Torrent (Cosmic Forces Book 1) (5 page)

A
lyssa skipped
down the second block, almost to her street. What the hell? Why was she skipping? She paused in front of the fountain that used to be in front of the building. It was a gaping hole in the concrete now, with no sign of the water that had come out like a geyser and cascaded down. No sign of the fountain’s abstract art.

Why was she happy? She felt dismay and joy at the same time. She paused to analyze her feelings, sitting on a large block of concrete. She looked up. The building that had once held that concrete was half the size it used to be, jagged, like a tooth that had broken.

A sigh slipped from her lips. Gillie would have a father now. She’d always wanted that for him. But why did she have to find out that his father was the very man who stirred up emotions in her that she’d thought were dead? There was something very wrong with the idea of being attracted to her dead sister’s… What was Torrent? Her ex? Ex-boyfriend? Ex-lover? Ex-what? Was it a one-night stand? Something about that bothered her the most, for some reason. Or did it? She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

Why him? Why did he have to be the one? And like a fool, she’d invited him to come over.

She looked for the sun, but it was no longer visible over the tall building. Was it already afternoon? Had time really flown like that? She hoped Omar had warmed something up for Gillie.

She should get home and make sure Gillie got his nap on time. That he’d had an adequate lunch. She had to make dinner for everyone, and she had to teach tonight. She’d better make sure all the assignments had been graded.

Ten minutes later, winded, she was at their apartment. She unlocked the door. “Gillie.”

She waited for the munchkin to come flying around the corner and tackle her legs like he did whenever she slipped out.

Nothing.

Only silence greeted her.

“Omar?” She peeked into the kitchen. Empty. The living room. Empty. The boys’ room, and the one she shared with the girls, all empty.

Omar wouldn’t have taken him out. He knew that it wasn’t safe, not with Gillie unregistered. That would be begging for trouble if a Leaguer stopped them and asked for paperwork.

A sweat broke out over her body. She rubbed her palms against her jeans, then ran into the kitchen to see if he’d left a note.

Nothing.

How long had they been gone? Had Omar packed lunch for Gillie?

She opened the fridge. Nothing seemed to be missing, and the sink was empty. It didn’t look like he’d packed lunch for Gillie. Maybe that was a sign that he wasn’t planning to be gone long, otherwise Gillie would miss his nap. If Gillie didn’t get his nap, that would spell grouchiness tonight.

Great. And on the night Gillie’s father was going to meet him for the first time.

Maybe he wouldn’t want Gillie. Maybe he hadn’t bargained for a bratty three-year old. Was it wrong to hope for that? If she had to choose between getting to know Torrent better or losing Gillie to him—

Wait. Hold up. Losing? Oh God.
What if Torrent wanted to take Gillie away?

No. No. There was no way.

Legally he’d have the right, she reminded herself. But she’d fight it.

How? How would she do that? If he was a citizen of the League of States, Alyssa and her family wouldn’t even have any rights. Texans didn’t have access to the judicial system the way that LOS citizens did.

Why hadn’t she thought this through? She should never have said anything to Torrent. What a fool. And who the hell had said that honesty was the best policy, anyway?

And where the fuck was Omar? Now she was pissed. She did the only thing she could: she cooked. And cleaned. And waited. And fumed.

Someone was going to pay for this. And where the hell was Omar? He needed to hurry up and bring Gillie back. Now.

She needed to talk to Jesse. She needed his advice. His cool head.

She paced. And cleaned. And cooked.

A
partment clean
, dinner ready, she went down to the street and walked up and down the block. Nothing.

No sign of him. It was almost time for the rest of the family to be home from work and Omar had not returned yet. Fear gripped her heart like a vise. She went back up to the apartment. She wanted to call the Leaguers, to tell them her nephew was missing. Then of course they’d find him, and promptly take him away.

No. She couldn’t do that.
Hurry up, Jesse. Hurry.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she dropped her head into her hands and prayed for him to be home quickly, though she knew that they had no control over when the bus would drop them off.

The sound of a key in the door shoved her heart into her throat. She leapt to her feet.

Voices.

Jesse, Sonya, and Belinda.

She blew out her held breath. Tears sprang into her eyes.

Belinda took one look at her and dropped her bag onto the floor with a heavy thunk. She pulled her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“Gillie.” His name came out merged with a sob.

“Leaguers?” Jesse asked.

Alyssa shook her head.

“Where’s Omar?” Sonya said.

Tears blinded Alyssa, her sobs overtaking her ability to speak coherently.

“No.” She gulped air in and fought to get control of her sobs. “Omar took him out.”

Belinda handed her a napkin to wipe her face.

“I mean, I guess he took him out,” Alyssa added.

“What do you mean, you guess?” Jesse frowned.

“They were here when I left. I stepped out. When I came back, they were gone. No note, nothing.” She was talking fast. She slowed down to breathe.

“How long ago was that? How long were you gone?”

“I don’t know, right before lunch, maybe? An hour? Could have been a hair longer.”

“Where did you go?” Jesse’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but the way that Alyssa felt, it was as if he’d stabbed her with a knife of blame.

“I had to go check on Torrent. He saved our lives last night, and then when I found out that he’s Gillie’s father…”

“Slow the fuck down,” Jesse said. “Who is Torrent? He’s Gillie’s father? Why did we never hear of this before Melissa died?”

Alyssa shook her head. “It’s—”

“And whose lives did he save? What kind of a name is Torrent?” Jesse interrupted her.

Belinda put her hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Let her speak,
primo
.”
Cousin.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Jesse’s voice was gruff, his face red. “
Tengo preguntas
.”
I have questions.
“What are these bombs she’s dropping on us? These surprises.”

“Simmer down,” Sonya said.

A sound came from the front door, and they all turned.

Gillie, followed by Omar, walked in the door. His face was dusty and dirty as if he’d been playing in the crumbled dirt and concrete from the ruins. His hair was a tangled, curly mess.

“Look. Look what Omar let me have.” He was holding up a rubber duck which was just as much a mess as he was.

Alyssa dropped to one knee and held her arms out, and Gillie ran into her embrace. She buried her face against his neck, smelling his sweaty little boy scent, happy to see him again. For the moment everything was at the back of her mind, everything except that Gillie was okay and safe in her arms.

“Where’d you go?” Jesse said.

Alyssa assumed he was talking to her, and turned to look at him. His stony gaze was on Omar.

Omar fumbled with his keys. “I’m grown.”

“Yeah, Mister Grown?” Jesse slammed his palm into Omar’s shoulder. “’Cause I been hearing talk about you and some privateer’s sister. Want to explain that?”

“No.” Omar sounded more petulant and childish than Gillie did when he was denied a toy.

Alyssa knew Omar. She knew that look on his face. He was guilty of just that. A privateer’s sister? What was he thinking?

“You didn’t take Gillie around privateers, did you?”

Omar snorted. “Do I look stupid?”

“That’s a yes,” Sonya replied.

“Fuck you,” Omar said.

Jesse grabbed him by the collar. “You don’t use that language in front of Gillie. And you don’t talk to her or anyone like that. Got it? Not in my house.”

“Your house?” Omar scoffed. He threw the keys on the floor. “I’m out of here.”

“Omar, don’t be stupid,” Belinda said.

It was too late. The door slammed behind him.

Great. And Torrent was supposed to come see where his son was living? In a house with this going on? With Omar cavorting with a privateer’s sister? And Gillie a filthy mess, looking like a homeless urchin.

“Let’s give you a bath.” Alyssa tugged on Gillie’s hand. “You’re a mess.”

“We’re not done talking,” Jesse said.

Alyssa looked back at him. “Can I at least get him bathed? Dinner’s ready. Help yourselves.”

G
illie was clean
, and evidently very tired. One moment he said he was hungry, the next he was asleep, thumb in his mouth, the rubber duck, his bath companion, clean and in the other hand.

Jesse’s head peeked in the doorway. “How’s he doing?” His voice was low.

“Asleep.”

“Got time to talk now?”

Alyssa looked down at her clothing, streaked with dust from Gillie’s and splashed with water. Torrent had said ‘after dark,’ and that could mean any time from now to… any time before the morning.

She might as well get this over with. She owed Jesse an explanation. Gillie was just as much his nephew as hers. “Sure.”

She gave him a quick gloss-over about Torrent’s appearance at their doorway asking for Gillie, the way he’d saved them from the privateers, and how she’d gone to check on him after the privateer stabbed him. And that he’d said he was Gillie’s father.

“Do you believe him?” Jesse’s eyes held suspicion.

“I can’t see why he’d lie. And how would he know about Melissa, and Gillie, including Gillie’s name? I don’t see how he’d know those things if he wasn’t who he says he is.”

“What are you not telling me?”

That I’m attracted to him. That I could see myself falling for this guy. That he has the clearest, most honest eyes ever.
“Nothing.”

Jesse shook his head slowly. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ll get to meet him yourself. You decide. He’s coming over tonight.”

“What? When?”

“After dark.” Alyssa shrugged. “We should go tell Sonya and Belinda.” She tucked the sheet around Gillie. “What about Omar?”

“Nineteen isn’t that old. He’ll be back around. I don’t see the privateers wanting a kid.”

Something about that logic bothered Alyssa, but she hoped he was right.

“I feel like I’ve disappointed you.” She looked down.

“No, sis. Don’t feel that way.”

“I hate that you have so much of a burden, all of us. And you’re only a few years older than Omar. You’re barely out of being a kid yourself.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go talk to Sonya and Belinda.”

T
orrent still couldn’t give
Cosmic Forces Team Eight an update by radio. He hoped his team hadn’t had any problems.

He’d find out soon enough. He was almost at the wall. He’d scale it, then make the trek to the grove that hid the transport.

His mind flew back to the privateers he’d killed. What if his team had encountered dozens of them? Or more? What if they had decent weapons? Weapons strong enough to take out a transport and everything in it from a good distance?

Goddammit.
He needed to get to them. They were fine, he told himself. He’d get a new radio that worked, and there’d be no more uncertainty like this again.

Under the cover of darkness, he headed to the spot in the wall where he’d hid his climbing gear and grappling hook.

He bent over to collect them from the blocks he’d displaced. As he rose, he found himself with a blade at his throat and a muscular forearm discouraging movement.

What the fuck?
How had anyone gotten the jump on him?

He bit back a growl of frustration, took a shallow breath, then with a skill that was instinctive and second nature, he disarmed the aggressor behind him and flipped him over his head. Swooping quickly to retrieve the aggressor’s knife, Torrent returned the favor by placing it on the other man’s neck, the sharp tip bringing forth a drop of blood that appeared white in his night vision.

“Torrent.” The man’s voice was a whisper.

That was the moment when Torrent turned his soldier-self off and looked at the face above the tip of the knife.

“Vector. What the fuck,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t reach you. I volunteered to come looking.”

Torrent gave Vector his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Damned radio. I could hear all of you, but it seems you couldn’t hear me.” Torrent looked at the searchlight probing the perimeter in random patterns. “Let’s get out of here. Those patterns aren’t as random as they seem, and we have twenty seconds to get out of its range.” He pointed toward a building. “There,” he said, and he took off at a sprint. Behind him he heard Vector’s running steps.

Once they were behind the building, Vector brushed off the dust on his clothing. “Any progress? Control wants to know.”

“I found the boy—the package—I think. I haven’t laid eyes on him yet. That’s tonight.” He rubbed his jaw. This still did not sit well on him—at all.
Not a fucking bit.
“Have you noted any changes after the interface was reworked?”

“Like what?” Vector played with his knife, tossing it hand to hand.

“Not sure.” He didn’t exactly want to tell Vector that things were off, that he felt emotions, or something. He wasn’t even sure precisely what or how himself.

“I know you better than that. What gives?” Vector sheathed the blade, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the building.

“Emotions, I guess.”

“Like love?”

Maybe.
Torrent shook his head. “No.”

“I’ve noticed my dick’s hard every morning.” Vector smirked. “I did miss you. Does that count?”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole.” Torrent laughed it off, but he had to admit he was happy to see the bastard. “You ought to head back.”

“Let me test my radio before I leave it with you.”

It didn’t work. It did the same thing as Torrent’s.

“Worked on the way over.” Vector fumbled with the buttons.

“I think something inside these walls jams the signals.” That was Torrent’s best guess.

“How will you let us know you have the package so we can come get both of you?”

“I’ll figure it out. I have to avoid privateers and Leaguers. Neither will appreciate my trespassing. I do have a Scancom now. Took two Scancoms off a couple of thugs.”

“How long before you get the package?” Vector was persistent. “I have to be able to give Control something solid to report back. You have no idea how much the fuckers are calling him. You’d think the package has state secrets the way they’re acting about getting him.”

“I watched the family. All I need is for them to trust me with him long enough to make it over the wall without calling the Leaguers.”

“Why not snatch and run?”

The mission didn’t sit well with him. And leaving the woman behind wasn’t something he wanted to do, just yet. “The directives. You read them. The package has to be alive, unharmed, and not adversely affected.” This was as good an excuse as Torrent could come up with.

“And?”

“And what you’re proposing would get him killed, injured, or emotionally scarred.”

Vector shrugged. “You take some things too literally.”

“Or I follow orders better.” Torrent handed his friend his radio back. “This won’t do me any more good than mine will.”

“So how long, then? Until you’re out?”

Never.
“A few days. A week at the most.”

“Whoa. I’ll tell Control. I’m not sure they’ll like that. For at least a couple days, though, we’re stuck here, whether you have the package or not. Throttle can’t repair the damage. A new transport will be here in two days.”

Torrent shook his head.

“I suggest you find a way to speed up your timeline, else Control might be ordered to send someone else in to do what you didn’t.”

Torrent didn’t like the sound of that. He was close to the team, but he didn’t want them to be the ones who had to make the decision to take the package from the dark-haired woman. They’d have to kill her in the process, that was evident, based on her personality and her relationship with her nephew.

“Fuck. I’ll see what I can do. Right now, I have plans to see to.” And a beautiful woman to go visit.

And the package.

The child,
he told himself.
You have to stop thinking of him as the package or you may call him that in front of them.

“Gillie.” He whispered the name in the dark. “Gillie.”

Not
the package
.

Gillie.