Deadly Genesis (Boomers Book 2) (14 page)

“No power up here?”

“There are lines.” Simon motioned to the window. “But I rarely have it turned on. It discourages squatters.” He searched the mantle for the matches he’d used to light the lamps and she walked over and pointed a finger. Focusing her will and concentrating, she let out a controlled blast. The kindling crackled and flames shot up to begin licking against the wood. The cheerful heat warmed the chilly cabin, and she extended her cool fingers out toward it. Fortunately, she never seemed to get truly cold anymore, but the firelight warmed her soul.

Setting the matches back on the mantle, he stood and glanced at her. “Hungry?”

“A little.” She rubbed her arms and padded over to curl up on the sofa. The heat from the fire barely reached that far but, given time, she imagined it would warm up the whole cabin.

“You’re worried.” It wasn’t a question. He could read her mind, and she didn’t have to explain herself. “No, you don’t have to explain. But you can still talk about it.”

“I’m just worried about fixing everything—and more than a little scared about what we’ll find out.” Being held hostage was bad enough, but losing time all those months... What did she do? Why did she do it? “What if I hurt someone?”

“It’s a possibility we have to face. But you also have to believe that it isn’t on you—those actions during those months. You weren’t in control—”

“We’re assuming a lot, you know?” The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow over his skin. Even the shadows against his eyes seemed artistically placed.

“How so?” He walked toward the kitchen area and the pair of brown paper sacks he’d carried in. The supplies they purchased, like everything else, was minimal. He pumped water with a hand crank at the sink and she twisted to watch him.

“That’s so weird.” Changing the subject abruptly, she couldn’t quite reconcile one notion with another.

“Because I’m from the future?”

“Yeah, aren’t there flying cars and food replicators and transporters?” The absurdity of a man from the twenty-second century using a device perfected in the nineteenth just didn’t compute.

“Well, the future isn’t all you might think it would be.” Setting the kettle on a hook in the fireplace to heat, he returned to the kitchen and spooned instant coffee into some mugs. “We had many dried goods that could be heated and consumed with water. And the wealthier had access to higher tech weapons and facilities—but we lost a lot too. It wasn’t uncommon for whole regions to be denied access to electricity in order to keep the cities lit up.”

“Mega cities? Like in the old animation cartoons?” At his puzzled glance, she frowned and tried to remember all the super Tokyo shows she watched growing up. His head canted to the side and he nodded slowly.

“Something like that. Power was distributed to the conglomerates and confederates of corporations that controlled a region. Most elected government had been dissolved or set up as little more than middle management, beholden to their corporate backers.” He moved around the kitchen, completely at home. He made sandwiches and added fruit to each plate, carrying the mugs back in one hand and the plates in another. “Most who remained disenfranchised learned to make do. Wells and hand cranks for water. Local petrol fueled generators when power was absolutely required. I can even grow corn if the occasion calls for it.”

“That’s—that sucks.” Amanda accepted her plate and his, setting both on the thick chunk of polished tree trunk doubling as a coffee table.

“It was a tradeoff. Freedom from supervision for a few hardships? Many would have given much to live as we did.” The kettle began to whistle. Simon busied himself with tongs to remove the kettle from its hook and picked up a glove to wrap around the handle. He poured the hot water over the instant coffee and stirred it up. Tucking the kettle to the side to keep it warm against the hearth, he carried the steaming mugs over and she wrapped her fingers around hers.

“But you’re not like the others. There’s hardness to Michael that’s kind of scary and Drake’s so silent and somber. I can’t really get a read on Garrett or Rex, but they’re all hard edges and jagged points. You’re not.” Curiosity twisted through her, writhing like a cat demanding to be petted.

The corner of his mouth curved upwards. “They grew up with more difficult challenges than I did.” He sighed, staring into his mug as though looking for the answers in the dark liquid. “Michael was a soldier from the moment he was old enough to carry a gun. He trained and served with distinction, but his skills drew him too much attention and, when his preternatural ability to spot and hit a target came to light, they hunted him. Fortunately, he is very skilled at survival.”

There was more to the story. She sipped her coffee and waited, letting him gather his thoughts.

“He fled the city, going to ground in the district where I lived. I heard him coming—and the hunters that followed him. I always knew when strangers came too close. I spent most of my life guarding the fact that no mind was safe from my prying. Hiding in plain sight.” Pain rushed under those words. “Even when I could do something, I didn’t always. I could push the minds away, send them elsewhere to search—but this time, they were closing in on him. He’d been running for weeks and was exhausted.”

“You saved him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. And I revealed myself at the same time.” Simon swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “I hid him for a few weeks, tended to his injuries and turned away the minds looking for him. It should have been enough, but Michael appreciated what I could do for the cause.”

“Cause? Nothing more zealous than a convert?” She believed it of the hyper intense man. Fervor thrummed in him, a calling and a dedication to the job.

Simon nodded once. “I tried to dissuade him and, when that didn’t work, I considered removing the memory of me and what I could do from his mind.”

“But you didn’t.”

He shook his head. “No, because the night I decided to do it, he thought about all the people he arrested or incarcerated over the years. People like me. People with abilities outside the norm. Guilt soured in his stomach and he wanted to make it right. He wanted to turn back the clock and save those he’d harmed. And he believed—really believed—he could make a difference. That mattered.”

“Of course it matters. It’s why we do what we do.” She understood that on every level. She was different—dangerously different. But she also had skills and abilities that others didn’t possess. She could make a difference. Who didn’t want to save the world? Not for the thanks or the accolades, but just to say they did it. They mattered.

He glanced at her untouched sandwich and she traded the coffee cup for the plate and took a bite. Making a face at him, she grinned. “So, he talked you into joining his resistance movement?”

“More or less.” It sounded like the emphasis was on the more, but she didn’t press. “It was a challenge. I lived in such isolation, I found that I didn’t like being close to the press of so many minds. But I learned to cope because I had to, to help Michael and eventually the others.” He looked away from her to the fire. She wondered what he saw, what world he must remember. It was one thing to be told someone was from the future, but could she truly comprehend his past was somehow linked inextricably with where her world was headed?

“Michael was not alone in his guilt. I could have done more. Unlike—unlike all of them, I was free. I was never tested or rounded up or experimented on. I was never held against my will or forced to do the bidding of others. I grew up pretending to be normal and capable of turning away anyone who suspected otherwise.” He took a long swallow of the coffee and set the mug down. “They don’t know—Michael never told anyone and he never brought it up with me.”

“But he thought you could have done more.” She didn’t have to question that. Simon was too sensitive to her thoughts. On some level, Michael probably resented the telepath the freedom he hid behind when so many others didn’t have that luxury. What set a telepath apart wasn’t visible—like Rory.

Simon nodded once. “Exactly like Rory. She is different because her mind works differently. I am different because mine does. But the average person would never know it.”

“That’s why they took me—and Ronan. We’re the most obviously different. Harder to hide in plain sight.” The food lost all of its appeal.

“I think so.” He nodded slowly. “You would be easier to track if they based it on physicality and I would imagine your gift also has a radioactive signature that could be traced. So even if you wore a wig and changed your general physical look, they could find you still.”

“God, that sucks.” She picked at her sandwich, nose wrinkled. “I do good things. All of us do. We work hard to avert disasters and, if we can’t stop them, then we try to help save as many people as we can. We’ve done a lot of good over the years.”

“Good people make enemies, too. I’ve researched your team. You’ve had conflicts with several shadow groups over the years—” Was he fishing?

She shifted on the sofa and turned sideways to face him. “Yes. Mostly criminal organizations. I think we’ve tripped over them more often than just overtly gone after them. But yeah, we’ve had our share of issues.”

“And you used to be a team of six.”

Stuffing her mouth with the last bite, she considered her answer. “Fizz and Josh didn’t get along—”

“Fizz didn’t get along with anyone.” Simon finished the sentence for her. “So what happened to him?”

“I don’t know. He walked away about five years ago after a blow up with Rory over the fact that he almost killed the passengers on a bus when it overturned in the tunnel. She was pretty pissed—she had given us a game plan and he wouldn’t follow it. Thought he knew better than the rest of us—especially her. He thought she was an entitled princess because her father pays for so much of our equipment and our training and provides us with funds when we need them.” She hadn’t thought about Fizz in years. The arrogant rich boy with a gift for gadgets—his techno wizardry defied all logic. He made a cell phone before the micro-technology allowed it to be practical. He could do—

“Oh my God.” Her head snapped up and Simon leaned forward, catching her hand. “He could do anything with technology, make even the most out of this world things work. But why would he be involved with whomever took me?”

“Because even good people make enemies. Your oldest friends can become your greatest enemy, particularly if they know you.” It sounded so reasonable and so rational and so utterly terrifying.

“Have you suspected him all along?” Did Rory know? She would be so pissed.

“No.” He shook his head. “I came across the fact some time ago and forgot about it. He hasn’t been important to any of you, none of you actively think about him. But—”

Her stomach dropped at the caveat. His fingers tightened around hers.

“This will be hard to hear. So stay focused on me.” Her gaze locked on his. It wasn’t a hard request to fulfill. He was beautiful to look at—beautiful, thoughtful, and he illuminated those shadowy places inside her. Filled them up with his presence and held back the darkness.

“I’m listening.” She licked her lips and squeezed his hand.

“I did a search. It’s complicated, but suffice it to say I tried to piece together a visual record of your last few months. I found you in several places, including following us.” His voice was so steady, so calm and completely at odds with the hammering of her heart. “And in one of those, he was there. I didn’t recognize him at first, but when I locked up the files, I realized who it was. You were with Fizz for part of that time. I don’t know if he was a captor or a fellow prisoner or what his role—”

She wanted to fly apart at the seams at the news. Rage swelled inside her. Despite their obvious differences, that son of a bitch was supposed to be their friend. If he’d needed them, they would have helped—even after his stupid ass decisions. But she didn’t lose it, whether Simon helped her keep it contained or not. She managed a slow nod. “I have to know, Simon. I have to know because he could be a threat to the rest of the team. He knows all of us really, really well.”

Worse. He knew their secrets.

“I know. That’s why we’re here. We’re going to find out what they did and how they did it and we’re going to find those pieces for you.”

“Now?” She lifted her brows.

“Unless you want to get some sleep first.”

Sleep sounded tempting. Sex even more so. But she shook her head. “Now is better.”

“Then finish your coffee and we’ll do it.”

Six months earlier…

The club was hopping. She weaved through the crowd and grinned at the bouncer manning the line. He winked and held up the rope. One of the best parts of the New York club scene—make friends with a bouncer and a woman could skip the line, particularly if she dressed the part. The black leather mini skirt, strapless bustier and thigh high boots definitely garnered enough attention. She’d skipped the heavier make up she preferred when clubbing and just added some glitter to her face.

She’d left her jacket in the car. It was cool for a spring evening, but she was about to warm it up on the dance floor. Her phone vibrated in the slip pocket inside her boot and she pulled it out. Rory was late. Really late. She promised dinner with her parents would be over soon and she would meet her in a bit. Rolling her eyes, Amanda texted back, “S’okay. I’m gonna dance.” Tucking the phone back into its pocket she scanned the crowd.

The pulse pounding music slid through her blood and she began to sway in time to it. It was an excellent turnout for a Wednesday night. A good mix of couples and singles occupied the dance floor. She caught more than one guy scoping her out, but she ignored them. She wasn’t there to get laid.

She was there to dance.

The DJ switched tracks and the music changed.
I love this song!
She charged out onto the dance floor, and found herself a spot and let go.

Simon smiled at the absolute abandon on her face as she gyrated to the music. Her hips swayed and her shoulders popped. It was both erotic and entertaining. Forcing his gaze away, he scanned the club. So many minute details faded to a blur—it all depended on what she’d noticed. Faces, she picked those out automatically. No one stood out as a threat. He divided his attention, watching the crowd and keeping an eye on her. She really loved dancing, it flowed through her every motion. A wild grin lit up her face and she danced with anyone who got close to her but, like the spirals she flew in the air, she twirled and moved on when they crowded her.