No Love for the Wicked (11 page)

“We each have established covers already—” Jon started, but Thirteen cut him off with a wave.

“New covers will be created for this event. Your portfolios will be delivered Thursday. I expect a copy of your objective, agenda, and designation by oh-seven-hundred. Magnolia, may I speak with you a moment?” Then he turned and walked down the hallway from the kitchen and out the back door.

I pushed myself up and followed with heavy feet. Either we were going to talk about the implications of my attending a party thrown by my father, or he was going to reprimand me for doing something wrong. Either way, I grabbed the bottle of Beam as I made my way through the kitchen.

Thirteen stood on one of the wide stepping-stones that trailed from the back of the farmhouse around to the front porch. He looked at me as I came down the rear cement steps, his expression unreadable. I wrapped my arms around myself.

“I’m closing in on locating Bohlren,” I lied, stepping into the yard. “I’m pretty sure it’s south of Ukraine. I just need to pin it down.”

His expression didn’t change. OK, maybe my lack of progress wasn’t the reason for this little convo like I’d hoped. I peeked in his thoughts for a clue but came up blank. His mental walls were solid today, and I wasn’t going to hurt him just to find out what his deal was.

“I’ll be fine going to the gala, Thirteen,” I said, trying again. “I’ve been to enough of Father’s parties to know what to expect.” My whole body trembled in a violent shiver before I could stop myself. I just ignored it. “And I’m totally listening to Jon—I really
was paying attention in there. When he takes over the team for good, I’ll listen to him as well as I listen to you.”

His mouth twitched. “Because you listen to me so well?”

I kicked at the slushy ground. “I listen,” I muttered.

He waited until I looked up again. “I received an e-mail from Colin St. Pierre this morning expressing his gratitude for my approving your cross-team work on his current assignment. He is an ambitious team leader and was eager to get his name in front of me. Please remind me, when exactly did I approve your involvement with his team?”

Oh shit.

“I, er, I was going to tell you—ask you, I mean… It’s just…” My words fell away. I’d heard the expression
tongue-tied
before, but never realized the term described the feeling so literally.

“I offered you a position as a full task force agent without the formal classroom requirement because of your special circumstances. However, I realize now that the courses outlining Network procedure and protocol were a key part of the orientation that you were permitted to bypass. That is about to be rectified.” He pulled a thick manila folder from the back of his waistband. Had he been sitting in that big squishy chair with that thing shoved in his back that whole time? How uncomfortable.

“This is the introduction manual outlining Network policy and procedures. You will read this cover to cover and complete the test at the end of the manual. You can e-mail the completed exam to the support center e-mail address provided for processing.” My face must have shown my shock because his jaw tightened as he continued. “You will not participate in any Network assignments until that test is processed.”

“What? But I have to be at the airport with Colin and his team tomorrow morning!”

“Then you better get reading.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

I took a deep, calming breath. When I was sure my voice would be level, I said, “OK, I’ll read your manual and I’ll take your test. But I am going to the airport with Colin’s team tomorrow. I gave them my word, and their plan won’t work without me. They won’t have another shot at their target like this, and even though the power these art-smuggler guys have isn’t anything compared to my family’s, I can’t imagine you want them to get away just because I didn’t fill out a fucking questionnaire before their plane landed.”

His body stayed tense for a long moment; his mental walls shimmered. Regret. He was second-guessing making my involvement in the Network official. My anger deflated fast. Guilt was the last thing I needed right now. I snagged the manual and flipped through the pages. I was a fast study, but this was going to take all night to get through. “So do I copy you on the test when I e-mail it in?”

“That would be fine, yes. And it would expedite the processing as well.”

I kept my eyes on the manual. “I’m going to be a good agent, Thirteen. I’m going to be the best you’ve ever had.”

When I looked up again, he smiled, that sad smile that was just for me. An image of his daughter passed through his thoughts. She’d been twelve when she was killed by one of Thirteen’s enemies. He often thought of her whenever I did something that pleased him. It never hurt my feelings—just the opposite, actually. I knew I was forgiven whenever I made him think of her. I smiled up at him, and his eyes softened even more.

“You will be a wonderful agent, Magnolia. In fact—”

A loud burst of laughter echoed from inside the house, followed by a deep masculine curse. Then several other voices
joined in the laughter. Theo’s chuckle was a strong rumble that I felt over all the others. I looked back at Thirteen, and his grin had vanished.

“You need to remove yourself from Theo, Magnolia.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“Yes. You do. And you need to avoid getting close to him. I already spoke with him about it, and I know—”

Heat flared inside me. “You spoke to him? About me?”

He shifted his weight, and for a moment chagrin flashed through his thoughts. “A relationship with him would be inappropriate. He understands that.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What about Jon and Heather? Or Charles and Marie? How come those relationships aren’t inappropriate?”

“He’s thirty-four years old, Magnolia. You’re twenty-three. To take advantage of your naïveté would—”

“
Naïveté?
Are you insane? When he was doing Jell-O shots at Notre Dame, I’d already been tortured to death six times! How can you possibly think that I’m naive about anything?”

He winced at the reminder of my life before my escape. “I’m not talking about your powers, Magnolia, or your ability to deal with physical pain. Or even how you are more than capable of handling any life-or-death situation thrown your way. I’m talking about your emotional maturity. Your, er, sexual maturity.” For the first time since, well, ever, I saw a hint of blush on Thirteen’s cheeks.

My own face grew hot, and I suddenly found the slush on my boots totally fascinating. God, he really did not want to hear this, and I really did not want to say the words. But I cleared my throat anyway and said, “I have more sexual experience than you may realize, Thirteen. And not just from all of the thoughts of
people who lusted after me—although I have to admit, I learned a lot from the minds of Father’s disgusting business associates.” I shivered at the memories. Then the shame washed over me as it always did when I remembered these particular experiences. My voice was rough when I said, “My brother Malcolm, sometimes one of the estate guards when Father’s experiments left me unconscious, they would… Well, I have experience in that area. Just so you know.” Maybe not full sex, but Malcolm had done his best to grope and touch and prod whenever the chance had come up. I figured Thirteen didn’t need to know all the gory details.

When he remained silent, I looked up. The horror on his face made me recoil. He shook himself quickly. “Whatever experiences you’ve been forced to endure, they are not what a true relationship is about.” He was red again. “The physical and emotional ramifications of your developing a crush on someone like Theo are something you simply are not ready for.”

I gaped at him.
A crush? A fucking crush?
I knew he’d felt the power that surged when Theo and I saw each other at Jon’s. Why was he denying the level of our connection now?

The back door swung open before I had a chance to respond. “We’re heading out,” Jon called across the lawn. I wanted to ask what had happened that had been so funny, but I was still struck dumb.
A crush.
In Thirteen’s thoughts, his daughter’s face flashed again. A child, twelve years old. If a part of him still saw me like that, maybe it was time to reconsider the benefits of our father-daughter dynamic.

Thirteen straightened his coat. “Support functions twenty-four hours a day. Get that exam to them before oh-two-hundred hours, and they will have it processed and back to me in time for you to receive official approval for Colin’s mission tomorrow morning.”

He tried to give me a small smile, but I ignored him. Obviously I didn’t have time to deal with his denial of who I really was. He walked past me to the front of the house, and I heaved the brick-size manual in through the back door. Might as well start another pot of coffee—I was going to be up for a while.

I’d stopped adding whiskey to my coffee hours ago. It didn’t help. I dragged my gaze to the fork-and-spoon clock over the kitchen sink: 1:47. God, this was worse than research. There was more than just the test at the end of the manual—there were quizzes after every section. And only half of what the tests covered was actually worth knowing. I mean, seriously, did it really matter that there were different expense forms for overseas assignments and regular assignments?

Some of the history stuff was interesting, though. For example, the Network had been around a hell of a lot longer than I’d ever suspected. Almost a century. The name of the organization had changed close to a dozen times, but it always included the words
the Network
. It had started as a small assembly under the direction of a certain enthusiastic congressman. As the group had grown, and the organization’s needs expanded, private investors with personal interests had stepped forward to fund whatever was
needed to do the job. I guess if I was a railroad tycoon in the thirties and had been kidnapped by a bunch of guys with telekinetic powers, I too would have been eager to give a bunch of money to the people who could ensure that it would never happen again. With that base money, they’d been able to invest privately until their budget was well into the nine-figure range. Not bad for an agency that technically didn’t exist.

I answered the last question on the last test and hit the Send button on e-mail. One fifty-seven. Thank God that was over. And no worries about whether I actually got the questions right or not—supernatural memory is great for rattling off inconsequential facts.

Colin’s team was meeting off the Sam Jones Expressway at eight a.m. If I fell asleep right now, I’d get a good four and half hours in before I had to get ready for the meeting. I poured a bedtime whiskey, drank it in one gulp, and crawled under the pile of quilts on my bed. I was out the minute my head hit the pillow.

I knew he was there. His presence had woken me the moment his car hit the driveway. The sweet scent of musk and metal preceded his soft steps to the back door. I’d opened the locks with my powers and waited. My eyes still closed, I felt him in my room.

A hot finger brushed along my cheek, traced my lips. My skin tingled everywhere he touched me. The bed dipped.