The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

them.”

  I inwardly winced. So Kate had already mentioned that in one of her little

  emails to Reese. I was surprised she was so forthcoming—she was usually very

  self-contained for a civilian. She must be feeling pretty desperate, and now

  the target on her back was even bigger.

  Weston whipped his head back to me. “Were you aware the Connelly girl

  considered the check a bribe?”

  I stuck with the truth. No telling how closely they were monitoring my

  performance. “Yes, sir. She just confronted me with that fact yesterday.”

  “I can’t believe you let that crazy bitch give you another black eye!” Ranger jeered.

  “This came compliments of one of her suitors, who needed an excuse to

  vent his petty jealousies.”

  “Even worse—I can’t believe you let some high school punk get his

  shot in!”

  Weston and Davies looked like they agreed with Ranger, so I decided

  to paint the right mental picture for them before they considered me weak.

  “Actually, it was half the football team. And this I got by being jumped from

  behind when I was . . . preoccupied with other matters.” I recalled Kate’s

  horrified face and felt a tightening in my chest.

  Ranger grunted. “Still. A shiner from a civilian twice in three weeks is a

  very poor showing. I’ve had plenty of jealous civilians try and jump me . . .

  and not one was left standing.”

  “Beating her high school friends to a pulp seemed counter productive to

  our goal,” I put in mildly.

  “He’s right again, Nealson,” Weston agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

  “I can see you are indeed the right man for the job after all, Davenport.

  Sometimes a lighter hand is what’s called for in these situations . . . instead of a sledgehammer.” He spared a glance at Ranger. “You get the chicken by

  hatching the egg, not by smashing it.”

  Weston turned back to the hotseat. “You mentioned in your first report

  the Connelly girl is uncommonly astute. I’ve seen her scores and they are

  • 274 •

  altogether average—above average to be sure, for civilians—but nowhere near Academy standards. However, now I’m suddenly more curious about her . . .”

  My pulse spiked like I had sudden onset fever.

  “. . . The girl seems to have good instincts. Do you feel there’s something

  more to her astuteness than meets the eye?” Weston’s eyes bored into mine to

  get a good solid read.

  I straightened my shoulders and commandeered my face (and sweat

  glands) into stillness. “I’ve considered that already, knowing siblings often

  have similar abilities. However, I do not believe that to be the case here. The Connelly girl is only above average in intelligence and there is nothing to

  her that even hints at giftedness, unless one considers the art of surviving to

  be a gift. I now attribute her good instincts to her morals and unwillingness

  to break up her family . . . and nothing more, unfortunately,” I answered

  dispassionately.

  “Would you agree with that assessment Cadets Nealson and Caruthers?”

  Weston faced Ranger first.

  His mouth twisted around before opening to say, “That would be the only

  thing Cadet Davenport has said all morning I do agree with.”

  All eyes moved to Reese. She paused for a moment, pulling her lips into

  line formation. Her pale green eyes flickered to mine, and “I concur” came

  out in a low voice, almost a whisper.

  I exhaled. Weston stared me down again before leaning back in his

  chair, pensive. After a nail-biting moment, he rifled through the navy folder,

  drawing out two photographs: one, a surveillance photo of Kate in the fields

  with her brothers, open-faced and smiling, the other, a closed-mouth yearbook

  photo of her with glasses. He set them side-by-side, staring at them a few

  seconds too long.

  “I’m curious Davenport . . . you only spoke to the Connelly girl’s

  intelligence as being slightly above average. How would you rate her physical

  attractiveness?”

  A pregnant pause ensued where both Reese and Ranger froze, and my

  hotseat turned hotter.

  “Above average,” I hedged, in a careful voice.

  Weston hemmed and peered down at the photos another moment before

  pointing himself at Ranger. “Nealson?”

  Ranger gave a derisive half snort. “I concur,” he agreed grudgingly, “but

  only slightly.”

  Weston harrummphed and nodded his head a few times, amusement

  playing on his lips. He rifled through the paperwork again, taking a moment

  • 275 •

  to skim a report sheet. “I believe your predecessor had a differing opinion of his mark . . . I’ll read Ryan’s succinct final summation before his dismissal.”

  He cleared his throat dramatically. “‘Apple-cheeked and apple-bottomed,

  everybody likes her .’” Weston tossed that my way before withdrawing another report. He faced Reese’s pinkening one. “And this one is an excerpt from one

  of yours, big sister, written after the recon camp mission: ‘Don’t let the accent

  fool you—she’s not stupid.’”

  Weston’s sharp eyes cut to mine. “Can you tell me what Cadets Caruthers

  are seeing”—he swiveled to include Ranger—“that you two are not?”

  “Not much,” I dismissed. “We’ve allowed she’s not stupid and that she’s

  not unattractive.” Cue understatement police. “But nowhere near Academy

  standards.”

  “For once, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ranger pitched in.

  To help me? I was suspicious at once.

  Weston did one last stare down on each of us while we did our mutual

  Queen’s Guard routines. He relented with a grunt. “Okay then . . . the

  Connelly girl will only be considered an obstacle to remove so we may

  procure her gifted brother. Does anyone have anything more to add before

  we adjourn? . . . Ladies first.”

  Reese hit it: “Civilian Connelly is especially strong-willed and clever more

  than book smart. I wouldn’t underestimate her ability to sway her father and brother from signing with us. However, she seems to have two particularly

  obvious weaknesses to exploit: one is her temper—”

  Ranger’s hand shot up. “I concur.”

  “—and the other is her attraction to Cadet Davenport. I suggest we

  continue to allow him to chip away at her defenses. She is extremely loyal, so

  once she finally puts her trust in him . . .”—her eyes met mine—“she’ll be

  putty in his hands.”

  My eyes dropped to my guilty mug, reflecting back from polished oak.

  Weston nodded as if satisfied. “Nealson?”

  “I think . . .” Ranger drew in a deep breath before blowing it out in a long

  stream, “we are going to a lot of trouble and expense for a civilian boy who may not even be gifted. The Academy’s focus on this particularly small sector of cadets is short sighted, not to mention fiscally taxing. We’ve already shelled

  out millions for the gifted program—”

  “I will thank you to keep your opinions regarding Academy policy to

  yourself and focus on the mission at hand!” Weston boomed “The one you’re

  in charge of Nealson—you’ve not sufficiently moved up the ranks to warrant

  putting your two cents in.”

  • 276 •

 
; “Do not act as though you have arrived when you’ve just been invited to join the party,” added Commander Davies in a warning tone.

  I thought it satisfying to finally see Ranger put in his place; he’d been an

  Academy favorite for years. Reese and I shared a brief, conspiratorial smile.

  Ranger scowled but quickly apologized and rephrased. “The way I see it,

  we need to move the boy on premises pronto to conduct more tests. Maybe

  his only superpower is being super-smart. If that’s the case, well . . . I suppose

  we’ll still want to use his superior brain power for the greater good of The Academy,” he said with an edge in there I found interesting. “So we still need

  to force a signature. Just let me know when you’re tired of pussyfooting around

  and allow the sledgehammer to step in.” He flashed his teeth and fisted his

  hand.

  I took a measured breath. “Civilian Connelly is currently contained.” I

  paused there to let that linger in their ears. “Even if she cannot be won over

  to our side, I have successfully discredited her to both her father and brother.

  I think the Connelly boy’s excitement and willingness to leave home is a key

  point here. His wants and needs are of the upmost importance, second only

  to his father’s.

  “And I think we should allow Mr. Connelly the time it takes to blow

  through his allowance before offering up another check of the same value.

  Because I don’t believe a bribe, in-and-of-and-by-itself, will be enough to get

  Mr. Connelly to hand over his prized possession to us anyway. Appealing

  to his ego—that he was able to manufacture such a gifted progeny—and

  emphasizing the military portion of our organization, in addition to a little

  kickback, is our best bet.” I stopped there, allowing Weston and Davies to

  assimilate my words.

  Davies dropped his pen and closed his folder. “I concur.”

  Weston finger-brushed his mustache, contemplating. “I also tend to agree

  with you, Davenport. Anything else you want to add?”

  I shot Reese an apologetic look. “I respectfully disagree with Cadet

  Caruther’s assessment of Miss Connelly’s ability to manipulate either her

  father or her brother at this point. I’ve discredited her to the point she’s out

  of power points among her own family, and is quickly losing credibility

  within the community. This is a recent occurrence, and therefore, is not in

  the reports.”

  “You’re sure she’s contained?” Weston reiterated.

  “Yes, sir. Quite. This is the reason I’ve lost communication with her at

  the present time.”

  “A lover’s quarrel already?” mocked Ranger.

  • 277 •

  I cleared my throat and placed a slick palm on the table. “Therefore, I respectfully ask permission to withdraw from pursuing Miss Connelly

  further—in a romantic capacity.”

  “Why would you do that when that is precisely the reason you were chosen

  for this job in the first place? . . . You weren’t exactly my first pick,” Weston

  reminded, “and we have no way of knowing how long the tenacious Miss

  Connelly will continue to be contained.”

  “She’s underage,” I argued.

  “According to what law?” Weston recanted. “Not one that governs our

  organization. No, I’m afraid that’s quite impossible—much like snatching

  back a new toy from a toddler. She’s already quite attached, just angry at the

  moment. And I want her so dizzy with love that she’s desperate to come visit

  her Romeo at The Academy. If you do your job right, she’ll be willing to sign

  her own brother away to do so.”

  I looked across to Davies in appeal. “The girl is barely seventeen and has

  led a very sheltered life, as was mentioned by Cadet Caruthers. I believe her

  to be innocent to the point of being pure . . . I don’t feel comfortable seducing

  a seventeen-year-old virgin!”

  Ranger guffawed and leaned forward as if forcing the point. “The girl

  works at a truck stop diner and wears Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots to the

  local watering hole. She’s no virgin—she’s playing you, rookie!”

  “My dear boy, what you feel comfortable with is entirely irrelevant.

  However, I would like to point out that this is not a mission to steal some poor country girl’s virtue, but to procure her gifted brother,” Weston reminded me

  mildly. “The point of you seducing Miss Connelly is to have her so besotted

  with love that the bond she has with her brother is weakened and the one she

  has with you, her first love, is strengthened. Quite harmless—and romantic—

  in my opinion.”

  “Well in my opinion, a flirtatious friendship would be just as effective in

  creating a bond . . . without pushing the boundaries of decorum.”

  Weston narrowed his eyes at me. “I understand your concern and even

  admire your ethics . . . to a degree. However, you have to look beyond one

  single civilian girl to the bigger picture we’re creating here. Consider her

  collateral damage, if you must consider her at all.”

  Col ateral damage. I clenched my jaw so hard you could actually hear it

  snap shut. Reese darted me a soft look; I returned one—this couldn’t be easy

  for her . Ranger was glowering, while Commander Davies appeared to be more

  bored than anything else.

  Weston dispassionately went on: “Most civilians not only pollute

  • 278 •

  themselves, but the very world we live in with their lack of self-control and instant self-gratification. We have only to look to global warming and the

  impact that is having on our planet because of sheer laziness and lack of

  innovation on their part. Fortunately, The Academy is changing all that. That

  is why we must obtain greatness—when and where we find it—to harness

  and nurture for the betterment of all mankind, instead of allowing it to go

  to waste,” Weston finished as though giving a speech to prospective donors.

  “And, Officer Nealson seems to have a differing opinion on Civilian

  Connelly’s experience.” He held up a preemptive palm. “Furthermore, the

  young lady is no longer a child. It wasn’t so very long ago a seventeen-year-old

  female was considered mature enough to marry off, run a household, even

  bear children. And, according to a report you wrote yourself, this particular

  young lady falls into that category. I’m paraphrasing here: ‘Miss Connelly is

  mature beyond her years.’”

  “Only in certain aspects of her life,” I argued. “She’s had to take on the

  responsibilities of a mother at a young age, but in other ways—”

  “And you have responsibilities to this organization!” Weston bolted up,

  sending his chair ghosting backwards. “You can’t allow one girl to get in

  the way of your duty. Therefore, you will pursue her again, make amends,

  and seduce her to the point that she forgets her own name much less that

  of her brother’s. It’s basic biology—a female cannot focus on anything but

  her paramour while her brain is being addled with the rush of love-induced

  hormones.

  “More potent than any drug, Davenport. Therefore, I think a Booster-T

  is warranted in this case. We’re not taking any chances with this PGC . . .

  I have high hopes for him,” he add
ed again, absentmindedly picking up a

  photo of Andrew.

  “Yes, sir,” I acquiesced with poor grace.

  “Because if this girl gets in the way of our goal one more time . . .”—he

  looked pointedly at Ranger, who grinned manically as if on cue—“I’ll have

  to send in backup. Since you obviously have such a soft spot for the young

  lady, I’m sure you can appreciate how your lighter touch on her life would be

  infinitely better for her than The Sledgehammer.”

  The twin spots of heat were back on the ridge of my cheekbones.

  “We understand each other?” Weston’s eyes were twin nuclear beams of

  threat.

  Too angry to speak, I jerked my head up and down.

  “Good. And if it makes you feel any better, I believe the age of consent in

  most states is, in fact, seventeen.” After I gave a single incline to my head, he

  • 279 •

  continued. “I’ll give you two more weeks to reach your goal of signing young Andrew Connelly. I can see how this setback would affect her trust in you, and

  coupled with her obstinate nature, would take a little longer than anticipated.”

  He flashed me the peace sign, managing to make it look ominous. “But just

  two more—I’m more than anxious to get this boy on premises to see what

  particular assets he has for us to use.” So much greed dripped from his mouth

  someone should’ve offered him a napkin.

  Plucking a fresh cigar from inside his suit pocket, he waved it around with

  a pleased expression. “You are dismissed.” Everyone rose to leave. “Caruthers,

  submit a summary of this meeting for the files and forward to Davies by the

  end of the day.”

  “Yes sir,” Reese replied, gazing longingly at me as I made to leave.

  Weston clapped a hand on my shoulder, arresting my flight. I erased the

  disdain from my face and turned around.

  “May I suggest using good old-fashioned jealousy as a means of entrée

  back into Miss Connelly’s life? In my day, it seemed to do the trick when I

  was dealing with a particularly willful filly.” I nodded noncommittally. “Cadet

  Caruthers . . .” Weston called to Reese, who was hovering unobtrusively by

  the door. “What is the name of the Connelly girl’s friend, my dear?”

  “Ashley-Leigh Montgomery,” she supplied.

  “Ah.” Weston slithered a smile my way. “I would try courting the lovely