No Love for the Wicked

by Powell, Megan

  The quick shift of emotions was shocking. The heat of desire so easily turned to anger. I didn’t know what to do. Power sizzled all around us, golden and hot, but I could feel my sudden anger churning that dark place inside me. I didn’t want to go there. Not now.

  He tugged on his shirt and stopped. Both hands fisted in his hair, and he took several steadying breaths. The link between us strummed tightly. As his deep breathing calmed him, so it also calmed me. Anger slowly fading, I pulled the quilt over me, missing the heat of his body.

  He dropped his hands to his sides. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other.

  I didn’t know what to do, I thought finally. For some reason, I couldn’t find the words to say them out loud. I knew what I felt for you, and I knew the connection between us was stronger than anything I’d ever known, but no one had ever cared for me the way you did. I didn’t know what to do.

  His jaw flexed. “Is that why you left? You were scared of what was happening between us?”

  I sat up, holding the quilt to my chest. No. I still couldn’t find my actual voice. No, I didn’t want to leave you. It felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind. I had to get control of my powers—that’s all.

  He took a deep, lung-filling breath, then turned to pull on his boots and grab his coat. My heart pounded. I knew I had to get going, but was this it? Had I blown it? The connection between us was still there, the power still a live presence around us. But his grid had shut down; his expression was a complete blank.

  Ready to go, he sat heavily on the bed beside me. I took his hand in mine automatically. He didn’t pull away, but rather rubbed his fingers along my knuckles.

  “I saw a glimpse of your assignment,” he said, looking at our joined hands. “Before you shut me out of your head, I saw a little of your other team. St. Pierre is a kiss-ass, but he’s a decent agent. Double-check his contingency strategies, though. Make sure he’s got you covered. And, Mag, if you get even a hint that something is going wrong, you call me. Got it?”

  I nodded. “I can handle myself, Theo.”

  “I know you can,” he said, still staring at our hands. A moment longer passed and he pushed off the bed. I felt his absence instantly. The power inside me jolted as if punched. At the door he paused. Without turning back to face me, he said, “Be careful, Mag.” He cleared his throat. “It would be great if you’d call me after you get back, just to let me know you’re home again.”

  “I will,” I said, and a sudden image of him returning to the farmhouse later in the afternoon came alive in my mind. We could pick up where we’d left off, take our time and really explore…

  “Be sure to tell Luce hi for me,” he said suddenly, cutting off my train of thought. “It’s been a while, but I’m sure she’ll remember.”

  Then without waiting for my response, he was out the back door and in his car.

  Wait, what?

  The alarm clock went off again, only this time it was a weak, sickly buzz. I found the thing upside down against the wall and set it back on the nightstand to turn off the alarm.

  My body moved awkwardly; the unsated desire that had stirred so strongly still resisted settling down. It didn’t matter. I had a job to do. I grabbed the clothes I’d laid out the night before and headed to the bathroom. Theo and everything that had just happened between us needed to be set aside for the moment. I was an agent now. Time to focus.

  Twenty minutes later, I drove down the driveway, away from the morning sunlight. I was headed to my first real mission as a real Network agent. I’d be in on the action as we took down a foreign supernatural threat that had absolutely nothing to do with me or anyone in my family. I was just another agent with a role to play. No matter what else was going on with me right now, I should be thrilled about that.

  But what the fuck did Theo ever do with Luce that she was so damn sure to remember?

  CHAPTER 15

  The Indianapolis International Airport was the pretty painted toenail on the city’s callused left foot. The new terminal hub was only a few years old, so the glass and chrome still glistened like a beacon in the middle of nowhere. Inside, the restaurants and stores were clean and the layout easy to follow. I met Colin and Tony at the Starbucks just before the security check at Terminal A.

  Crowded places like this used to be agony for me. All those thoughts swirling around, all the heated lust and near-comatose stares. Alcohol helped keep the mental voices in line, but shutting out other people’s thoughts was a skill I’d really had to practice. When I stayed with Thirteen right after my escape, he’d taken me out to restaurants and for walks through downtown to let me practice being around benign groups of strangers. It took months to get used to it all. I’d practically attacked every person who looked my way those first few trips out. But looking back, those little chaperoned excursions had been invaluable. If Thirteen hadn’t taken the time to help me acclimate, I couldn’t imagine where I might have ended up.

  Tony looked up as I approached, giving me a subtle once-over. I’d worn tight skinny jeans under knee-high lace-up UGGs. My long-sleeved turtleneck was covered with a soft fox-fur vest, and my long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tony smiled a little and whispered to Colin that I was there.

  When Colin turned to face me, I stumbled, laughing. Tony wore the perfect snowboarder-chic attire I’d expect the guy to wear. But Colin was dressed almost exactly the same way: baggy pants tucked into thick snow boots, puffy blue coat over an untucked henley. He even had goggles pushed up to his forehead and his usually gelled hair in a shaggy mess.

  “I didn’t realize you were planning on skiing the runways, Colin,” I said, nodding to the goggles.

  He pulled them off in a quick move as Tony stifled a laugh. “I told him it was too much.”

  “Whatever,” Colin grumbled. “Did you receive my communication with the portfolio attachment?”

  “You mean the e-mail with the surveillance photos? Yeah, I got it. So what’s the deal? Are we just going for Dr. Everett, or is his new partner joining him?” The whole reason they’d brought me on was because they’d received word that their target’s partner was also arriving on this flight. If things had changed and Everett was flying alone, chances were I wouldn’t be needed. My skin tightened at the idea of missing out on my first active mission.

  “Just Everett,” Colin said, adding sugar to his coffee. “The second image was the partner, Ken Hall. I sent you a photo as a matter of procedure, but we received confirmation this morning that our guy is flying solo, after all.”

  I hesitated by the table. So should I just hang around then or what?

  “The plan doesn’t change, though,” Colin said, and I stood a little straighter. “You’ll still be on point at the terminal. Send word to baggage claim as soon as you confirm the target’s arrival, then again once he’s headed out of your area. Tony will have the next checkpoint. Then Darrel and I will apprehend in baggage claim.”

  I let out a sigh of relief and took a seat at their table. Good, I was still part of the game plan. We were at a high table away from the other latte drinkers and with a perfect view of the terminal exit. When the arriving plane let out its passengers, they’d have no choice but to walk right past us.

  “We also confirmed,” Tony added, “that the packages being transported were checked and will have to be picked up in the special items area of baggage claim.” He blew on his hot chocolate. “We knew the guy was smuggling some kind of priceless artifacts, but apparently he’s disguising the stuff in manual-labor farm equipment. Our London counterpart saw Everett changing planes at Heathrow—he said that the crates the guy’s shipping are huge.”

  “Did you ever confirm who Dr. Everett is selling the smuggled artifacts to?” I asked.

  “We have the drop point about a mile south of the stadium downtown,” Colin explained. “The buyer’s name is Michael Kane, but we’re pretty sure that’s an alias. Our tech guy is tracking it, so we should have a real name by the time we
have Everett in custody.”

  “So we don’t worry about the buyer, then?” I asked.

  “Our FBI contact is on standby,” Colin said. “Our only concern is the supernatural threat. Once we have Everett, the FBI will take over the stolen goods and the apprehension of the buyer.” He looked at his watch. His shoe tapped against the chair leg. “This mission will be successful—I have every confidence in that. But if somehow Everett manages to slip past us, we’ll have to move fast. The drop is scheduled for less than two hours from now, and then Everett’s scheduled to depart on the one o’clock flight back to London.”

  In and out. It was smart. This way he limited the risk of my father or uncle becoming aware of his presence.

  Tony sipped his hot chocolate. “We have all the scenarios and contingency plans. But they won’t be necessary. We got this, Colin. Our guy’s going down.”

  I smiled at Tony’s cockiness. This was much more like what I’d expected when it came to normal Network agent duties: staking out a known supernatural bad guy, ready to take him down. According to Colin’s information, Everett was a pyrotech. He’d smuggle stolen artwork for a client, then set fire to the drop point after the client collected, erasing any evidence of their interaction. It would feel good taking him into Network custody.

  Tony slid a steaming foam cup my way. “Didn’t know what you drank, so I just got you a basic mocha.”

  That he’d thought to get me anything really touched me. “This is great. Thank you.” Automatically I pulled off the coffee’s lid and took out the flask from my pocket. I poured a couple of shots into the drink and said, “So is Luce all set on the flight deck?” That had been her planned first position, and for some reason knowing where she was felt strangely important this morning.

  “Er, yeah, she’s on the flight deck until the plane lands,” Colin said carefully.

  “Geez, girl,” Tony said with a soft laugh. “What kind of alcoholic are you?”

  I froze putting the cap on my flask. Marie had asked me that same question once. With her, the words had been filled with so much disgust I hadn’t bothered answering. But this time, Tony just seemed curious. I checked his thoughts to be sure. Yep, just curious.

  “Uh, well, the buzz helps with my telepathy. Kind of turns the volume down on everyone unless I want to hear them.”

  Tony nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Ever tried weed?”

  “Er, no. I’ve been drugged enough in my life not to want to do it voluntarily.”

  “Why would someone drug you?”

  It was such a casual conversation. With my other team, everyone had walked on eggshells around my past. But Tony just asked what he thought—no judgment, just curiosity. It was really kind of…cool.

  “Well, my father, actually. I was always kind of the guinea pig when it came to new drugs his company wanted to make. Or if he wanted to sell something illegal, he’d need to know how much to dilute the source for it to have the right effect but still be cost-effective. The drugs never lasted long in my system, but it was enough for him to figure out what he needed.”

  Tony frowned. “Man, that’s harsh. My buddy Reece once thought he was just getting some good dope when really the dealer laced it with mescaline. Totally fucked him up for, like, days. Guy went completely straight after that. I couldn’t imagine being given new stuff over and over.” He gave a respectful nod. “You’re a strong chick, you know that?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Of course, the Network doesn’t sanction recreational drug use,” Colin added, giving Tony a pointed stare. Tony just rolled his eyes and drank his hot chocolate. Colin straightened his coat sleeves, then said, “So, Magnolia, from what I understand, you’ve worked with the Network for just under a year now. How did that happen?”

  Yeah, right. Unlike Tony, Colin had agenda written all over him. I sipped my mocha and thought of how to answer. Thankfully, I didn’t have to.

  “The plane’s landed,” I announced quietly.

  “What?” Colin frowned. “No, it hasn’t—” His cell phone buzzed. A text message from Luce. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Let’s get in our places.”

  We all pulled out our cell phones and made sure they were set for walkie-talkie function. Tony tossed back the rest of his drink, knocked his fist on the table, then ambled his way toward his position just past the men’s room. Colin was suddenly nervous. He looked at me, and I could feel the repressed need to bite his nails. “You sure you know what to do?”

  I sipped my mocha. “I’m sure. And hey, if somehow the guy does get past you, I’ll just zap him with my freeze ray until you can throw on the cuffs.” I wiggled my fingers at him, and he gnashed his teeth together. I sighed. “Colin, it’ll be fine. You’ve organized an excellent takedown here. You’ll get him—I’m sure of it.”

  For some reason that put him at ease. After a couple of easy breaths, he slapped on the goofiest smile I’d ever seen, but it looked perfect with the snowboarder outfit he wore. With a shake of his shaggy hair, he pulled on his thick gloves, bumped his fist on the table just like Tony had, then pointed at me and winked. “Later, snow chick.” Then he headed to the ticket kiosk, ready to set his plan in motion.

  I really liked these guys. They wondered about me, but they didn’t treat me like a freak or like someone who needed to be watched, like my other team had when we’d first been introduced. These guys knew I was a real agent and trusted me to do my job. It was cool. Maybe after today, I could talk to Thirteen about doing more assignments with them.

  I finished off my mocha and strolled over to stand among the throngs of people waiting for the exiting passengers. Children jumped up and down; people stretched their necks, trying to get that first glimpse of whoever they were waiting for. A couple of people held signs with different names on them. One family had about five generations all huddled together, ready to welcome even more of their extended relatives.

  I did a double take. My heart stopped as my stomach sank to the floor. I’d overlooked him at first, just another face in the crowd. He held a sign, but I couldn’t see it to read it. The family of twenty-plus relatives separated us, but through the bodies I saw his expensive dark suit, his perfectly brushed-back silver hair. He was a normal, nondescript, nothing person. But just seeing him made me want to run away and never look back.

  The crowd grew excited. The passengers were coming. Heart pounding, I stepped back, tried to blend with the crowd. As the family in front of me moved forward, I peeked into his thoughts at the same moment I caught a glimpse of his sign: EVERETT. Holy shit. Our target was being picked up by Uncle Max’s personal driver.

  CHAPTER 16

  My first instinct was to disappear. It would have been different if it had been one of Uncle Max’s guards. Those guys were little more than drug-addled gorillas. But Sharon Illyses had never been a drug-addled anything. He was a sadist, a man loyal to my family with a kind of reverence that made my stomach churn. He’d never needed to be drugged to help in Father’s or Uncle Max’s torture sessions. He’d bled me over and over just for the thrill of pleasing my family.

  He would recognize me the moment he saw me.

  Power shimmered under my skin. I was just about to turn invisible when a group of men suddenly bumped into me. Then a passing woman smiled my way. “Nice boots,” she said as she walked by.

  I couldn’t disappear here. People would notice. Even more, I had a job to do.

  The thought steadied my resolve and pushed aside my panic. Network agents didn’t run and hide from their targets. I could do this. With one eye on Sharon and the other on the passengers coming toward us, I pulled out my cell phone and clicked the Talk button.

  “We have a problem. Everett has a driver waiting for him.” No point freaking everyone out with who the driver was. They’d find out that good news soon enough.

  “No names over the link!” Colin managed to shout at me in a hushed voice. “There’s no driver scheduled. A rental car in the target�
��s name is to be picked up in baggage claim. Confirm.”

  “I don’t care about a rental being scheduled. I’m telling you there’s a driver here for our guy.”

  “The manifest lists another passenger with the name Everest. It’s probably for that person,” Luce said in a “duh” sort of way. I ground my teeth.

  “I’m telling you it’s for our guy.”

  “You need to confirm,” Colin ordered. A snarl growled in my throat, but I held it back. The target was there. He wore a crisp European-cut suit that was obviously a custom fit. Thinly trimmed mustache and goatee, short, styled brown hair. He had out a cell phone and was texting away with fast fingers. I focused in on him. I could feel the supernatural power humming inside him. He didn’t expect a driver. His thoughts were on getting to baggage claim, getting through his meeting, and getting back to London, where his partner was waiting.

  Sharon moved forward, trying to step past the Olympic-size family reunion that now blocked nearly half the walkway. Everett’s face was all over his thoughts.

  “Target’s here,” I said into the phone. “He’s not expecting the driver. Shit, he’s going to beat me to him.” I moved quickly but at normal human speed, keeping my back to the approaching Sharon. Everett ran right into me, stomping on my foot with his wing tips.

  “What the—”

  “Oh!” I cried. “Oh, my foot!” I grabbed on to his shoulder and hopped in place, clutching my boot in exaggerated agony.