Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga

by E. M. Whittaker

  Makes sense. If Irving remained protected, it’d be one way to finish the job.

  “Of course—I’d prefer sniping him from the window,” Q mused, pointing to the open window blowing thin, navy blue curtains. “Or breaking his goddamn neck. There’s something satisfying about killing with your hands.”

  “He liked killing,” Travis stated, eyes resting on a melted pile of ashes in the middle of the room. “This guy used various methods to kill everyone. Burning someone’s excessive. McSeeten’s got a cleaner working for him—maybe more than one person.”

  “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

  Stop thinking of Q and analyze, Keith. Peters sent you here for a reason.

  Travis pushed his chest out, rewarded with satisfying cracks in his back. Tense muscles rolled forward, eyes pausing at each dead body strewn in the room. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins, primed in case Q attacked him again.

  Hector Irving’s body rested in a weird angle against the prostitute on the bed.

  Wait. Someone moved Irving’s body, but broke something.

  “Irving’s been disturbed, Q.”

  Stilettos clomped against the tiled floor before a thick Spanish accent answered from behind the agent. “Me. Irving fell out of bed. Almost knocked me over.”

  Travis adjusted his hat using the gun barrel, spinning to regard Q’s partner. His lip curled as he regarded the stocky Latina and her low-cut ruby cocktail dress. “Rodriguez, we’re supposed to look respectable, not like porn stars.”

  “Undercover,” she said, voice throaty as she pushed long ebony tresses out of her face. Chocolate orbs smoldered when Travis blushed, and he turned his head and locked his eyes on Irving’s body. “Chill, Travis. This what I do. You kill your way. I use mine, sí?”

  “English, Rodriguez,” Travis muttered, brushing his cheek. “In America, we speak proper English.”

  “Fuck you,” she answered, pausing between each word. “Proper enough, Travis?”

  A heavy hand landed on Travis’ right shoulder and turned him around, shoving two items in his large coat pockets. Travis seized Q’s chin, squeezing against chiseled bone without success. Instead of wincing in pain, the large man plucked him up off the floor by the back of his coat.

  “Nice try. But give the bags to Mye. She’ll make good use of them.”

  “Put me down,” Travis commanded.

  Q’s voice rumbled as he pulled Travis closer to his face. “One is the cup Irving drank from. The other bag has a vial of blood. Make sure Mye gets them.”

  Travis huffed, ignoring Rodriguez’s hum of approval and the tongue licking her ruby lips. “Fine.”

  “You’re both being played. You and Mye. Damn woman shouldn’t be involved.”

  “What is Mye to you?” Travis asked, lowering his voice, hoping Q would release him. “Are you one of her men?”

  Rodriguez chuckled. “No. Just respect for the puta.” She rubbed her thumb against her fingers. “Q, stop playing with mage. Said we’d cooperate to Sanderson, sí?”

  “I am,” Q told her, face tightening. “But I’d like to make sure Sanderson’s prize won’t die, Jemina. He’ll have our heads if anything happens to Mye.”

  Interesting. Even Q’s afraid of Sanderson. But why can’t I see their auras?

  Mirthful laughter boomed from the busty Latina and she slapped her chest with a wide smile. “You kidding, Q. Mye almost kill mage. Think it other way ‘round.”

  “As it should be.” Q beamed.

  “Don’t compliment her!” Travis yelled. “Jesus, I’m on a time limit, you know!”

  “Q, put Travis down. We have meeting soon.”

  Travis shielded his body with his arms, bracing for an impact against the floor. Instead, he landed on his feet, blinking at the hulking man smirking with pride. “Why are you proud Mye almost killed me? You should—”

  “Mye did something we’ve longed to do and got away with it. But that’s beside the point.”

  The agent listened to his thumping heartbeat, fighting against instinct when Q reached in his back pocket. Travis forced the gun against his side, lowering his head to peer at Q. From the corner of his eye, Travis peeked at Rodriguez, groaning when she dragged the ruby dress down to try covering her toned, monstrous thighs. Then she cupped her breasts, shoving the exposed cleavage inside the bra cups.

  “Rodriguez, adjust yourself later and wear clothes that fit next assignment.”

  She pursed thick ruby lips together before grinning at Travis. “You looked. Cute.”

  “Jem, stop tempting the poor bastard. We need to leave.” A key jammed into Travis’ palm. “Call the number taped to the key and ask for the vehicle listed. Don’t bitch about what kind it is—it’ll keep up with her Ferrari.”

  “I’m not driving an illegal car,” Travis said. “I’ll use—”

  “You’ll find her at Tricksters,” Q continued. “No doubt she’s replacing the window you busted. Hope you’ve got earplugs, because you’ll hear her bitch for a while.”

  “I’ll manage.” Travis pocketed the metal key after reading the tag. “A Corvette? Where’s Sanderson got the money to finance this shit?”

  “No ask. Better not knowing.” Rodriguez flexed her dark manicured nails. “We track Mye a while. But—”

  A deafening screech interrupted Rodriguez and the three agents covered their ears, wincing at the high frequency. Every second, the wailing alarm continued. After the sixth one, Rodriguez’s tan finger pointed to Travis’ collar.

  Mye! Thirty seconds! Go, go, go!

  Panic laced Travis’ voice as he sprinted down the hall. “Peters, find Mye and a location close to phase to!”

  “Bowley’s Lane! You’ll end up at a landfill in East Baltimore!”

  Twenty seconds. Just phase to the damn landfill and the collar will stop the ear-piecing beeping.

  Travis gripped his shoulder, squeezing it until pain laced his fingers. The agent stopped and closed his eyes, mouthing a prayer before drawing his power. A clipped voice yelled instructions, but Travis never deciphered its owner with blood pounding in his ears.

  Ten seconds. Holy shit—Mye’s going to kill us—she’s more concerned over a materialistic item then her own hand or my head.

  Sweat beaded down Travis’ face, trailing down his neck as he snaked an arm around his abdomen. Honey-brown hair soaked with perspiration. Breathing became difficult as Travis mouthed words, counting down the seconds until the collar tore his head off his shoulders.

  The agent reached three seconds when the spell took hold, teleporting him to the landfill and silencing the high-pitched beeping.

  Putrid smells of rotting food turned Travis’ stomach as he landed in a heaping pile of trash. He forced his head up, making sure he teleported to the right place before rolling to the dirt floor. Back against the ground, Travis splayed his arms and released his gun, letting the rain soak his heavy body.

  Aviere Mye, I’m going to choke you the next time you threaten our lives over a damn car, Travis vowed, resting a hand over the collar as lighting flashed across the darkened sky.

  Chapter Seven

  Ringing assaulted Aviere’s eardrums, waking her after she nodded off on the car ride to the mechanic’s shop, instantly triggering a thunderclap headache.

  The Geo Metro swerved off the road, jerking to a stop as the shrill sound continued. Aviere glanced at her bracelet, noticing the blinking LED screen and large, bold red numbers counting down. She drew a breath in between clenched teeth, lowering her glasses to scrutinize the numbers.

  “Reese, turn around,” she ordered. “The agent’s out of range.”

  “I warned you, baby girl,” Maurice chided, almost a mumble from the constant beeping. “Your work—”

  “Thirty seconds, Reese.” Aviere shoved her wrist under Maurice’s nose. “Turn around or you’ll be driving me to the ER before I bleed to death from an amputated hand.”

  As Maurice shifted the car in reverse, the beeping silence
d. The loud pitch still echoed in the Poisoner’s ears, but she pitched forward in her seat, breathing hard and cradling her vulnerable wrist against her chest. Scenery blurred as she watched the screen turn back to the map, calculating the distance between them.

  The iPhone vibrated against her butt, snapping Aviere out of her horrified thoughts. When she pulled the phone out, Aviere growled, “I guess Travis warped near me, cause the beeping stopped.”

  Maurice’s smooth finger pointed to her incoming call. “Joe’s called five times since we left, baby girl. Answer him.”

  “He can wait.” Aviere shoved the phone back in her pocket, clutching her necklace. “Focus on getting to Tricksters, Reese. Joe’s my best source for digging up information on cops besides you.”

  “What if he don’t know about the agent, Aviere?”

  Aviere tightened her lips until her nostrils flared. “Then I use my other source, since you refuse to help me, Maurice. Lord knows we’ll have no money, but I might have to use her.”

  The Jamaican sped down the road, muttering under his breath as they drove through an underground tunnel to their destination.

  She leaned back in the cushioned seat, eyes downcast as she realized she crossed a line in their relationship. The Poisoner stole a glance at her brother, but tightened her legs together and rested fists on her thighs at his stormy expression. Brunette strands covered her face as she hunched in the seat, biting her lip until it bled.

  Aviere prayed for answers before moving hair out of her eyes, reminding herself of the advantage she carried over Travis. Vast contacts were within reach, where the agent needed to investigate to get any clues.

  You better have some answers, my friend. God knows relying on the trigger-happy agent or Sanderson’s dangerous.

  The radio blasted a guitar solo through the Geo’s speakers and Aviere smiled, watching a tiny grin creep onto Maurice’s face. Once they locked gazes, Maurice focused on the road, hardening his expression from Aviere.

  “Reese—”

  “Stop. Not now, baby girl.”

  Aviere banged a fist against her thigh, snarling as the car went faster through the tunnel.

  The tense ride ended ten minutes later and Aviere’s heart sank as Maurice skidded away, uncharacteristically dumping her a mile before reaching Tricksters.

  She scrubbed a hand over her face and adjusted her glasses, thinking back to when Maurice closed himself off from her. The radio and music selection couldn’t break the tension between them. Any attempt at conversation resulted in defensive quips and sullen silence. Even when defending herself, Maurice stopped her with a deadpan stare, reminding her about her current situation.

  The thought of her close in-law turning his back to her plight made it hard to breathe. A heavy weight rested in Aviere’s chest and she rubbed it, scratching pale flesh until it grew rosy under the coarse leather.

  Reese, I can’t do this alone. Someday you’ll understand, little brother.

  The steel ladder in front of her felt unsteady underneath her feet. Her stomach lurched, but she climbed, eager to return to the sunlight. Each step renewed her purpose until the phone buzzed in her pocket again.

  Joe, you’ll have to wait. Christ, I wish I only had cell phones aboveground. I’d get some peace traveling through the underground tunnels.

  Aviere thought of her rugged best friend and slowed her pace, wondering how to explain her problem to Joe. His inquisitive nature and brash attitude proved helpful, but Aviere weighed the options of involving another shifter unaffiliated with the Renegades.

  Joe’s not involved, but he knows people, like me. Maybe Joe won’t mind helping. But he needs his alcohol first. God knows he’s useless sober.

  She moved the manhole above her, emerging into drizzle and peeking sunlight. Transitional lenses helped her with the brightened light as she sealed the manhole. Before running to her destination, the shifter turned her head in each direction, making sure no one followed.

  I hope Jet’s okay. I can’t wait to drive and let off steam.

  Rotten food permeated the air and Aviere covered her nose, making a retching sound.

  I wish Joe hadn’t built his shop near a goddamn landfill, though. Still, no one would look for a mechanic fixing race cars here.

  Aviere skipped to the brick building, turned right, and headed to a one-person booth. She dug for her keys and unlocked it, locking the door once inside. The steel elevator remained vacant, but came to life when Aviere activated the controls with her key.

  Almost there, Joe, she thought, moving her hand away from her nose when the elevator closed. Christ, something died in the landfill. Smells worse than rotting garbage on trash day.

  Aviere cracked her knuckles and paced inside the elevator, still forming a story to placate her best friend. Four floors later, the Poisoner still struggled, pausing when the double doors opened. One whiff of fresh air later, Aviere registered grease and sweat, shaking her head.

  I didn’t need to run into Joe’s beta wolf, but I suppose it’s natural. Leonard handles everything for him, after all. I can avoid him before—

  “Alpha’s looking for you, Aviere.”

  Damn.

  “I swear, if you keep avoiding him, Alpha will make us work overtime for the fifth day in a row.”

  Aviere sighed, trying to muster the energy for a warm smile. However, the smile remained tense as she regarded the unofficial gatekeeper —a tanned male with his golden-blond hair pulled back. The dirty navy shirt displayed spots of grease and oil. Stained and faded blue jeans untouched by stains presented a comfortable look on the middle-aged male. The baby face and muscular tone reminded Aviere of a surfer, down to the waist-length long hair.

  Leonard’s a smart cookie. Joe wouldn’t trust him to run his empire if he wasn’t. But Leonard’ll ask questions—ones I can’t answer right now. Goddammit, why isn't he off today?

  She rooted through her purse to avoid Leo’s soulful blue eyes. “I’ve been busy. I’m not trying to ignore Joe, Leonard.”

  “Reese is all worked up, Aviere,” Leo stated in a fierce tone. “I don’t like my friend distressed and upset. Tell me what happened. Reese might calm down if I explain things to him.”

  Aviere yawned, rubbing dry, bloodshot eyes with a dejected stare. “I tried. Reese wouldn’t listen. He kicked me out of his car.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Leo wagged a tiny flip phone in his hand before stroking the stubble on his chin. “He’s angry because he feels helpless, babe. Limere got busted selling drugs and Reese’s still pissed about it. Been five years, you know.”

  “I remember,” Aviere said scathingly. “He’s my brother, Leonard.”

  “So, imagine watching the only stable person in your family getting into trouble, but being unable to help them. It’d piss you off.”

  Aviere nodded.

  “Even Alpha’s canceled his plans to see you, and we had a contract negotiation with some government bigwigs. Would’ve secured us for a while.” Leo slouched against the wall and brushed long bangs out of his eyes. “Really looked forward to teasing Madame Secretary, too. Uptight—”

  “Stop calling Joe ‘Alpha’, Leonard,” Aviere snapped. Meeting his eyes, she dug a hand through her purse. “Your wolf pack shouldn’t bleed at your job. My new partner might get the wrong idea if he follows me here.”

  A guttural growl rumbled down the corridor, followed by shattered glass. Angry words echoed down the hall before a slammed door signaled the end of a discussion.

  Shit, Joseph… you’re losing your cool. You’ve been sober a week.

  Her eyes widened at her last thought.

  Are you losing your mind because you don’t have your beer, or because of me?

  “Alpha’s been pissy all week, babe. You didn’t deliver his beer, and he’s lashed out all week. Sounds like another night of overtime.”

  Aviere nodded again, resting a hand against a warm glass bottle. “Maybe.”

  “Shit, it’s Friday. I promised Da
isy I’d take her to dinner.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Aviere reassured him. “Joe can call Limere, remember?”

  “Who relies on him?”

  God, Leonard—don’t do this to me. I know you’re stressed, but I—

  “Besides, I’m more worried about Daisy,” Leo prattled on. “I canceled on her birthday Monday ‘cause of Alpha’s temper, so I rescheduled my reservations for today. If I cancel again, she’ll break up with me.”

  Aviere stroked the bottle in her purse and retrieved it slowly, presenting the boon to the dreamy surfer man. “I have two with me, Leonard. I’ll see if Joseph changes his mind about working you guys to death.”

  Hope shined in Leo’s light blue eyes. “Please, Vi. You know Daisy listens after destroying things.”

  The iPhone vibrated again. “All right, Leonard. Make it even by calming Reese down, okay?”

  “I’ll try, babe,” Leo promised, eyeing her curvy butt. “But you might want to reconsider racing this weekend.”

  Aviere’s leather-gloved hand gripped the peridot necklace and mouthed a prayer, holding a hand up for space. Each word seemed hollow compared to the scattered thoughts of her assignment and previous employers.

  I know Leonard cares, but he’s got this ability to cut through eloquent bullshit. How can I balance the Renegades and my racing career?

  “Aviere?” Leo asked again, hesitant.

  Goddammit, Lowell—I’m not sacrificing my dreams because of you. Racing’s the only hobby I’m good at and make bank on.

  “Look, I know we’re not real close, but Alpha and Reese care. You’ve been good to me, so rather than seeing you get hurt, just take it into consideration, all right?”

  “I’ve been racing since I was sixteen, Leonard. Ma tried stopping me, but I followed her. Now you’re suggesting the same while acting like a mother hen.” The Poisoner patted Leo’s shoulder. “Over my cold corpse will I miss tomorrow night’s race.”

  “But Aviere—”

  “I appreciate the concern, but you’re keeping me from my appointment, Leonard. Even I can’t stifle Joe’s anger when he’s riled and sober.”