A Shadow's Embrace (3 page)

But, just in case they hadn’t, she couldn’t take the risk of being on the street too long.
 

That left one option. Time was of the essence. Sprinting from the alley they’d landed in, she scoped the area for a possible target. Yes. A sparkling black Escalade across the street. The pricey ride probably belonged to some dirt-bag drug pusher. Jacking it would teach the lowlife a lesson and get her gone. She sprinted to it, synched to the vehicle’s electrical systems, and popped the locks open. Modern technology made things so much simpler.
 

She angled the vehicle into the narrow alley and then lugged Dagan into the backseat. She belted him in the best she could, given the circumstances. She situated herself into the driver’s seat and made her way onto the street.
 

She ambled along at a leisurely pace that matched the drivers around her. Several clusters of Conver’s soldiers prowled alleyways she passed. When she neared the closest compound entrance, she cursed. Too many of them lurked nearby. She couldn’t take the risk.
 

Time for Plan B.
 

Fortunately, the secondary entrance was more convenient to the down room they’d use to patch up Dagan. The entrance’s close proximity to her private quarters made her twitchy. Privacy was a commodity she treasured due to too many years of sharing a cot with someone, along with forty-nine other groupings in the cramped cell they called home.
 

She glanced in the rearview mirror. Dagan could be an exception to that rule, however. She’d spent the past several months wondering what he was like—if he was as sexy as his voice. Now that the adrenaline of the chase had worn off, she was all too aware of how she’d viscerally reacted to him when he’d leaned in to possess her space.
 

Her skin tingled when she remembered the heat of his mouth, the press of his massive body along her back. He was tall—at least six-three. She’d felt almost dainty in his embrace, which was downright unheard of since she was five-six.
 

After doing a couple treks around the destination block, she backed the vehicle up to the entrance. Hopefully, Cadence would send muscle to help lug Dagan into the compound quickly.
 

Even though foot traffic was minimal in this area, Devyn could hear the whirl of helicopters overhead as Conver’s crew executed a relentless search of the area. Once she’d gotten medical help for Dagan, she’d make sure Rex was secure.
 

Then, hopefully, she could turn over the intel she’d acquired and figure out what the hell she’d hacked into on the ARES databases. She was a dead woman walking until she figured a way out of the FUBAR situation. Thanks to today’s clusterfuck, she couldn’t rely on SEO assistance.
 

She’d gotten one of their operatives shot. From what she’d heard on the street, Kaeden, their leader, was a hothead on good days and downright lethal most of the time. That was why Devyn had provided intel covertly in the past, opting to use a computerized voice over a secured network. The protocol had become second nature for her, one no one in her crew knew about.
 

Past intel she’d stumbled across hadn’t been about ARES. Local drug dealers, dirty politicians—anything that helped clean the streets her kids were on—had been her focal point initially. Then she’d delved into the seedy underbelly that was General Conver’s systems last week.
 

Even though the drive to the Indigo Order’s headquarters took only a few minutes, Devyn couldn’t suppress the angst surging within her, the guilt. He’d taken a bullet for her because she’d been too slow in reacting. Dare and Rider would kick her ass for being stupid enough to take on three armed targets. They’d do it in a heartbeat, but they were elite operatives like Dagan.
 

The classification was reserved for the most rigorously trained of Conver’s super soldiers. Only level five and sixes on the Psychic Phenomena Scale were recruited. Participation wasn’t an option. Rebels were harshly punished, which was probably why most of them had fled his tyrannical reign. Some escapees who hadn’t joined Kaeden formed militant splinter groups of their own—operating in the gray areas that made their unique skillsets critical.
 

Most of the human populace ignored the existence of the psychically enhanced. Few in the press covered the congressional trials investigating the mistreatment of the freed psychics. Devyn hadn’t been surprised. The powers running ARES were formidable.
 

“Indy, word on the street ain’t good.” Patch rocketed toward her.
 

The short, wiry, pimply-faced teen had been on the streets a couple years. His entire family had been killed during the uprising of Compound B. Devyn wished she could do more for the
thirteen-year-old, but he was fiercely independent and pissed at the world. It had taken her a year to learn his street name.
 

Patch. She’d yet to figure out his scale grade, but she suspected he was at least a level five, which made Devyn wonder how he’d gone unnoticed. His parents must have been lower levels, and the good doctor had assumed he was as well. Second and third generation psychics were often discarded like unwanted rubbish.
 

“I need your juice, buddy.” Devyn checked Dagan for a pulse before stepping aside. “Bullet to the gut.”
 

“Is that who I think it is? Chica, this ain’t good. I don’t mess with Shadows. I fly under the radar. They get wind of me I’ll be holed up in some piece-of-shit cell eating moldy bread. I ain’t down with that.” He shook his head and pocketed his hands as he looked down at the ground. “I got your back, Indy, but this ain’t happening.”
 

And that was precisely why she’d covertly provided intel to the SEO. Street talk had them one level beneath ARES on the bad-dude scale. They operated in the gray ninety percent of the times—enforcing their own moral code. It was a slippery slope that left most street psychics jittery.
 

“He’s out cold, Patch. I swear he’ll never know.” She crossed her arms and stared Patch down. “My word, he won’t know.”
 

Patch’s gaze widened. Yeah, she never offered her word. Too many variables made the lives they led too volatile for promises.
 

He looked around for a moment and kicked at the ground. “Fine. But no one hears about this shit, Indy. No one. Cadence erases the tapes, and y’all don’t say shit to nobody—not even Dare or Rider. And especially Mia. I don’t want no Elites chasing my ass when their shit goes sideways and they need my help. That cool?”
 

“Yeah, that’s cool. Thanks, buddy.” Devyn tugged on Dagan’s long legs until he was half out of the vehicle. “Get the door, and I’ll get him.”
 

She hoped it wasn’t too late.
 

Devyn was precariously close to burning out. Excess psychic power usage was a dangerous situation she typically avoided, but she recognized the symptoms. Exhaustion throbbed along her temples. A couple hours sleep would work wonders to ease the tension migraine pricking her eyes. Despite the nausea and weariness plaguing her, they couldn’t remain in the underground compound for long. This place was too critical to Indigo Order operations to be compromised.
 

Conver had gone above and beyond. The net of roadblocks and door-to-door searches encompassed five miles. She’d have to move them soon—they probably had half an hour tops. Her cell hummed with message after message as the street psychics she’d helped caught wind of her on the run. Each blip tracked locations as doors across West Englewood got kicked in.
 

She wanted to keep herself plugged into the nearest cameras, add a few minutes warning to the time she’d have to haul Dagan to the commandeered vehicle and hightail it to a new location.
 

Wherever the hell that would be.
 

She was in over her head. At least she could rest easy knowing that if shit went south the organization would be safe. Dare, Risk, Mia, Cadence, and the others would keep things going.
 

She was expendable.
 

The intel she’d stumbled across wasn’t, though. Grainy surveillance footage and decades of old files didn’t come across as critical security data to her, but somehow it had made Conver rabid. The Shadow operatives knew the general better than anyone. Surely they could figure out what it was she’d discovered.
 

Hopefully, they’d all made it out of the trap she’d been in. The fact they’d put their asses on the line for a complete stranger made her admire them even more. She and the others of Indigo Order would have never made it out of that miserable research facility if it hadn’t been for them. Even though General Conver never visited Doctor Lang’s low-level psychic institute, he kept a tight leash on its prisoners with stringent regulations.
 

Comply or die.
 

The rule was simple. Guilt consumed Devyn most nights, when the silent darkness blanketed their newfound freedom and left her alone with the bitter reality she couldn’t escape. She could've gotten herself and the others out long before the Shadow operatives found them.
 

She was a technopath. She could’ve hacked into the computerized security system and taken over. They would’ve walked out.
 

No. They would’ve died, killed like animals because, as far as Dr. Lang and General Conver were concerned, they were. Regret was a bitchy companion in the ensuing silence as Devyn stared at the unconscious man who’d taken a bullet for her.
 

The cell she’d dug from his pocket and silenced over an hour ago vibrated, dancing its way precariously to the end of the makeshift nightstand. She leaned over and grabbed it before she could question the impulse. “Yeah?”
 

“I’ve been looking forward to chatting with you for a long time, Indigo, but I’ve gotta say, this isn’t how I wanted it to go down.”
 

Kaeden. The fearless leader of the Shadow Elite Operatives. “Your man’s doing good. I got him the best help the street had to offer. He’s still out.”
 

“I know. I’m more worried about how you’re holding up.”
 

“Ah, I forgot. The infamous Kaeden sees many things.”
 

The man chuckled. “Well, all I’m seeing are the readings coming from Dagan’s watch interface. I appreciate you not blowing out the sensors when you fried the GPS. I’ve gotta say you have my man Ace salivating over here. He’s never met a technopath before, and his not-so-inner geek is getting off on the fact you’ve been interacting with us for as long as you have. You’re practically one of us.”
 

“Flattery gets you nothing. I’m far from a Shadow operative. It’s why I trust the SEO with the problems over my head.”
 

“Yeah, we’ve been taking out your trash for so long some of my men think they’re on your payroll—Dagan being the first on the list. Word hit our comms that Conver was after a female Indigo operative, and I couldn’t keep them out of this shit, whatever it is. Care to read me in?”
 

“Soon as there’s time. With Conver sniffing around, I have to keep communications minimal. They’re tracking us somehow, probably a technopath or tracer of some sort. Until I figure out how, communication isn’t safe.” She looked over at the man sprawled on the twin mattress. Her pulse raced slightly when his gaze captured hers. She hadn’t realized he was awake. “I’ll have him call you, arrange a pick up. I appreciate the help.”
 

“Whatever this is, Indy, it’s over your head. We’ve always admired your tenacity, but most of all your ability to accept the things you couldn’t handle. You’ve trusted us with some intense shit over the past couple of years. You can trust us with this, whatever it is. You’re on Conver’s radar now. You aren’t getting off easily.”
 

“Yeah.” She just had to figure out exactly what it was she’d gotten into.
 

She clicked the phone off and set it on the rickety nightstand. Dagan’s obsidian gaze remained locked on her. Jesus, he was gorgeous. His expansive, sinewy chest had been the subject of her perusal for too long. Shifting uncomfortably on the folding chair, she cleared her throat and looked at her watch.
 

“They’ve been calling. Figured you’d want a few to get your bearings. I told them we’d arrange a safe drop point.” The cot creaked under the bulk of Dagan’s weight when he threw a leg over the side and angled forward. “I’ve gotta dump the ride I…borrowed. Maybe that’d be the best time. Conver’s forces are still thick, but there’s a narrow stretch of street about a mile over they aren’t searching—it’s too close to their base camp.”
 

“Shoving me out at their backdoor. Nice.” He grimaced and touched the bandage covering the wound area. “Who patched me up?”
 

“A friend.”
 

“I’d like to thank him or her personally. There aren’t a lot of healers skilled enough for serious wounds. They’d be an asset.”
 

“Sorry, this isn’t a recruitment op. Hell will serve snow cones before he’ll work for the SEO. Y’all don’t have the best street cred.”
 

Dagan’s gaze narrowed. His jaw twitched. “I’m thinking you have a lot to do with that.”
 

“Excuse me?”
 

“We didn’t have trouble with the low-levels until Indigo Order.” Challenge weighted his words.
 

The gut punch kept her mute a few moments. What the hell? “That’s a classy move—blame me and my crew for doing what yours wouldn’t.”
 

“Excuse me?”
 

“You heard me. All you Shadow operatives charge in, demand the help of the lower levels when it’s needed, and then charge off just as quick. Meantime, they’re scrounging through garbage for crumbs, licking shit off discarded wrappers, and drinking half-finished sodas, catching God only knows what, trying to survive, just to do it all over when you deign to need them again.