Renegade (20 page)

This was the way I’d always known it would end. Inevitable, from the first moment I discovered what I really was. And, despite coming to terms with my own otherness, I didn’t blame Hunter. After all, it had taken me a long time to get here.

I turned away from him. No longer able to bear the repulsed expression on his face.

“This doesn’t change anything. We’ve still got to find a way out.”

Hunter’s strangled gasp punched me straight in the gut. “Doesn’t change anything? Are you out of your mind? It changes everything.
Everything!
”

I whirled back, concerned that he was overexerting himself. Sure enough, his legs trembled, and his forehead beaded with sweat. But his eyes glittered with a dark, feverish anger.

It felt awful, knowing I brought out the worst in him. But I couldn’t back down. “Why? Because I’m different than you? Trust me, I’m not as different as you might imagine. I think. I feel. I want.”

“Don’t try to turn this around on me! That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

I winced.

“And it’s not because you’re different. Even though we’re not talking you’re-from-out-of-town-and-like-to-eat-with-your-toes different here and more like this-makes-me-wonder-if-I’ve-been-sniffing-glue different. It’s not,” he insisted, when I shot him a skeptical look. “Not just that anyway. It’s because you’ve been lying to me from the start. About everything.”

I had no comeback for that. I mean, I could argue that I hadn’t known from the start, either, but what was the point?

I stared at the floor, my eyes swimming with tears.

“Can you name even one thing you’ve been honest about? One part of your life where you told me the truth? Or how about just telling me something that’s true right now?” His voice was soft now, resigned.

I lifted my head bravely, even as the tears slid down my cheeks. A million thoughts poured through my head.
You’re amazing. No one has ever made me feel this alive.
But what finally came out was pure. Simple. And unfortunately, far too late.

“I love you.”

For a moment, the hard shell of his expression cracked, and I caught a glimpse of the old Hunter beneath. The vulnerable, open, easy boy I’d fallen for. His lashes fluttered down, and he sighed. But then the stranger’s mask slipped back on. His eyes were guarded, before he presented me with his back. Not even acknowledging what I’d said. “You were right—we need to focus on finding a way out.”

Unable to bear his rejection, my phantom heart cracked, shattered, burst. I stared at his rigid shoulders and decided we needed a plan. Because the faster we escaped Jensen’s garage, the faster I could get away from Hunter.

At this precise moment, the idea of being stuck with him in a confined space was more terrifying than a thousand Hollands.

I walked the perimeter of the room. If even one of the lasers had a weakness, maybe we could force our way out.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, as he eased himself back onto the table. His face held an unnatural pallor that worried me.

“Inspecting the lasers to see if there’s a chink in the system.”

Keeping a respectful distance this time, I started at the one closest to the door and worked my way clockwise around the room.

“You can tell? Just by looking at them?”

“I can sense the voltage.”

Silence, so I resumed my inspection. Two hundred and twenty-two stops later, I was back in the center of the room. Whatever tiny bit of hope I’d been clinging to regarding a flaw in the system had long since disappeared. All the beams were functional, and they were way too close together to even attempt to squeeze through. I’d pulled a ladder into the middle of the room and pounded on the ceiling, but it was every bit as solid as the door.

It was like Hunter and I had been locked away in a glowing, metal tomb.

In frustration, I picked up the nearest object—Jensen’s keyboard—and chucked it at the lights with all my might.

Sparks exploded like fireworks. Without thinking, I dove for Hunter and threw myself on top of him, protecting his body with my own. Lightning streaks of red flashed overhead. I had hoped that maybe the power would dim somehow, but the red poles glowed as brightly as ever.

I became aware of Hunter’s stiff body beneath mine, and scrambled back. “Sorry, I was trying to . . .” I scooted away, blowing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. No sense explaining.

“I know what you were trying to do,” he said, in a hard-to-decipher tone. A pause. “So basically, we’re stuck inside a giant booby-trapped garage, in a prison made out of . . . of . . . lights? Who the hell is this guy, anyway? Since obviously he’s not your father.”

He wasn’t and yet . . . he kind of was. “He’s former military. Part of the original project to create me. Then he left and fell in with another group who wanted to steal me from the government, and ultimately left them too.”

He pondered that. “So what you’re saying is, he’s some kind of whacked-out loner?”

Yeah. That about summed him up.

“What does he want with us?”

This one was simple enough to answer. “I don’t know.”

What I did know was that none of the possibilities were good.

“Jesus,” he muttered. He forgot about his injury and shoved both hands into his hair, then yelped and grabbed at his shoulder. He chewed his lower lip, suddenly thoughtful. “This other group who wants to steal you—is that the Vita Obscura?”

I nodded absently before realizing my mistake. Too late.

His eyes narrowed, and his chest rose and fell. “You thought I was part of a group that was trying to steal you? And then what?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, clenched my hands together and opened them again. No sense in lying now. “They want to take me apart and assess my technology. Strip me and sell off the most valuable pieces.”

I watched his jaw muscles work, beneath his skin. Teeth clenching and unclenching. “And that . . . GPS thing you found? That’s one of theirs?”

I nodded. “Mom and I found one when they were chasing us before.”

A curt nod, that was all. I had no idea what he was thinking. Maybe it was better that way.

“You never trusted me at all, did you?” A hint of sadness. Of resignation.

“That’s not true,” I whispered. “I just didn’t really trust myself.” No response, so I said, “You should sit down, try to get some rest.”

“You think I can just lie down and sleep? Now?”

I hadn’t said that sleeping would be easy, not after all the shocks he had had. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try. If we were going to escape, he needed to be as rested as possible. And even then—

A shrill buzzing sounded.

I frowned, shook my head. Thinking it might just be internal.

“Is everything okay?” Hunter asked, with a slight frown. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was worried. But that was just me being hopeful.

“Do you hear that?” I asked, while at the same time, my prompt flashed:

The buzzing rose, higher and higher, drowning out everything but the insistent drone. Around us, the red light beams of our prison pulsed brighter.

“Hunter?” I whispered, hands over my ears, watching the lights with growing suspicion.

“I see it.”

The buzzing subsided and a rumble sounded from overhead. It felt like the entire garage shuddered. Then a whir, coming from the direction of the automatic door.

“Get up!” No time to worry over his sensibilities now. I reached down, preparing to yell if necessary, but to my surprise he clasped my outstretched hand and allowed me to pull him to his feet. As he gained his balance, the red lights flashed off.

I steadied him, then took a step forward, ready to act as a shield, while beneath the door, a strip of dim light formed.

“Get ready. The garage door is opening.”

Hunter moved up and wrapped his hand around mine. I fought not to be undone by the relief and comfort I felt by his presence. I glanced over at him. His features were set in a determined mask.

The door continued to rise at an ominously slow pace, revealing a pair of narrow black boots with just a hint of a heel. A woman’s feet.

More ground was revealed, showing more feet in the background—four pairs. But not all soldier’s boots, as I’d been expecting. Boots, navy blue high-tops, white-and-yellow track shoes, black basketball shoes. No uniformity.

I allowed myself a moment of hope. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe Jensen had called people to help. Because so far, this didn’t have the feel of an organized army.

A flicker in the red words. And then:

I shook my head again to clear it. Perhaps there was some interference? But I was distracted by the garage door continuing its grinding climb, revealing more of the scene on the driveway.

The shadows brightened into recognizable shapes for just an instant, long enough for me to make out Jensen’s SUV a few feet away, and beyond it, a white van, at the far end of the driveway.

My hand tightened on Hunter’s. I tried to remain focused, despite the panic clawing its way into my heart. There were five of them, and I had no idea if they were armed. Maybe I could engage them by myself—but with Hunter to protect . . .

Although he’d rejected me, I could never reject him.

I shifted my attention back to the woman in front. She stood the closest, so the automatic outdoor lighting was enough to inspect her. Black pants. Black shirt, under which I could detect the faint outline of a vest. Kevlar? Finally, the door rose high enough to reveal a round face with familiar cheekbones. She had short blond hair, wide-set eyes.

Faded blue eyes. A variation of which I’d seen a hundred times before . . .

Beside me, Hunter’s startled intake of breath confirmed my suspicions.

“Mom?”

A
man of average height with broad shoulders stepped out of the shadows into the light. Overall, there was nothing particularly memorable about his appearance. Faintly receding brown hair, oval-shaped face. Neither slim nor obese. Attractive in a plain way. The kind of man you’d see and never think of twice.

Only, I recognized him, too.

“Peyton?” Hunter’s stunned exclamation confirmed it.

The man was Peyton Lowe. Hunter’s stepfather.

Once Hunter’s initial shock faded, he released my hand, his relief evident. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you guys. How did you know where we were?” He half turned to me. “Mila, that’s my mom, Sophia, and my stepdad, Peyton.”

Sophia gave me a hesitant smile, while Peyton nodded. I gazed at the pair of them, taking in more details. Sophia wore little makeup, and though her good posture suggested confidence, the way she shifted her weight from side to side meant she was a little antsy. That fit with the ragged skin next to her nails, which suggested a nervous biting habit.

Peyton, on the other hand, stood easily, with a quiet confidence that hinted at capability under pressure.

I searched with my android sensors for any hint of weapons.

Nothing but static. Still jammed. Or, possibly some residual damage from Jensen’s booby trap. Speaking of . . . where was he?

I eyed Peyton over the top of Hunter’s head, taking in the outline of Kevlar under his shirt. Hunter’s parents, showing up here just when we needed them, decked out in Kevlar? Suspicion whispered down my spine.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get the hell out of here, before that crazy guy gets back.” Hunter tugged at my wrist, but I refused to budge. He might not have asked the right questions yet, but I had. And the answers I’d come up with weren’t promising. Not for me.

“Come on, Mila,” Hunter said, frowning.

I shook my head, my gut slowly sinking as, when Peyton took an easy step forward, I made out a telltale silver instrument, sticking out of his pocket. As my eyes zeroed in on that small, rectangular device, my body twitched. I remembered the feeling of being shocked into flat-lining all too vividly.

“Ask him again how they knew to come here,” I said. Softly. Staring right at Peyton.

Peyton sighed before giving the faintest of nods, acknowledging my challenge with a hint of admiration glinting in his eyes. Clearly he appreciated my brazenness. “Move away from her, Hunter,” he ordered.

“What’s going on?” Hunter said, his gaze switching from me to Peyton.

I turned my head to gauge his expression, to see if somehow, this was an elaborate act. If I’d been right before, about Hunter’s role in all this. But no. Genuine confusion creased his brow, and his eyes were guileless. Besides, why would he bother to lie at this point? This was checkmate, and I was the losing player.

The perplexed furrow in his brow deepened. “How
did
you guys know to come here? I thought you were away on business? Did the police find out somehow and call you?”

I wondered how long it would take Hunter to puzzle out the truth. I couldn’t be certain until they confirmed it, but I had a pretty good idea. My hands trembled, and I crossed my arms to hide them. Please, please, let me be wrong.

Just then, the wall that’d stopped me from using my android senses faltered. In the blink of an eye, I scanned the people in the driveway. Behind Hunter’s mom and slightly to the left were two males.

And then I felt a faint fluttering in my mind, like someone was thumbing through pages of memories.

In a burst of color, a different image of the second man appeared, standing in the doorway, in a workman’s disguise. Short, burly, wearing a navy hat. Then, the wall snapped back into place.

I’d seen enough, though. He was the man who’d tried to break into our motel room, back when Mom and I were on the run, and also the man whose fingerprint was on the GPS device on Hunter’s Jeep. Apparently my computer brain had the ability to store images and recall them on command. Did that mean everyone I’d ever met was lurking somewhere inside my mind?

The man glared at me, and I recalled another fact—he was also the guy whose partner I’d stabbed in the brachial plexus with a hair dryer and threatened to torture for information. A man who definitely held a grudge, based on the way his dark eyes burned through me. His fingers stroked the Taser, almost lovingly.

I’d also scanned the other two. They all wore a mishmash of clothing and of the five, I could only tell that two of them were armed. But both of them had weapons of choice for dealing with runaway androids.

Tasers.

Based on the eclectic dressing choices, this group had nothing to do with Holland. And I could only think of one other group who’d know to have a Taser at the ready.

Peyton’s watch made a sudden noise, and he looked down, frowning. “Like I said, we can discuss all of that later.”

He didn’t look like a bad guy. Just an everyday businessman, or banker, or high-school teacher. I glanced at Hunter. A father. Not that you could always tell by looking, of course. But I didn’t see cruelty in the lines of his face, the curve of his lips, the depths of his eyes. Just a quiet confidence; a belief in his ability to get things done.

Peyton stepped forward, and I took a matching step back. Hunter cringed a little.

“Look, Hunter, there’s a lot to explain,” Peyton said. Though he spoke to Hunter, his shrewd eyes never left me. His limbs held coiled tension, but he wasn’t stressed. Just ready. Whoever this man was, he was no ordinary businessman. Cruel or not, he was far too comfortable in this role. “Later. Right now, we need to get you kids into that van and out of here, before it’s too late.”

“No.” The rejection shot out of me before I could stop it. “You need to answer his questions first.”

Sophia shook her head, her worried gaze darting over her shoulder. She appeared steady and calm, but I noticed that her hands kept flitting toward her mouth before balling at her sides. Trying to fight off the urge to chew. And, every so often, she’d continue her side-to-side sway as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. For whatever reason, she wasn’t as at ease in all this as her husband was. If Peyton was the calm, self-assured businessman, then she was the harried, overworked, underconfident housewife. “Once we’re in a safe location, we can tell you everything.”

Hunter looked from them to me and back again. I watched realization dawn. “Are you telling me—you guys work for the government, too?” His accusatory question was for his parents, but I was the one who answered.

“No. They work for the Vita Obscura.”

Hunter mouthed the words after me, “
Vita Obscura
.” He scowled. “Not that again.” He turned back to his parents. “Tell her how crazy that is. Tell her,” he repeated, when neither of them spoke at first. “Tell her you know nothing about this Vita Obscura.”

Sophia’s tired eyes met Peyton’s. He gave her a swift nod, once again demonstrating that he was the one in charge. She smoothed her hands on her pants and sighed. “Actually, she’s right. We are with the V.O.”

The news clearly didn’t sink in at first, because Hunter just stood there, looking expectant. Several seconds ticked by before realization hit. Hunter visibly recoiled. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. That can’t be true.”

The look he threw at me was a cocktail of pain—guilt and horror—and my stomach clenched for him. For both of us.

“Look, it’s not what you think—”

“Stop!” He threw his hand out. “Stop.
I
don’t even know what I think yet, so I know damn well you don’t.”

“Hunter!” Peyton snapped, his muscular body going rigid with tension. “Don’t speak to your mother like that.”

“Sorry,” Hunter responded reflexively. Then he laughed, but the sound was harsh. “Seriously? You just told me that you’re part of some secret, illegal espionage group, but you’re worried that I said
damn
? Unbelievable.” His fists bunched at his sides, and his eyes closed. I watched him battle for control, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Here’s what I think,” he said, when he could finally speak. “I think you’re telling me you’re part of an organization that’s been hunting Mila down and trying to kidnap her. I think you’ve been lying to me, all this time, about where you’ve been going. Business trips? Jesus.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, forgetting about his injured arm, and flinched.

Maternal concern twisted Sophia’s face. Her hands fluttered helplessly as she stepped forward. “Hunter, are you okay?”

He laughed again—a raw, humorless bark. “Am I okay?” he mused, like he was contemplating the weather. “What do you think? I just . . . first Mila, and now you. This can’t be happening. This can’t be my life.”

He dragged his good hand through his hair, then stopped abruptly. “Oh my god,” he said, with dawning horror as more puzzle pieces clicked together. “You’re the ones who told me to be nice to the girl I saw at Dairy Queen. To make a new friend. You knew, didn’t you? Even then, you were setting me up. Lying. Have you been tracking me this whole time? Tracking
us
? I know this was probably Peyton’s thing, but Mom, how could you?”

That last was a little boy’s plea, one that broke my heart. A plea that dredged up memories. My mom, finally telling me the truth, and the aching despair I’d felt, knowing she’d lied. Hunter had been there for me. Had helped ease the pain a little.

“How could you lie to me, after everything that happened with Dad?”

He was shouting now, so I reached out to touch his arm. Hoping to give him even a tiny measure of the comfort he’d given me. “Hunter, try to calm down.”

A brief hesitation, an indrawn breath. For a moment, I thought I’d gotten through.

Then, he snatched his arm away and whirled on me. “Calm down? How can I calm down? Of course, it’s probably easy for you to say. It’s not like you were telling me the truth all along either.”

His words said one thing, but his eyes another. They were frantic. With his back to his parents, he mouthed, “
Get ready to run
.”

I froze, stunned into silence, and something flickered across his face. Pain. Regret, maybe. But then he turned away, striding toward an opening in the driveway. As he walked, only one thing went through my mind.

After everything I’d put him through, he was still trying to help me.

My eyes stung with unshed tears, but I willed them away. He was right. If I wanted a fighting chance of escaping, I had to do it now.

“I’m getting the hell out of here. I need time to think.”

The man from the motel room moved to block his path, and Hunter practically snarled. “Back off.”

“Riggs, step aside,” Hunter’s stepfather said.

“I don’t need you to speak on my behalf,” Hunter yelled, turning to face Peyton. “I don’t need you to speak at all. Don’t think I don’t know that you got her into this. I trusted you!”

“Hunter, now is not the time—” Peyton started, but after a meaningful glance over his shoulder at me, Hunter whirled, his shoulder bumping Riggs.

Now.

I broke into a run, but as I flew forward, I caught a glimmer of motion from Riggs as his expression soured. Everyone else’s eyes were on Hunter, so no one else watched his hand go to his Taser.

Leave him
,
the logical part of my brain demanded. This was my only shot.

My heart rebelled.

As Riggs lifted the Taser and took aim at Hunter, I shifted course.

“Get down,” I yelled desperately, when Riggs fumbled for the switch.

Sophia screamed, “Stop!” but she wasn’t close enough to help. I dove for Hunter at the same time Riggs flicked the switch, knocking him to safety just before the Taser discharged. It sizzled across the driveway harmlessly.

Shock trapped my feet in place. Eleven hundred volts? That Taser was set for me. If it had hit Hunter . . .

A yank on my arm made me stumble forward. “Mila, run!” Hunter hissed. I allowed him to pull me forward and we headed toward the driveway.

Peyton’s angry shout sounded as he rounded on Riggs, but I didn’t pay attention. Our feet pounded the asphalt. All the while, all I could think was,
Please don’t let them hurt Hunter. Please.

“The van!” he whispered, pointing at the stationary vehicle at the end of the driveway.

For the first time, hope rose in my throat. Maybe we did have a chance, after all. If we could get inside the van, with just a little head start . . .

“No Tasers!” Sophia yelled from behind us. “It’s too risky!”

If my sensors weren’t jammed and only allowing some information to trickle in, I would have known about the two men with ample warning. Instead, my first inkling was when one jumped out from behind the car. He grabbed at my arm, tearing me from Hunter’s grip and catching me completely off guard.

Hunter stumbled, going down on one knee, while the man jerked me off balance.

I recovered before he could make a second move. I broke the guard’s grip on my elbow with one fluid motion, before using that momentum to crank his arm into a painfully awkward position. My right foot whipped out and slammed into his right knee.

The measurement flickered in front of me at the exact same time he grunted in pain. The next moment, he was on the ground, clutching his injured knee soundlessly.

Another man rushed Hunter from the side. I intercepted, hit him with a hard uppercut to the kidney. I feinted closer to follow up, only to feel someone closing in from behind. I dropped low and whirled, sweeping the third man’s feet out from under him. As he fell back I followed, diving onto him and slamming his head into the ground.