Seduced by the Storm (44 page)

"I’m
assuming you’re taking me to ACRO."

"Can’t
get anything by you," Annika drawled.

"What’s
going to happen when we get there?"

"They’ll
probably torture you for a few days." Annika glanced at Faith’s hands and
shrugged. "You didn’t need those fingernails anyway. Terrible polish.
Black doesn’t look good on you."

To
Faith’s credit, she didn’t flinch, go pale or piss herself. Then again, the
whole respect thing Annika mentioned probably ruined the scare factor. "No
matter what they do to me, it can’t be half as bad as the torture I’m going
through now."

"Really?
Because I’m thinking they might chain you in a cell and send Wyatt in.
Something tells me he’d love to get his hands on you. And not in the fun
way."

Finally,
Faith reacted. It was subtle, a slight tightening of her fingers around the
drink can, but yeah, there it was. Little Miss Tea and Crumpets was in love
with Wyatt The Not-So-Dead Agent.

The
pilot came on the intercom to announce the landing, and Annika waited until he
shut up to say, "You betrayed him, didn’t you? Screwed him over and broke
his little heart."

The
can crumpled in Faith’s hand, spilling soda. "You don’t know shit."

"Chill,
crumpet." Annika tipped back her head and drained half her soda. When she
finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I get it. We’re
operatives. We do what we have to do to complete a mission, right?"

"So
if you don’t care, why so outraged on his behalf when you found me?"

"Just
because I’ve had the anything-to-get-the-job-done philosophy drilled into me
for years doesn’t mean I like my friends getting fucked."

Faith
nodded as if she understood that. She tossed her soda can in the trash and
studied Annika thoughtfully. "So you’re the one," she murmured.
"You grew up in the life."

"Wyatt
opened his big trap?" When Faith nodded, Annika rolled her eyes. "I
take back what I said about screwing him over. You gonna ask a bunch of
bullshit questions now? Ask when I made my first kill? Ask what it was like to
be raised as a weapon?"

"I
know what it’s like," Faith said softly, and Annika’s stomach lurched.

She’d
always believed she was unique. Not special—what she’d gone through could not
be considered special—but she’d hoped no other kid had been abused like that.

"How
old?"

"Since
I was eight. You?"

Annika
turned, looked out the window at the ground, which seemed to be coming up on
them too quickly. But maybe that was because her adrenaline had started to
surge as her heartbeat kicked up a few notches. She wasn’t even sure why. All
she knew was that she was suddenly having this weird, girly bonding chat with a
woman she was pretty sure she didn’t like.

Finally,
she turned back to Faith. "I’ve been in it since I was two."

A
fragile cease-fire hung in the air between them like smoke. "My parents
were killed," Faith said quietly. "I was taken in for my
abilities."

"Yeah.
Me too." Annika studied her feet. Didn’t look at Faith as she said,
"Are you angry?"

"Angry?"
The surprise in Faith’s voice brought Annika’s head up. "Why? The British
government took me in when I had no place else to go. Had it not been for them,
I don’t know what I’d have become. I’m guessing things didn’t work out quite so
well for you."

"Not
exactly." And Troy was still out there somewhere, completely unaware that
if not for Creed, he’d be dead right now. She wondered if she’d ever feel
closure about that chapter in her life.

The
jet bounced and jolted as it set down, and the moment it slowed, Annika was up
and pounding on the door. "Open the fuck up!"

She
had to get out of there. Away from this woman who made her want to swap stories
and bring up the good old days that were, in fact, as far from good as it could
get.

She
needed Creed.

She
sucked in a sharp, stunned breath. Because for the first time ever, her
instinct wasn’t to go to Dev.

Creed
was who she wanted.

Her
choice had been made, and she couldn’t be happier.

The
first instinct Wyatt had when he walked into Dev’s office not long after the
jet landed and the Hummer whisked him to the familiar headquarters was to give
the man a hug, but he didn’t. Dev wasn’t one for public displays of affection
of any kind, and Wyatt got that. Dev didn’t have the luxury of appearing weak, even
when mourning the death of the man he loved.

"I’m
sorry about Oz, Devlin. He was a good man."

"He
was," Dev said, his voice sincere even though he was looking at Wyatt a
little strangely.

It
was only then that Wyatt realized that Dev could see. For as long as Wyatt had
known the man who’d saved his ass from a prison sentence, Dev had been blind,
but his boss could always see better than any sighted person.

Of
course, now was one of those times that Wyatt wished Dev could see a little
less clearly.

He handed
his boss the bag of broken weather-machine parts. "Beyond repair now—but I
figured you’d enjoy the honor of doing the complete destruction."

"I
also get the honor of meeting the operative who almost got you killed, Wyatt.
And I don’t like operatives who hurt ACRO agents."

"I
don’t like her much either right now."

Dev
nodded slowly, ran his hands through his hair in the familiar gesture Wyatt was
used to, and yeah, he was home, where he belonged. "A mission isn’t the
time to fall in love."

"Yeah,
well, I always knew that. Never thought it would happen to me."

"You
were protected by your aphrodisiac."

"It
didn’t work on her, Dev. Not really—she remembered, even after the first night
we were together. She remembered everything." He shook his head and sunk
into the leather couch. "I’m so fucked."

"You
completed the mission, you did your job. And Faith will no doubt be happy to
align her agency with ours."

"I
don’t know about that."

"She
gave you the motherboard to destroy, didn’t she?"

"She
locked me in a fucking mental ward!" Wyatt roared, tossing Dev’s desk
clear of everything with his temper. "Ah, fuck, Dev, I’m sorry—I keep
doing that."

But
Dev wasn’t looking at the desk—instead, his eyes were focused on his shoulder.
"You’re touching me. Again."

Wyatt
shifted, hadn’t realized that it was his first impulse to put his hand on Dev’s
shoulder to apologize, the way he would’ve when Dev didn’t have his sight.

"You
did it when you first walked into the room," Dev continued. "You
hugged me with your mind. Has this happened before?"

Wyatt’s
first instinct was to say no, but then he realized how untrue that was.
"Yeah, it has. I haven’t learned to control it yet."

"Control
what, Wyatt?"

Wyatt
shifted. "According to Faith, I’m biokinetic. At first I thought maybe that
wasn’t true, that maybe there was some freaky kind of transference happening.
But when she told me, when she put her hands on me, I knew what she said was
right."

"You’ve
always been tactile, but this power is one of the rarest. The ability to
manipulate the human body telekinetically…Wyatt, if you’ve got that, plus the
ability to manipulate inanimate objects, you’ll be working at an entirely new
level."

"Yeah,
but getting them to work together is another story. Faith tried to help. Helped
me in other ways too…I mean, I know about Mason. I remember now. I didn’t kill
him, Devlin." Wyatt heard his voice threaten to break but he held it
together. "I love her for helping me and I hate her for it, both at the
same time."

"Getting
close to someone can do that to a person, twist them inside until they don’t
know which end is up." Dev’s voice was almost wistful.

"I
don’t want to be close to her anymore." Wyatt’s jaw hurt from clenching
his teeth every time he even thought about her.

"She
had an awful choice to make, didn’t she?" Dev said. "Having your
loyalties split…trying to do what’s best for everyone. That’s not a position
I’d relish being put into."

"I
shouldn’t have trusted her. I should’ve known better."

"None
of us know better. That’s why we’re human."

Wyatt
leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, bone tired and confused as
shit. "What do I do now?"

"You
need help. Go over to the Sanctuary. They’ll try to help you with these two
gifts, teach you to merge them."

"And
if they can’t?"

"Then
you’ll have no choice but to see Faith Black again."

WYATT
HAD NEVER minded being commanded to do shit—he’d always been a
roll-with-the-punches kind of guy, unlike a lot of the other operatives here at
ACRO, who would’ve had to hold back so they wouldn’t tell their boss to go fuck
himself.

Still,
the
Go fuck yourself
had nearly slipped through, and Devlin knew it.
After this one, Wyatt was way too close to the edge for even his own comfort,
and he was about to face a familiar enemy, in the form of his own mind.

He
had to win this time.

Now
he strolled slowly across the ACRO grounds, sunglasses on and AC/DC pounding
out "Back in Black" through his iPod. He knew that the men and women
who worked at the Sanctuary were expecting him, that Dev had already called
over, knew that he’d be well taken care of there, but still his gut roiled at
the thought of this semi-voluntary confinement.

It’s
not the same as when you were growing up. Not the same as the institution in
Yorkshire either.

And
still, he could barely bring himself to step across the threshold of the large
Victorian house and check in with the woman who worked the desk. She gave him a
wide, genuine smile and directed him up three flights of stairs to his room.

He’d
heard that the rooms here in the Sanctuary were large and comfortable, and his
own room confirmed it—was much more reminiscent of an upscale hotel. Now Wyatt
understood why so many operatives had no problem heading over to this place to
recharge their energies.

His
hand gripped the doorknob hard and he let go when he realized he’d bent it with
his mind by accident when he’d opened the door.

"There’s
no shame in coming here, you know."

Wyatt
turned down the hall toward the graveled voice, to see Amitola, a Native
American faith healer who’d been at ACRO as long as Creed’s parents had. He’d
always nodded, been friendly to the tall, white-haired man, but hadn’t wanted
to get too close since Amitola worked in the Healing ward.

"Yeah,
I know," Wyatt said, even though his words were full of crap.

Amitola
stared between the doorknob and Wyatt’s face. "No, you don’t know that
yet. But you will."

"Sorry
about that. I’ll fix it."

Amitola
stood there silently, watched as Wyatt moved the bent metal into its correct
position.

"Impressive.
Now, please, make yourself comfortable."

Wyatt
kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed, cross-legged, and followed the man’s
directions. They were possibly his only hope of not having to cross paths with
Faith again.

Erreur!
Signet non défini.

FAITH
HAD BEEN SURPRISED when Annika handed her over to three armed security guys
dressed in black BDUs, but she wasn’t about to argue. Her face, still throbbing
from having Annika’s foot hit it, was reminder enough that no matter how much
Faith and Annika had in common, they weren’t going to be best mates.

The
security guys escorted her through what appeared to be an old but well-kept
military base, to a building she guessed must be the headquarters. Inside, she
was herded into a plush office complete with leather chairs, an oak desk and a
handsome, dark-haired man who, while probably in his mid-thirties, was a lot
younger than she’d envisioned.