Hunted (Talented Saga # 3) (3 page)

“Mr. Simmons, Ms. Eisenhower, Mr.
Trindel, and Ms. Howard were sentenced this morning,” Mac said quietly once we were in the air.

My throat constricted painfully and I searched the cabin for someone that could bring me a glass of water.
No stewardess was in sight. “And?” I managed to say.

“Mr. Simmons and Ms. Eisenhower were each convicted of conspiracy to commit murder.”

“Conspiracy to commit murder,” I sputtered, shocked. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

“No, Natalia, it’s not.
Their actions, or rather lack thereof, resulted in your near death. I’d have thought that you of all people would think the punishment is just,” Mac replied. The disapproval at my reaction was evident in the steel gray of his eyes.

Penny’s execution had been front and center in my mind all day, and I had somehow managed to forget about the others who had been arrested in the wake of her discovery as a spy.
None of the others had been charged with treason since there was no concrete evidence to link them to Penny, Crane, or the Coalition, but they had all lied about the intel that had sent me to Nevada. Their breach of protocol couldn’t go unpunished.

Cal Simmons and Jennifer Eisenhower were part of the team, along with Penny, that had intercepted the original
intel regarding Crane’s trip to Las Vegas. Both realized the intel was encoded using low-level encryption, but failed to report it. The Judge presiding over their cases had wanted to reserve her final judgment until Toxic’s Psychic Interrogation Division sufficiently questioned Penny. And apparently, their punishments were handed down this morning after Penny’s execution.

Just the thought of Penny undergoing psychic interrogation made me shudder.
I knew the repercussions of so wholly invading another’s mind firsthand. I had done just that to a boy named Ernest. Not only had I robbed him of his memories, I had taken his sense of self. Now Ernest was in a psychiatric ward at the School’s medical facility and could barely sit up on his own or feed himself. I wasn’t sure whether I hoped that had happened to Penny or not. Maybe the end would have been easier if she didn’t know what was happening to her.

“What’s their sentence?” I asked hesitantly, dreading his answer.

“Mr. Simmons will be serving ten years and Ms. Eisenhower eight. The Judge decided her motivations were less devious; therefore, her sentence should be lighter.” Mac shook his head, showing his disagreement.

Icy fingers closed around my heart. The sentences were much longer than I’d anticipated.
Jennifer was a weak-willed, twig of a person. She would never last eight years in prison. And Cal, ambitious, determined Cal, would be forty-five when he was released. I loathed what they’d done, but I never imagined that it would lead to this. I figured that they’d be relegated to cleaning toilets or something as equally demeaning.

“What about Grace and Rider?” I asked quietly.

Rider Trindel and Grace Howard were the other two Operatives arrested for their involuntary involvement in Penny’s elaborate scheme to get me face-to-face with Ian Crane. I had intended on keeping their roles out of my official report. Unfortunately, Mac wasn’t stupid and put the pieces together on his own.

Their punishment for breach of protocol and cheating on placement exams was likely severe, but I hoped that their reason for doing so would gain them some leniency.
While there deception nearly cost me my life, I hated the idea that they were in so much trouble on my account.

“Ms. Howard was sentenced to fifteen years for conspiracy to commit murder and having cheated on her placement exams.”
Mac searched my face for my reaction. I kept my features neutral this time, even as guilt made my turkey sandwich go leaden in my stomach. “Mr. Trindel received life in prison for the same.”

“Life?!”
I exclaimed loudly. “Are you serious?” Several heads swiveled in my direction, causing Mac to glare at me.

“Keep your voice down, Natalia.
This isn’t public information,” he scolded. “But, yes, I am serious. His willingness to aid another Operative in lying and cheating speaks volumes on his character. And he is an Elite level Higher Reasoning talent; there is no telling what he is capable of devising. He cannot be trusted.” Mac gripped the armrests so hard that I thought his knuckle bones might pop right through the skin.

If I’d thought that Cal and Jennifer’s punishments were extreme, theirs were a drop in the bucket compared to Grace and Rider’s.
Horrible couldn’t begin to describe how badly I felt.
You have no idea what your Agency does to innocent people.
The words Crane spoke in Nevada played like a record stuck on repeat. Sure, none of the Operatives were exactly innocent, but they didn’t deserve this. Hadn’t enough people been hurt already? Couldn’t Mac just have them dismissed from the Agency? Wouldn’t that ensure they never got the chance to harm another Operative? All of their lives were ruined, and Penny had lost hers. Suddenly my seizures didn’t seem that terrible.

“I’m tired.
I think I’ll close my eyes again until we land,” I said, turning to look out the oval window on my right. The fluffy white clouds and bright sunshine seemed to mock me with their happy appearances. I closed my lids to block out their infuriating cheerfulness and turned my thoughts to my own personal sun: Erik. For the millionth time, I thought how he was the only bright spot in my life. My lips parted in a smile that I couldn’t have contained if I’d tried.

“Natalia, the Agency has rules and regulations in place for a reason.
These Operatives breached protocol and now they have to pay the price.” Every time Mac said “protocol” I cringed as if it were a dirty word.

“Oh, right, protocol,” I scoffed.
“If memory serves, your son breached protocol too, yet he wasn’t even hauled in front of the disciplinary board, let alone brought up on formal charges.” It was a low blow and I was glad Donavon wasn’t around to hear me throw his sacrifice in Mac’s face. Donavon knew the consequences when he gave me his blood and had done it anyway. I wasn’t even sure I properly thanked him for doing so. I didn’t know if I ever could. How do you repay someone for saving your life?

Mac paled and pursed his lips into a thin line.
I held my breath, waiting for him to explode. I often wondered when Mac’s tolerance of my increasingly bad attitude would run out. The daggers shooting from his eyes pinned me to the seat, telling me the time had finally come. I couldn’t decide if I were embarrassed that so many others would hear the verbal tongue lashing, or relieved that there were witnesses so he would have to hold a little back.

“Donavon served several months in hell for his impulsive actions,” Mac said finally, his words measured, his composure now restored and his demeanor eerily calm.
I was taken aback by his ability to turn emotion on and off like a light switch.

“What are you talking about?”

Mac offered me a coy smile, liked he’d just scored a pivotal point in a game I wasn’t aware we were playing. Suspicion and unease made me squirm in my seat.

“He had to endure your attitude and mind games for three months, Natalia.
If that does not make him think twice before stepping out of line again, well, then, I do not know what will.” Satisfied, Mac faced forward, his smile widened.

I swallowed hard, appropriately cowed.
Definitely should have sat next to Cadence, I thought. At least she would have ignored me.

Chapter Three

One short hour later, I thanked the bell hop as he wheeled the collection of luggage into my room on the fifth floor of the Hamilton Hotel.
Before parting ways in the hotel lobby, Mac gave me an itinerary for the coming weeks. The first item on the schedule was a cocktail reception for all Operatives assigned to the D.C. testing site and several high ranking senators and congressmen. I hated these types of events. The schmoozing, handshaking, and forced small talk put my teeth on edge. Unfortunately, the reception was not optional, evidenced by the MANDATORY scrawled in all caps next to the event on my schedule. Thankfully, I still had two hours of Mac-free peace before the torture began.

The large bed pushed against one gold papered wall called my name.
Leaving my unpacked suitcases by the door, I flopped down on the blue and gold down comforter, sinking in to the fluffy fabric. I sighed contently, relaxing for the first time since opening my eyes that morning.

Kenly had showed up at the McDonough’s house before sunrise on the pretense of a morning run.
I knew she was actually there to distract me from Penny’s execution. Donavon most likely put her up to it. Between the two of them, I hadn’t had more than ten minutes to myself. It was sweet, but what I really wanted was time alone.

A sharp knock on the door echoed inside the hotel room.
So much for peace and quiet, I thought with a groan, and imaged Mac, back to lecture me about my medications or worse, my attitude. “I know, make sure to take my injection before dinner,” I said, throwing the door open with my mind.

“Well, hello to you, too,” a voice that was most certainly not Mac’s replied.

I raised my head so fast that stars dotted my first glimpses of Erik Kelley. “Oh, my god, it’s you,” I cried, jumping from the mattress, practically throwing myself across the room and into his waiting arms. When I had talked to him the night before, he was unsure whether he would be arriving tonight or tomorrow morning.

Erik wrapped me in a warm embrace as my head smacked against his well-muscled chest.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against my hair, running his hand over the tangled dark curls. He tightened his hold on me, crushing my body to his. I buried my face in his neck and let him half-carry, half-drag me from the doorway. Erik mimicked my telekinetic abilities to slam the door shut behind us. Slowly, he lowered me to my feet. I drew back from him and locked his turquoise eyes with my purple ones.

I had been waiting for this moment since watching him board the plane back to Elite Headquarters two weeks prior.
Seeing Erik in person, holding him, feeling the hard planes of his body against mine, was so much better than talking to him on the communicator.

Standing on my tiptoes, I stretched to fix my lips against his.
I gripped handfuls of his navy button-down, pulling him closer to me. The electricity I always felt when we touched crackled between us. He wound his fingers through the belt loops of my black dress pants, pulling my hips into his as he kissed me back.

My head spun and my heart thudded as I stumbled toward the huge bed that I’d just vacated.
Erik lowered himself onto the mattress, perching on the edge. Sitting, while I stood, made his mouth level with mine. His fingers toyed with the edge of my sweater, then slid underneath the soft fabric; I wrapped my arms around his neck. He traced the scars that marred the flesh above the waist of my pants. My breath caught in my throat, but I refused to break the kiss even though the lack of oxygen was making me lightheaded.

Erik moved his hands up my back, sending tingles dancing along my skin.
His touch was light, like feathers tickling my flesh. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, his pulse quickening when I broke away to kiss his neck. Erik moved his hands to cup the back of my neck and gently pushed me away just enough so that he could see my face. Our ragged breaths were in unison as he ran the pads of his fingers over my cheeks and then traced the contours of my mouth. I stared into turquoise eyes that sparkled in the early evening light streaming through the small window. The golden sunshine danced through his dark hair, threading dark brown highlights through the black.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he whispered, his face so close that we breathed the same air.
Heat rushed to my face, I had practically attacked him, after all. Erik chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I like it when you’re the aggressor.” He arched his eyebrows suggestively, and I thought that I might spontaneously combust. Erik shifted to prop himself against the pillows by the headboard on the bed.

“Come here,” he whispered when I didn’t immediately follow.

Taking his outstretched hand, I climbed up next to him and rested my head on his shoulder and my palm against his still-thudding heart.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, worry dampening the desire that he’d felt moments before.
His concern was real, but the way his thumbs caressed my stomach, dipping below the waistband of my pants, said he still had other activities on his mind.

“I don’t want to talk about my health,” I said coyly, cocking my head so that I could see his face.

A devilish grin spread across his lips and he bent his head until our lips met again. Twisting, I placed one knee on either side of his hips, straddling his waist. The boldness of my actions surprised us both. Erik tensed slightly. For a brief moment, I worried that I’d been too brazen. When I tried to pull back, Erik’s hands held me firmly in place. Slowly, he slid his palms up my sides, under my sweater, and my stomach muscles clenched painfully in anticipation when he reached the edge of my bra. Erik broke the kiss long enough to push my shirt up over my head.

I shivered even as my skin burned under his touch.
Fumbling with the buttons on Erik’s shirt, I tried to remove the material that separated us. Nerves made my hands tremble and I couldn’t grip the small buttons. Erik gently pried my fingers loose, taking over the task of undressing himself.

I sat admiring the lean muscles of his bare chest and stomach.
I ran my hands over the smooth skin. Erik leaned forward and ran his hands up and down my arms. I titled my head back and felt my curls tumble all the way to my waist. Erik’s mouth closed around the erratically-jumping pulse in my throat. I think I even moaned – it was hard to tell over the blood pounding in my ears – when he trailed kisses, soft as flower petals, across my collarbone.

“Natalia,” a voice called loudly from the other side of the door, dousing the euphoria of being so close to Erik while wearing so little clothes just as effectively as a bucket of ice water.
The next sound from my lips was somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

My unwanted guest banged insistently.

“It’s the Director,” Erik mumbled against my ear, flicking the lobe back and forth with his tongue.

“I know,” I whispered.

“You should probably answer it,” Erik said, even as he kissed the hollow of my throat.

“I know,” I repeated, arching my neck farther to give him better access and hating Mac for his untimely interruption.

“Natalia, open the damn door,” Mac demanded.

Regretfully, I pulled away and climbed off Erik’s lap.
“Coming, Mac,” I called impatiently. Spotting my sweater on the floor, I hastily grabbed the shirt and yanked it over my head. I threw the door forcefully open with my mind.

“Can I help you?” I barked with as much politeness as I muster.

“No need for the attitude, Natalia,” Mac replied lightly. He poked his head through the doorway. He eyes narrowed to slits when he took in the sight of Erik sitting shirtless on the hotel bed. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. Erik remained silent, but at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I just wanted to remind you to take your medication.”

“Thank you.
I will,” I answered with a tight smile.

“I trust I will see both of you at the welcome reception.”
Mac pitched his voice to make sure Erik didn’t miss the command. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Erik nod. “And Natalia?” Mac said, returning his attention to me.

“Yes?” I
snapped, eager to get rid of the Director.

“Please wear a color other than black.”
Mac’s eyes ran the length of my wrinkled mourning outfit, narrowing on the hem of my shirt.

I followed his gaze, blood rushing to my face when I realized what he was staring at.
My sweater was inside out. Erik had obviously noticed, too. He snickered loudly to show his amusement. “Yes, sir,” I replied with a mock salute, trying to cover the awkward moment.

Mac gave one last disapproving glare in Erik’s direction before retreating.
I rolled my eyes at his back. Mac was just looking out for me, I knew that, but the constant reminders to take my medication were as unwelcome as his interruption.

Walking over to my collection of unpacked bags, I rifled through the contents until I found the medical kit that Dr. Thistler had so thoughtfully included in my belongings.
The syringes and vials of the good doctor’s equalizer were neatly packed in two metal cases with the Agency’s logo carved on the tops. I unsnapped the metal hooks fastening the first case. Twenty-five white plastic tubes with long, sharp needles gleamed back at me. I ran my fingers lightly over the case’s contents that were the bane of my existence.

“Why don’t I do it?” Erik said quietly, startling me out of my self-misery.

“No, I got it,” I whispered back.

My hands shook slightly when I unclasped the hooks of the other case.
I withdrew one small glass container with a yellowish liquid and unscrewed the cap. I selected one of the syringes from the first case, inserted the tip end into the serum, and slowly pulled the plunger out of the tube. The plastic filled with the equalizer.

Heaving an enormous sigh, I rested the filled syringe on the bedside table.
Then I climbed back up on to the mattress. Erik watched me from his perch among the fluffy pillows, eyes full of concern. His apprehensive expression made the situation that much worse.

Tearing my gaze away from Erik, I stared back at the bedside table.
The needle sat, taunting me. I’d become accustomed to receiving the daily injections; they’d been part of my routine since I’d returned from my failed mission in Nevada. But until now, I hadn’t actually had to administer the shot myself; I didn’t realize how hard it would be. I loathed needles, and I’d always hated the sight of my own blood. Feeling it soak through my clothes, sticky and hot, made me hate it even more.

Erik’s warm hands slid under my shirt and over my ribs.
I leaned my back against his chest gratefully. Straddling me from behind, he carefully worked my arm from the sleeve of my sweater and reached for the syringe. Erik tore open the alcohol swab, then rubbed the crook of my elbow with the damp square.

“Ready?” he mumbled into my ear.

I nodded, averting my gaze from the sight of the needle poised over the blue vein already bulging against my flesh. It was as if my blood were calling for the drug. Erik placed his chin on my shoulder and used his free hand to hold my arm steady. Every muscle in my body went rigid as the point pierced my skin. But the instant the chemicals hit my bloodstream, I sagged with relief. Calm spread through me, like the ocean after a storm. I hadn’t even realized how tense I was until just then.

Erik held me while I reveled in the aftermath of the injection, like a junkie.
I hated how dependent I was on the drug.

“Better?” he asked after a couple of minutes.

“Better,” I agreed with a contented sigh, sleepy now that the medication was working its magic in my system. I lazily navigated my exposed arm back into the sweater.

Erik set the used needle on the table and wrapped his arms around my waist.
He pulled me farther back on the bed. Gratefully, I curled my body against his and basked in the feel of his bare skin against my cheek.

Mac’s interruption had broken the mood earlier.
Now reality was preventing me from finishing what I started. While the injection put me at ease, the unfortunate truth was that I was sick, and with every passing day, I became more and more convinced that my condition was permanent.

My future within the Agency was uncertain.
If I couldn’t return to the Hunters, what would I do? Would I even get another chance to kill Crane? Did I even want to? After everything with Penny, I didn’t know what to believe. And Crane was the only person left alive that could tell me for sure whether what she’d shown me in the court room was real.

“None of that matters right now,
Tals. Just rest,”
Erik sent, reading the concerns from my mind as quickly as I thought them.

My eyelids became heavy.
The tumultuous swirling emotions finally quieted. Tension ebbed from my muscles, seeming to leak out of my pores.
“Don’t let me sleep too long.”
I slurred my words, letting Erik bear the burden of my problems.

“I won’t.”

The last thing I remembered was the brush of Erik’s lips across my forehead.