Destiny's Shift (6 page)

guy who leased the cars there. He went over and talked to the short man with the salt-

and-pepper hair, then handed him the keys to the Hummer.

“Thanks for everything, man,” Jovan said. The guy provided them with any car

they wanted when they were in Phoenix, and he didn’t ask questions. But Jovan supposed

with the amount of money the guy made off the Warriors, his silence was bought and paid

for.

“Anytime, my friend,” the man said and drove off in the Hummer.

Jovan watched him go and decided that he really liked that car and would see

about getting another one when he got to Reno. It was like driving at tank down the city

streets, except it was legal.

He turned back to where he had left Liberty and watched her as she studied the

plane, her arms across her chest. Her human form was pretty, but he couldn’t wrap his

mind around the fact that there was an SR44 female in there.

As he walked back to her, he realized that he was feeling particularly protective of

her. Sure, he felt protective of the other females in their little clan, but maybe it was

because of Liberty’s sheer innocence that he wanted to shield her from everything.

But having said that, he was the wrong guy for the job. His life was the hunt,

keeping to himself and the less people he came in contact with, the happier he was.

Well, not really happy. That was the wrong word. The more . . . sane . . . he was.

He couldn’t deal with all the negativity that people had rolling around within them,

especially humans.

He wasn’t the one who needed to keep an eye on Liberty. He didn’t need

interaction with others; he needed to remain in his closed-off box and keep his shit

together.

It wasn’t a pleasant existence, and when he thought of the future it looked like an

endless black hole with nothing to look forward to, nothing to be excited about. Destiny

was a bitch like that. She set you on a path, and there was little you could do about it

except roll with her uppercuts, hooks, and knees to the balls.

He often wished he could be like the others he lived with. They liked being

together, interacting, and loving each other. He was okay with everything as long as he

stayed on the sidelines and didn’t get too involved.

He was a spectator, watching those around him lead their lives, and participating

as little as possible.

Although, he really did like Abby, Faith, and Beverly. Those were three very

happy females, but even having too much contact with them wasn’t good because then he

realized what he was missing out on.

No, he was best off hunting Colonists and remaining boxed off from as much of

the world as possible. Except playing pool with Abby. Yeah, he loved that.

Jovan kept an eye on Liberty as they walked toward the plane.

Her face paled. “Jovan,” she said, grabbing his arm. There were two things he

noticed as she did this. First off, she was afraid. He could see it in her face. Second, he

couldn’t feel her fear, even though she was in contact with him, and that startled him into

a momentary silence.

“I can’t do this,” she pleaded. “Isn’t there another way for us to journey there?”

He looked down at where her hand laid on his forearm and thought about pulling

away, as he normally would when someone came in contact with him. Instead, he placed

his hand over her hand.

Nothing.

Then he concentrated.

Not a motherfucking thing.

What the hell?

He didn’t know whether to start slamming high fives at passing strangers or to be

worried he was dying or something.

“Jovan, please.”

Meeting her eyes, he said, “We’re going to be fine. I’ll get you a little something

for your nerves, okay?”

She didn’t look soothed by any means, and he could see that she was fighting

whether she should trust him or not.

After a moment, she bowed her head. “All right,” she said quietly, turning toward

the plane. When her hand left his arm, he found himself missing the warmth of her touch.

It had been so long he had touched, or been touched, by a stranger for more than a few

seconds at a time, that the feeling surprised him.

He watched her walk toward the plane and wondered why in the world he

couldn’t feel her emotions. As he followed her, he thought back to the alley where he had

felt her anxiety and fear come off her, and he’d been about three feet away from her at

that point. At the mansion there hadn’t been anything either, not that they were touching

each other in any way. But now, there was skin-on-skin and . . . nothing.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard any of her thoughts since the alley either.

Interesting. Maybe this uncontrollable gift or curse, whichever way you wanted to

look at it, was leaving him.

He caught up with her as she was about to take the steps up to the private jet.

Glancing up, he agreed that it didn’t look like something that would be safe hurtling itself

through space. It looked like a polished beer can on wheels, but these things had taken

him more miles around the world than he could count.

The captain poked his head out and yelled down a hello.
Now that’s a pretty

passenger.

Jovan looked at the captain who was eyeing Liberty. As she approached him, he

extended his hand.

I really need to call that lawyer about my divorce . . .

Jovan sighed.

So much for his gift leaving him.

Chapter 11

Liberty shook the captain’s hand and moved into the small tube that was supposed

to carry them through the air. She quickly counted eight tan chairs and wondered which

one she should take.

“Go ahead and sit wherever you want,” Jovan said, and it startled her; she wasn’t

projecting her thoughts, but somehow he knew what she was thinking.

Sitting down in one of the chairs, she felt the fine material beneath her fingers. It

was soft and smooth, and something that she had only felt in the Hummer vehicle and on

the couches of the magnificent house they had just left. When the captain sat down in the

pilot’s chair, she leaned across the aisle to Jovan.

“What is this material?” she whispered.

“It’s called leather,” he said quietly.

She ran her fingers over it some more and wondered if they made clothing out of

it, and if so, perhaps she would get some as she imagined that such softness against her

skin would feel wonderful.

A moment later, a female with long hair and a nametag that read Suzette

approached them wearing a uniform and a wide smile. She asked them if they wanted

anything to drink.

“I’ll have two shots of whiskey, and so will she,” Jovan said.

Liberty looked out the window. She had never tried whiskey, but it had been

ordered many, many times at the club where she toiled.

Jovan reached across the aisle and pulled down a small table from the seat in front

of her, and Suzette set down two small glasses that contained amber liquid. She watched

as Jovan picked one up and drank it all in one long swallow, then did the same with the

other.

Liberty picked up one of the small glasses. As she sniffed the brown liquid, she

felt a burning sensation in her nose and her eyes watered. She wasn’t sure she wanted it,

but then the door to the plane closed and the rumbling of the engines made her seat

vibrate in the slightest way.

Her fear rose and she glanced over at Jovan. “It will relax you,” he said with a

small smile.

Looking out the window, she saw that they were now moving. She took the small

glass and drank it in one swallow as she had watched Jovan do.

The liquid burned her mouth, her throat, and made her eyes water. After she

swallowed, she began coughing. When she finally got that under control, she noticed a

slow warmth blossoming from her stomach outward, almost as if her bones were taking a

warm bath, and relaxed.

After a moment, she looked out the window and noticed that they were airborne,

and she found herself only slightly uncomfortable. Taking the second glass of whiskey,

she drank that the same way as the first, except this time she didn’t cough as much.

The warmth throughout her body became stronger, and her brain began to fog in a

very pleasant way. She put her head back on her chair. Turning to Jovan, she smiled.

“I do believe I like this whiskey,” she said lazily, and felt her eyes begin to close.

Jovan watched Liberty sleep and realized what a horrible caregiver and role

model he was. Uncomfortable? Have a shot.

Or two.

Hungry? Macaroni and cheese or a Subway sandwich. Not that the sandwich was

bad, but he imagined that his fellow Warriors could do a little better.

Yes, he was certain they could. He had spent so many years taking care of himself

and distancing himself from everyone that he didn’t have much practice in taking care of

others. He wasn’t equipped to have others in his care. Hell, he was barely able to keep all

his mental ducks in a row.

What he needed to do was get Liberty back to the silo and let Abby and the other

females take over and show her the ropes of life on Earth, and then he could go back to

doing his own thing.

Alone
.

A bad feeling was cooking in his gut ever since he laid eyes on Liberty.

He turned to look out the window and sighed.

That guy back there reminds me a little bit of that Hudson guy who I had sex with

in the bathroom . . .

Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the thoughts of the flight attendant. He

didn’t need or want to hear her garbage, especially if it concerned Hudson. All he wanted

was a little bit of peace.

That guy in back is hot, but I’m not sure what the girl is to him. A sister?

Grabbing his head, he seriously wondered where he could sign up to get a

lobotomy.

Chapter 12

When the plane landed, Jovan looked out the window and saw Cohen waiting for

them next to a black Ford Expedition. Glancing over at Liberty, he gave her a smile as

her eyes opened.

“We’ve landed?” she said groggily.

“Yep.”

They stood and made their way out of the plane and over to Cohen. Jovan guessed

the temperature hovered around forty-five degrees even though it was sunny, and he

rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms to warm up.

“Hey, man,” Cohen said, offering a fist, but his eyes not leaving Liberty.

Jovan gave it a tap, feeling the confusion Cohen had rolling through him. “Hey.”

“What’s going on here?” Cohen asked.

“This is Liberty,” Jovan said.

Cohen stared at her a moment. “Nice to meet you, Liberty,” he said, sounding like

it wasn’t nice to meet her at all. Then he turned to Jovan. “A few words alone?”

The walked a few feet away. “Where have I seen that female before?” Cohen

asked in a low voice.

“The strip club last night.”

Cohen nodded, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose. “What the fuck, Jovan? Did

she crank your shaft so good that you had to bring her along?”

Jovan smiled. “It’s a long story, but that,” he said, hooking his thumb over his

shoulder, “is an SR44 female.”

Cohen flipped his sunglasses to his head. “Very funny, like Bugs Bunny funny.

This is serious shit, Jovan. We’ve got the FBI on our tails. We don’t have time to deal

with your female drama. We’ve got to batten down the hatches and man the cannons.”

Jovan smiled again. Cohen’s clichés really irritated some of their fellow Warriors,

but Jovan found it amusing. In fact, he was pretty sure Cohen didn’t even realize he did

it.

“Okay, Captain Hook. I get that. And I’m not shitting you. That is an SR44 female

who has been here for two weeks. After I left the club last night, I found her in the alley

where she was being harassed by a couple of human males. I dusted them up at bit, and

her and I both lit up.”

Jovan noted that Cohen’s jaw was about to come unhinged.

“You’re serious? Why didn’t Noah say anything?”

“Serious as a bad case of herpes, my friend. Not that I would know, but the shit

sounds awful . . . ”

Jovan explained that when he had called Noah the previous night, Noah had been

watching the FBI guy on camera and Jovan hadn’t gotten the chance to tell Noah of his

find.

“Why is she here? She had to come with others, didn’t she? Where are they?”

Jovan shrugged. “I don’t have all the details. She says she wants to tell the story

one time and one time only because it’s very painful for her.”

Cohen nodded and looked over Jovan’s shoulder. “That doesn’t sound good,” he

murmured.

“My thoughts exactly,” Jovan said. “And get this . . . she says she was born into

servitude.”

Cohen’s eyes met his again. “Bullshit.”

“Nope.”

“I thought that crap died a long time ago.”

“Me too, man. Me too.”

They stared at each other for another moment, then Jovan said, “It’s cold, Cohen.

My balls have crawled so far up I can almost feel them tickling my throat. Can we

leave?”

Cohen smiled, then looked over Jovan’s shoulder again. “Sure. We wouldn’t want

you choking on your balls, would we?”

Truly, it was very cold.

The sun shone, but the air had a brittle feeling to it, and she remembered from her