. “Every time you use Dalara, it reminds me of Ma.” Her lips parted a little as she closed her eyes. “I understand you and Neuro use last names, but I’m haunted by her ghost. So, for me… use his first name, will you?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I appreciate you trying to get me reassigned, but Sanderson’s got a thing for torturing me.” Lithe fingers bunched some of her shirt when she made a fist, clutching the clunky peridot underneath. “But don’t question Karyn anymore about the cartel. I don’t believe Celene or Limere mentioned it to her.”

  “She said her sister-in-law mentioned Dal—argh, your brother’s reform. But she’s not sure about his credibility.”

  “Look, for everyone’s sake, stop chasing her.” Aviere unlocked her car but flashed her headlights toward the figures standing near the street. “Maurice will get edgy. The entire situation is stressful. I don’t care for Karyn and I think she’s trouble, but the guys love her. You don’t need any more enemies.”

  “Then why let her hang around?”

  “Armandi offered her a spot on the Vipers without notifying me.”

  Chuckling exploded in Aviere’s right ear at her demonic tone and she recoiled in her seat, kicking the brake after clasping her forearms. Her lips puckered together before pouting in the driver’s seat, which elected a snigger from Travis.

  “Peters, she’s sulking. It’s cute when Mye’s flustered.”

  Cerulean eyes turned dark as Aviere faced Travis, growling when he grinned.