Blindsided (13 page)

They stepped inside, Garret first. An archway to their left and a large living area to the right were dressed in shadow. Again Garret went on alert, but she seemed unconcerned. She tossed the keys and baton on a nearby table. She must know the layout of the cottage well enough not to need it.

Unless someone was sleeping somewhere in the back reaches of the house, no one else was here. The house stood dark and silent. Garret relaxed and so did Teigan. Funny how he’d come to rely on his brother’s senses more than his own.

“So how did the dog get here?” Teigan asked. “Obviously Frodo didn’t drive.”

“One of the house staff drops him off every Friday afternoon for the weekend, and then picks him up Monday morning. Probably Cam, he takes any opportunity to hang out with Frodo.”

So she came out here pretty much every weekend. He wondered if she was normally dropped off, or if the ever-present Willis came out here with her. As much as Willis and he hadn’t hit it off, Teigan hoped the latter. He didn’t like the thought of her being here alone.

“There is a solarium on the back.” She tapped the frame of a hallway that delved into the back reaches of the house. “I put my office in there. The lights are on switches and turn knobs. Make yourselves at home. I need to contact Willis and let him know I’m here.”

She moved through the archway into the dining room, and then through a swinging door. From the glimpse Teigan got into the moonlit room, he thought it was a kitchen. He and Garret exchanged brief glances and then moved in the direction she’d indicated.

The solarium was an old converted sun porch. Paned glass doors and windows surrounded the large room, which was filled with greenery and flowers. There was a large area rug beneath a set of old fashion wicker chairs and a rattan table which had a personal notebook tossed negligently upon it. Tucked into one corner was an armoire. Teigan peeked into the large wooden treasure trove to find some fairly advanced electronics—not all modern day tools and amenities had been forgone.

Garret finished his scan of the room and, coming up with no bugs, turned to Teigan. “You trust her?”

“My gut says to trust her.”

Garret’s eyebrows about flew into his hairline. “Is that what it’s called?”

Teigan grimaced under Garret’s direct gaze.
 

Did he trust her? He reminded himself that his answer should be based on his professional observations of her, not his libido. He took a moment, analyzing the various conversations they’d had, her reactions, and the research John had pulled. He was vastly relieved to realize that he did trust her.

“I trust her,” he reaffirmed.

Garret grunted. “She knows something though. And she’s a Viadal. Or something similar. Did Whitesman suggest there were any unregistered?”

“No. He seemed to believe their records were complete.” And he didn’t want to even imagine how many bricks Whitesman was going to shit when he found out they weren’t.

“I don’t like it,” Garret said and left it at that.
 

There was a faint shuffle from the interior of the house. Aria emerged a moment later from another swinging door, shouldering the heavy oak aside as she pushed through, tray in hand. A steaming teapot and three cups and saucers balanced on the ornate mirrored surface. Another antique. One of the articles John had dug up said the mother had been an obsessive collector.

She hesitated just inside the threshold. Trying to pinpoint where they were in the room?

“Let me help.” Teigan stepped forward, sliding her burden from her hands.
 

She released the tray and threaded her fingers, then followed him across the room, taking up position in the chair closest to the swinging door and hall.

“Family heirloom?” he asked, setting the tray down and pouring three cups. Wasn’t he domesticated? Tie an apron around his waist and give him a duster, and he’d make a fine addition to the house’s archaic décor.
 

“The house was built by my great-grandfather on my mother’s side back in 2013.” She took the cup he handed her. “After she married my father, my mother decided to restore the family home.” She waved her hand at the table. “That tray, I’m told, belonged to my great-great grandmother. 1980’s Victorian reproduction. Tacky isn’t it? I guess that’s why it survived two recessions and one major depression. No sane person would pay good coin for it.”

Garret’s lips curved up at the sides. Teigan found himself grinning as well. A thump on the sliding door saved him from responding. Just because she was willing to insult a family heirloom didn’t mean he should.

“You mind?” Aria glanced to where Garret still stood, halfway between the sliding door and the wicker furniture. A wet nose attached to a black shadow smeared a trail of slime across the glass. There were similar tracks on the inside.

“I live to serve,” Garret quipped and opened the door.
 

The bundle leapt inside and shook, spreading a spray of water halfway across the room and all over Garret. Aria was the only one spared, since she’d chosen the seat furthest from the door.

Two sets of eyes focused on her, well three if you counted the mutt who bounded across the room, shoved his wet head in the crook of her arm, and then plopped on the floor unceremoniously where he gazed up at her adoringly. She lifted her cup and took another sip, acting as if she was completely ignorant of the mess the mutt had just made. Maybe she was.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a seeing-eye dog,” Garret commented, whipping a drop of water from his cheek and returning to his position against the wall.
 

“That’s him.” She tilted her head toward the mutt at her feet, who was now stretched out, four muddy paws twitching in the air.

“You’re kidding, right?” Garret glanced at Frodo, a look of extreme distaste on his face.

She directed a smile toward Garret, set her tea cup down. “Well. He was supposed to be. But though he wants to please, he’s just too excitable. Out here in the country I harness him up and let him pretend, but he could never work with me in the city.”

“Why didn’t you get another dog?” Teigan asked, discarding his own full cup of tea on the tray. He wasn’t sure he should be relieved or irritated that the dog had added a dollop of creek water to the brew. He didn’t like tea, but it was the principle of the thing.

She turned her face back toward Teigan. No smile for him. Damn.
Mental note: Make friends with Frodo. I’ll be sharing his doghouse for the unforeseeable future.

“Because Frodo and I bonded. And when you have a seeing-eye dog, you aren’t supposed to have any other animals in residence. I couldn’t abandon him. It would be like tossing a child to the wolves.”

“You have a lot of heart for a Viadal child,” Garret commented, with more than a note of self-mockery.

Her head swiveled back around, eyes narrowing on the ex-V-10. “I disagree. Just because you’ve been trained to hold your emotions in, doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart.”
 

She raised her tea cup, took another sip. “Tell me, Garret. What motivated you when you were on those missions? Don’t tell me because it was your duty. You can save that crap for your evaluation next month.”

Teigan sat up straighter and looked over at Garret. She was letting all sorts of bombshells fall now. Where she might have gotten that sort of highly classified information was frightening. He stuck by the belief that they could trust her, but he wondered if her source was as trustworthy. And if he wasn’t, then what sort of danger were they in now?
What sort of danger is
she
in?

Garret didn’t seem overly concerned. He seemed to have fixated on her question. He stood immobile, muscles taught, eyes distant.

Teigan looked back at Aria, but she continued to stare in Garret’s direction.

“Duty certainly,” Garret spoke, breaking the prolonged silence, “and there was satisfaction in applying my strength and skill. But you’re right, that’s not what motivated me.”
 

Teigan’s attention shifted to his brother. This was something he’d wondered about, too.

Garret took a deep breath. “During a mission, I would often think about this group of boys I’d seen on the streets of Mexico City. It was one of our first missions. These boys, maybe five, six, were playing ball in the alley. They were just having fun. Happy, innocent. Everything we’d never been given a chance to be. We went on by. Did our job. Returned the same way. Only now there were no boys playing. Just one. Laying there, dead.”

Garret swallowed hard, his blue eyes deepening with emotion. “He’d been stabbed in the stomach and left to die. It was senseless. All that innocence, the potential wasted. He wasn’t like us. He’d never been trained. Never had a chance. After, whenever I was on a kill mission, I thought of that boy. Even though it wasn’t directly related, I was working for that boy and other boys like him. If I could make the world safer, maybe their lives would be safer as well. Maybe they’d become something. Something good. And maybe if I could save enough of them than maybe there wouldn’t ever be a need for someone like me, you know?”

Teigan sat stunned, watching his brother compose himself once more. Hands fisting, unfurling, balling up again. This was the most emotion he’d ever seen Garret display. His eyes even glistened in the dim lighting of the room. Teigan looked away, somehow knowing Garret would want him to.

“Huh, I never really thought about it before. Like you said, if asked, our response was always duty and honor for home and country.” Garret chuckled aloud. “It’s what had been drilled into our heads.”

“To some extent I’m sure that’s true,” she agreed, her face soft with compassion. “But anyone who makes the mistake of thinking Viadal’s children aren’t human is an ass.”

“Well that’s pointed.” Garret smiled at her and it came through in his voice.

She smiled in reply. For some reason it made Teigan jealous. He squirmed to hide his discomfort. Picking a fight with his half-brother over a woman was so…childish.

“What about the first batch of Viadal progeny? Do you know about them?” Teigan asked drawing her attention back to him.
Yeah, as if that wasn’t just as childish.

Her lips firmed into a thin line. “Oh yes. I know about them. Viadal specifically aimed to reduce their emotional tendencies. Love, hate, fear, misery. These things can make a soldier weak. They can halt them in their tracks, overwhelm them, cause them to break from orders to perform a random act of heroism. You don’t want your soldiers doing that.”

“No. Certainly not.” The sarcasm lacing Garret’s voice was thick.
 

She flashed Garret another smile. Teigan found himself wishing she’d spare a smile for him instead. A real smile, none of the half smiles, or mocking smiles, or down-right-close-to-vicious smiles she’d thrown him since leaving the restaurant.

“But the thing is,” she continued, “these are the same emotions that keep them in check. Otherwise they are completely self-serving. There is no attachment. No sense of conscience. And when you add on top the training protocol that stressed tactical assessment and sabotage? Life, to them, became a game, a measure of skill.”

Teigan waited, but after a while it became apparent she’d said all she planned on saying. At least all she was willing to say without being pressed.

“You’re a Viadal,” he stated.
Yeah, forcing her to admit that out loud is going to get me a smile…brilliant.

She drew in a breath, let it out, nodded. “I am.”

She set her teacup down on the tray with a clink, settled back in the cushions of the large chair, and drew her knees up into her chest. She looked so young and vulnerable. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, lift her up and settle down with her on his lap, stroking the hair that had started to tumble from her careful twist.

“My mother feared her children would inherit her genetic condition. Viadal offered to turn off that gene, make sure it was expelled from the gene pool.” Her head gave a sharp shake of denial, as if even she still hadn’t come to terms with what she was. “That’s all she wanted. Just that one thing.”

“But Viadal couldn’t pass up the chance,” Teigan guessed.

“Viadal was obsessed with perfection.” She hesitated, her face registering some internal pain.
 

Perfection. Hadn’t she used the same term when describing her father’s expectations of her? Maybe Viadal hadn’t been the only one obsessed with the perfection of his offspring.
 

She sighed deeply, casting aside whatever haunted her. “Anyway, for me, he set out making what he considered the perfect female. He had to work within the genes of our parents, of course. So I look much like my mother, only I have my father’s eyes. And I don’t have some of the bothersome little health issues they had.”

“And you’re stronger.” Teigan inadvertently pressed the spot on his chest where she’d punched him—definitely bruised.

She nodded. “You probably think of it as superhuman. It’s not. It is what the human race could be at their peak. If all conditions were right, no illness, a good constitution, metabolism. Healthy solid bones. My body can tweak the most nutrition out of simple fare while others need to take handfuls of vitamins and spend hours on the treadmill a day.”

“But you’re blind.”