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“I still don’t understand.”
“I remember every single encounter that we've ever had. I know the exact date, day and time. Every memory I have is of you as a child.”
“I’m not a child anymore.”
“That’s the thing, you are. You’re seventeen. I took advantage of you and now I will never forget that. I should have stopped it.”
“I’m almost eighteen,” I snap. “And you can compartmentalise it anyway you like, but it brought you back and I don’t regret it. Without you our team would crumble. Seriously, who would take charge? Kai?” I snort at the thought. “He can’t even dress himself until after a shit load of caffeine. Creed and Chester would just kill anyone who pissed them off and then tattoo and fuck. Trace gets too emotional. So that leaves you, and we all need you.”
“It doesn’t remove the fact that I took advantage of you.”
I scoff. “You were in no state to take advantage of me. If anything it was me who took advantage of you, so how about we call it even and not let this awkwardness continue. And I’m always open to a repeat performance if that makes it easier for you to process.”
His eyes snap to mine and I can see the lust sitting behind his hooded eyes. He wants it, but he would never admit it.
“It can’t happen again.” He states vehemently, shaking his head.
“That’s a shame really because the guys have put a no sex ban on me unless it’s with one of you and if that’s the case the same applies for all of you. How long until your hand no longer cuts it?”
He shakes his head at me again and ignores what I say, but I can tell he is thinking about us. “Is there a reason you came here,” he asks, taking a seat again and I follow, plopping back into my chair.
“Yes, actually. I was thinking and we all know that can be dangerous. Jimmie is here, apparently on a side job, but doesn’t it seem weird that there are three teams here? Mr. Z says it's for me, though isn’t that overkill? Unless someone is after me and we all know it’s not his brother. He would have killed him years ago if he really thought he was a threat or there is something else going on that no one is telling me.”
“We have thought the same thing. It’s not related to Jimmie's case because that one isn’t overly serious to need to call in this many teams. If there was a case we would know, he would want us to be gathering intel. Colt and Summer’s teams were told to protect you. So it has to do with you but we don’t know in what capacity as to why yet. We have our best contacts helping and if we find out anything we will let you know.”
“You better. I’m part of this team now and I want to be treated as such. I want to up my training and move past self-defence. I need to know how to use a gun; how to use any weapons, really. Everything I’m being taught I already seem to know, I’m just a little rusty.”
“Fine, I will put together a schedule and we can start tonight. I will ask Creed to show you how to use a knife. If he asks you to put an apple on your head and he will hit the target, please don’t. He only has a ninety-five percent accuracy.”
“I guess I better go back to class.”
Brennan agrees with a nod, and I get up from my seat giddy that I get to finally learn something real. Something that I can actually use to save my life.
13
Jolie
The days quickly turn into weeks, and we’re still no closer to knowing why Mr. Z has so many people at the school. My training is going well. I can now confidently say I could shoot and kill someone at least seventy percent of the time. Which is good enough odds for me.
Today I finally get to meet my uncle Ziyon. I’ve been growing impatient wanting to know what his plans are. So far, I have been putting in the hard work getting to know Mr. Z and finding out what his connection is to some secret organisation. There's no chance in hell that I would hand the company over to a man that I have never met, and if he really could take down Mr. Z, why hasn’t he done it yet. There are so many unknowns in this situation, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
Brennan drives us to an underground parking garage in a less than desirable neighbourhood. Apparently Ziyon doesn’t let more than one of the guys into his house at a time and that in itself tells me that he is scared of them.
After weaving through a few rows, he finds an empty spot, and parks. We both exit the car simultaneously, and I smooth down my blouse as we walk to what looks like an elevator. Brennan reaches out, placing his hand on a black box off to the side of the metal doors. A beep rings out in the expansive space as it scans his finger, and the doors slide open. We both step inside, and after another scan of his finger, the elevator jolts, but instead of going up, we start moving down. When the doors finally slide open, the view of an underground tunnel greets my eyes. It’s nothing fancy, just looks like a really large water drain. Our only visibility is from the torch on Brennan’s phone that he turned on the second we stepped out.
“We have to walk from here. It’s about one kilometre, so it shouldn’t take us longer than ten minutes.”
“What a load of shit, Brenny. I dressed up for this. These,” I point to my shoes, even though he can’t see them, “are not walking heels,” I complain.
“I did try to warn you that you should have worn more comfortable shoes.” he says as we continue walking, the click clack of my heels echoing through the tunnel.
“Right.” I mutter and roll my eyes “Then I couldn’t have worn a power suit and looked like I actually have my shit together. First impressions are important.”
We keep moving forward, and I wonder to myself how many of these underground tunnels there are. It makes sense that someone wanting to not be tracked would go underground where there is no service. Unless we have microchips inside of us. If we are viewed as someone’s property, wouldn’t that make sense? Since I was away for years I would have to presume that I’m not or Mr. Z would have brought my ass right back. That makes me wonder why he hasn’t chipped us–does he think he holds that much power over everyone? If he does, his ego must be so damn big.
“Are we microchipped?” I ask.
“Yes. But Marlow managed to hack into our chips so we have full control and can scramble the signal for a few hours. If Mr. Z decides to check on us, it will look like we're still in the parking garage. The building is registered as a clothing store, so he will just think we are out shopping.”
