Breaking Through (9 page)

“The last part won’t be happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s learned how to block me out.” Kray shrugs. “It was only a matter of time.”

“See?” I say, grinning. “We need him now more than ever.”

Kray’s eyebrow quirks in question.

“Because now there’s no way you can access system passwords from his brain, even if he does think about them,” I answer.

Kray glares at me with that expression he gets when I’ve just schooled him. I love these moments. They’re better than chocolate.

“Fine,” he relents. “But I have some ground rules.”

“What? No way.”

“Number one,” he goes on, ignoring me, “no more passing out. Especially after you create rogue tornados.”

“I can live with that one.”

“Number two: keep your relationship with Barton professional.”

“Um, no. You have no right to impose that rule.”

“Safety reasons, deary,” he says, and I know he’s referring to me almost killing my ex. “We kind of need the captain if we’re going to succeed at this mission.”

“Number three?” I ask, purposely not agreeing to number two.

“Find out what he’s hiding.”

“Excuse me?”

“Barton is hiding something, and I—we—need to know what that is.”

I squint at him, confused. “How do you know he’s hiding something?”

Kray sighs. “Because while you were passed out, he wasn’t blocking his thoughts as well as he should have been. I only caught the tail end before you started to convulse, but he knows something and he’s not sharing.”

I hold his gaze, trying to determine if he’s being paranoid, or if he truly believes this about Riley. Five seconds later, Kray has yet to even blink, telling me it’s the latter. “I’ll see what I can do. Happy?”

“Do or do not. There is no try,” he says, quoting Yoda before he cracks a smile.

I point a finger at him, then back at myself. “Remind me: how are we friends?”

He does a one-eighty and peers over his shoulder. “Because you like my ass.”

I nod. “True. Especially when someone’s handing it to you.” I wink. “Speaking of, how’re your afternoon sessions with Britta going?” I tease, knowing full well how they’re going because, well, it’s Britta.

“Like I want to shove all of her fucking pronunciations up her ass and watch her get eaten by a shark.”

“That well, huh?”

“I’m actually looking forward to squashing her into the mat today. No more pointers.”

Then right on cue, my alarm clock goes off. I slap it immediately and glance at Kray.

“If Riley doesn’t squash us first,” I say, sliding off my bed.

“Oh. So, it’s
Riley
now, is it?” He sings Riley’s name.

I slug him playfully in the stomach, but I feel a grin creep across my face. “Shut up.”

One of the things
I like about Nautia is her ability to jump back into the game as if she’d never left. She missed two days again this time, but she pushes herself through the rigorous morning workout without complaint. Drenched in sweat and panting when we finish, she hangs her head over the side of the railing. Beside her, Britta does the same, except Britta is puking her guts out.

“Here,” Nautia says, holding out a freshly formed ball of water. “You’ll feel better.”

Britta looks at her like she doesn’t want to take the offering and longs for it at the same time. Finally, she relents. “Thanks.”

Slowly, Nautia’s gaze wanders in my direction, and I look away before she can catch me staring. I shouldn’t be staring; I should be treating each one of these trainees equally, with equal time and equal help. Favoritism could get someone killed in battle. Feelings could get someone killed too, and I have plenty of those for the dark-headed girl whose mind is a mystery. I want to unlock it, then protect whatever comes out. Guard it with my life and save Nautia from herself.

I’m leading two missions out here when I should be focusing on one. I have to concentrate. ’Cause if I don’t, people are going to die.

I clap my hands to get everyone’s attention. I dismiss the crew members, none of whom are doubled over or hurling like the special officers. I’ll get the recruits there, though. I’ll make soldiers out of them, because that’s my job. What I’m out here to do.

“Hand-to-hand combat today. Gym A,” I instruct, hardening my face and scanning the five people left on deck. I remind myself not to linger on Nautia. I’ve heard some of the rumors going around about us, and I understand people will talk no matter what I do, but I can’t give them reason to think we share more than a professional relationship.

I can’t give
myself
reason to think there’s more.

I spin and head below deck. For the first time since training began, I hear no grumbling behind me. I’m wearing them down at the same time I’m building them up. That’s what I need—strong soldiers who will obey without fail, without question.

My plan is to test that today.

This gym stays unlocked at all times for the crew members to use. In the evenings, it’s often host to two-on-two basketball matches. To my knowledge, none of the new recruits have used it, though. I’m working them too hard to do anything but train, eat, and sleep. I purposely created a traveling boot camp.

Gibson, Kray, Nautia, Haskal, and Britta line up on the east side of the mat, waiting for their pair-ups. Britta’s face still maintains a pale shade of green, so I avoid her for now. There are two of them, however, I’ve never paired. Not because I think they’re outmatched, but because they know each other too well. For what I have planned today, their friendship is a good thing. Even though it’s unrealistic on the battlefield, having Nautia fight Kray might be the perfect exercise in overcoming emotions in combat.

“Nautia. Kray. You’re up,” I say, pushing down the part of me that wonders if Nautia’s body and mind can handle Kray’s skill. Technically, she should be on bed rest.

“I’ll go easy on ya,” Kray murmurs as he and Nautia move to the center of the mat.

I cross my arms and let my thoughts grow loud inside my head. Kray’s eyes snap to me, and I give a small nod to let him know he heard me correctly. Judging by his expression, he’s not happy about what I ordered. It’s go time.

“Full out,” I say. “Let me see what you’ve got.” Then I stick my fingers in my mouth and give the starting whistle.

Nautia holds her fists in front of her chest, her gaze drilling into Kray’s. In a tiny movement he shakes his head, and I’m willing to bet he’s in her mind. I don’t say anything, though, wanting to see how this plays out. How far he’ll go. If he’ll do what he said and go easy on her against the mental orders I gave him.

Nautia crosses her left foot over her right, then repeats it, circling him. Her hard focus means her mind is reeling. She has the same concentration now as a couple of nights ago when she raised the twisters from the sea. Her awareness is on high alert, which, when fighting Kray, is the worst place for it to be. She should know this, except with Kray she feels safe, and that’s when people get hurt.

Suddenly, she launches a fist at his face. The girl is strong and she holds nothing back, but since she thought first, acted second, Kray easily blocks her. With anyone else, he would have taken the offensive at that point, caught their wrist and twisted them down to the mat. With Nautia, he does no such thing. Instead, he opts to stay on the defensive and let her make another move. On the battlefield, they’d both be dead right now.

She tries another punch, and again Kray blocks her. Immediately, she answers back with consecutive hits to his abdomen. She only gets a few shots in before he shoves her shoulders backwards. Nautia stumbles, then shoots him a set of icy daggers. She’s trying her damnedest, and he’s putting on a show for me, drawing this out because he doesn’t want to hurt her.

Frustration lights her face, and I shoot a quick glance over her head. No storm clouds yet, and even if there were, I’m going to let the fight continue. This is a test for me as well as for Kray. How far will
I
let Nautia go?

“Stop thinking!” Kray growls through gritted teeth.

Her lips purse as she charges him. Kray grabs the back of her shirt when he steps aside, spinning her and causing her to trip and fall. She lands in a heap on the mat, but Kray doesn’t pursue her. I cross my arms, partially agitated by his insubordination to my direct command, and partially glad he’s not pounding her into the ground.

In my mind, I shout my order again. The sneer on Kray’s face tells me he gets it loud and clear.

Nautia picks herself up and faces him, her fists poised in front of her. Using physical powers is against the rules, and I’d love to ban Kray’s, except he can’t turn his off. She must learn to defend herself by herself.

On the sidelines, no one is cheering. Every so often during these, one of them will shout out encouragements, but not today. Not with this matchup. And not with Nautia being less than one hundred percent. They’re all probably thinking I’m an asshole, but we have less than ten weeks before the official start of TM2, and I have to have them ready.

Nautia springs forward, lowering her head to ram Kray in the gut. Not surprisingly, he’s ready. Again, she must have thought about it before she attacked.

Kray’s eyes snap in my direction, and I catch a slight shake of his head like he’s pissed about his next move. I nod my go ahead while the telepath narrows his gaze at me. Kray bends low to the ground right before her head makes contact with his stomach. Her chest flies over him, but he catches her ankles, pulling her backwards and slamming her on the mat. He twists around just as she hikes a knee up to meet his groin. Nice move.

Kray grabs himself and bends forward in pain. He didn’t see it coming, which means she didn’t think about it beforehand; she’s catching on.

I grin. Nautia’s smiling too. Enough so that I even hear a giggle.

“You think that’s funny, Olson?” Kray challenges.

“Maybe,” she answers, taunting him. “Come on, Shields. Let’s see what you’ve really got!”

Kray glances at me, and I shrug. She asked for it. Now he’s out of excuses to not follow my orders.

“All right. Let’s play,” he says.

He doesn’t even give her a second to contemplate her next move. He dives into her, an elbow connecting with her right eye. The hit thrusts her backwards, but she remains on her feet. Her eyelid swells immediately.

“Son of a bitch,” she growls, her anger creating a storm cloud under the ceiling of the gym.

But I don’t stop the fight. Not yet.

Kray smirks at her, then holds out his hand in a come-hither motion, telling her to bring it. She does, running toward him, fast and furious. She must be thinking again, because he blocks her punches with no effort. Above us, thunder booms with each missed hit.

“You better cool it, Nautia,” Kray warns.

“Not until you’re on the ground and I’m pounding your face in,” she grinds out.

Kray peers up as the clouds darken. He lowers his attention back to his best friend. She’s seething, ready to charge him again. Another roll of thunder, and Kray relaxes his body.

Don’t give into her
, I think.
See how far she’ll go.

“Fuck you,” he mouths to me.

That’s an order.

He doesn’t like it, but he understands what I’m doing. Or trying to do for Nautia. Instead of blocking her next punch, he opens his palm and clasps onto her fist. He pushes himself into her, swings her arm behind her, and forces her down. His foot connects with her back, and her face plummets into the mat.

Above us, a bolt of lightning streaks across the room. Another hits the rim of the basketball hoop, and a third lands too close to the both of them, leaving a smoking hole in the mat not two inches from Kray’s leg.

“Enough!” I shout.

“Finally,” Kray grunts, letting go of his defeated opponent and walking over to me. “What the hell was that about, huh? You trying to get us all killed?”

“You know what that was about, Kray,” I say, my voice steady as rain pours down around us. “Go help her up.”

“This is crazy,” he mutters before turning his back on me and returning Nautia.

Yeah. Crazy enough to keep everyone alive.

After Kray kicked my ass,
he picked me up and carried me to the top deck for fresh air. At least that’s what he said. I bet it had more to do with the thunderstorm that followed us up. Once outside, it disbanded into the atmosphere.

“Better?” he asks, tossing me a towel he picked up on the way.

I catch it and dab the corner on my bloody lip. “I’m fantastic.”

“I don’t get it,” he says, taking a seat on the bench beside me. “You know I can read every single one of your thoughts, so why the hell were you thinking?”

“How the hell can I not?” I retort.

“I don’t know, Nautia. You just can’t.” He sighs and points to what I assume are two black eyes. “I’m sorry about those.”

“Yeah, thanks, asshole,” I say, half grinning despite myself.

“You asked for it. Literally.”

“I’ve also asked you to stay out of my head. I guess I didn’t think you could follow directions.”

“Ha-ha, funny,” he fake laughs. “Except I
was
following directions. Just not yours.”

“Whose?” I say, even though I already know. If they weren’t mine, then they could have only come from one source.

“Your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” I say quickly. “He told you to pummel me?”

“He told me not to hold back. Not to go easy on you.”

I let what Kray said about Riley sink in. I trusted Riley, even started to care about him. Wondering if he thought about me as more than a recruit. Kray is three times my size and undefeated in the ring, so obviously I would end up resembling a half-dead raccoon when he was through.

“Go ahead,” I say, waving toward Kray when he opens his mouth to comment on the thoughts he’s eavesdropped on. He’ll tell me anyway, permission or not.

“He wanted to see how you’d handle it. If you’d control your emotions or let them best you,” he explains.

“That should have been a no-brainer,” I mutter. “He was there the last few times I lost it. What did he think was going to happen?”

“He thought that if you were distracted enough, if you weren’t concentrating on your distress, you’d rein in your control. He also wanted to test
me
to see if I’d follow orders when it came to you.” Kray pauses for a moment. “There was something in it for him too, but he blocked it before I could catch anything. Dude’s gotten good in a short amount of time.”

“Well, isn’t that great? Now I’m a freaking head-case subject too.” I toss the towel on the ground in frustration. “What does he want from me?”

“To harness your ability. I think that’s all he wants. It’s what
I
want.”

I stand up and lean against the railing, gazing out over the ocean. Water, with all of its beauty, all of its mystery, was never meant to be tamed. It’s wild and free, flowing and falling. Supporting life and destroying it. How can
I
control that?

“For the success of the mission, right?” I say, repeating what Kray told me two weeks ago.

Kray grabs my arm and spins me to face him, already tired of my Debbie Downer attitude. “Sure, of course, but also for the success of Nautia. The more you fight yourself, with that wall in your mind, the more at war you’ll be. ’Cause that’s what this is: a war. Between the Nautia who’s unsure of
who
she is, and the Nautia who
is
. They’ve got to align, and when they do—wow. You’ll be unstoppable.”

“Because I’m so powerful?” I mock.

The corner of Kray’s lip curves up in amusement. “Not even close. You’ll be unstoppable because you’ll finally be comfortable with
you
. You’ll be happy.”

“I’m happy,” I say, frowning. Then I smile, and we both laugh.

“You’re away from Brighton. Away from Cara. And in case you haven’t noticed, Barton is
not
Cara. Just because Cara couldn’t break the lock doesn’t mean Barton can’t. Give him a chance.”

I stare at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Okay, so what suddenly put you on team Riley?”

“Well, other than your swift kick to my nuts, I think he genuinely wants to help you.” Kray chuckles and cocks his head to the side. “Damn everyone else in the process, but so long as he can crack your code, that’s all he wants.”

“Was there an innuendo in that statement?”

Kray laughs. “Most definitely not. Rule number two: you two remain professional.”

“So, you’re going to trust Captain Riley Barton, huh?”

“For now. With you. I’m still not sure about trusting him with any info on Nate, though.”

“It’s all or nothing, Kray. And I’d feel better if you and I are on the same page.”

Kray looks me over, then spits on his palm and holds it out to me. “All in.”

“Seriously?” I say, nodding down at his hand.

He grins. “Yep. We’re going full-out junior high, here. Unless you’d rather pinky swear?” He says the last part in the worst imitation of a girl ever.

“Ugh, this is so gross.” I do the whole stupid tradition and go to shake on it, but Kray pulls back last minute.

“You call that spit?” he asks, offended.

“What?”

“You barely hocked anything on there. Doesn’t count unless it’s good and slimy.”

“Oh God, Kray. This is disgusting.”

“It’s how it works. I didn’t make the rules.”

I wipe the saliva on my shorts, since my tiny bit of girly spit isn’t good enough. “Fine,” I say. Then, without thinking about it first, I raise a small wave out of the ocean and sic it on my best friend. “Is that enough spit for ya?”

A drenched Kray shakes off the excess water from his hair before he meets my gaze. “Ocean spit?”

“The best kind.”

“Deal.”

Gibson comes up to the deck to get us, announcing our next activity.

“Captain ordered us to gather towels from the laundry and soak up all of the water in the gym. Then clean the towels. Unless you have a better idea, Nautia?” His expression pleads with me, and I understand what he’s getting at. The mess is on me.

Plus, it would only take me a few minutes versus the rest of the day if everyone else did it by hand. And laundry duty? No thanks.

“I’ll take care of it,” I say.

Kray and I follow Gibson back downstairs. I’m disappointed when I arrive and the place is empty. Not even Riley is there.

I hold both arms out over the gym floor, close my eyes, and concentrate on evaporating the water. The energy I feel coursing through my veins is spectacular, almost like freedom. Like breathing—like living.

When the feeling is gone, I know the job is finished. I open my eyes to a completely dry room and Gibson’s nod of approval.

“Nice work, Olson,” he says. “We have orders to meet everyone in the weapons center.”

I roll my eyes behind his back. “Of course we do.”

When we get there, Riley is standing in front of Britta with a timer while Britta attempts to reassemble a rifle. From the look of frustration on her face and Riley’s bored expression, I’d say it’s not going well.

Beside me, Gibson groans. “She started that before I left to get you.” He points to two empty tables next to Haskal. “Those are yours. Get to work.”

“Doing what?” I mutter on our way over.

“Dissembling and assembling guns. Barton taught us yesterday while you were passed out. He’s timing us today so he can have a control number. We’re supposed to be under ten seconds or some crazy shit.”

“Oh perfect. I won’t even beat Britta’s time.”

“It’s not that bad,” Kray says, rounding my table with me. “I’ll show you. I’m sure Barton won’t clock you today.”

Kray is right about one thing: dissembling the weapon isn’t too bad. Putting it back together, however, has me believing Britta will end up leaving me in the dust with her time of one plus hour.

He was wrong about another.

“All right, Nautia. Stopwatch starts as soon as you touch your weapon,” Barton says, standing on the opposite side of my station.

I open my mouth to argue that everyone else got an extra day, but when he doesn’t acknowledge me, I realize it won’t matter. I take a deep breath and begin. I dismantle the rifle with no problems. Reassembling it, though, is impossible. Every so often, I glance up at Riley to see if he’ll give me a hint—or a freaking break! He doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his expression blank and objective.

When I finally get the job done, I’m at a full ten seconds under Britta, who probably holds the new world’s record for slowness at this event. Riley doesn’t comment. He barely even looks at me, and I figure whatever moment we had while I was in the infirmary is long gone. I’m a new recruit and he’s my captain. Today, he’s making that perfectly clear.

Kray works with me for our remaining time, while Riley helps a struggling Britta. Gibson and Haskal seem to do fine on their own.

“You have to know by touch what these parts are!” Captain Barton shouts, turning around to address us all. “During your final exam on this, you’ll be blindfolded. So get well-acquainted with each piece. You’re dismissed for lunch.”

Barton is the first one out the door. I toss onto the table whatever the hell part I’m holding. I’m so done with this.

“I’m proud of you,” Kray says.

I glare at him, thinking he’s being sarcastic. I sucked at this task.

“Because”—he points above my head—“see up there? No rain clouds.”

I peer up, and sure enough, he’s right. Nothing. “Huh.”

Kray bends to whisper in my ear. “It’s because you were too busy thinking about Barton.”

I elbow him playfully—sort of—in the stomach. “Or I wasn’t
that
frustrated.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Whatever. I’m starving,” I say and push past him. Then I swing around. “You coming?”

“I love being right,” he murmurs as we leave.

We’re the last ones to get our lunch. As usual, the real Navy soldiers sit at one table with Riley, and the rest of us are at the other. Even though Gibson is paired with a different commander each afternoon, he’s one of us. The one who’s supposed to lead us, should the need arise. Britta immediately strikes up a conversation with Kray about translation, and Haskal has a physics book open in front of him. It seems everyone is getting comfortable in the roles chosen for us.

Everyone except for me.

I set my tray down in the last available seat—across from Haskal. His gaze rests on me for a moment, and I catch a strange glint in his eye. Like he knows something. Something he shouldn’t. Something he’ll hang over me later.

“What?” I say, ready to get this over with.

“I love listening to you talk in your sleep,” he answers, grinning.

“What do you know about my sleep? You sneak in at night?”

He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “You remember what I told you about the walls between our cabins being thin?”

Ah, crap.

He smirks. “Oh how I’d love to be inside more than just your dreams.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I bark.

“No?” He sighs, sticks his index finger in his mouth, and pulls it out slowly. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for
one night
. I guarantee it’ll change your mind about me.”

“Ugh. I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

He ignores me and bites his lip. “You moaning out my name? And I promise I can make you moan.”

I shake my head, determined not to let him get to me again. He’s not worth it.

He shrugs as if he’s given up, which is too good to be true. Clearly, he has more up his sleeve. “Your loss,” he says. “Two things, then. The first is free. The second one will cost you.”

I eye him suspiciously.

He continues without my agreement. “If I can hear you, you’d better be sure
he
can hear you too.”

“He
who?”

“You don’t know?”

“Obviously not.”

“Do you know who shares your other wall?”

“No one. It’s empty.”

With a sly grin, Haskal shakes his head. “Not anymore. Your new boyfriend has moved in beside you, neighbor.”

Air catches in my lungs. Riley? Next door?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurt out. I seem to be saying that a lot lately.

Haskal nods like the douchebag he is.

I squirm in my chair. “Why would he do that? Move in there, I mean?” I ask, recovering.