by Joni Hahn
Quicker.
She glanced down at her gloves, the veins glowing bright amber. Maybe it was the combination of her capacitor and the electrical conduction that made it so potent. Or, the thought of losing those she loved most in the world.
Including Clint.
“Do you think Belle will show up?” Aurora said, backing away from the window.
“She’s recovering from a close-range gunshot. Not likely,” Snow said, before turning to her with a wide grin. “Although, considering—”
“Considering I’ve been feeling a little homesick,” Monica said, her 9mm Beretta pointed at them, “I thought I’d drop in and say hey.”
Monica, no.
If her sisters didn’t kill her, Austin surely would when he found out what she’d done.
The women gave Monica’s Kevlar suit a quick onceover, taking in the guns at each hip. Turning around, Monica took off at a dead run. The women followed chase.
Squatting down beside the control panel, Keegan pressed buttons until the door slid open, revealing a simple set of stairs that led down into inky darkness. Activating a pale blue light on her armband, she descended with caution.
A thin, gray haze hovered in the dank stillness, the smell of mold and smoke pungent in the confined space. Treading through with light steps, she noticed the heavy, steel walls that lined the tunnel were scarred with an assortment of bullet holes. Fragments of gun stocks and twisted barrels lay in chaos along the tunnel floor, disjointed knives scattered throughout. The blast had taken place down there, no doubt. It had damaged several weapons, but left the passageway intact.
Rounding a corner, she realized the tunnel carried on, out of sight. Was Natalie down there, in the pitch blackness? Or, had she lost her in the blast?
A door opened on her left, startling her. A ray of light escaped, revealing two, tall men.
With wide, identical shoulders and honey blond hair, she watched, mouth agape, as Clint and Cyrus exited the room together. Walking side-by-side up the stairs, there was no mistaking their similarities. Disbelief warred with brutal truth, both men familiar, yet occupying opposite sides of her heart. They didn’t fight, didn’t argue, just walked past her in utter silence.
Frowning, Clint whipped around and looked right through her. Keegan ducked back against the wall, though she knew he couldn’t see her. Did he sense her? Feel her, at all?
A lump balled in her throat, threatening to choke her. She’d been right all along. No security clones flanked Cyrus, and no gun was on Clint. The two brothers walked up the stairs together as if they did so every day. The tender, generous lover she’d known—the man she loved—had been working with her enemy. He’d put on a good show, had maneuvered it so D.I.R.E. had fallen into his command.
Despite all Cyrus had done to her, she’d been duped again.
Mentally kicking herself, Keegan turned and walked into the room they’d just left. She knew where her sister and Riordan stood. They were her family. Saving them must be uppermost in her mind, not salvaging Clint and their relationship.
Horror tightened her gut as she stared through the one-way glass, bile threatening to unleash. Clint’s mother had used the ultimate punishment, reducing the super agents to mind-controlled nightmares, while the dead body of their commander-in-chief lay in the same room. The women, the people that loved them most in the world, watched them suffer helplessly, without an end in sight.
Those people were his friends and Clint had walked out on them. At least, they weren’t lost in the blast.
Looking around the barren, narrow room, she noticed a docking station against the far wall. Recognizing the connection, she searched her armband, certain there was a way to link up. Extending an adapter, she signed into the system, a dashboard appearing on the screen of her armband.
Perusing the software, she realized someone had set a timer on the doors. They were set to open as soon as the last round of gas had cleared the room—in thirty minutes. What happened then? Did it release on the other side of the clear wall? Were Cyrus and Clint planning to move them?
Although she knew she had the strength, Keegan didn’t dare open the door and expose Natalie and the others to the gas. When the doors opened, would the agents be a danger to themselves and the women? How long would it take before the gas wore off? Regardless, she had to be there when the doors opened.
Disconnecting from the system, she checked the time. She had twenty-eight minutes, two women and one sharpshooter to stop Cyrus, Carol, Monica’s sisters, the hired guns in the yard, and…Clint.
No pressure.
Keegan raced up the stairs and into the barn. She had to find Monica. While no one could accuse Monica Montgomery of cowardice, Keegan sensed that she played a tad on the reckless side. Knowing her injuries were still healing, Keegan prayed the guns and Kevlar suit had given her the advantage she’d needed to keep her sisters at bay until Keegan returned.
A circle of men, three bodies thick, stood just inside the open front doors. Their rowdy cheers and lewd insults resounded with deafening disgust, inciting her twisted curiosity. Edging closer, she spotted the three sisters in the center of the ring.
Monica’s recovering shoulder hung at a warped angle, as she kept her good side toward the two assassins following her around the circle. Her face a mask of crimson rivulets, she appeared to be holding her own, though her brow dipped in obvious pain.
It was Aurora and Snow that looked like a truck had hit them. Aurora alternated between hopping and dragging her foot, the calf of her right leg sporting a gaping stab wound. Her left eye swelled over a nasty scrape on her cheek, marked with the tread of Monica’s hiking boot.
Blood pooled in a gash over Snow’s right eye and trickled down her cheek, her nose at a slight bend. Struggling for breath, she moved with slow jabs, nearly faint, a puddle of dark burgundy spreading over her left side.
She was dying.
Despite the serum and the circumstances, Keegan couldn’t let Monica finish off her sisters. She’d been through too much already. If she could save her the grief, she’d do it. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Austin in hours. If more bad news was in store, she wanted to spare her the heartache.
While Monica had held her own, she couldn’t do it much longer. The assholes around her weren’t going to help. The sisters were the excitement for the day.
Still invisible, Keegan shoved her way through the crowd. The men she passed shoved the men on her other side, starting a scuffle. Tapping Snow on the shoulder, Keegan ducked when the assassin whipped around, eyes blazing, her fists in the air. Looking around, her eyes calmed before she lowered her arms to her sides.
With a kick for momentum, Keegan bent her knee and shoved her foot into Snow’s jaw, sending her flying through the brawl. Hitting the ground, she skidded on her back, kicking up dirt, before coming to a stop, unconscious.
Keegan turned to Aurora, who accused the men behind her of striking Snow. Chest heaving, Monica gave a breathless smile as she lowered her fist in obvious relief. Aurora stared at Monica with narrowed eyes before perusing the relaxing crowd.
With another high kick, Keegan sent Aurora flying in the same vicinity as Snow. She landed nearby with a heavy thud, unmoving. Running to the pile of tools propped against the barn wall, Monica grabbed a pitchfork. The men watched in dumbfounded silence as she dragged her sisters shoulder to shoulder. Keegan shoved the pitchfork into the ground, locking their upper arms between the rungs.
“They’re going to be pissed.” Monica said, still trying to catch her breath.
Two of the men stomped toward Monica, faces wreathed in threatening scowls. Holding her outstretched palms toward the wall of blades, Keegan focused on two of the machetes, her brows knit in concentration. Rattling in their holders, they broke free of their bindings and shot into her gloved hands. The men fell silent.
Come on, Keegan. You can do this.
Focusing on the blades, she made them hover in front of her hands, flipping them onto the
ir sides, then upright, as she learned how to control them. Hands side-by-side, she bent her arms at forty-five degree angles, pulling the hovering blades toward her, gauging the distance. Extending her arms again, she swung them back against her shoulder and repelled the blades, sending them flying toward Monica. They sliced through the two men, blood gurgling at the base of one’s neck, the others’ arm sheared off below the shoulder.
Pandemonium erupted in the yard and the barn, their wails of agony eliciting an ambush of bullets in the area where she’d stood moments before. Ducking low, Monica ran in a zig zag pattern into the open yard, Keegan on her tail. She may be invisible, but Monica remained vulnerable. She had to get her to safety.
A man dropped to the ground behind her, then another, their muffled oafs fading into the onslaught of bullets.
Colfax’s voice came over her armband. “Holy shit. D.I.R.E. agents are incoming. I repeat, D.I.R.E. agents are incoming. Help has arrived.”
* * *
Clint and James entered his mother’s apartment above the farm’s auditorium. She greeted him like the prodigal son, bestowing him with a hug as brittle as she was thin, a genuine smile on her lips. Although he’d remained in touch with her all of his life and had never received such a greeting, he let her put on this little show of affection in front of James and Jim. He’d cooperate in any way necessary until he was certain the others were safe.
In that moment, when he stared at his father and half-brother, it struck him that his mother hadn’t named James after James Chadwick, but after her former lover. How crude. Then again, in the grand scheme of things, that was nothing for her.
“Clinton…” She pulled away, her hands remaining on his shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here. Now, we have the entire family in place.”
James scowled at him from behind the leather sofa. Clint remembered the look well. When they were boys, he used to fluctuate between scowling and temper tantrums. As he recalled, James never seemed to be at peace except when he slept.
Today, it was same look, different age.
More deranged.
Clint lifted the corner of his mouth. If he hated to see Clint now, James must’ve really resented Jim’s presence when he started seeing Carol again.
“Not so fast, Mother,” James said. “I found him down in the chamber.”
He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. If she turned on him, at least he knew the others had a chance of escape.
Her relaxed stance didn’t change, though her eyes studied him with intense scrutiny. Clint offered an answer before she could ask.
“I entered through the tunnel on Destiny Lane.”
Her brows rose high on her forehead. “My, my Clinton, you impress me.” Releasing his shoulders, she lowered herself into a recliner in the corner of the room. The thick, brown cushions seemed to swallow her small frame as she burrowed into the chair. With haste, Jim was at her side, handing her a glass of water.
So telling, his actions were a complete travesty. His mother had one of the most brilliant men in the world waiting on her hand and foot, using his intelligence and military experience to carry out her twisted plans, while also rekindling a love affair he’d ended decades before.
As his father used to say, his mother had always been a looker. Russ Robinson had refused to call her beautiful because he said beauty radiated from the inside out, and pure darkness prevailed inside Dr. Carol Robinson.
At the time, he’d chalked it up to the pain they’d inflicted on each other before and after the divorce. Now, he knew his father’s words were real, in the truest sense of the word.
“It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He glanced at his father who stared back with passive expectation.
Jim Monroe was a major regret in all of this, as were the years wasted away from him. To learn his biological father was a man of such vision and intellect made him proud. Yet, he had to wonder if Jim had originally been a part of this plan. Obviously, he loved Carol. Clint’s gut told him Jim would never agree to something like this. Then again, he’d learned the hard way that appearances could be deceiving.
None of it really mattered. What mattered was stopping them once and for all and that D.I.R.E. continued and thrived.
What mattered was giving Keegan peace of mind. He could die happy, knowing he’d given the woman he loved a chance at contentment.
He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d come out of this alive. If James didn’t kill him, Keegan would.
Though short-lived, he could honestly say she’d given him life, true living, in the most significant sense. She’d challenged his mind like no one else, had made him laugh in the midst of the complete cluster of revelations he’d just endured. She’d given him free reign of her body, something his brother had abused for years.
His hands clenched into fists. He may die before this was all over, but not before he got his own revenge.
Looking back over his life, he considered the few hours with Keegan his greatest accomplishment. Not his scholastic achievements or his scientific innovations.
After all, without her, he never would’ve achieved the impossible.
True love.
“When will Keegan arrive?” James gave him a heated glare of mistrust.
Panic rendered Clint immobile, his heart pounding with dread. “Keegan?” He glanced at his mother before looking back at James.
James’ eyes went wide. “Mother, you told me that was part of the deal.”
Clint glared at Carol. His gut had told him it wouldn’t be that easy. That’s why he’d installed Keegan’s enhancements.
She’d lied to him for decades. Why would he expect his mother to tell the truth now?
“Mom, you agreed that he would have to find Keegan on his own.”
Wide-eyed, James’ nostrils flared as he approached Carol. Jim slid between them, a palm in the middle of James’ chest. He gave him a gentle shove.
Surprised, Clint watched the simmering exchange. That explained one of the reasons his mother needed a bodyguard. James must’ve threatened her in the past. For a man that supposedly didn’t like violence, James radiated with it.
With a hesitant, beady-eyed scowl, he backed down. “Now, I remember why we worked in separate parts of the world, Monroe.”
Carol remained unfazed, her posture regal, along with her tone. “Clinton, I’ve changed my mind in that regard. We need the Meeks girl.”
Panic bombarded him with renewed vigor, awakening the shock and anger he’d thought Keegan had buried. It swelled inside him like a monster, growing, suffocating, until he could see nothing but red.
“Why do you need her, Mom?” he spat, giving his brother a repulsed onceover. “For his need to abuse her?”
Jim’s eyes widened, the first reaction he’d seen out of him. James didn’t move, save for the clenching of his jaw.
“How dare you?” James spoke in a low, deadly voice. “I would never harm a hair on her head.”
With a bark of disbelief, Clint said, “If years of rape isn’t abuse, I don’t know what is, you sonovabitch.”
“Rape?” he cried, his gaze bouncing off Carol before crashing into his again. “I would never do such a thing.”
Closing in on his brother, Clint backed him against the wall, uncertain whether he could actually kick his ass if James decided to unleash the temper he’d used on Keegan for years.
“That’s what one-sided sex is, James. No means no.”
His warm breath washed over Clint’s face. The need to puke struck again with force. “And, I honored her when she said it.” His nostrils flared. “I love her.” He glared at Clint from beneath lowered brows. “She is my life. I can’t live without her.”
All the more reason to keep her away.
“She will never be your life.” The monster inside Clint roared to life, spitting flames of green fire.
His mother interjected, her voice laced with a lilt of surprise. “You’re in love with her, too.”
Heart pound
ing, Clint turned to her, his temper a rolling boil beneath the surface of his patience.
“No.” The single word held a thousand threats James could surely carry out.
“That will be an issue, I’m afraid.” Carol took another sip of water. “I intend for her to run things while I mend. She’s a strong girl, you know. Smart. Intelligent. We can’t afford dissention amongst the two of you. She’ll need your support.”
Clint swallowed down a snarl. Her nonchalance irritated the crap out of him. “Why her? You have your assassins.”
“Keegan knows our work,” she said. “She’s tough, courageous and quite gifted. What better qualifications could I ask for in a woman to run things for me?”
“Tell me you did not sleep with her…” Danger lined James’ muted voice, his body emitting molten rage.
Clint smiled to himself—and didn’t answer. That should kill him.
“Mom, I told you I don’t know her location,” Clint said. “I lost track of her after you kidnapped the women from the hotel.” God, he hoped she didn’t see through him. “I assume she’s with Dan.”
“You lie…” James’ words slithered from his mouth with poisonous accusation.
Carol shook her head with condescension. “I still can’t believe someone so valuable came from Dan Meeks’ loins.” Sighing, she said, “James, call her. I find it hard to believe she’s sitting at home with Dan while her sister withers away in our underground chamber.”
Not for long. The doors should open any time now. Clint just hoped the super agents had recovered enough to take care of the hired guns outside and get Jim back to D.I.R.E.
“Clinton, I need you to start on my DNA.” She gave Jim a worried glance, the first sign of vulnerability he’d witnessed since he’d arrived. “I had hoped you and James could work together to expedite the process, but I see that won’t happen.”