Children of Evolution (The Gateway Series Book 2) (27 page)

After three unsuccessful tries, Nikki managed to respond, but repeating was the best she could do. “Hippy?”
 

“You were also breathing like a bellows after just a warm-up run, so—”

“What do you mean ‘hippy’?” Then the rest of what Ace said sunk in. “What do you mean ‘warm-up’?”

Ace laughed and rolled her neck and those impressive shoulders. “Honey, we’re just getting started. Let me introduce you to your new best friend—the shuttle run.”

A few minutes later, Nikki had the satisfaction of telling Ace she was wrong. She and the shuttle run would never be anything but mortal enemies. It wasn’t the shuttle run she cursed, though, as the morning wore on. It was Ace, and Elias, and even Michael for building this nasty new nightmare and leaving her stuck in the middle of it.

Padre

Nikki’s first full day of training went better than expected, from every point of view but hers.
 

Padre and Elias ran Nikki through some basic footwork and blocks, as well as some targeted training on controlled falling, something she really could have used before the evaluation. Nikki picked everything up quickly. They had to show her a technique only once for her to mimic it perfectly. Her instincts were sharp, just as Mos said.
 

Unfortunately, her strongest instinct was the urge to attack. Offense was her default setting, which played havoc with defense training. She had to fight her gut reaction to every attack in order to make herself use one of the techniques she’d learned instead of going on the offensive. The result was hesitation, and often a fall to the mat, which her increasingly frustrated expression told Padre was no better than failure in her eyes.
 

She was being unnecessarily hard on herself, a trait Padre suspected hadn’t been part of her nature before losing Michael. The change made perfect sense to him. In one preventable moment Nikki had lost her brother—the one person in her life who treated her like she was special, and she'd lost her power—the one thing she believed made her so. Her sense of self-worth had bottomed out so now she was compensating as best she could, overly so in some cases.

Whether she saw it or not, her progress was exceptional over the next couple of days. Mos was right that it wouldn’t be long before Nikki could hold her own against the rest of the team, seasoned fighters all. If she could shift her way of thinking, of course.
 

And if Ace didn’t run her to death first.
 

Padre trusted that Ace knew what she was doing. Ace ran physical training for a reason. She knew more about whipping soldiers into shape and keeping them there than even Elias. Padre knew that. But that didn't stop him from surveilling Ace’s first session with Nikki. Nor did that knowledge make it any easier to watch Ace try to find Nikki’s wall, the point of exhaustion where the little voice in her head told her she couldn’t take another step.

Nikki ignored that voice and pushed past the wall through sheer stubborn will, making Padre and her other hidden watchers proud. Only then did Ace let her rest, and only long enough to take on enough food and water to keep her on her feet. Then it was off to gym for combat training, where Elias and Padre pushed her just as hard.
 

Breakdown day was universal SOP for special operations. They’d all been through it. Perhaps that’s why it was so hard to watch. Padre remembered exactly how it felt.

He wasn’t the only one who watched that first day with interest. Elias watched every minute from the command center before he took over with combat training. Mos did the same from his room. In fact, the only member of the team who didn’t watch—either openly like Coop and Gram, or from the privacy of a rerouted security feed like Kate—was Impact. He maintained a sullen distance all day, mostly due to orders to refrain from his own training to give Nikki space.

Days two and three were less strenuous than day one, but Padre knew sore muscles and fatigue made those days hurt that much more. Nikki didn’t quit though, not that Padre expected her to. He knew the woman she hid behind that sarcastic, occasionally obnoxious demeanor was stronger than even she knew.

She was wearing down emotionally, however. Padre saw it in her eyes on day four as she repeated—for the tenth time—every block they’d taught her. Creating muscle memory was a matter of time and repetition, heavy on the repetition, and Nikki had a host of memories to make. She didn’t complain or ask how much longer she had to do the same motions over and over. She pressed on in silence, pushing through the weariness and frustration. Instead of quipping and snapping the way she normally did, she started to draw in on herself. She started quietly doing as ordered, which was a bad sign.
 

Wearing her down was a necessary part of the building-up process. The logical part of Padre knew that. He also knew the training was doing more than just giving Nikki skills she lacked. It was keeping her distracted from the alien predator problem, a problem they were no closer to solving.
 

Magnus Cole was spending every night prowling the island, trying to catch the creatures if they came ashore. But he’d had only one encounter, one that added another creature’s body to the burn pile. Cole claimed the creatures’ numbers were increasing, but without crossing the Sound at night, he couldn’t confirm. The predators avoided him, so he was sticking to the island to keep them at bay. But if their numbers were increasing, it was only a matter of time before they made the crossing.
 

As the pack swelled, their confidence would grow in kind, if they were anything like other pack hunters. Their wariness of the predator in Cole would weaken until they no longer saw him as a threat.

Nikki didn’t need to know that. She didn't need to be worrying about the pack, on that the team agreed. They had designed her training regimen to keep her too busy to give the creatures any thought. If their attempts to distract, however, led instead to emotional collapse, they would accomplish nothing. With a class of one, they couldn't afford the usual attrition rate for this level of training.

Nikki needed a friend right now. She needed someone who’d been through this, someone who had an idea of what she was feeling, someone who could make her smile and laugh and shake off today’s pain so she’d be ready for tomorrow’s.

Padre wasn’t sure he was the right person for the job, considering how he’d failed her, but none of the others were stepping up, even though they clearly recognized the same signs he did.
 

As Nikki left the gym at the end of day four, Elias's troubled gaze followed her. Then he shared a look with Ace, who was wiping down the heavy bag. Their silent exchange was easy to read. They were wondering if they’d pushed a little too hard, if they’d finally found Nikki's breaking point. Then Elias shifted his eyes to Padre, and he nodded toward the door. It was more request than order, not that the difference mattered to Padre. One bound as tightly as the other for him.
 

Nodding once, Padre headed for the door, tossing his towel in the hamper as he went. In his mind, he started running through what he should say and what he'd do best to avoid. Talking to Nikki wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Since that day in the Wasteland, nothing about their relationship was easy.
 

A surprised squeal from the hall broke his train of thought, which was just as well considering whose arrival the squeal announced. He stepped through the doorway knowing exactly who he would see.

Nikki leapt into Corso’s arms with a laugh the tall criminal echoed as he caught her in a tight embrace. Corso spun Nikki around twice before he slid his hands down to her waist, his touch disturbingly casual and familiar. He set her down at arm’s length where she could take in his crooked smile in all its suggestive glory.
 

Padre pulled his gaze from the criminal’s hands, with an effort, and walked toward the couple, swinging wide to bypass them.
 

Crisis averted. If anybody could cheer Nikki up, it was Corso. In fact, if there was only one task Padre trusted the criminal to do without fail, and there was, it was making Nikki forget her troubles. Unfortunately, scruples tended to get tossed aside with troubles when the criminal blew through town, but at the moment, the team couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Problem solved,
he told himself as he stepped around them to turn the corner.
You’re off the hook.
 

Corso’s arrival couldn’t have come at a better time. His showing up now would give Nikki the boost she needed to get through the first big hump in her training. His arrival was a good thing. Padre knew that in his head. It was the rest of him that wasn’t convinced.

As Padre turned the corner around the couple and started up the corridor, he spotted Cole standing in the doorway to the galley ahead, leaning against the door jamb as he finished off the last of the apples.
 

That reminded Padre of his supply run tomorrow. With another mouth to feed, they were burning through fresh food at a much greater clip, especially considering Cole's appetite.

Cole stared past Padre as he approached, his gaze on Corso and Nikki with eyes that managed disinterest and intensity at the same time.
 

Padre wasn't sure what to make of Cole. He'd met the man in passing five years before, but then, as now, he had trouble reconciling competing impressions. His gut said the massive old man could be trusted, but his eyes weren't so sure.
 

Cole had the long stare of a veteran, his body and bearing giving testament to countless battles. He looked as solid, dependable, and trustworthy as Gideon claimed he was, but he had the eyes of a predator, intense and restless. They were the eyes of a feral dog, and not the curious, cautious eyes of a well-fed pack member glimpsed in the distance. They were the hungry, weighing eyes of a winter-starved loner eyeing its next meal.

Gideon trusted him. He said Cole's story wasn't far removed from Nikki's and Impact's. He also said they needed him. For now, that had to be good enough for Padre. He planned to keep an eye on the man though.

"You don't smell afraid," Cole growled softly as Padre passed.

Padre stopped and turned, his eyes tightening.
 

"You don't look it either," Cole went on, shifting his gaze slowly from Corso and Nikki to Padre. "Or do you?" The edge of his mouth lifted just slightly.

Padre stared back. He didn't know what game Cole was playing, but he knew goading when he saw it, especially when it was so crudely attempted. For some reason the big man was trying to get a reaction out of him.

Padre had been a target in one way or another all his life—for his size, the color of his skin, his choice of friends, his skills. He'd been confronted by one type of bully or another many times, and he'd learned that every confrontation was different. Every attacker had a reason for preying on others, and the trick to coming out of a confrontation on top was getting a read on what drove your opponent, and attacking it. Sometimes that called for calm words, sometimes intimidation, sometimes force, but the target was always the same. Hurting an opponent, physically or emotionally, rarely ended a conflict for the long term. Hurting an opponent's motivation always did.

Instead of responding, Padre watched and waited. Until he figured out Cole's motivation, he wasn't going to jump to a particular reaction.

The big man took a step closer and lowered his head to put his eyes on a level with Padre's. Doing so required him to hunch quite a bit, but he made the action look natural and predatory rather than awkward. He looked so animal-like, in fact, that Padre relaxed.
 

When a true predator wanted to kill, he came in swiftly and silently. He didn't announce himself. When he made a show like this, it was because he didn't want to attack. He wanted to scare his enemy instead.
 

Padre didn't respond in kind, and he didn't smile or laugh or otherwise taunt the big man. Doing so was a sure way to force a predator into action he clearly wanted to avoid. Padre simply waited.

After a few seconds, Cole straightened back up, all trace of menace evaporating from his lined face.
 

"Not fear," Cole said. "So what is it?" He crossed his corded arms and leaned back against the jamb again. "Why'd you tuck tail and slink off when the snake came for your girl?"
 

Padre didn't stop the rueful smile or the silent laugh he breathed through his nose. Cole was even more like a dog, or maybe a wolf, than he'd realized. He'd seen through all Padre's walls, sensed what he was feeling, without a word being said. Padre didn't bother playing the denying game. Cole obviously wasn't the type of man to fall for a weak lie.

"To what end?" he asked, his smile fading away.
 

Cole stared at him like he'd spoken another language. "You want the girl. He's sniffing around her. Why let him?"

"It's…complicated." That was an understatement.
 

"Doesn't look it. Looks like you're tucking tail and running from a fight you'd win. Why?"

Again, Padre didn't bother denying it. He didn't know why he was suddenly content to discuss something with a stranger that he'd never even discussed with himself, but he had to admit that giving voice to what he'd been feeling was a relief, like opening a pressure valve on a tank on the verge of rupture. He started to respond but held his words as Nikki and Corso approached.
 

Cole bit his apple core in half and eyed Corso in a way that should have made the criminal give him a wide berth. Corso didn't notice. He had eyes and words only for Nikki as they passed by. He gave her every bit of his attention, like she was the only woman in the world. Padre imagined he treated all his conquests like that, and they usually ate it up. Nikki wasn't, Padre was glad to see. She was enjoying the attention—that was easy to see—but there was hesitation, a lingering sadness that said she wasn't in the mood for his act, not today.