Deadly Genesis (Boomers Book 2) (19 page)

The latest call pulled them toward a robbery in progress in upper Manhattan. A gang hit a theater, stripping the patrons of their valuable items. Josh flew through the city while Michael tracked him from a distance, picking a good rooftop vantage point. He set up his gun and scope in quick order and camouflaged his perch. He was a little under a mile away, but he could see most of the action.

It didn’t take Tempest long to wrap up the criminal activities. Not easily impressed, Michael admired the alacrity in his actions. He disarmed the men and held them captive with tiny tornados. Three passed out from lack of oxygen. The efficiency worked against them, though. The police took the criminals into custody and gave Tempest the politest of waves. Michael lifted his chin and studied the city blocks below him. He saw better from higher up. He could measure the flow of people and, more often than not, see trouble before it arrived.

Maybe they were making this too easy for the men trying to tag Josh. Touching a finger to the com tucked behind his ear, he fixed his sight on Tempest through the scope. “Time to play hard to get.”

Surprise lifted Josh’s brow, but he nodded once. Message received. He took to the skies.

“I’ll head into the thicker crowds in the club district and party.” He swooped around a building and out of sight. Michael packed up the gun and checked his phone again. He sent two messages. One to Drake to check on Rory and the second to Garrett to check on whether he’d heard from Simon.

Both messages failed to send.

The sound of a boot spun him around. He slid his phone into his pocket—making it casual—and freed the Glock from under his jacket. He drew his gun and shot the first man rushing him point blank. The second and third went down as easily, but the swarm of men coming for him forced him to use the rifle. He swung it, taking down a fourth and catching the fifth’s arm high with the butt of the weapon. Bones crunched and blood flew. He waded into the battle easily. A dart slammed into his neck but he pulled it out and flung it away. Four more men went down and still they kept coming. Three more shots and he worked his way to the stairwell. If not for his skyscraper location, he could just have gone over the edge, but a forty-story drop would break even his legs. A second dart slammed into his flak jacket and a third caught him in the side of his face. He swept away the annoying needles.

The flush of anesthetic hit his blood, but the adrenaline surge held it at bay. He wasn’t normal and hadn’t been in decades. The combination of serum increasing his metabolism and healing fought the drugs. A dozen men down and he made it to the door, but wind slammed it shut. Josh appeared over the lip of the roof and Michael tried to wave him off—they didn’t need the Tempest falling forty stories either but, instead of listening, the wind swooped in and bound Michael’s arms.

His weapons locked to his sides and the air sucked out of his lungs. A fourth dart hit his neck and the wind drove it in deeper. The anesthetic entered his artery and the wild pump of Michael’s heart sent it screaming through his system. The soldiers ignored Josh, but not the shifter leaping away from the man’s waist. Rex’s nearly liquid mass hit the roof and two of the soldiers flung small metallic devices at him. They lit up in an electrical field.

The sizzling noise sent the shifter into violent convulsions. He couldn’t reform. Fury blazed through Michael, and his glare promised Josh retribution even as he lost the ability to breathe and black spots danced in front of his eyes.

Josh had betrayed them.

Simon…!
He tried to send a warning to the telepath, relying on the man’s ability to hear them and the mental ties they’d forged over the years. His team was in danger. But blackness sucked him down.

“Two Boomers contained. Take the others,” were the last words Michael heard.

“What happened?” Amanda scrambled to her feet. Everything hurt, but his taut expression worried her. He grabbed his clothes and dressed hurriedly. She followed suit.

“I don’t know, I heard several voices cry out at once and then go quiet immediately. Michael reached for me. He was in trouble, but his mind went dark before I could reach it.” His clipped words didn’t faze her, but his distracted look did. She dragged on jeans and snapped them up, skipped her bra and pulled on a t-shirt.

It was as though she were a passenger in his mind, as aware of him as of herself. He needed a television. If there was a disaster in New York it would be all over the news. His phone had no bars though, so he couldn’t even look it up. He stopped moving, his chin jerking up. He’d found someone. She moved to his side, took his hand, and rested a bare palm against his chest. She didn’t know if it would help, but she wanted to be there for him.

Traces of dried blood flaked around his ears and at the edge of his nose. Her heart twisted in sympathy for the strain he put on himself.
Amanda is with me, Garrett.
His voice swept her into the conversation.

We were compromised. I don’t know if Josh was the traitor or not. We never could reach Michael or Rex. Drake evacuated the New York warehouse, and he has Rory with him. Ilsa and I are moving the patients to Rock Isle.
Garrett’s voice sounded distinctly odd echoing from Simon to her.

Where were they last seen?
Simon pointed to his shirt and Amanda snagged it for him. He pulled it on, but she buttoned it up. Letting him go, she grabbed his jacket and helped him slip it on. They sat almost in unison and pulled on shoes—boots for him, sneakers for her.

Manhattan would be my guess. I don’t know. Michael got a wild hair up his ass because you disappeared and Rory wanted to bait them.

Amanda winced. Simon went off the grid to help her. She didn’t realize he’d bucked orders for it or cut the other Boomers out of the loop.
Is Rory okay?
Her friend had to be going nuts if she didn’t know where Michael was.

She’s unconscious. I’m sure she’ll be her usual bitchy self when she wakes up.

Simon frowned.
We will deal with it. I am assuming you chose to fall back to Evac points?

Garrett’s affirmative, along with the trace of the thought that he’d skipped his in favor of keeping Ilsa and her patients safe, came in quick succession.

Secure them. I will track Drake and meet with him.

I’ll scour the city,
Amanda volunteered.
I am faster in the air, anyway. If they are there, I will find them.

Simon caught her hand and shook his head, holding up one finger. The thread of Garrett faded from her mind and she looked at the telepath questioningly. “I am faster in the air.”

“I know you are, but splitting up is what got us all into trouble. We need to move in pairs or more from now on.”

It made rational sense, but impatience flooded her. “Why would Rory be unconscious?”

“Because Michael’s decision making where she is concerned has been compromised.” Simon rose and checked his gear and then went to put out the fire. “He cannot stand the idea of her in danger. I hoped they would get past this manic need to do battle, but they are far from it.”

Her heart tugged for her best friend. If Michael knocked her out, even to protect her, Rory would be beyond pissed. Amanda might not like the man, but she knew Rory well enough to see the love in her eyes and hear the devotion in her voice. She would be devastated if anything happened to him. Pain and worry wrinkled Simon’s face. Rory wouldn’t be alone in that grief.

“I’m sorry.” She licked her lips and swallowed back her own regret.

“For what?” He rose and came back to her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“If not for me, you would have been there. You—”

He shook his head. “I made the right choice. We needed you whole. Michael wanted expediency and wouldn’t have agreed to the deep scan. We can argue all day which made more sense given the circumstances, but you needed me more. I can also argue that whatever has happened to them, we’re still free and can help them now.” So thoroughly grounded—God, the man was so not her type yet so utterly perfect for her.

She could roll with it. “Okay, is there anything in that car you really need?” He shook his head. “Then arm up. We’re flying back. I can get us into the city in less than an hour.”

“Can you handle the strain?” No doubt edged his words, just a simple inquiry.

Winking, she grinned. “I’m a bit of a badass. Just wait and see.”

She turned and he surprised her with a gentle squeeze of her ass. “I think you have a great ass.”

The flirt brought another grin to her lips, and she glanced back at the sofa. She didn’t want to leave the profound peace she’d found there. Hard to believe that less than a month before, she’d longed for death.

They’ll be okay, sweetheart. We will get to them.
His arms closed around her and pulled her back into a hug. She melted against his embrace, savoring it. Eyes closed, she gave herself this minute, but only a minute. Stealing her shoulders, she pushed free and led the way out the door. He locked the cabin. The deep dark of night would hide them and, if she flew low, she wouldn’t give off any tracer signature for radar to pick up on.

“Can you keep reaching for Drake while I fly or do we need to wait?” Better to ask before giving into the impatience thrumming through her. This was one fight she had no intention to missing.

“I’m good.” He pulled out a wet cloth from the disposable pack and washed his face, cleaned his ears and packed the rest of the bag into the car. He pulled out two weapons and strapped them on. The crisscrossing belts with the guns tucked under his arms were
hawt
.

He glanced at her, bemused. “Weapons turn you on?”

“Not usually, but you do.” She grinned.

“Good to know.”

“Ready?”

“Let’s fly.” He locked the car and took her hand. She tugged him closer and wrapped her arms around him. Kissing him gently, she flooded heat though her body, rising on a waft of superheated air and carrying him with her. He massaged her lips with his own and the complete trust in his thoughts embraced hers.

Clearing the cabin and rising above the trees, she barrel rolled so that he could snap his arms out. Forearms locked, she poured on the heat and jetted toward the city.

Simon tracked Drake to a road in Jersey. The strongman gave them the details of the warehouse attack and the detonation of the fail-safe. Amanda weaved through the skies over Manhattan, expertly avoiding downdrafts between the buildings. He sent Drake to meet with Garrett and Ilsa. Turning his attention to the cityscape below, he dropped his shields and scanned the streets. Millions of minds buzzed in his head. Sleeping minds dreaming, waking minds fretting, arguing or bored—the drone of a thousand random thoughts. But he knew the minds he searched for—Michael and Rex. Amanda tilted and carried them around another series of buildings. He scanned each one. It was time consuming, but not even a thread of the Boomers was present.

They weren’t in the city.

What if they were unconscious?
Her question whispered over the hum of humanity.

I would still find them if they are here. We’ll need to find a spot so I can do a more extensive scan, but it will take time. It won’t matter where they put them, I can find them.
Distance only cost him time and energy. He could find them.

He knew he could.

Then we go to Garrett and the others.
Her decision and the reasoning echoing behind it pleased and surprised him. She wanted him safe, seemingly sensing he would be vulnerable if he opened himself up like that.

Agreed. Rock Isle is…

She snorted.
I know where it is. Rory’s parents have a place in the Hamptons and that private little isle was a place we tried to break into a few times in our teens.

Despite the gravity of the situation, laughter vibrated in his chest. Rock Isle was a one-mile square little jut of land that they owned outright and banned others from visiting. The location in the Atlantic made it highly defensible. They also kept all their backup equipment and files there. The city faded behind him.

What would it have been like if a young Amanda and Rory had managed to penetrate their isle and find them years before they were ready to be discovered?

A storm brewed off the coast and churned up the water. The forbidding gray skies and occasional flashes of lightning suited the mood inside the house. Hardly as opulent as the Hamptons estate, the Rock Isle house embraced New England functionality. Simon wrapped his fingers around a steaming mug of coffee. Ilsa’d brewed it for them as soon as he and Amanda arrived. Garrett and Drake worked at the counters, chopping vegetables and adding them to a stew cooking in an oversized crockpot.

Amanda disappeared upstairs with Ilsa to check on Rory. The mental roar raging above told him Michael’s woman was awake. And she was pissed. The women tried to reason with her, but her mental seethe put Simon’s teeth on edge. Michael’s choice was questionable at best and she was entitled to her fury, but it served no one. Massaging his temple, he took another drink of the coffee.

“How long do we have before we have to knock her ass out again?” Garrett asked. The animosity between Garrett and Rory had dialed back to an almost friendly rivalry but, with Michael and Rex missing, none had patience for the drama.

“We’re not going to knock her out.” A door slammed upstairs. “Let me handle this.”

“All yours.” Garrett nodded and glanced at the door as Rory strode through it. Her face was still pale from the sedative, her pupils faintly dilated and her mouth set into a hard line.

“Sit down.” Simon advised her before she even opened her mouth. Rebellion stiffened her shoulders, so he put his coffee cup down and focused on her. Taking control, he walked her over, pulled out a chair and sat her down. Fury in her thoughts scorched him. “I will let you go under two conditions.”

Amanda and Ilsa walked in, both wearing troubled expressions, but neither interfered. He’d already spoken to Amanda about the fact they would have to contain Rory if she wouldn’t listen to reason. She might be Amanda’s best friend and the love of Michael’s life, but if she hared off on some wild plan, she could compromise them all. His beautiful companion agreed, reluctantly, to let him do what he had to.