Unstoppable

by Long, Heather

  “I had some ideas about that,” she said, sliding her arms around him, uncaring of the dampness soaking her shirt. “I meant what I said earlier about being part of the solution.”

  He cupped the back of her head with his hand, her gentle giant, holding her close. Where before he’d seemed so vast, large and intimidating, she reveled in the sensation of being with him. Of being close to him and held in the shelter of his arms. “We will put it on the table with the others. We’ll plan it together.”

  Savoring the moment, she remained against him for the space of several heartbeats. Then as if by silent, mutual consent, they drew apart. Fifteen minutes later, she’d dressed in fresh clothing—he’d loaned her items which seemed more in line with combat and they were all in her size.

  “Why do you have clothes so much smaller than you are?” No way the narrow top, and battle jacket she wore would fit his broader frame.

  “Michael had me reconfiguring some of our gear for Rory.” The light shrug accompanying his statement did not neuter the element of pain underscoring his tone. It had been there in every interaction they’d shared, only she hadn’t recognized it before. The loss of Michael hurt him, on a very deep and elemental level.

  “We’re going to get him back,” she promised him. The how they still needed to figure out.

  Touching a finger to her lips, he silenced the “I promise” she’d been about to add. “Don’t. I appreciate the sentiment, but making a promise we aren’t certain we can keep can leave wounds, too.”

  “Then how about I promise to do everything I can.”

  Another slow, gentle smile. “That I will accept without reservation.”

  Despite the shortness of their respite in his safe house, Joss was almost sorry to leave. She’d half-expected him to go over rooftops. It had been how they’d arrived, after all. So she couldn’t help a hint of disappointment when he handed her a motorcycle helmet.

  “Some methods of travel are more practical than others.” The bike he carried out, however, had her salivating. It was a glorious solid chrome and black Victory Judge. It took her a moment to recognize he carried the bike rather than rolled it.

  “Holy crap.” The bike had to weigh six hundred pounds or more. “You weren’t kidding about the strength.”

  Setting the bike down gently, Drake actually hung his head, an abashed expression taking over his face. “It’s not that heavy.”

  She let it go, tugging the helmet on before joining him as he sat on the bike. Sliding on behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He fit a helmet over his head, and suddenly his voice whispered next to her ear.

  “The helmets will keep facial recognition from picking us out.”

  “Good to know.” Did they have body recognition? If she were looking for Drake, she might look for his shape as much as his face. Then again, what did they know about the team specifically?

  The engine rumbling to life, he accelerated to the doors of the warehouse. He didn’t slow or stop as they opened automatically, then they were outside in a world of gray skies and watery sunshine. The city seemed a different place, then she saw the cloud of smoke rising across the bay in the vicinity of midtown.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Concern filled Drake’s tone, then he added. “Call Simon.”

  At first she’d thought the request was for her, then she heard the telltale sound of a phone ringing sounded in her ear.

  “Drake.” Simon answered, the telepath’s cool voice sounded clear and almost neutral. Too neutral. “You didn’t check in last night. Status?”

  “They wouldn’t let Joss stay. Apparently, her absence set off alarms for them, so they dismissed her from service. Then they sent a team after her.”

  “Is Miss Archer still with us?”

  “Yes,” Joss answered Simon’s question. “I am. And I’m all in.”

  “Were you able to ascertain Michael and Rex’s whereabouts prior to your dismissal?”

  Though she half-expected Drake to answer for her, he continued onto the street and then headed for the route, which would take them to the bridge. “Not precisely,” Joss began, tightening her grip on Drake’s waist. A part of her wished they were out for a Sunday ride. God, she’d forgotten how much she loved a good ride—both on a motorcycle and on Drake. Miss Archer, if you could keep your thoughts focused on our current issue, I believe both Drake and I would appreciate it. She almost let go of her guy at the quiet voice reprimanding her from within her mind. “I thought you couldn’t read me!”

  Drake’s soft laughter pulled a reluctant smile from her even as heated embarrassment flooded through her.

  “I cannot, per se, however you were projecting quite loudly and emotion can make even the most muted voice heard in the din.”

  “So you’re tracking us?”

  “Quite.” Simon answered.

  “He’s keeping an eye on our route and making sure nothing is waiting in ambush.” At least Drake’s answer reassured her. “Fill him in.”

  “I wasn’t able to find them directly, but I know which building is most likely holding them.”

  “Which one?” Sharpness etched each syllable.

  “The Cavanagh building. It’s located at the back of the campus, one of four warehouse structures, it’s the largest of the four. Access to it is restricted to a clearance level well above mine.”

  “I will investigate.”

  Before he could disconnect the call, Drake said, “What’s the smoke downtown? Problem?”

  Silence met the question, then Simon sighed. “It’s the Infinity Corporation building.”

  “Casualties?” Drake demanded, though his tone remained even, the same level of worry she’d heard earlier populated the word.

  “We don’t know.”

  Joss didn’t have to know Simon well to understand he wasn’t telling them everything.

  “Simon.” Warning filled Drake’s voice.

  “I can’t confirm Rory’s whereabouts.”

  “Fuck.”

  Even Joss’s stomach dropped at the revelation. “I thought she was with you guys.”

  “She left to investigate on her own.” Another sigh, then, “A moment, Amanda wishes a word.”

  “How close are you to midtown?” Amanda’s voice filled her headset. “Can you get there to look, Drake?”

  “We’re not close at all.” They weren’t—the bridge they were on would take them out to Long Island, not the city. “I don’t know that going there directly would serve a purpose other than to alert Josh and the others to where we are.”

  “We can’t do nothing.” Her complaint echoed the argument Joss would make if she were in their positions.

  “We’re targets already, Amanda.” Drake’s solemn voice offered sense, not comfort. “We can’t help Michael or Rory if we’re taken. Worse, we could create a cataclysmic backlash if we engage in battle in the middle of the city.”

  “Agreed,” Simon rejoined them. “Get back here. We need to plan. I’ll keep scanning for Rory.”

  The call ended and Drake accelerated. Having only a paltry sentiment to offer him, Joss simply held on. It took them more than an hour to reach the dock he wanted, then another thirty minutes to travel by boat to a small rocky island. Unlike her exodus from this island, Drake didn’t require she wear hood. Another demonstration of his faith in her, one she could only hope she was worthy of.

  Once they docked, Drake secured the boat before leaping onto the dock then turning and offering her hand. Though he could easily lift her, he merely provided balance as she ascended onto the dock itself.

  Hand-in-hand, they walked for the main house set some distance from the docks beyond the trees. Her military training admired the set up. It was easily defensible and hidden from view. It wasn’t that large of an island, a mere speck in the great grand scheme of things — but then the best revolutions started with the smallest piece and the best defense began with only a single brick.

  The
doctor waited for them at the front doors. A large golden retriever frolicked in the grass, but made a beeline to the doctor at their appearance. Wearing jeans, T-shirt, a pair of sunglasses with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Ilsa looked more like a college student than a scientist. “They’ll be glad you’re here,” she said by way of greeting. “Amanda is a bit of a wreck, and Garrett’s pissed.”

  “Garrett is in a bad mood, stop the presses.” The lightness of his words couldn’t erase the concern in his expression. “Any word on Rory?”

  Ilsa shook her head. “No, the explosion is all over the news however. The National Guard is out and there’s word that the military is moving in as well.”

  “I would bet the military is only a rumor,” Joss said. “The National Guard yes, direct military intervention, no. It’s a domestic matter. They think it’s terrorist they’re going to have FBI, Homeland security, state police, local police…” She let the explanation trail off, especially when it didn’t seem to be helping the doctor any.

  “Were stuck in a holding pattern, Simon is still scanning the facility you told him about but he hasn’t come and told us anything. The news reports indicate that most of the civilians in the building were evacuated before the Infinity Tower came down. At this time, they don’t think there are any casualties, which is suspect. There’ve been numerous injuries however.”

  Drake opened the door and held it for Ilsa and Joss. Both women entered, with Ilsa removing her sunglasses, revealing red rimmed and swollen eyes. “I’m going to find Garrett and Simon. Ilsa, can you and Joss get the lay of the land with Amanda and check on Ronan?” Without pause, Drake turned to Joss. “I’m not leaving you out.”

  Believing him, Joss nodded. “Go to your friends. The doctor and I will be fine.”

  Leaning in, Drake pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Thank you.” And then he was gone, striding through the house and disappearing down the hallway.

  “Well, at least there is some good news.”

  Facing the doctor, Joss found her wearing a small smile. “I’m not entirely sure how it all happened…”

  “Trust me when I say none of us know how it happened, just that we love them.” Ilsa offered her an arm, and said, “Amanda is in the kitchen. She needed chocolate and we have fresh coffee.”

  Coffee and chocolate, there was a plan Joss could support.

  * * *

  Drake knew exactly where he would find them. Opening the door to the observation room, he stepped inside. Simon sat at one end of the table, while Garrett set before the communications console and monitors. The new story from the Tower played on mute with numerous speculations populating the ribbon beneath the image. The damage was sickening, but it wasn’t the first time they’d seen a building brought down. New York, it seemed, turned out in force, with numerous first responders and civilians visible in the background.

  “Glad you could join the party,” Garrett said as he drummed one gloved finger against the desk. “Whatever’s going on at that facility, Simon still isn’t getting a good image.”

  “It might be the only kind of confirmation we get,” Drake said, folding his arms and leaning back against the door. “We scanned numerous places, and Simon was always able to determine they weren’t there.”

  “That opens a whole new problem, doesn’t it?” The poisoner always found the flaw in a plan. “If they found a way to block him, then were going in blind. We don’t know what’s in there.”

  “Except,” Simon said, opening his eyes. “Whatever they have in there, they don’t want us to know about. What’s the biggest thing they want to hide from us?”

  “Our people or their plans.” Sometimes the simplest answer was the correct one. Occam’s razor.

  Simon nodded to Drake. “Exactly so. Are you sure about Miss Archer?”

  “I am.”

  “Very well, then we are going to need her to give us the exact layout, all of their security procedures, what kind of force they maintain there and when their security is vulnerable.” It wasn’t an unfair list of requirements.

  “She wants to be a part of the solution,” Drake said, his faith absolute. “She’s also going to want to be in on the rescue. Which begs the question, how exactly are we planning to do this?”

  Tactical expertise had always been Michael’s arena. In his absence, Rory had provided more, but now she was also missing. If Simon couldn’t find her, then perhaps she’d already found Michael…

  “Hold the phone,” Garrett said leaning forward and glaring at both of them. “That’s it? You ask him how sure he is, he says he’s very sure, and that’s the end of the conversation?”

  “It’s sufficient for me,” said Simon utterly nonplussed by Garrett’s outburst. “We will have to break into two teams, one to protect the doctor along with patients here and the others to try and infiltrate the facility.”

  “It’s not sufficient for me,” Garrett muttered. “Not that anyone asked.”

  “Then why are you still talking?” Simon spared the other man a brief smile, before rising to unfold a map onto the table. A quick glimpse revealed it to be the map Drake had drawn after his first reconnaissance. “The larger problem is our numbers are low.”

  “No, the larger problem is we’re still trusting people we don’t know that well.” Garrett rose from the desk then crossed to the worktable as Drake pushed away from the door. “We’ve got three patients we can’t leave unattended—two who are exceptionally dangerous to everyone, and one who is—well, that kid is never going to have a good life, so maybe putting them down would be a kindness.”

  Garrett would never share those thoughts with the doctor, not when she would do everything in her power to protect them. Whether she could save them or not, she saw it as her solemn duty. Neither Drake or Simon argued the point, though.

  “Drake, you will absolutely need to go. We’ll need your strength to get through their security doors.” Simon refused to let Garrett distract him, even as he spread his fingers over the map. “Amanda has the firepower and the power of flight. She can quite potentially provide the distraction needed to get in, but we need to be certain and we need to be surgical, or we’re leaving her hanging out there as an obvious target.”

  The last definitely didn’t sit well with the telepath, but Drake suddenly found himself with a keen understanding of what his teammates had been going through the last few months. Joss would have to go in with them and, while he’d promised her she could be a part of the solution, he did not look forward to endangering her.

  “What about Ronan?”

  Shaking his head, Garrett gestured upstairs. “He’s in no shape to be a part of the op. He’s still recovering and his wings look like hell.”

  “I didn’t mean the op, I meant staying here to guard Ilsa. He’s still stronger than the average person. He still got cunning, and he’s got a whole lot of anger going on.” Drake liked Ronan, for the most part.

  Before Garrett could object, Simon said, “It’s not a bad idea, but the man trusts none of us.”

  “That’s not true,” said Garrett curling his gloved hand into a fist. “He trusts Ilsa.”

  “Talk to Amanda about it,” Drake suggested. “She’s the one he had the biggest problem with when he got here, but you said they were working on it. Also, I don’t think Rory would’ve left if she thought Ronan was truly a danger to anyone else.”

  In the months since they’d met Rory Graystone, Drake had learned a great deal about her. She was fiercely loyal. She also knew how to read people and how to predict their responses. If she thought Ronan was a true danger, she had to know they would put him down before allowing him to threaten anyone else. By virtue of her leaving, she’d signed off on trusting him.

  Simon said nothing for a moment then nodded. “Amanda agrees. She said he has nothing against the doctor and, while he is still coping with his imprisonment, his first instincts are always to protect.”

  “Then we leave Ronan here with Ilsa, and the rest of
us go to get the guys.”

  “I see Miss Archer has encouraged you to be more forceful in your tactical decisions,” Simon said, a hint of humor creeping into his tone.

  “I don’t know if it’s because of her or because I’m simply tired of this whole situation.” Drake preferred honesty. “We’ve been fighting a defensive front from the beginning. We always thought we understood our mission. Yet, even when we thought we were doing the right thing…”

  “Bad things happened.” For Garrett of all of them to agree with him, suggested Drake was definitely not alone. “Ilsa asked me if we were really the solution or simply creating the problem. I know the world I grew up in, and every choice I’ve made has been because of the world that we lived in.”

  “We didn’t all live in the same world.” From Simon, it carried weight. The telepath glanced from Drake to Garrett then back. “Drake lived in a different one from either of us.”

  “Our lives may have been comprised by different elements, but they were all painted on the same canvas.” Drake, too, had been considering the arguments. “We can only make the best choices we can in light of what we have learned. If this changes our long-term mission goals, then so be it, but we make none of those decisions until we have Michael and Rex back.”

  “Agreed.” Simon and Garrett echoed one another. Then Garrett grinned crookedly. “I think you found more than just a good time with ‘Miss Archer.’” The intentional parrot of Simon’s tone drew a reluctant laugh from the telepath, and a shrug from Drake.

  “I found purpose again. I think we’ve all been lacking it. Our mission made sense when we came back and, for the first few years, it continued to make sense.”

  Though he hesitated, neither of his brothers interrupted him.

  “Since Michael saved Rory…everything changed.”

  Their nods encouraged him.

  “She said for months that she couldn’t stop doing her job—protecting the people, trying to make the world better, and we thought she should keep her head down, stay isolated with us…as we have been isolated.”

  It had made sense. They had always fought below the radar.