Red Handed (11 page)

“At your desks, each of you has a computerized notebook.”

I looked down at my desk, but saw nothing. Wait. There was the faint outline of a silver box. But it was not raised and seemed to be part of the desk.

“Place your hands on it,” Le'Ace instructed.

I did, and the moment my hands touched the silver, a virtual screen appeared, as did the shadow of a keyboard.

“The computer recognizes your fingerprints. As you type, the pages will be printed in your room.”

Okay. That was seriously cool.

“Let's begin with lesson number one. This,” Le'Ace said, “is an Arcadian.” The moment she spoke the alien name, an image appeared on the holoscreen behind her. A tall, white-haired, violet-eyed male stared down at us. He was beautiful. Mesmerizing. Powerful. Savage. Raw. I wanted to stare at him forever.

“He's also Mia Snow's boyfriend, so do not lust too much,” Le'Ace added, and there was genuine amusement in her tone. Not so emotionless after all.

“I thought dating aliens was against the law,” Jenn said, her dark eyes roving over the other students.

Especially for an agent. Right?

Le'Ace shrugged. “Most assume it is against the law. That is what the government wants you to think. Once it was, but now it is merely frowned upon. There is a punishment, though. Civilians will look upon you with disdain. But Mia is not someone who cares about that.” She eyed us, one by one. “The lesson here is that you must be prepared for the consequences if you decide to break any type of directive.”

I had so many questions about Mia and the alien, but Le'Ace continued the lecture. “I will occasionally bring an alien ally here for you to question. There is a Raka, a golden one, named Eden Black, who has killed more aliens than even Mia. Her insight is invaluable. There is a Targon, the strongest warriors to invade our planet, who has promised to visit. His name is Devyn and his telekinetic powers are vast.”

I couldn't wait to meet them and see them in action.

Le'Ace continued, “Enough about what is to come. Let us concentrate on today's lesson. While the Arcadians have bodies and internal organs very similar to ours, they possess many abilities, most of which originate in the mind. Some are psychic. Some are mind readers. Some can control your thoughts and actions.”

“How are we to guard ourselves from that?” I asked before I could stop myself. I didn't know proper procedure for questioning the teacher here. At my old school, I would have been sent to the office for speaking up without permission.

“I'll teach you,” she answered as if I'd done nothing wrong. “When the time comes.”

For several hours, she lectured about the Arcadians, about their overcrowded planet, and their genetic makeup, so different from ours.

I absorbed it all, typing constantly—and praying there weren't too many typos. It was fascinating.

“All right, girls,” Le'Ace said. “I've told you about the Arcadian body. Now I want you to apply what you learned. Go.” She waved a hand toward the door. “Ryan awaits you in the cage.”

Ryan?

My pulse thundered to a gallop. Whatever “the cage” was, I didn't care. I was just happy to get to see Ryan again.

We rode an elevator to the basement, each of us silent and unsure. To distract myself—Ryan!—I finally piped up with, “Has anyone been to the cage before?”

A chorus of “no” filled the small enclosure.

“I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't wait to see Ryan again,” Dani said with a wicked grin. “That boy is hot!”

Murmurs of agreement circled, and I fought a wave of jealousy. A part of me considered him mine. My property.
I
had a crush on him, which meant I wanted him to be hands-off to the other girls. So what that he was forbidden to date me? So what that he might not feel the same about me?

He was cute. He was (sometimes) sweet.

“Oh, cool,” Jenn said. “Look.”

I followed the direction in which she pointed. There were multicolored buttons on the side wall and there was a screen on the back wall that flashed images of Arcadians fighting humans.

A preview of our next class, perhaps?

“Word on the street is you've fought side-by-side with him, Phoenix,” Jenn said. “What's he like?”

I didn't have to ask who “he” was.

Dani's eyes widened. “You fought with him?”

“Yes,” I answered, “and he's okay.” I didn't want to increase their salivating.

“Okay?” Cara nudged my arm. “That's all? Come on. Surely there's more.”

“Nope. That really is all.” Except maybe,
he's mine
. And,
don't touch
.

When did you become so possessive
?

Since last night, when he'd invaded my thoughts and all I wanted to do was kiss him
.

“I wonder what we'll have to do in the cage,” I said, taking us back to the subject that had started all the wonderings about Ryan. Would we be locked up? Forced to fight each other? I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering how
that
would go over.

Boys could fight and make up, no problem. Girls couldn't. None that I'd met, at least. Girls held grudges for every scratch.

“I hate that we're forbidden to date the instructors,” Cara whined, disregarding my subject change. “I'm already imagining the things I could do to Ryan….”

Grrr
. My teeth gnashed together. Maybe fighting in the cage wasn't such a bad idea. Cara could use an introduction to my fist.

All this anger over a boy who probably doesn't remember your name?

He'd remember, I thought, chin lifting. He'd even tweaked my nose.
Actions of a brother to a sister, idiot
.

“If top brass is going to have a nondating rule like that,” Kitten purred, “then the instructors need to be ugly.”

Everyone laughed. Even me. She was right. So far, every instructor I'd seen was a candidate for a beefcake or angelcake holocalendar. I guess I understood the need for a certain body type, though. To catch predators, you had to be fast. You had to be strong. You had to be flexible.

I wasn't particularly fast. Or flexible. Yet. But I would be, I vowed. I'd work hard. I'd exercise. I'd—gag—eat right. Maybe Ryan would notice me as more than a sister type then.

“What kind of meals do they serve here?” I asked. More important, when was breakfast? If the food was anything like what I'd endured at rehab, I was going to suffer. Small portions, bland, and gross.

Before anyone could answer, the elevator doors glided open and the light inside it dimmed. All sense of amusement faded from our group as darkness enveloped us.

“What is this place?” Kitten whispered.

“I can't see anything,” Johanna said, unsure. “Can you see? Can anyone see?”

“It's like a black hole,” Lindsay breathed.

Like the others, I couldn't see anything but gloom and shadow.

“Do we enter?” Dani asked quietly.

“We might as well.” A little nervous, I took the lead and moved forward. I kept my arms outstretched, trying not to bump into anything. I encountered a wall and turned away from it. “This is probably a test.”

“Maybe we're supposed to stay in the elevator to pass,” Jenn said with a shaky lilt.

“Maybe that's the perfect way to fail.” I hit another wall and cursed under my breath. “We're in this together. We'll be fine.” A moment passed and none of them moved. Or rather, I didn't hear any of them move.

“All right,” Kitten said. “Let's do this.”

I felt her inch up behind me, latch onto my arm, and we moved forward together. I tripped once, twice, but kept going. The room we'd entered was blacker than the elevator and—wait. Three slivers of golden light trickled from the ceiling and onto the floor. I moved toward them, but couldn't make out any of the room's features. It was like stepping straight into midnight on an abandoned street.

A few seconds later, my eyes adjusted and I could finally see
something
beside black and three golden rays. The floors were concrete with jagged lumps scattered here and there. Rocks? My brow furrowed. Why were there rocks inside the room?

My palm brushed a wall, and I halted abruptly. I heard the others do the same.

“This is where you will learn to fight,” a male voice said, only a short distance away. Ryan's voice. “Welcome.”

I shivered.

He stepped into one of the muted beams, yet shadows still pulsed around him, hiding most of his face. He was a slash of dark in a room of black. “Jog in place while I speak,” he said.

“Wh—what?” I asked, still reeling from his sudden presence.

“You heard me.” His tone was stern, commanding. “Jog in place. All of you. Now.”

Pushing out a breath, I hopped into motion. Elbows and knees slammed into me as the other girls did the same. Grunting, I spread out as best I could. Stupid darkness. (Stupid Ryan. He hadn't seemed overjoyed to hear my voice.)

“You'll fight most aliens at night,” Ryan said, now amused. Could he see us? “So you must learn to fight them without seeing them. You'll fight most aliens outside, with nothing to cushion your falls. Therefore, you will train without any hint of softness underneath you.”

All around me, I could hear the girls panting. My skin was already beading with sweat.

“You will be hurt during these training sessions,” Ryan explained. “Get used to the idea now. I won't go easy on you, and I won't let you go easy on each other. The Outers won't.”

He paused.

Please tell us we can stop jogging. Please tell us we can stop jogging
. I'd gotten enough exercise with Mia.

He didn't, of course. “Starting out this way might seem cruel, but I'm actually doing you a favor. If you expect the worst, you'll be prepared for the worst. If you learn to fight past your exhaustion, you'll tap into a reservoir of strength you never knew you possessed.”

Air burned in my lungs, but I didn't slow my gait.

Ryan spoke for another five minutes before ushering us to one of the side walls, which we had to feel our way to find. “Sit.”

We did, finally able to catch our breath. Soon my eyes adjusted to the dark completely, and I was able to make Ryan out more clearly. And that, of course, was when he flipped on the lights. My lids blinked open and closed against the orange and red dots, trying to help my eyes adjust once again to the change.

When they did, I almost wished Ryan had left off the lights.

He looked good. Too good. Mouthwateringly good.

Today he was wearing a black T-shirt, black pants, and black boots. He was a shadow, even in the light. His dark hair was in disarray, and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. To him, we probably looked like tired, sweaty lumps of shit.

“Are you ready to begin?” he asked. He met each and every girls' stare—except mine. Me, he avoided looking at altogether and that made me frown. That wasn't just a little rude of him, that was flat-out harsh.

What had I done? Had I made him mad?

I scoured my mind, replaying our last conversation, but couldn't think of anything I had done to offend him. With that realization came anger. He had no right to ignore me. He had no right to treat me as less than the others.

“Well,” he commanded more coarsely. “Are. You. Ready?”

After everyone had nodded, he added more calmly, “Then let's do this.”

For the next hour, he showed us a few hand moves and the best way to hit an Arcadian—chest and head, throat and temple. Groin. The lesson corresponded perfectly with our lesson from anatomy class, since we'd studied Arcadians there. They were vulnerable where humans were vulnerable, except their airways were located in different places.

As Ryan demonstrated the moves, there was a fluid grace to him that I'd never seen with another man. He almost looked like a dancer.

Finally he had us stand up and do the moves ourselves. The first was a punch forward with open palm to either break a nose or slam into the breastbone, cutting off the Arcadian's air supply.

Second, we learned a knee jerk and dive. We raised a knee, hard, then bent over, swooping our torsos in a wide half circle. The purpose, Ryan said, was to hurt our opponent, then avoid their strike of retaliation, which was sure to come.

“Mimic my actions,” he said, kicking, straightening, turning, and kicking again. “Good, Kitten. Good, Jenn.” He proceeded to congratulate everyone, his voice dripping with praise. Me, not so much. I got a “good,” sure, but mine was muttered and he didn't say my name.

Maybe he
had
forgotten.

What the hell was going on with him?

Was everyone else the teacher's pet and I was just the unwanted slug? I ground my teeth together. I kicked straight, just as he'd done, then twirled and kicked again, his face a target in my mind. The girls, too, kicked and punched, then kicked again. I hadn't worked out in a long time (not counting Mia's workout and Ryan's jogging session) and after the first hour my muscles began burning. I began sweating—again.

Inside, I was cringing. Even though I was currently pissed off at Ryan, I didn't want him to see me like this. Truly, he'd only ever seen me at my worst. I mean, really. Not only was I sweating, but I was wearing the god-awful white pants and shirt every trainee was required to wear. And mine were a little too tight! Not good for a flat chest.

Kitten had taken—and needed—the larger clothing. Her breasts and hips were bigger than mine, a fact that would have made me jealous if Kitten weren't such a nice person.

“I need a volunteer,” Ryan said, “to demonstrate the next move.”

All the girls held up their hands. Except Emma, the tattooed one who hated all of us, and me, of course. Ryan still wouldn't look at me, and I wouldn't degrade myself by showing how eager I was to let him put his hands on me.

Deep down, though, I knew I'd like it—his hands on me, that is.

“Phoenix.”

Hearing my name from him gave me an odd little shiver. I blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Get up here.” He waved me over, still looking anywhere but me.

“Lucky,” Dani moaned.

My surprise intensifying, I walked slowly toward him. Each of my steps was measured, unsure. I couldn't help but wonder,
why me?
I mean, he
still
wouldn't glance in my direction.
Oh, wait
, I thought, frowning. He'd promised to be hard on us. He probably meant to pound me into the ground while “demonstrating.”

No way. No damn way. I popped my jaw, an action born of irritation and one I'd done a lot more lately, and quickened my step. He wouldn't find amusement at my expense.

When I was within reaching distance, he clasped onto my shoulders and spun me around so that I faced the girls. Just as I'd known I would, I liked it. I liked his hands on me. They were big and warm and calloused, almost like a live wire. I could feel the heat of him seeping into me.

The girls' expressions ranged from envious to amused to wicked and back to envious. Ryan's body nearly touched mine, chest to back, but he maintained a safe distance away.

I'd been with guys, so intimacy was no stranger to me. But I'd been with them for all the wrong reasons. Curiosity. Lying to myself, thinking it was what I needed to do to feel good about who and what I was. Craving affection I couldn't seem to find anywhere else. Now, this time, I wanted a boy to hold me because of who
he
was.

Why couldn't I have been attracted to a student?

Ryan stepped closer, his body brushing mine. He was so close, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, caressing. Goose bumps beaded over my skin. He squeezed my shoulders before wrapping his hands around my neck.