Chapter Seven

Kane

I didn't need the order to put my hands up. It was instinctual, but I was also getting pretty sick of it. How many fucking times had this happened in two days? I'd have even preferred a little variety. I knew how to deflect a blade. I'd had enough practice inside. The guy with the gun—it looked old, but I was pretty sure the bullets could kill just as easily—snarled in my direction, then waved me toward the counter. I obeyed and walked toward it, taking in the middle-aged man frantically emptying the register, and the guy pointing a different gun at him. So unless there was someone hiding, which I doubted, there were just the two of them.

"Sit the fuck down and don't get any ideas to do any damn tricks. Hands on your head." I obeyed immediately, especially when the guy pressed the muzzle against my temple. "Got it?" he growled at the other one.

The second one turned his head for a split second. They both wore kids' party masks. The one with me had some sort of Star Wars one. I didn't recognize the one at the register, but it hardly mattered. I took him in, and my eyes dropped to his jeans.

And that's when I recognized him. The same unraveled thread on his left pocket. The same gray eyes, the right one a fraction smaller. Not that anyone else would ever notice, but I knew it was the same person, kid, that had been involved in the robbery with Saunders. And that was why the guy with the gun on me wasn't worried. The kid must have a special ability.

Was the other guy the driver they hadn't found?

It would make sense. It also made them desperate. I met the kid's eyes and knew immediately he'd recognized me, but he had no reason to think I recognized him, thank fuck. What shocked me was he didn't say anything to the other guy, which gave me pause. The enhanced had seen what I could do. He knew I could obscure everyone's vision in a second. Not that I was about to. The gun muzzle was a little too close to my skin to panic any trigger fingers.

But apart from a slight widening of the eyes, he didn't say a word, just waved the gun to make the cashier empty the drawer a little faster. But then the cashier's hand seemed to shake, and he dropped the wad of twenties he was holding. I watched as every bill hit the counter and most fell to the floor.

"The fuck," the older guy snarled, but the cashier seemed to freeze then his face crumpled, and he just had a moment to put his hand to his chest before his legs gave way.

The young guy jumped backwards as if he'd been shot. "Dad?"

Dad?

The one pointing a gun at me snarled and in the distance I heard sirens. Fuck. Maybe the cashier had a panic button?

The older guy dived for the twenties and started stuffing them in his pockets, then he pushed his son out of the door, and they ran for the truck.

I hurried over to the cashier and started CPR. Thankfully, it was one of the courses I'd been allowed to do.

A couple of minutes later the cops decided I wasn't trying to save a life. Apparently, it had been me who had robbed the guy. I didn't bother arguing as there had been too many guns shoved in my face…again. I honestly thought the CCTV would clear everything up.

But, of course, the ones inside the store were faulty. All it proved was that I had arrived later than the robbers and that they left before me. Unfortunately, the cashier didn't survive. Two hours later, handcuffed to a table, I was utterly convinced that I would be back inside by daybreak, when I was informed my lawyer was here. I expected to see a court-appointed guy shuffling in looking sick and tired of shoveling shit like me through the so-called justice system, but what I got was… I had a moment to wonder if he was in the wrong interview room. This guy in a suit that looked like he was the president or something, waltzed in and immediately demanded my release. He had the cops that had been banging on at me for hours rushing around like he was some high-court judge, but then he stepped over to me and held out his hand. "Mr. Diaz. My name is Oliver Michaels, and I am retained by your employer, Rawlings Security. I apologize for the delay in your release. Mr. Rawlings wasn't informed of your arrest immediately."

I blinked and shook his hand. By the time he'd spouted enough fancy words to fill a dictionary and I had signed some forms, barely thirty minutes had passed and I was following him outside. I saw Rawlings jump down from his truck immediately and extend his hand to Michaels. "Thanks."

"It was outrageous," Michaels said, then turned to me. "I'm filing a formal complaint for harassment. First you save the life today of an elderly widow and child and then they treat you like this? Then after bringing in an escaped convict, your treatment both today and tonight is deplorable."

I opened my mouth then closed it again. Michaels walked to his Porsche. I didn't know where to start with Rawlings. In fact, it was a little fucked up that he walked to his truck the same way he had when he met me outside the prison and told me to get in.

"What about Danny?" I blurted out, which was just about the first thing I'd said since the fancy lawyer had arrived.

Rawlings turned. "He's still employed. I figure we all get a pass today. You getting in?" And he walked around to the driver's side.

I didn't wait, in case he changed his mind.

Awkward was an understatement with Rawlings after I'd thanked him for the lawyer and he'd said it was what all his people got, and so of course I had to say I wasn't one of his people. Rawlings just looked at me, nodded, and asked where I wanted the seventeen-thousand-dollar legal bill to be sent.

"Fuck," I whispered, and we drove back in near silence.

And of course, the dog met me at the door.

I looked at her in a kind of sick fascination and tried to judge the size of her teeth, until Danny appeared and handed me a can of coke. Unopened. "I know you're tired, but we need to talk."

"Let's talk about the case first," Rawlings said.

"What case?" I asked, following him.

"One thing," Danny said, looking at me. "I know you have zero trust and I understand I don't deserve any, but I've been a dick, and I'm sorry."

I had to gape. I glanced at Rawlings, but he carried on to the kitchen, and I tried to work out if Danny was just doing this because his boss was there.

Probably.

"You have no reason to believe me, but can we start again?" He looked at the dog. "Again, repetition, but the only way she'd hurt you is if you hurt me."

I almost wished I had a dog. Once upon a time I might have had one, but not even a dog would have protected me from my fucked-up life. I shrugged because I had no idea what to say and didn't trust any of it, so I carried on to the kitchen.

"So," Rawlings said pouring the coffee. "Was this just a regular robbery?"

I stared at him. The casual question had been the last thing I expected. I wasn't sure what I expected, but definitely not business as usual.

"No, one was enhanced, and he was the same one from earlier. The kid." I looked at Rawlings and knew he understood the one I meant. "He called the other guy ‘Dad' and I'm pretty sure it was a slip-up. I think it was desperation after earlier. They had no cash." I closed my eyes and described the truck in complete detail, including the tag, which Danny said was false after checking.

"If they were wearing masks—" Rawlings started.

"You want me to convince you or are you just gonna take my word for it? I am a hundred-percent certain of the enhanced."

Rawlings inclined his head and moved on.

It was a rush. That feeling you were believed.

"What are the chances you'd meet the same enhanced twice?" Danny murmured.

I thought about the kid. His mannerisms, reactions. "He doesn't want to be in that situation," I said. "His dad is forcing him." And fuck, did I know what that felt like.

"We need to confirm a name," Rawlings said, almost to himself.

"You said a case," I reminded him. I had a feeling this was more than just a robbery.

He nodded then looked at Danny. Danny passed me a printed sheet and I looked at the picture. It was an enhanced teenager.

"We're not sure—"

"It's him," I said, looking at the enhanced that had been at both robberies. "Who is he?"

"Shae Turner," Danny said. "Seventeen. Mom, Abigail Turner, died in a house fire when Shae was thirteen, just after his father was released from prison. Shae inherited approximately $7000 which went straight into a joint bank account he opened with his father, John. It's all gone. John Turner's last stretch was seven years for possession. Shae spent many nights with his maternal grandmother up until father's release. Coincidentally, the grandmother also died in a house fire while Shae was spending the night at his father's a year after he was released. His school record was exemplary before then, even though he was the only enhanced student there. No known abilities. Then once daddy dearest got out, everything went to hell."

"And no one cared," I said bitterly. It wasn't a question.

"You'd think," Danny agreed. "He's down as a missing person. He's also eighteen in four days."

"So, this is the job? To find the kid?" It seemed weird. Not something a private security firm would do.

Rawlings shook his head. "No. This has nothing to do with the teenager and we'll pass his case on. This is a little different, and definitely something we've never done before. A-SAC Gregory has reached out to us to see if we might help with a case, and we think the dad is involved."

I frowned. "Help how?"

Rawlings looked pained and I had an awful feeling it was because of what he was about to ask.

"They need someone with specialized experience."

"Specialized?" I had an awful feeling.

"You know legally detaining enhanced is a challenge depending on their ability?" I nodded but Rawlings didn't seem to need an answer. "Well, there was a scandal with keeping kids locked up in Orlando a couple of years ago that the Tampa team shut down, and for minors it's been much better since then, but adults—"

"Or those tried as adults," I said, which got another dip of his head.

"They're using regular prisons, but maximum security."

"I guess."

"The trouble is, there's been some so-called escapes."

"What the fuck?" But then I stopped. "So-called?" What the hell did that mean?

Danny passed me another printed sheet of paper. I clasped it probably too quickly and our fingers brushed, and a million tiny jolts ran up my arm. I nearly shivered. I heard the tiny inhale and nearly dropped the paper, but Rawlings just carried on, oblivious to me touching what felt like a live wire. I was glad he did because I couldn't have looked at Danny then if someone had paid me.

I'd heard the gasp. Did that mean he'd felt it? Maybe it was just one of those weird static things.

"Rome Molina, twenty-seven. Got in with the wrong crowd. Car theft, minor stuff, but the judge took one look at him and sent him away for nine years."

I heaved a sigh and concentrated on the picture. "Same old bullshit then?"

"Thing is, he has a mom and a younger brother. They visited him last month and Rome only has four months left to do. Model prisoner. Everyone from the guards up liked him. They say all he wanted was to go home and start his life. He's even got a job lined up. He has some sort of ability with machinery. Can see what's wrong with an engine just by looking at it."

"There's a guard named Seamus Brown who insists there's no way this guy escaped," Danny said.

"Did anyone else escape?" I asked.

Rawlings shook his head. "Apparently the air-conditioning units all malfunctioned, and they think he got out with help through the vents. They think there was someone on the repair team that helped him. The guy didn't show up for work today and no one can contact him. He was also a new hire."

Rawlings breathed out in a rush. "The problem is, there's another seven cases in similar circumstances in this area. Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee. All enhanced who had nearly served their time or were no problem to the guards."

"I don't see what we can do about it, though. I mean the Tampa team, yeah. They're FBI." I looked up when I was met with silence.

"They need someone to go in and—"

"No. Fuck no." I was on my feet as exactly what they needed me to do hit me like a two by four.

Rawlings nodded as if he expected that reaction. "The Tampa team is very visible. They have a couple of other local agents, but again they have been seen. Any search, especially facial recognition, would identify them. You, however, have already been arrested after what might have been a robbery. You know the system. You have no links to the FBI, and while I collected you from prison, you've already turned down my offer once."

I couldn't. I couldn't go back there. Absolutely fucking not. Not now. Not ever.