Rowe was one of the top recruits from the last session. He’s a massive physical threat. Skilled in martial arts, hand-to-hand, as well as with a variety of weapons. But he has an awful attitude and may be a sociopath.
“No, Rowe’s okay. A little rough around the edges, but he’ll be a good fit for a few assignments we’ve got lined up.” She pauses at the office door, fussing with the handle to give Owen time to scram if he came in. One look says the room is clear, and she enters with Jensen following. “Is it wrong for me to just come and check in on you?”
“No,” she says, sitting behind the desk. “But you’re busy and the bags under your eyes tell me you haven’t been sleeping much, so I doubt this is a social call.”
He chuckles. “You’re starting to be a good detective.”
She shrugs.
“Heard anything from our missing guy? Owen Parsons?”
Jensen won’t let this one go.
She shakes her head and lies through her teeth. “No. Should I have?”
“Not particularly. He vanished after the scene at the chemistry lab. I guess he skipped town.”
“Smart. If the Pixie Dust trade is really over, then there was no reason for him to stick around.” She does her best to keep her expression neutral. That becomes even harder when the air behind Jensen ripples and Owen appears for a brief second. Dammit. Sneaky bastard.
“Well, if you think he’s gone, then I’m going to close up that case. No reason to spend manpower on it.”
“What about WIND-E?”
“What about it?” he asks.
“James said the Pixie Dust was her business and that she had a much bigger plan to take down the city. He didn’t even mention this Owen guy. Why are you worried about him?”
“Ballistics came back on Atticus’s shooting. The evidence ties his death with a cold case tied to Owen Parsons’s house—another murder. At the very least, I need to talk to him about it. He could be a suspect or just a witness. This guy had his hands in a lot of pots.”
Jensen’s talking about Owen’s mentor, or his “aunt,” as he thought of her. She was shot dead in their kitchen and evidence led him to believe the Pixie Dust dealers were involved. Quinn and Astrid were convinced the deaths were related—now they have proof. All three of the mentors that took them in after the Project 12 program imploded are dead.
Someone is hunting the survivors, their group, and it’s possible they’re next.
Unfortunately, Jensen doesn’t know about the project or Astrid’s connection to these people. He also doesn’t know that she saw him go into a meeting with one of Demetria’s men, and maybe Demetria herself, after James told them the truth about her plans.
“James was a desperate man. High on drugs and power. You saw how he flipped out at the end.”
He didn’t flip out. Owen mind-tricked him and Jensen killed him, before they could ask any more questions about Demetria and her plans. She’s kept her opinions on this to herself, tied up with confusion. Jensen has always stuck by her side. Atticus trusted him unconditionally, but now their worlds are colliding—Owen and Demetria—and it’s getting harder to pretend.
He’s hiding something, and it cuts Astrid to the bone, but she also understands. She’s got her secrets, too.
Chapter Five
Quinn
Arson or Building Disrepair?
Who’s Responsible for the Harbor Line Fires?
The headline of the paper catches Quinn’s eye.
“Can I have this?” he asks the cashier, Cassie, at the smoothie shop.
“Sure,” she says, flashing him a flirty smile. He returns it, taking the kale and honey smoothie and the paper. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He comes to the shop every morning when he’s finished his six-mile run. It gives him a chance to cool off and fuel up. He brought one back to Astrid a few weeks ago and she poured it down the sink when she thought he wasn’t looking, and then shoved a doughnut in her mouth.
Dropping the paper on the nearest table, he’s about to sit when his phone rings. A glance at the screen shows a strange number but the image flashing is familiar.
Project 12.
“Hello,” he says, waving to Cassie as he ducks out the door. This call requires a little privacy.
“Charger! How’s the hottie behind the counter this morning?”
“Casper?”
“Duh, of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”
“You’re tracking me?”
“I’ve got my ways, bro. And seriously, Cassie is way into you. You should ask her out.”
Quinn dodges a car and crosses the street. The park is nearby, and he wants to get off the road so he can talk to Casper in relative quiet. “What’s going on man?” Quinn asks. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, I had some work to do getting this place set up, but now I’ve got the phone lines secured so we can talk.”
“You’re sure it’s secure?”
“Do you think I’d call otherwise?”
Not a chance. Paranoia seems to be Casper’s number two character trait, with the first being a computer and technology genius.
“As much as I love chatting like this, I’m sure there’s a reason you called,” Quinn says, moving to a bench overlooking the lake. It’s early enough there are only a few joggers out.
“Let’s talk about these fires. I saw the footage on TV and had access to your screen cameras. Shit looked intense.”
“It was. Scary as hell. We’ve trained for a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.”
“The media is pushing these fires back on the building’s owner. Calling them unsafe and out of code.”
“What do you think?”
“Demetria and her company, WIND-E, owns them, so anything is possible.”
“Fuck. Seriously?” That woman’s claws are in everything. “What about all her talk about saving the Swamp and the less fortunate? Burning down their homes doesn’t fit with that narrative.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Charger,” Casper laughs. “I did a little more digging and found records of offers on all three buildings in the last three years. All rejected by WIND-E. Someone wants them and she won’t sell.”
Quinn leans over and stares out at the lake. “Who made the offers?”
“A company named Metamorphosis. They’re the ones behind ninety percent of the building on the Harbor Line.”
“Wow, okay. I’ll do a little ground work and see what I can find about this business.”
“Great, thanks.” Casper pauses. “Is Echo okay? Last night got a little rocky for her.”
“Yeah, no doubt she had a nasty experience last night. She avoids using her power so much that when she does, it knocks her on her ass. But we worked through it.” He curbs the smile on his face and shakes the smugness out of his voice. “I definitely think she’s better now.”
“Keep helping her,” Casper says. “Owen, too. I’ve been reading up on Atticus’s notes about her ability. It’s more emotionally complex than we can understand. Very taxing. She’s going to have to address it at some point, including a way to control it better.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“You learned how to manage your electrical input and output. I think she can, but it will take some work and training.” A chime rings in the background. “That’s my breakfast burrito. Gotta run, man. Keep up the good work and don’t forget: I’ll be watching.”
The line disconnects, and Quinn sighs and leans back into the bench, trying to figure out if Casper watching is a good thing or just a really weird pervy thing.
Probably both.
Chapter Six
Owen
“Casper is worried about you,” Quinn informs Astrid when he returns from his run.
“You talked to him?”
“Yeah, the little punk is definitely spying on us,” he looks around the room, searching for cameras or anything else out of place. He even holds up his hands, trying to feel the electrical current or whatever it is he does. He shakes his head.
“How much is he spying?” Astrid asks. She and Quinn exchange a look. “Like when I’m in the shower spying?”
“I’ll break his ghost face if he is,” Quinn promises.