Vendetta Nation (Enigma Black Trilogy #2) (14 page)

Ian and I stood watching the doorway, waiting for him to come back, waiting for another point to be drilled into our heads. “Joke’s on him,” Ian finally spoke, “my former life was crap.”

“Do you ever think we’re playing for the wrong team?” I asked, not taking my eyes from the doorway. He didn’t answer me, though the subsequent look on his face told me that he was taking in my question, saving his thoughts for another day.

*****

“What a day,” Madison said, meeting Chase in the hallway of Hope Memorial on the way to their lockers.

“That it was,” Chase answered her with a yawn. “But we can’t complain about being busy. We need all the job security we can get.”

“I think your job is pretty secure, Dr. Matthews. Any hospital in the country would be happy to have you.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, because I may be testing your theory soon.”

“What? You’re thinking about leaving Hope Memorial?”

“It’s just a thought for now. With everything that’s been occurring lately and my apartment burning to ashes, exploring my options elsewhere doesn’t seem like such a bad idea at the moment. Paige and I are going apartment hunting on Saturday morning near my parents’ home.” He paused, realizing that he’d just opened up a can of worms with Madison that wouldn’t easily be sealed again.

“Oh, so you and Paige are moving in together, then?” she asked in an unsteady tone.

“Again, I’m just exploring my options,” he answered as he paused outside the locker room. “Look, Madison, there’s really nothing here for me anymore other than memories and pain. If I’m honestly going to move forward with my life, I need to embrace change. I need to take every opportunity I can to forget.”

“About her,” Madison said, more of a statement than a question.

“About her,” he confirmed.

“Well, whatever you need to do to heal yourself, Dr. Matthews, you have my support,” she said, surprising him. “Just don’t rush into anything you’re not ready for.”

“One day at a time,” he mused.

“That’s the best way to go about it,” she agreed. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out an envelope, promptly handing it to him. “Misty from Human Resources gave me this to pass on to you.”

“What’s this?” he asked, opening it.

“Tickets. A few of us were given complementary tickets to the President’s address in Potomac Park next Saturday evening. Apparently, ticket holders are given first priority for entry over the general public. We’re among the VIPs, if you will.”

“Thanks, Madison,” he said, tucking the envelope in the pocket of his lab coat, “but the last place I want to be is anywhere near that man.”

“Are you sure? They say there’s going to be a record crowd for this event. Perhaps, someone from your past may turn up,” she hinted.

“Trust me,” he laughed. “It’s the last place Celaine would be, too.”

*****

I remained awake in my bed. The events of the last couple of days burned in my mind like an errant brush fire, threatening to become an inextinguishable blaze. Thoughts of Victor, of the slain protesters, the confused soldiers, of our missed opportunity with The Man in Black, and of Chase, jumbled through my consciousness; a puzzle with pieces too jagged to fit together. Then there was the matter of our next mission. Making nice with Brooks like we were being ordered to do didn’t set well with me. But did I really have any choice? In the end, it may be the key to bringing down the man who’d killed my family, but at what cost? Was it worth the countless others who were dying every day at Brooks’ hands just because they didn’t agree with his principles? If my father were alive, what would he think?

Feeling the need to walk everything off, I got out of bed and entered the hallway. When I came closer to Ian‘s room, his door opened. Becca stepped out into the hallway, her hair disheveled, her cheeks reddening when she noticed me standing just a foot away. “Hey, Celaine,” she said, barely able to look at me. “I…I fell asleep.” She rushed down the hall, turning the corner at record pace to enter the body of The Epicenter.

“Goodnight, Becca,” I called out to her. The door to Ian’s room remained open, and I debated whether or not to go in, a knot forming in my stomach.

“Celaine, are you out there?” Ian called from inside.

I shuffled to the doorway, standing just inside its frame. “I’m right inside your room,” I answered.

“Good.” Ian stepped out of the bathroom. He was shirtless, revealing more of his body than I recall ever seeing—or maybe it was because I’d never allowed myself to notice it before. A toned body, much like mine, his musculature prominent on nearly every surface of his exposed flesh. Unlike mine, however, the grooves and valleys between each set of his muscles were far deeper, as though new tissue had been constructed over a pre-existing physique. Obviously, working out had been a hobby of his. But when he turned around, a completely different vision caught my eye. Scarring stretched across his upper back from one shoulder blade to the other, scarring that had the tell-tale goose bump appearance. Having been the daughter of a doctor, I’d seen skin grafting before, but it still took me aback, regardless. “I was hoping you were still awake,” he said, breaking my stare.

“Why? You obviously already had company,” I said. “I feel like I’ve intruded on something.”

“No,” he laughed, digging through his dresser drawer. Finding a t-shirt that met with his approval, he threw it on over his head, shutting the drawer with his foot. “Trust me, there was nothing to see here.”

“Really? Because from my vantage point, I saw you half-naked and Becca with a face so red she looked like she was on the verge of bursting into flame.”

“Yeah, throwing up on someone has a way of being a little embarrassing.”

“Is she sick?”

“Not exactly,” he sighed, taking a seat on his bed. “Listen, I’m not supposed to say anything, so please don’t repeat this, but Becca’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” My eyes widened, and all-out sickness spread throughout my stomach. “Is…is the baby…yours?”

Ian laughed, rolling his eyes. “No, Celaine, I have absolutely nothing to do with her condition.” My relief must have projected heavily on my face, as Ian laughed again, a little harder this time. “Look at you,” he chuckled. “I almost thought I was going to have to dig another shirt out for a second.”

“The two of you have been spending a lot of time together lately, so it was an easy conclusion to have come to.”

“This is just another classic example of how wrong you can be when you believe everything your eyes tell you.” He reclined on his side, facing me. “No,” he began again, “Becca’s just going through a lot right now. I found her crying one day in the sitting room, asked her what was wrong, and before I knew it, I had a shadow. You would think that no one has ever asked her about what was going on in her life before. She wants to get divorced, but is obviously conflicted about it given the pregnancy, and yadda,yadda, more girl talk.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing the baby’s not yours, because the world can’t handle another Ian Grant.”

He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I always wanted children of my own someday. Given the direction our world is heading in, though, I honestly wonder whether that idea is more of a fantasy than a reality.”

“I didn’t peg you for the paternal type,” I said. “After the childhood you had with your mother, and all.” I sat down next to his feet at the foot of the bed.

“That’s just it,” he answered. “I want to break that cycle. By having children and being given the opportunity to be the father my dad was, it would be like bringing him back again. At least, that’s how I see it.”

“Well, I think you see things beautifully.”

“Can I ask you something?” He sat up on the bed so that we were face-to-face with each other.

“I guess.”

“After the second explosion in the apartment, when I made that whole ‘is that the best you got’ joke, why did you get so upset with me? That wasn’t like you. It kind of threw me off guard a little.”

“I may have overreacted a bit,” I acknowledged. “It was the second time that night that I thought I may have lost you. I’ve lost literally everyone I have ever cared about in some way or another, Ian. Your joke just seemed inappropriate to me given the circumstances.”

“So…you care about me?” he asked smugly.

My cheeks burned uncomfortably; however, I was fairly certain they weren’t anywhere near as red as Becca’s had been. “Of course I care about you, Ian. I care about you enough not to want to see you die,” I answered him.

“That has got to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, and a first for a woman,” he joked.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question now,” I said.

“Okay…” he hesitated.

I paused, a voice inside my head telling me to rethink asking the question that had been on my mind since seeing Ian shirtless. “Before you put your shirt on, I couldn’t help but notice the scarring on your back.”

His grin receded, which ushered in a tidal wave of guilt over me. “It’s from the fire at the Flamingo Casino,” he answered after a moment. “When I woke up in the middle of the night, I noticed that my dad wasn’t in the room, so I went to look for him. I’d almost made it to the gaming floor when I saw the wall of fire approaching. I tried to run back the other way, but my shirt caught fire, forcing me down to the floor. It seemed like I was rolling forever before the flames were finally extinguished.”

“You must have been in agony.”

“Actually, I was more concerned about my dad at the time. It wasn’t until after I had lost him that the pain really began to bother me. It’s as though my body gave my nerves permission to grieve. And grieve they did. I’m just grateful that the burn was on my back. It allows me to forget that it even exists here and there.”

“I know how that feels,” I said. “Right before the explosion at The Lakes, I fell and hit my knee. Now every time I have a nightmare, or so much as even think about that day, it throbs unrelentingly.”

“From the sound of it, it would appear as though we’re both a little screwed up,” Ian observed.

“Really, who isn’t, nowadays?”

“I’m sure well-adjusted people still exist.”

My thoughts turned to Chase, Carrie, Jim, and MaKayla. “Yeah, they do,” I answered.

“Well,” he yawned as he laid back down on the bed, “at least one of us has met them.”

“Victor is going to be running us pretty hard the next couple of days, we should both probably rest while we still can.” I stood up from the bed and began walking to the door.

“Think you’re going to have any more nightmares tonight?” Ian called after me. I looked back only to see a crooked grin stretched across his face. “Because I’ll be right here if you do.”

“I think I’ll be okay, but I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied. As I approached the door, he called out to me again.

“Hey, Celaine.”

“Yeah?”

War. Everywhere around us, there it was. Rebellion members with their guns drawn, soldiers firing in retaliation, and there wasn’t a single thing we could do but watch. We watched as Cameron’s simulated avatars engaged in battle in front of our eyes; we watched as men and women were slain. And even though we knew what was happening wasn’t real, Ian and I still winced at the realistic bloodshed. Our mission in this simulation—one of the many we’d battled through over the past few days—was to guide President Brooks to safety in the event of an attack, much like the one we’d experienced some nights back.

We’d gone through seemingly every worst case scenario imaginable. From an explosion near the park perpetrated by The Man in Black, to a sniper hidden within the innumerable trees, to a natural disaster, we’d been through the whole gamut. Though he disgusted me, I had to admire Cameron’s creativity. The virtual tsunami he created out of the Tidal Basin in the midst of a blinding rainstorm had forced Ian and I to swim for our lives, honestly fearing that we may drown beneath the waves’ midnight blue depths. At the conclusion of that scenario—which we had to repeat three times before we finally completed it successfully—we were left sitting in the middle of the barren simulation room, gasping for air, marveling at the fact that we were bone dry considering all that we’d just been through.

Every scenario we failed had to be repeated until completed, which was why we were only on our seventh scenario in four days, well below the twenty Victor wanted us to be at. In ninety-six hours, all we’d done was eat, breathe, and sometimes sleep simulations, and that wasn’t going to change until Saturday night.

“He’s a lot shorter than I expected,” Ian said while we were ushering the President’s avatar through the chaos. “I wonder if he’s actual size.”

Standing just a hair shorter than me, the empty-eyed President Brooks was a surprisingly small man. “Just do me a favor and don’t tell him that in person,” I responded. “It’s liable to put you behind bars.”

“So what you’re saying is I should refrain from making any short man syndrome jokes in the presence of our Commander-in-Chief?”

“Considering you’re far too pretty for prison, Ian, I would say that’s probably a good idea.” The russet hair on the crown of President Brooks’ head whipped up into the air as a passing bullet missed striking him by mere millimeters. “Jeez!” I exclaimed. “We need to form a tighter circle around him. That was a little too close for comfort.”