Leaping

LEAPING

Girl With Broken
Wings, Book 4

By J Bennett

Copyright © 2015 by J
Bennett

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely
coincidental.

The publisher
does not have any control over and
does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content

Hello awesome reader. I would like to welcome you to LEAPING
with either a warm hug or friendly punch in the shoulder, whichever you prefer.
You are in for a treat…assuming your idea of a treat involves gun fights,
awkward romantic exchanges, more than a little family drama, and Chuck Norris
jokes. LEAPING is book four in the GIRL WITH BROKEN WINGS series. If this is
the first book you are picking up in the series, I strongly suggest starting at
the beginning with FALLING (which is free as an ebook on Amazon).

If it’s been a while since you’ve read the other books in
the series, then you might benefit from a quick refresher. Quite a lot has
happened in the series so far. The big events in the previous books continue to
influence their thoughts and decisions of the characters in this book. If you
are rearing and ready to go, then skip ahead to Chapter One and happy reading.
For the rest, here is a quick review that will help you enjoy LEAPING even
more.

The Fox Family

The living members of the Fox family are Tarren, Gabe, and
Maya Fox. The series is written from the perspective of Maya, a 20-year-old
hybrid angel who, with her brothers, travels the country hunting and killing
angels. Tarren is the stoic one. Gabe is the clown. Maya is a little of both. Her
angel abilities allow her to be both extremely empathetic and deadly. She can
read emotions in the auras of all living things. Those auras also happen to tempt
her endless hunger for energy.

The Totem

The Totem is a group of vigilantes that identify themselves
with animal monikers. These newbies are just getting into the game and learning
as they go with the help of Gabe and Maya’s guidance. The team is led by Bear
and includes Penguin, Finch, and Chain (who refuses to adopt an animal totem).
We met the Totem at the very end of LANDING and got to know them much better in
RISING when they captured Maya and an angel named War. After Maya and War
escaped, the Totem eventually saved Maya with the help of Gabe. Currently, Maya
and Penguin, real name Rain, are doing an awkward little love dance. There’s a
lot of heat coming from those two, but they are both uncertain about the
relationship. Maya worries that her hunger is an ever-present danger to Rain.

Tammy Fox

Tammy Fox was the twin sister of Tarren Fox. Five years ago,
she and Tarren fell into a trap laid by a powerful angel named Grand. According
to Tarren’s version of the story, Grand tortured him and turned Tammy into an
angel. They were then released and Tammy begged Tarren to kill her. Tarren
claims that Tammy is dead…but Maya has her suspicions that Tarren may be hiding
a pretty huge secret on that front.

Diana Fox

Diana Fox was the biological mother of Tarren, Gabe, and
Maya, though she gave Maya up at birth to protect her from the clutches of her
biological father, Grand. She was an awesome angel hunter and trained her sons
in the art of vigilantism. Diana died of cancer eight years ago, but her
presence is still very real in the lives of her two sons. Tarren and Gabe still
follow her angel hunting code.

Grand

Grand was Maya’s biological father and the angel who turned
her into a hybrid. He was one evil dude. He cut up Tarren five years ago,
leaving him covered in scars, and also dreamed of creating an angel nation.
Maya put an end to all that with a bullet through his brain in LANDING, but his
presence still looms large in her psyche.

Gem

Grand had one son, Gem, an angel with extraordinary powers.
Maya met Gem, her biological half-brother, in RISING. Gem is a master mentalist
and took a long tour of Maya’s mind. He knows everything about her and her
family, but luckily he isn’t a bad guy…or at least Maya doesn’t think so. Gem
leads a scattered movement known as the Angels of Mercy, made up of angels who
feed on criminals or the terminally ill. Gem has warned Maya not to hunt his
people or she and her family will pay a lethal price.

Warren

In the book RISING, Maya met an angel named Warren who more
often goes by War. That pretty much sums him right up. War is not a nice
fellow. He actively takes pleasure in draining the life out of terrified humans
and of turning young, beautiful women into angels, oftentimes against their
will. War and his girlfriend Heather seemingly escaped the carnage at the end
of RISING and are still on the loose.

Nicolas

Nicolas was a handsome and captivating angel who fervently
believed that angels really were the powerful creatures ordained in the Bible,
Torah, and Koran. He believed that their purpose was to usher in the rapture
with the blood of the unworthy sinners (basically all of humanity.) Maya killed
Nicolas in RISING.

Raven

Raven was a pouty, teenage girl who happened to be staying
with her family in a motel room next door to the Fox family in the book RISING.
Raven was captured by War and turned against her will into an angel. When Maya met
her, Raven was wracked by hunger and devastated by her new state. She slipped
away during a fight, and her whereabouts were unknown by the end of RISING.

Poughkeepsie, NY

In the novella, COPING, Maya and her brothers tracked an angel
named Graham Hendricks all the way to a sprawling farm in Poughkeepsie, New
York. On the property loomed an ominous barn. Inside the barn, Maya and her
brothers discovered that Hendricks and his friends had been keeping a group of
teens and young adults chained up in stables and snacking on them over weeks.
The Fox family dispatched the angels, but they couldn’t erase the nightmare
experienced by the weak and traumatized human survivors. Among those rescued
from the barn were Rain and Chain.

Peoria, IL

In RISING, Maya and Tarren traveled to Peoria, Illinois
right on the edge of a massive blizzard. While they waded through the snow,
searching for a deadly group of angels, Maya was captured by the Totem who mistook
her for an enemy angel. She eventually escaped, only to fall into the clutches
of the group of angels she and Tarren were tracking in the first place (oops). In
this group, she met War, Nicolas, Heather, her biological aunt, Diamond, and
her half-brother, Gem. Maya was eventually rescued when Tarren pulled her out
of a burning building (suffering a serious burn in the process) and Gabe, now
teamed up with the Totem, took on Diamond’s army of new, untried angels. (You
can read about Gabe’s side of this adventure in RECOVERING.) The Totem and Foxes
were victorious (whoo-hoo!), but many angels, including War and Heather, escaped.
LEAPING takes place nine months after the events in Peoria. If you haven’t read
RISING, I strongly recommend it. That mission in Peoria was a big turning
point, and many of the characters in that book play a role in LEAPING.

Okay, now that you’re all caught up, let the adventure
begin!  

“Thar she blows,” Gabe says in his
best grizzled pirate’s voice and points out the window at a darkened shop. Tarren
eases the jeep into a piss-stinking alley a block away. My phone vibrates with
an incoming message, and my heart does a weird skip. As my brothers step out
into the night, I quickly slide my phone out of my pocket and glance at the
screen.

Wonder Woman,
the message
says, and I almost giggle even though I know how dangerous this thing is. This
thing between me and Rain. These fluttery, distracting feelings that pull my
attention away from our mission.

Game face,
I type back. It’s
a code we’ve developed that basically means,
Shut up, I’m trying to work.

A tap at my window has me shoving
the phone deep into my pocket. “You coming out to play?” Gabe asks from the
other side of the window. In answer, I give him a little wave with my middle
finger and slip out of the car.

The night in Los Angeles is warm
and clogged with exhaust. It coats my nostrils, and I try not to gag. This city
isn’t just moving – it is a hive of humanness. My sensitive ears pick up the
sound of thousands of humming car engines and music and conversations layered
on top of each other. I feel the pull of auras as a constant shadow presence. Thanks
for existing, Los Angeles. Truly.

My brothers and I walk single file,
faces turned down, shoulders practically brushing the sides of the buildings to
our left to keep out of the streetlights. We stop in front of our target. A
heavy metal grate protects the doors and darkened windows of the costume shop.

“Maya,” Tarren says.

 “Yep.” I cast out my special sixth
sense, searching for the throb of a human aura. I feel Tarren’s recessed aura,
controlled and smooth, and Gabe’s jumpy life energy, swirling and shining.

Strong
, I think with
satisfaction. A year ago Gabe’s aura was nothing but the thinnest thread of
life, ready to snap in a gust of wind. He’s traveled a long, hard road back to
us.

“Shop is empty,” I say. “I could
yank open the grate.”

“Yeah we know, She-Hulk, but why go
for brute force when you can choose style?” Gabe gives me a wide grin as he
squats down and crouches over the padded lock that holds the grill in place.
His aura pulses with green threads of humor. He loves breaking into things,
probably a little too much.

He digs into his pocket. I expect
him to pull out his lock pick kit, but a normal, everyday pen appears in his
hand. Twenty seconds later, the lock springs open. Gabe gives a satisfied grunt
as he yanks up the grill. Now he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his kit.
He starts on the door lock with a rake and tension wrench.

I stand back with Tarren, and we
let Gabe do what he does.

The second lock clicks, and I can
actually see the pleasure travel through Gabe’s aura, a shining green pulse that
gently laps out to the edges of the glow around him. Heat kindles in my hands, and
I press them into tight fists, letting the wave of need pass.

“Alarm system inside is active, but
I got it,” Gabe says. Headlights pierce the night around us, and we all flatten
against the building, faces turned away from the street like it was a
coordinated dance move.

As soon as the car is gone, Gabe
opens the door. I follow, and Tarren steps in lightly behind me. His face is in
full-on mission mode, which is only a level of intensity higher than his normal
default face. The alarm system beeps, and Gabe flips open the interface on the
wall next to the front door.

“Kiddie pool stuff,” he grunts
around the flashlight that has appeared in his mouth. “Should have brought my
floaties.” He reaches into his duster coat, pulls out a pair of pliers, and begins
digging through the wires. “We got any cameras?”

I look around. The store is creepy
as hell, filled with costumed mannequins that stare with blank eyes. They cast
willowy shadows across the floor. On the back wall, a handwritten sign says,
Smile
You’re On Camera,
but I don’t see any cameras perched in the corners of the
store or glass lenses peeking out from the shelves.

“I don’t see any,” I say.

“Nothing in the front,” Tarren
confirms, closing the door softly.

“Then let’s get ready,” Gabe says.
“Party’s already started without us. We get dressed and we’ll roll in right
when things are picking up. Maya, these guys are players, so, you know, you’ll
want to slut things up.”

“Oh thanks,” I say as I wander
through the women’s side of the store. Not like that will be too difficult, since
every costume available seems to be made for the slut-on-the-go. Let’s see, we
have slutty vampire, slutty witch, slutty police officer, slutty red riding
hood, and – Bingo –Wonder Woman. Her costume doesn’t even need a slutty
version.

I wonder again why we don’t all
just use one of the uniforms we already have hidden under the floor in the
jeep. Sometimes our missions require special access to crime scenes, or we need
to appear inconspicuous. My brothers and I have dressed as sheriffs, police
officers, termite inspectors, postal workers, and even Mormons on occasion.

“Okay, I don’t see a single costume
here that would cover at least half of my boobs,” I complain as I snatch up a
slutty nurse costume and hold it against my frame.

“I love boobs,” Gabe says from the
other side of the shop. I hear him pull down a zipper. Tarren wanders between
the racks on quiet steps. “No two pairs are the same,” Gabe muses. “Taking off
a girl’s top is like unwrapping a present.”

“How profound,” I say, as I pull up
the lacey white contraption. A short, stiff skirt barely covers my butt cheeks.
This nurse won’t be bending over a patient any time soon.   

“And sometimes…they’re a little…” I
hear Gabe hopping around, “uneven, and girls are all weird about that, but that
doesn’t matter. It just means they’re the real deal. Know what I…damn.” I hear
him knock into a shelf. Something hits the ground and squeaks.

“Careful,” Tarren says, because he
just needs to remind us that he’s Tarren every once in a while. I suppose one
of us has to hold the serious baton, and Tarren never hesitates to volunteer. If
I actually admit it, that’s a damn good thing, especially when success in our
world means bullets flying and bodies dropping.

“I just love boobs,” Gabe says.
“How they feel, how they look, how they swing…

“Gabe, this conversation is beyond
inappropriate to be having with your sister,” I tell him as

I adjust a blonde wig on my head
and then slip on a pair of included fishnets. Soft rustling comes from the
corner of the store that Tarren occupies.

 “What about you Tarren? You a tit
or ass man?” Gabe calls across the store.

I emerge in the center aisle,
carrying my bundled clothes under one arm. Gabe is already preening in a batman
costume. Not the slick, Christian Bale version or the nipple-tastic George
Clooney take. He’s gone Adam Smith old school, with the flimsy gray fabric and
ridiculous underwear over the pants. A plastic yellow utility belt hangs on his
hips.   

“Holy stilettos Batman!” he
exclaims when sees me. His caramel eyes dance with amusement behind his mask.
“Wow, you slut up quite nicely, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“You’re such a freak,” I tell him.

“Your face is a freak, Nurse
Jackie.”

“Let’s go,” Tarren says, emerging
from the shadows.

Uh…whoa. His spurs chime with each
step, and the tin star pinned to the leather vest beneath his duster glints. A
gun belt hangs loose on his hips, and a worn cowboy hat rests in the crook of
his elbow. Tarren doesn’t just look the part of gritty cowboy with his sharp
jaw and flint eyes, he owns it. The two days of stubble on his chin, a result
of our non-stop movement, adds the perfect touch.

“Oh, I do declare!” Gabe calls out
in a high voice and immediately starts fanning himself with a hand. “Sheriff,
there’s a band of yella-belly, no-good outlaws approaching. Whatever shall we
do?”

Tarren ignores him and walks out of
the store.

“Even his coat is billowing just
right,” I say, and Gabe rolls his eyes.

“I do the duster coat. That’s my
thing,” he complains as he closes the door behind us and pulls down the gate.  “Shop
owner probably won’t even notice anything amiss until he tries to turn off the
alarm,” he says.

I feel the vibration of another
message coming to my phone through the bundle of fabric in my arms and have to stop
my hands from instantly digging through my jeans.

Rain.

My stomach is doing this thing
that’s two parts crazy excitement and two parts something squishy and raw that
I hate. Constant anxiety is the price I pay for being friends, more than
friends, with the world’s clumsiest vigilante. It was only nine months ago that
Rain slipped me his number just before we left Peoria, Illinois, but it feels
like we’ve been dancing this clumsy dance far longer.

The three of us walk single file,
keeping close to the shadows of the building, clutching our piles of clothes.
Tarren’s spurs chime, and my heels make heavy clopping noises. When we get to
the jeep, I slide into the back seat, glance at my brothers, and slowly slip my
phone out of my jeans.

Mission time
his text reads.
I hold in my sigh as all my nerves go to town throughout my body. I recognize
the irony that I feel almost no fear related to the mission I myself am in the
midst of, but the thought of Rain struggling to climb on a roof, trying to tail
an angel without tripping over his own shoe laces, or missing the kill shot are
almost overwhelming.

I really shouldn’t have asked–
okay, maybe demanded – that he tell me each time he went on a mission. Then
again, it’s the only way I can breathe the rest of the time.

With who?
I text back. The
Totem always mandates partners. I hope it’s Chain. Dude might have some serious
anger management issues and probably sleeps nuzzled up against his sniper rifle
each night, but he’s a hell of a shot and about as fearless as Tarren.

Chain and Rattlesnake,
the
text comes back.

Rattlesnake? Who the hell is that? I
picture a tall, over muscled white guy with a shaved head and a tribal tattoo scrawled
across his back. Well, as long as it isn’t Finch. She is almost as inept as
Rain. I’m convinced that those two actually create a closed time loop of
disaster.

In the passenger seat, Gabe relays
directions to Tarren. We pull into traffic from the alleyway. I keep my head
up, phone down by my side as I tap back a response.

Be safe.

While I wait the epically long time
for Rain to text back, I dig through my purse and glide some tinted lip gloss
over my lips. My phone vibrates.

We can handle this.

But I can’t,
I think sadly.
My heart actually hurts to think of goofy, awkward, easy-smiling Rain out in
this world, our world, trying to be the dark and violent thing that we all have
to be. Every mission is Russian roulette, and he’s been lucky too long.

This is going to be the one.
He’s going to get killed tonight.
My brain always does this. Grinds my
heart into a pulp of worry. I can’t afford this, not when I’ve got my own
mission to look to. 

Good luck, Xander
my shaking
fingers tap out.

U 2 Buffy,
he writes back.

I slide my phone back into the
pocket of my folded jeans. Rain and I have had more than enough fights about
his vigilantism, and it always ends with his sleepy brown eyes peering into
mine as he says, “It’s my choice.”

I gaze out the window, at all the
lights, all the people, all the noises of this beehive city. Time to tuck Rain
and all my worries away and focus on my own mission. This nurse isn’t going to
be changing any bedpans tonight.

“Right up here,” Gabe says, his
pointy ears bent forward as he gazes at the map on his phone. “We’re officially
in Beverly Hills, folks. Breathe in that sweet scent of money.”

The homes are ballooning in size
out the window. Many sit behind tall, attractive fences.

“So, Tucker Cartwright,” I say as I
put my phone…nowhere apparently. My costume doesn’t exactly come with pockets
or gaps. “What’s he famous for anyway?”

Gabe gives me a fake, condescending
chuckle and then says in the tone of an admonishing professor, “Maya, my dear,
we’re in the 21
^st
century. People need not be famous for doing shit
anymore.”

“So he’s famous for being famous?”

Tarren makes a careful right and
slows behind a line of cars at a big gate. Gabe switches back to his own voice.
“Wikipedia says he was in some kind of band ten years ago, but then they broke
up. He’s been circling the celeb reality show circuit ever since and
occasionally crashing cars that cost enough to feed an entire African country
for a year.”

“Yeah, they had that one song.” I
dig back into the foggy memories of my pre-changed life. They feel vaporous in
comparison to the sharp, clear reel of memories I possess stemming from the day
Grand changed my body and my life forever in ways that were both amazing and
very, very bad.

I start singing the refrain:

“Your lips are miiiiiiine, girl.
Your skin is miiiiiine, girl.

You think you can leave, but you
don’t see

Your heart is miiiiine, girl.”

“So, basically he was a creeper
even before he became a murdering, crazed piece of shit,” Gabe says.

Our jeep inches closer. I watch the
brake lights flair from the Mercedes in front of us.

“I don’t like this,” Tarren says,
his face settling into a frown from his expansive unhappy expression collection.
“We don’t have a plan.”

“Sure we do,” Gabe answers. “I get
us in, Maya confirms that Tucker Cartwright is an angel, we wait for an
opening, and then…” he turns his fingers into a gun and pretends to shoot. “He
won’t be causing no trouble ‘round these parts no more. Right, Sheriff?”