Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“That’s what drugs do to you,” I say, digging inside his pocket and retrieving the vial. “They make you see things.” I toss David, and he scrambles to his feet to discover his bodyguards running away like chickens, arms flapping like wings.
Charles is now lying on the ground, foaming at the mouth. I step toward him, and the dealer smashes me in the jaw, the impact nothing but a puppy paw playing with me. I throw the asshole against the wall and kneel beside Charles. The wind lifts, and Caleb appears by my side, pressing the button on his earpiece to say, “Get me an ambulance and a military escort.” Every agency and hospital in town has been set-up to notify a military hotline about all ICE-related activity, which has a direct link to me, as I am the Renegade in charge of the inner city.
“You don’t know the meaning of ‘wait,’ do you?” Caleb snaps.
“This dude couldn’t afford for me to wait,” I say, indicating Charles.
Sirens lift in the air, and Caleb produces a syringe from his pocket, kneels beside me and Charles and quickly drawing a blood sample from the poor suffering pledge, and with good reason. At this point, we don’t know enough about ICE to form a plan to battle it and every bit of knowledge we garner might save a life. “Give him the ICE you took from the dealer,” Caleb says, offering the only real choice to save the man. No one we’ve encountered thus far who got hooked could survive without the constant flow of the drug. “But save a few drops for the lab.”
I give a nod and pull out the vial, pouring it down the man’s throat, not sure if I’m helping kill him or if I’m keeping him alive. When the task is complete, I hand off what’s left of the ICE to Caleb.
“One day soon,” he vows, pocketing it along with the blood sample, “I’m going to make Julian pay for all of this.” He’s barely spoken the words when chaos erupts in the alleyway as emergency personnel arrive.
A few minutes later, we’re on the sidelines, watching them work. “Katie put together a list of six scientists capable of helping us deal with this problem,” Caleb informs me. Katie being our lead medical director for Sunrise City, our protected facility for the GTECHs, human staff, and those in need of protection. “Five are dead,” he adds grimly. “We have to assume Julian got to them before we could.”
“What about the sixth?”
“We thought Julian had her,” he says. “But turns out she was in Germany the past few months. She showed up on our radar when she booked a flight back to the States. I want you to be there when she arrives.”
“Caleb, man, you know I’ll do whatever, whenever you need me to do it, but we need me here. I know these streets better than anyone, which makes me the best shot we have of finding that warehouse.”
“She’s from Killeen,” he says. “So are you.”
“At least ten of our men served at the Killeen Ft. Hood Army base, and they’re all damn good soldiers. Surely one of them can handle this.”
“None of the others went to her high school three of her four years there. It’s a connection you can use to earn trust. We need this woman to help us, Jensen.”
I go utterly still, warning bells ringing in my head. The same high school, the same years? That’s a monster-sized coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidences. The look on Caleb’s face says he’s in agreement.
“What’s the woman’s name?” I ask, though, on some core level, I already know.
“Layla Walters.”
Chapter two
Layla
Houston, Texas— Twenty-four hours later…
Three months of hiding is long enough.
I pull my blue Volvo to a halt in front of my quaint, two-story stucco house surrounded by miles of grassy hills and droopy willow trees, ready to embrace whatever the future might hold. I come from a family of fighters—of military men and the tough women who know how to hold their own. I can almost imagine my father and brother crawling out of their graves to shake sense into me if I didn’t fight to the end.
Stepping out of my vehicle, I’m instantly battling the strong wind gusts that promise a midnight storm. Somehow, I manage to shove the door shut, my flared black skirt flapping around my knees and my loose, long brown hair lifting around my shoulders. It was near ten o’clock after a tiring day of travel, so my baggage is just going to have to wait until morning. Anxious for the comfort of home, I hurry down the sidewalk that is hugged by a stone border I’d laid with care a year before. The high moon peeked from the cloud cover, casting the path in dull light. A smile tugs on my lips as the house comes into view, a sense of knowing this is where I belong, where I am strongest.