Storm Front: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 3) (8 page)

“Suit yourself.”

“Evie,” Brent steps forward. “Don’t be hasty. I’ve seen your weapon. You need it.”

“Do I?” I clench my teeth and stand. Cross my arms and shake my head in disbelief. Gray sits there, this cocky younger version of a man sent to keep me safe. “My weapon was no good against him. He’s eliminated all the men who were trying to kill me. My weapon failed me. Failed me when I needed it most.”

Gray watches me, sorts through my words, measures my attitude. He may not be the older experienced man I’ve met before, but he’s smart. Our paths will continue to cross, but I will not play his puppet. No more. Not for anyone.

“I’ll be in touch,” I make the statement to Brandt and Mrs. Steinman so they don’t worry. Then I walk out of their house. On my own two feet.
 

Without my lightning.

C
HAPTER
21

I
SHIFT
AND
rev the throttle, pushing the bike hard through the turn up the curving mountain highway. Storm clouds gather above the mountain, rumbling in dissent.
 
For the first time in my life, there is no crackling answer in my belly. I’ve completed what I left the lift to do. I know who the gray man is, I know what he’s capable of. I just don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

Brandt thinks I’m outrunning my problems.

Maybe he’s right, but what does he want me to do?
 
He’s barely getting his head wrapped around time travel, let alone the implications and repercussions that come with Penya and Ilif having access to Nikola’s papers. I’m less concerned about Ilif, at least for the moment. Not that I’m saying he’s innocent in all of this. But for my immediate future, I believe he is earnest in his efforts to find Tiana.

Gray has taken out the most pressing pursuers, leaving me the ability to focus on what matters most.
 

There are still two others. Two I haven’t considered since coming back from New York. Two that I didn’t want to write on my notepad because giving weight to the truth of their names freaks me out.

Two who Gray might not have even known about. I can barely remember their names, something strange and foreign. The guys Nikola was meeting with. Problem is, in all the commotion, I’ve forgotten what I did with the paper, the paper that I took out of his pocket.

Thunder rumbles again and the wind picks up, slapping my hair against my neck. I can’t know if these were the men Niccolo was worried about, if these were the men who’d met with him once before,
 
who
 
threatened the people Nicola loved.
 

Had the man who’d murdered Nicola done them a favor? Or had he done the world a favor by preventing those men from meeting with Nicola? I need to research those two men. I need that paper.

I think
hard
about those moments in Nikola’s room. Taking the paper from his pocket, smelling the snap of a man freshly shaved and dressed for a meeting, the stale air and musty rent of birdseed that’s been sitting on ledges for too long. I inhale and hold the breath, close my eyes and replay each tick of the second hand. I was so consumed by every other piece of paper in the room, of finding what held me in the alteration.
 

My eyes fly open and I gasp. My
pocket!
I jammed it in the front of my jeans!

My heart pounds as I crest the mountain and start down the backside into the valley.

Those jeans were at the top of the stairs when I tripped the bomb.

C
HAPTER
22

G
EHLEN
AND
S
KORZENI
, secret service (from the paper in Tesla’s pocket — THIS was the paper JP was looking for. He sent an idiot.—not JP, though. PENYA sent him (how can Evy discover this? Steinaman.). She told the guy to tell anyone who asked that JP Morgan sent him. Morgan was never involved past that night at the museum. He just wanted to get rich.

NOT the US secret service. Russian? German?

Tesla had a meeting with them on January 6
th
, 2pm

NO. I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Where the hell is that paper?
 

No. Wait.

I clear my mind. I inhale the snap of ozone, the pine scent of the forest on either side of the road, the oil and grease thrumming through the beast between my legs. The lightning may have heightened everything I was capable of, but it was a part of me. Without it, I am still me, still the woman who could figure things out on my own. I’ve used it as a crutch, believed that it was the best of me, but without it, I am still me.

At the base of the canyon a wide parking lot beckons and I pull in and downshift, then roll to a stop and kill the engine. Lightning forks overhead and the sun is completely obscured behind the roiling clouds. Thunder rumbles, shaking the ground and air.

I think back through that night after I got home. I was headed to Papi’s to stay the night after dinner—before we got sidetracked with the math and the warehouse. I had heels and nice pants on.
 

Memories bombard me and I curl forward, clutching my head.

Camaria as a little girl, learning to fly a hovercraft, sailing over glass pods that must be houses. Her excitement flutters in my stomach.

One from Nikola. A simple set of tasks as he readies himself for the meeting. He makes a deliberate point of writing the information on a crisp, new sheet of paper, then stares at it, like he’s taking a snapshot.

For me to see.

I try to memorize the details on the page. I don’t have a damn thing to write with. I hold the memory, kick the engine alive and race to Papi’s since his place is closer.

I try to think of nothing other than holding that image. It wobbles.

This wasn’t a meeting reminder. It’s a clue. Like the coordinates hidden in the equations. I don’t know how I know that but I do.

There’s something here. I just have to get to Papi’s so I can write it down.

Lightning flashes and the scent of rain drenches the air. I’ll never make it. I pull into the gas station, the one where this all started. Devon’s working and I hop off the bike and race inside, waving for him to give me a pen and paper.

“Wow. Haven’t seen you in—”

“Paper. Now.
 

“Still so personable, I see.” He grumbles and prints a long stream of receipt paper and hands it over. I grab the pen that’s chained to the corner and start scribbling. “Fuck.” The pen is out of ink. “Give me something to write with.” I’m losing the image and repeat the details under my breath so I don’t forget.
January 6, 2:00 p.m., Misters Gehlen and Skorzeni, Secret Service, Patrina Diner.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, squinting. I’m sure he thinks I’m losing my mind. Maybe I am. I repeat the phrase. The image vanishes.

I shake my head and hold my palm toward him, urging him to hurry.

Outside, raindrops splatter against the pavement and overhang of the building. Lightning crashes somewhere close by. My body doesn’t respond. Devon hands over a grease pen and I try again. I write what I can remember, but I know I’m spelling them wrong. “Dammit!” I close my eyes and strain for the memory. It’s gone for good.

I drop my forehead to the counter and slap it with my palm.

“Evy?” Devon takes a step back. “You okay?”

I straighten and give him a smile, then hand over the pen. “No. Not really. It’s been a long day.” I shake my head. “Sorry. I’ll come back and explain later.”

“You still owe me eighteen bucks, you know.”

“Shit. Sorry. I dig in my pocket and pull out a crumpled wad of fives. Peeling off four, I hand them over, then another. “Interest.”

He grins. “Thanks.” He pops the cash drawer and sticks four of the bills in, then pockets one. “Heard you and Nick broke up. Maybe we should—”

“I have to run.” I jam the paper into my pocket and take off, eager to get this information to Steinaman. I refuse to think about the other man in my life. The one that I can’t get to without my lightning.

C
HAPTER
23

“W
HEN
ARE
YOU
coming back here?” Mr. Steinaman is fired up, but I don’t have time to explain anything. I need his help. Fast.

“Did Gray leave?” I twirl the cord on Papi’s phone grateful they still have a landline. And that I’ve memorized the Steinaman’s. It’s been so long since I’ve needed a cell that I’ve forgotten to carry it.
 

“Right after you did. Said we’d see him again. Evy, I think—”

“Not now. I have something else.”

He sighs heavily. “I’m listening.”

I give him a quick rundown of how I got the paper and do my best to spell
Gehlen
and
Skorzeni
like they were in the flash of Nikola’s memory.

“I won’t have access to secret service. Those departments don’t work together.”

“Maybe they weren’t. I mean, if Gray’s working for the president, maybe these guys were too and Nikola just called them secret service.”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to screw up something like that.”

No, he doesn’t. “I don’t know what else to try. You’re the only one with access.”

“Fine. Give me some time.”

“Mr. Steinaman?”

“Yeah.”

“What other countries have a secret service?”

“Most all of them.” The pause is long enough for me to grow incredibly uncomfortable and if I had any other secrets, I’d be divulging them in this moment. He should have stayed in the FBI. “Any country you think I should start with?”

“Germany.”

“I’ll need help with that search.”

I grip the phone tighter and an image of his body crumpled by the door surfaces. I’d much rather have Nikola’s again. “You don’t have to help me.”

“I know what I do and don’t have to do, Girl.” There’s no hesitation in his answer.

“Thank you.”

He answers with a grunt and I hold the phone long after he’s hung up. “Be careful.”

I replace the receiver and wander through the house, unsure where everyone is or when they’re coming back. Papi might be with Ilif for all I know. Mami’s probably taken the little girls to her sister’s so they don’t ask questions about Tiana. I pace the hallway, crunching through the details. Waiting is impossible. Harder now that I’m tethered. At some point I’m going to have to give in to Gray’s offer to give me my lighting back.

Bastard.

I flop on the bed in the guest room and stare at the ceiling. I’ve come full circle, and yet everything is different. And completely screwed up. I say the information again and try to fit the puzzle together. Probably best that he didn’t do this one as another equation, now that I don’t have Tiana.

I jerk upright.

“Did you know?” I rub my forehead and stand, pacing the room. “Holy shit, Nikola. Did you know that she’d gone missing?” Back and forth I cross the room, my boots rubbing against the carpet. I yank open the closet to change while I’m here and I still.

My duffle’s in the bottom. I squeeze my eyes shut, too keyed to remember when I could have brought it, but I must have dragged it with me before Tiana and I went to the warehouse. The days are a blur.

Did I remember it right? I yank the zipper and pull out my jeans. The paper’s still there. Hurrying, I slip into new clothes and flatten the paper. Nikola’s writing pierces my heart and I trace each letter. “What does it mean?”

I screwed up the name of the diner but got the rest right.
January 6, 2:00 p.m., Misters Gehlen and Skorzeni, Secret Service, Patrina Diner.

I walk into Tiana’s room and sit down at her desk. Her perfume and spearmint bubble gum hang in the air.

“Help me.” I take one of her pens from the
Transformers
plastic cup on the corner, doodle the names, the dates, the abbreviations. After a few minutes, my page is a mess. Nothing jumps out.

I rewrite the dates and add dashes, turning them into a line of numbers that resembles a combination.

I underline Tesla’s use of Misters instead of the abbreviation. That seems like an oddity, even for him. He doesn’t do things on accident. Ever.

I abbreviate the name of the meeting place. Now I’m left with a short list:

01-06-19-43-14-00

MGS, SS

PD

A list of nothing.

My elbow bumps Tiana’s computer and it flashes to life, so I type in the details and pause straining to listen for the phone. I should have grabbed the cordless out of Papi’s office so I can answer Brandt’s call.

First, I want to play out this hunch. A quick internet search yields nothing for the sequence of numbers. A few places outside Paris, but nothing that jumps out. I move onto the next one. Again, it’s a fail. The SS bothers me. Isn’t that how they name ships? My thoughts flutter to that big door in his underwater warehouse, the watertight seal, the spinning wheel locking it closed, just like a submarine ship. S. S. Could it be backward? Would he deliberately have mixed it up hoping I’d figure it out? That’s one hell of a gamble. And what if it sends me in the wrong direction?

I type in SS MGS and hit enter.

C
HAPTER
24

P
ENYA
.

DNA
SEQUENCING
.

The details in the folder.

She’s got it.

Now she just needs Tiana to catch up to where Evy was.

Waiting is impossible.

C
HAPTER
25

“Y
OU
’
VE
GOT
TO
be kidding me.” I trace my finger down the monitor, skimming the information. SS, MGS is an abbreviation for
sire-maternal grandsire
. I have no idea what that means. Equations and explanations—variances and selections—fill the page. This has to be a miss. It’s all about DNA and genetics and how traits get passed—

“Oh shit.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

I could be onto something, but this isn’t what he wrote down. He didn’t write down SS MGS. He wrote it the other way around. He chose to write it in a way that would yield nothing.