The Protectors Series Bundle (A superhero romance anthology) (20 page)

Symone stayed quiet for several heartbeats. “She won’t be a problem.”

“How can you be so sure? All we need is one blabbermouth claiming they saw Wonder Woman, or Super Girl, or some such nonsense, and that’s it, lights out. My brother and his Trackers will come looking for you and the others.”

“Peter’s dead.” Symone didn’t buy into Seth’s vision that Peter had survived the explosion a couple of years ago. She thought Peter was just the Boogeyman Cassie and Seth used to scare them all into complying with the rules.

“You keep telling yourself he’s dead. I have to act like he’s a real and present danger. I need to keep you all protected.”

“Look. I know. I don’t want to endanger anyone. I just didn’t want that kid to get hurt. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“You have to think of yourself first, Symone.” Cassie let her exasperation weave in and around her clipped words.

“I hear you, okay? Just please don’t yank me.”

A pang pierced Cassie’s heart. “Symone, I couldn’t yank you back, even if I wanted to. I’m not your mother, and the Lair is not a prison. It’s your home for as long as you want it. I’m not your warden. I hope you think of me as your friend.”

Jansen Michaels, resident human and bomb expert, strolled into the kitchen. His gaze honed in on Seth’s frown, then he looked at Cassie. “Is that Symone?”

He snatched the phone out of her hand without preamble. “Symone, come home. No—stop. I’m not listening. I said come home. You belong here.”

When Cassie had first met the towering ex-marine, he’d terrified her. His countenance was usually easy going, and he seemed very much like the surfer he appeared to be. But he was lethal. He’d helped her when she needed it most. He’d saved her friends. She owed him a debt she couldn’t pay back. And truth was, he was almost more attached to the kids than she was. Especially Symone. He’d carried her out and away from the burning building and continued to have a soft spot for her. He’d been torn up when she left.

His voice continued to drop in octaves until it was barely more than a growl. “Symone, it’s not safe. You have to come—” He abruptly yanked the phone from his ear. “She fucking hung up on me.”

Cassie quirked an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Chapter Four

The following day, Symone woke to a stinging itch in her side. Flinging aside her duvet, she pulled up her T-shirt and inspected her wound. Only a hint of pink marred her brown skin. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d been asleep for nearly twenty hours. Shit. Healing wasn’t supposed to take that long.

Forcing herself out of bed, she grabbed a quick shower so she could head back to the Youth center. With any luck, Riley had taken her advice and gone there for the night. It was technically her night off, but Symone needed the distraction. She couldn’t sit around anymore.

Thanks to the money Cassie had given to all of her brother’s subjects, she’d been able to get her GED. at eighteen and go to college at an accelerated pace. Thanks to Jansen’s directed attentions, she found out she was good at computer programming. Better than good actually. Great. Banks now hired her to make sure their systems were secure and hacker proof. She didn’t get any noble satisfaction out of what she did, but it was a job she could do anywhere, and she was useful. Not that she needed money. With the money from Cassie, if she wanted to be a vagabond for the rest of her life, she could be. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be needed.

Some of the other subjects thought she was crazy living like a normal person with her nice but modest apartment. Jared, one of the older subjects got himself a pad in South Beach, Miami. Symone shook her head. She didn’t need flashy.

The television blared as she continued to get ready. “In other news, the nephews of Carlos Santez, suspected head of the Miami Street Kings cartel, were found along Milk Street in what looks to be a string of robberies gone wrong. Julio Santez was found in the rubble of a local book store, while Raphael Santez was found in the street, unconscious, with minor injuries sustained. The third nephew, Alejandro Santez, was found not too far away in a moving truck, in what looked like an attempted robbery.”

Symone stared at the television screen, brows furrowed as she prepared to head to the Youth Center. In her isolated life, the Youth Center was one of her few points of human interaction. She loved that place. If she’d had somewhere to go when she’d been that young, maybe her life would have been different. But then, life as a genetically altered super freak did have its perks.

Slipping on her tennis shoes, she tried to sort through the order of events of the night before. The smell of worn leather had hung in the air. Had someone else been there—because she certainly couldn’t take the credit for wrapping up Alejandro Santez. How the hell could that little shit have gotten himself locked inside a truck? The nerve endings on the back of her neck tingled.

She pulled on her jacket and snatched up the remote to turn off the television when a chill stole up her spine. The newscaster’s nasal, valley girl accent filled the silence of Symone’s living room. “All three have been taken to Miami General at the request of family, where they remain under detainment. We are told that they are conscious, though uncooperative.” Conscious meant they could talk. Conscious meant they would remember her. Worse, that they would remember Riley.

While the newscasters bantered about what string of events could have led to the Santez’s capture, Symone donned her gear. If those thugs were up and about, it wouldn’t be too long until they came after Riley. Symone understood Cassie’s concerns and the need to be careful, but Riley was an innocent who could use a second chance.

Symone shrugged off her jacket and added a weapons belt that her jacket would hide. She had to get that kid off the streets. As she slipped her knives into their sheathes, her phone rang. No one had the number of the burner cell besides the lair and Jared. Looking at the unfamiliar number, unease slithered down her spine. “Hello?” she answered cautiously.

“You said to call you if I was in trouble?”

Riley.

The girl’s voice wavered as she continued. “I could really use your help. Those guys from last night are coming after me, and I got nowhere else to go.”

“Where are you? What’s happened?” Symone knew she should listen to Cassie’s warnings. She knew Riley could be trouble, but she couldn’t ignore the call. She had to go.

“This kid, Raul, and some other Kings caught up to me at the park. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t bring you back for some payback. I don’t know what to do.”

Oh perfect. A trap. She loved a trap about as much as she loved a bikini wax. “Listen to me, meet me down by the strip mall on Milk Street. Can you do that?”

“Yeah—but they’ll kill you.”

“You don’t worry about that. You just get down there and stay safe until I get there.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Right now, don’t say anything. Let me get you safe first.”

“Do you think you’re some kind of superhero or something? You’re not afraid of getting killed?”

“Believe it or not, there are worse things than dying.” Symone snatched her keys off the counter, rushed out the door, and headed back to Milk Street. She knew what she was walking into. She just hoped she could find Riley and get her out before the fireworks began. Riley didn't need to see that kind of carnage.

Careful to check her surroundings to make sure no one was watching her, Symone knelt by the alley of the old paper mill warehouse, trying to pick up the thread of Riley’s scent. Something spicy mixed with bubblegum, maybe cotton candy. She’d know Riley’s scent anywhere now.

Cassie and Jansen would kill her if they found out she was here. But she couldn’t leave the teenager on her own. When those gang members woke out of their stupor, they would send more of their friends after Riley. Symone needed to get her to safety. Cassie had texted with the address of her friend in Atlanta. So that was at least an option.

The wind kicked up, and Symone smiled. Just the help she needed. With any luck she’d find Riley within the hour and get the teenager off the street. She didn’t really have a plan for what she’d do after she found her, but maybe she’d start with saying, “Move your ass, I’m trying to save your life.”

Keeping to the back alleys, Symone made her way to the bridge behind the strip mall. The stretch of sand by the water was called the beach, but it wasn’t the pretty tourist attraction that drew tourists to the area. This was the stretch of beach the city council of Mylands, Florida would rather keep hidden. It was where the thieves, dregs, and street kids slept and made their deals.

It was also where the larger gangs from the neighboring Miami harvested some of their fresh blood. And where Riley’s scent lingered.

As she crossed through an abandoned warehouse on the south side of the bridge, Symone couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She slunk into the shadows and checked her surroundings.

Inhaling deeply, she filtered out all the scents of garbage, dank warehouses, and water, and focused instead on any aroma that shouldn’t have been there. This was the second time in two nights she’d had the heebie jeebies. She wasn’t going to take any chances.

The musky scent of worn leather wandered on the breeze. It was too familiar. Last night she’d assumed it was the gang members’ leather jackets, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe it came from someone, or something else.  Suddenly, a part of her wished she’d listened to Cassie. It was stupid to be out here without backup.

And who was going to back up Riley if she didn’t? If she listened to her instincts, Riley would be dead by morning. Or worse. Symone shuddered as a memory of the Gentech Labs flitted through her consciousness. Yes, Virginia, there is something worse than death.

Her eyes searched every nook and cranny of the surrounding warehouses. Nothing was out of place. There were no shadows that didn’t belong there. No hulking garbage bins to hide behind, but still her instincts screamed at her to run.

Symone gritted her teeth. Riley was someone like her, who was lost and the world had given up on. If someone was watching her, she’d deal with them later.

When she reached the bridge, she saw Riley sitting on one of the large stone blocks by the edge of the water.

“Riley.”

Riley jumped up, shirking her blanket and reaching for the knife at her side. “Shit, you scared me. What are you a ninja?”

Symone put her hands up when she noted the girl’s knife. Yes. “Not exactly. You ready to go? I need to get you out of here.” Symone looked around again, unable to shake the feeling of eyes boring into her soul. “Alejandro and his buddy are in the hospital, but if they already sent Raul after you, they’re not going to stop coming. You’re not safe if you stay here.”

Riley took a step back, her eyes narrowing. “How are you going to stop them?”

“You let me worry about that. Are you ready to go?”

Riley took another step back, eyes darting around. “Yeah, I—I just don’t want it to be my fault if you get hurt. You’re the only one I’ve met since I took off who’s actually tried to help me. You a social worker or something?”

No one had ever called Symone a do-gooder or anything like it. She’d been called a monster often enough, but never a do-gooder. Shit, she couldn’t even get her friends to let their guard down around her. “Look. Let’s just say I’ve been where you are before. I’m just looking to help.” She also took a step back to give Riley some room. “I’ve got you a place to stay for a while. But the key is, we got to get you out of here before the Street Kings get wind of where we are. They might already know if they’re following you.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Exasperated, Symone puffed out a breath. “You called me, remember?”

Riley rubbed a finger under her nose as she wrapped one arm around herself. “I got nowhere else to go. I might as well stick it out here and see what happens to me. I made a mistake calling you. No one’s going to die for me.”

Symone’s patience wore thin. They didn’t have time, and she needed to get them both out of the open, before something worse than the Street Kings got to them. “You can pretend you have a death wish, but if you did, you’d already have shot yourself full of poison by now. There’s even crack and black diamond heroine around here to make it a junkie’s paradise. If you wanted the Street Kings to kill you last night, you would have just come out of hiding. You wouldn’t have called me. Right now you’re tired, and you want to give up, but I promise you, you don’t want to die. I know what it’s like to actually want death, and kid, this ain’t it. Now get your shit and let’s go.”

Riley looked around, then darted a glance back at Symone as if weighing her options. Ancient fashion magazines littered the ground, some had dog-eared pages. A rolled-up sleeping bag sat next to the mags—dirty, but not too worn, like someone had taken care of it. And the same small backpack Riley had been carrying the night before sat amongst the sparse belongings. Riley grabbed her backpack and shoved a magazine into it before slinging it over her shoulder. Her chin went up a degree. “I’m ready when you are.”

Symone fought to hide her smile. She knew the kid was smart. And given her fashion magazine obsession, Symone would bet she hadn’t been on her own too long. She led the way. “We’ll go through the alley, then cut over under Main using the tunnels. My car’s about a mile from here.”