Resistance (The Variant Series #2) (36 page)

“Don’t, Alex,” he said. “Don’t you
dare
apologize for what they did to you. This wasn’t your fault.”

Gently, Alex pulled away and took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, though this time for a different reason. “I can’t.”

Declan studied her for a long moment. “We should get you home,” he said finally.

A cool breeze rippled the branches of the trees lining the small creek, prompting Alex to pull her blazer more tightly around her. The material was wet and cold at her upper back.

She reached up a hand to examine it. Her fingertips came away wet.

Blood had soaked through her curls when the back of her head met with the cement wall, then caked onto her collar and the back of her blazer.

That must have been the blood Cassie had been so concerned about. In comparison, the cut on her cheek had hardly bled at all.

She and Declan rejoined the group just as Murphy was saying his goodbyes.

“Always an interesting night when you’re in town, O’Connell,” he said,  “Though this one might have been a bit
too
interesting, for my taste. Call me if you make it home for your birthday next month. We’ll celebrate it good and proper.”

Declan’s smile seemed a bit forced. “Thanks, Murph.”

“So is
anyone
going to explain to me what happened here tonight?” asked Holly, her arms akimbo as she watched her brother slip around the corner of the building.

“Nope,” Declan replied.

She sighed. “One of these days, O’Connell, you’re going to come home and have a nice, quiet,
normal
evening out at McGinty’s. So long as it’s not the middle of exams, be sure to invite me along when you do. Oh, and bring your sister, too.”

In the soft glow of the streetlight, Alex could just make out Kenzie’s blush.

“Never gonna happen,” said Declan. “When have I
ever
had a nice, quiet,
or
normal evening here at home?”

“Eh. Good point,” she said. “Alright, ya’ dope.” Holly looped her arm through Declan’s. “Much as I’d love to stay for the
craic
, I’ve got an exam in four hours. Take me home, O’Connell? It was…
strange
meeting you all. But it was
lovely
seeing you again, Mackenz—”

She was cut off mid-sentence by Declan’s jump. He reappeared an instant later, sans Holly.

“We need to get home,” said Cassie. “Aunt Cil’s going to flip if she calls the house and we’re not back yet.”

“Which reminds me of the whole reason we came here,” said Kenzie. “Masterson’s been spotted in Bay View, so Cil and Grayson don’t want Alex left alone. Nate’s MIA so you two’ve been tagged for bodyguard duty.”

Declan and Aiden exchanged a look.

“Masterson’s in Bay View?” asked Aiden.

“Yeah,” said Cassie. “And what Cil and Grayson
don’t
know, is that he showed up at the opening gala tonight masquerading as Connor.”

Kenzie shuddered. “
Still
freaked out that I was standing
right there in front of him
and didn’t even have a clue. I mean, how many
other
times has that happened and I just didn’t realize it?”

“Masterson was at the party tonight?” asked Declan. His grim countenance slid back into place. “
Dammit
,
Nate.
”

Alex arched a brow. “What’s Nathaniel got to do with it?”

“He was supposed to be there with you at the gala,” said Aiden. “He never showed?”

Alex shook her head.

“He’s not answering his cell, either,” said Kenzie.

“Something must have come up,” said Aiden.

“Like
what
?” asked Declan. “And why didn’t he let one of us know about it?”

“Okay, Nate not showing up is weird, I’ll grant you,” said Cassie. “But we’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”

Cassie was right.

If Alex didn’t get back home, and fast, there’d be no keeping their detour to Ireland a secret. She needed to get rid of her stained and ragged clothing and wash the blood off
ASAP
.

But as the group jumped back home to Bay View, Alex couldn’t help but wonder… what
had
happened to Nate?

— 28 —

N
athaniel struggled with the handcuffs holding his arms behind his back. The jagged metal circles dug a little deeper into his wrists with every attempt.

He grimaced.

No dice. Whatever these cuffs were made out of, his TK wasn’t strong enough to break the connecting links.

Nate’s growl of frustration prompted his cellmate to turn away from the shiny black bars he’d been leaning against.

“Might as well stop trying,” said Aaron, his voice laced with resignation. “It’s the Agency. They wouldn’t stick us in any sort of cage we could easily bust out of.”

“Yeah, well.” Nate blew out another breath, still struggling against his restraints. “They could have at least taken the damn cuffs off after they threw us in here.”

Aaron leaned forward against the bars and attempted to peer down the hallway on the other side. There wasn’t much to see. Nate had already tried.

“Where
is
here?” asked Aaron, shifting to readjust his own restraints. “Any idea where they’ve brought us?”

Nate shook his head.

In truth, he had his suspicions, but there was no way to really know for sure
which
Agency black site they’d been taken to. There were four to choose from on the East Coast alone.

And those were just the ones he knew about.

Seating himself at the edge of one of the cots, Nate began shrugging his shoulders in a vain attempt to straighten out the neck of his dinner jacket.

At some point during Nate’s abduction, his coat had been dragged off his right shoulder. And—
apparently
—readjusting a jacket while handcuffed was, at best, an exercise in futility.

Sighing in defeat, he hung his head low and stared at his feet.

Four hours earlier, Nate had grudgingly accepted the opening gala guard duty so that Aiden and Declan could jump to Ireland for a night out.

After that scene at McRae’s, Nate caved to Declan’s request without much prodding. Guilt had turned him into a pushover, it would seem.

Brian warned Nate what Jessica had planned for the couple nearly two weeks earlier.

And Nate hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it from happening.

He told himself that it was out of his hands. That it was a set event. That to change it would risk changing the events still to come.

That he had no choice but to stand back, stay silent, and let it happen.

Which was a lie, of course. He’d
always
had a choice. Surely they could have changed things and still made it work, somehow.

But jealousy was a strong motivator. And it was a special sort of hell watching his brother and Alex together, knowing what he knew.

Not that Nathaniel’s guilt made the assignment any more desirable. He had
not
been looking forward to his evening at the Red Corner Gallery. Not even a little.

As a general rule, Nate despised social functions like those. Too much small talk. He usually spent half of the night tugging uncomfortably at his collar and the other half checking his watch.

Grayson dragged him to enough events like that one over the years that he’d more than had his fill.

And while being forced into a tux was a deterrent in and of itself—by attending the gala, he’d also be missing out on a pre-arranged meeting with the Director.

That woman did
not
like to be cancelled on.

In retrospect, Nate probably should have seen this coming.

Instead, he donned his monkey suit, walked out to the garage, and climbed obliviously into his Charger—where he was immediately tagged in the neck with a tranq dart. He took a nose dive into his steering wheel and then woke up
here
, in this bizarro cell.

He took a moment to more closely inspect the room, going so far as to lean back on the cot so that his fingertips could brush against the smooth, dark wall. It was cold to the touch.

The ceiling, the walls—even the closely spaced bars that looked out onto the empty hall—were all covered with a layer of shiny black glass. Obsidian, from the feel of it.

The unusual strength of the bars had him wondering if the obsidian was just a
coating
and if maybe there weren’t metal bars hidden somewhere underneath. Bars made from the same sort of metal that had been used to create the handcuffs.

Something that even Nate couldn’t bend.

The extra measure of an obsidian coating would make sense, actually, if someone were trying to prevent a telepath from zeroing in on the cell’s occupants. Certain kinds of minerals and gemstones created a natural cloud of interference that could shield a person’s presence in high enough quantities.

But this sort of obsidian lined cell wasn’t like anything he’d seen before.

The Agency was getting smarter.

God help them all.

Aaron was pacing the length of the cell, and Nate sat silent for a long while, watching him with curiosity.

Nate knew what
he’d
done to wind up in here, but what could have prompted the Director to go against Grayson’s threats to “leave Aaron Gale be, or else”?

That
or else
from Grayson wasn’t a threat to be taken lightly. Even by an organization as powerful as the Agency.

“Why did they take you, Aaron?” he asked. “Was it provoked?”

Aaron snorted. “Course not. I haven’t done a thing. They busted down my front door not five minutes after I got home from school today. Last thing I remember is a cloud of white gas filling the room. Then I woke up here to
your
smiling face.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

And he didn’t. Not really. Just defeated.

Aaron shrugged. “Knew it would happen eventually. Once they found out I existed, I knew I was screwed.”

Nate narrowed his eyes. “Then why stick around Bay View? Why not run when you had the chance?”

Another shrug.

The sound of heels clicking against the concrete floor reached them from the opposite end of the hallway.

Took her long enough
.

“Mr. Palladino,” said the Director. She walked into view, flanked by two agents that Nate immediately recognized.

Dimitri and Howard, her favorite lapdogs.

Dimitri was the muscle and the stealth. Howard was more like a personal assistant—a man Friday whose telekinetic abilities easily rivaled Nathaniel’s.

“And Mr. Gale,” the Director greeted, spotting him in the shadows at the back of the cell. “Welcome.”

“Director,” said Nate. “Care to tell us what we’re being charged with?”

“You, Mr. Palladino, are not
under arrest.” She smiled. “Mr. Gale on the other hand… Well, that situation’s a bit more complicated. We’ve brought him here to ensure his safety.”

The Director nodded to her companions.

Howard produced a key and set about unlocking the door.

“My
safety
? What a crock of—”

“
Mr. Gale
.” The Director’s voice had developed an extra layer of ice. “It would be
well
within my purview to declare you and your abilities a public
menace
and to throw you in a cell so dark and so deep that you never again see the light of day. You might do well to reconsider your tone. I meant what I said. You’ve been brought to this location temporarily and out of concern for your own well being.”

Dimitri’s bulk filled the open door to the cell, blocking their exit.

“Now. If you would be so kind, Nathaniel?” The Director beckoned him forward. “We have quite a lot to discuss, you and I.”

Nate pushed off the cot and onto his feet. Stepping past Dimitri, he made his way out into the hall.

As they waited for Howard to lock the cell door behind them, Director Carter reached out to fix the shoulder of Nathaniel’s dinner jacket, tugging it back into place and flattening his lapels in an oddly maternal gesture.

Probably
, he thought,
it was just her OCD kicking in.

If there was ever a woman he could imagine screaming nonsensically about
wire hangers
, it was Dana Carter.

“Could you let me out off these cuffs?” asked Nate.

The Director smiled blandly. He took it as a no.

“Well at least take them off of Aaron, then,” said Nate. “It’s a useless measure if you plan to leave him locked up in that cell.”

Pursing her lips, the Director nodded to Howard. Aaron backed up against the bars of his cell and the cuffs were removed.

Nate turned to gaze back at Aaron before following the Director’s entourage down the hall, sending him a look that promised he wouldn’t be forgotten. Nate would find a way to get him out of there.

Aaron nodded, massaging his wrists as he sat down dejectedly on one of the cots.

“Come along, Nathaniel,” said the Director.

Scowling, he made his way down the dimly lit hall, passing over a dozen similarly constructed cells along the way.

“Why did you bring me here, Director?” he asked.

At the end of the passageway, they stepped into a waiting elevator and Howard pressed a button.

They were going down.

The Director waited until the doors closed before replying. “We had a meeting scheduled, did we not?”

“Something came up,” he replied. “You know, if you keep abducting me every time you want to talk, you’ll blow my cover with the Graysons.”

“Your cover is no longer our concern, Nathaniel.”

Nate eyed her nervously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” said the Director, smiling, “that you’re not the
only
one with a psychic for a pet.”

At that, Nathaniel was pretty sure his heart missed its next several beats.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”