Landlocked (Atlas Link Series Book 2) (11 page)

I shrugged, daring him to override my decision.

He didn’t. I liked that.

The bartender handed over our drinks and placed them on my tab. I spun around so I could lean back onto the bar and watch the crowd. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m just passing through,” he said.

Aren’t we all?

Now that I could hear it better, I realized his voice was deeper than his face suggested it’d be. Gruff, but somehow still like honey. Strong like the rest of him. The guy had the biggest biceps I’d ever seen, all barely contained in his black shirt.

“This place is all right. Good drinks, shifty people,” I commented. “It’s an old favorite.” One I’d somehow developed a connection to during the single time our band played a show here.

Mystery Man started to respond, but I ignored him. Something flashed out on the dance floor, metal shining against the colored lights of the club. Every time I caught a glimpse, the person holding it moved, weaving between the other dancers. I stood straight to get a better view, leaning onto my tip-toes, as a chill spread over my skin and I finally saw what I’d feared.

I placed my drink on the counter, barely getting out, “I’ll be right back,” before rudely leaving Mystery Man and stepping into the crowd of dancing people. My aim was to place myself directly in between that gun and its intended target. I came here to have fun, not witness a murder, and after today, that’s the last thing I wanted to happen.

I spotted the guy with the gun and immediately placed myself in his personal space. I danced alongside him, distracting him to keep him off his game. Someone made their way to the side exit door—his target?

The man growled and pushed me away from him. Yup, definitely his target.

He went to go after him, but I grabbed his free arm, the one not holding the gun, and pulled him back. “I don’t think so. Give me the gun.”

The man reeled from me, his hand connecting with the side of my face as he struggled to get his arm back. Pain exploded up my cheekbone and into my head, but I ignored it. I shot a foot out into his shin. The man lost his balance and stumbled, but didn’t fall. I lashed my hands out, grabbing for his weapon.

His grip on the gun tightened and I struggled to, in the very least, force the barrel up toward the ceiling and away from bystanders. Shots pinged up at the ceiling, the sound of them piercing louder than the thumping music. People fled in every direction, creating a circle around me and the wild gunman as their screams filled the air. I held onto the barrel of the gun, refusing to let go, as he continued fighting for purchase, but it was harder than it should have been.
Way
harder. Like the gunman was Lemurian strong.

I tore the gun from his grasp with all I had and pointed it at him. He instantly backed down from the fight, hands up.

“You should have listened to me.” I reached forward and quickly ripped his sleeve up his arm. That’s when I saw it: the same mark Dave had on
his
hand the night he’d mugged me in Boston. The night Trevor and I had met. The mark saying this idiot belonged to Trevor’s estranged family, or at least worked for them.

I had to force my arms not to waver. Guns plus the tattoo sent my mind into freak-out mode. “Somebody call the police so I can go home,” I shouted over my shoulder. I wanted out of here, right now. Before this guy figured out who and what I was. He hadn’t yet. He hadn’t looked at me with fear or wanting. Just annoyance.

The bartender dashed to the phone behind the bar, but then Mr. Mystery Man came up beside me. “Give it to me,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He nodded at the gun. “Hand it over.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve got the military authority to hold this guy.” Did I? This counted as a citizen’s arrest, right? And even if it didn’t, he was Lemurian. Didn’t that make it my centuries-old duty to arrest him? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Army ID to flash at Mystery Man.

“So do we,” came another voice. “And this was our directive, so leave it to us.” When the second guy game into view, I looked him over. He had short, closely-cropped hair the color of sand, a strong jaw, and a scar that ran down half of his right cheek. In dark-washed jeans and a black button-down shirt, he didn’t look like he held any kind of position of authority.

“I think I’ll wait for the cops,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”

“Chelsea?” a voice asked, so familiar yet one I hadn’t heard in years.

It’s not possible. It can’t be.

The memories from the Altern Device puzzle screwed with my brain. For a moment my vision consisted of nothing but tiles recreating Thompson’s nasty, evil grin over and over and over.

“Chelsea?” the third man asked again.

I blinked through the memories. “Weyland?”

How in the world?
My eyes settled on him. Lieutenant Adam Weyland didn’t look much different. There hadn’t been as much change with him as there was with me. At least, any change that existed wasn’t tangible. Even the tone with which he said my name was almost the same annoyance-frustration it was on the day we first met.

Weyland had been an MP, SeaSat5’s Head Security Officer, when I’d first boarded. The guy who refused to trust me for weeks because I’d gotten past his security systems by
accident
. He’d directed me when I’d gotten lost on SeaSat5 after I’d accidentally teleported into the Lounge in front of everyone. He’d been there on the Bridge when I’d shot Thompson. My hand wavered ever so slightly as I held my grip on the gun and stared at him. He must have noticed.

“Chelsea, hand it over,” Weyland said. “I don’t know what authority you’re under now, but I’ve got this.”

Did he, though? Did he know who—what—this guy was? He must. He had to recognize the tattoo. Dave was his best friend, for God’s sake. The second guy watched me with narrow eyes. I risked a glare back at him before finding Mystery Man observing me with the same cautious look.

Now I planned to hold onto the damn gun because I had no idea what was going on anymore. Weyland. In civvies. In a bar. In Phoenix. Where the hell did they transfer him to after the hijacking? He wasn’t aboard when the Lemurians took the station. He’d been transferred before that, and Trevor and I had never known where.

“Chelsea?” he asked again.

“I’m keeping it because I’m confused,” I said, trying to piece it all together. My brain was still muddled from those damn tiles, brought on by seeing Weyland. I never thought I’d see him again after he’d left SeaSat5.

I shut my eyes to clear my thoughts. In the second they were closed, someone stepped behind me and stripped the gun from my hand, restraining my arms behind my back.

My eyes shot open to Weyland as I squirmed against the other man’s hold. “Seriously? You ask me to trust you and—”

“I told you it’s not what you think,” Weyland said to me, then spoke to the man at my back. “Let her go.”

He did so, and I took a step away from the group. First, I get telepathically connected to Trevor, and then Weyland pops up as a member of the Sketch Brigade.

The second man, who I thought was their leader, said, “Mara, take Truman and get this mercenary to the car.” They did, leaving Weyland, Mr. Mystery Man, and the guy in charge standing before me.

“The fact that she knows you has killed this job, Weyland,” the one in charge said.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” I said, eyeing Weyland. He should know that guy was Lemurian. Even if the rest didn’t, even if they had no idea and thought their mark was some hyped up drug dealer, he should have known. Weyland was aboard the station when Thompson attacked.

Weyland turned to the guy in charge. “Have her talk to the General. She’s trustworthy.”

“She’s a kid.”

Mr. Mystery Man shifted uncomfortably. Jesus, did I really look that young?

“
She’s
right here,” I chastised. “And I’m perfectly capable of not only speaking for myself, but also keeping my mouth shut about top-secret things. Right, Weyland?”

“How do you know Weyland?” the guy in charged asked.

“SeaSat5,” Weyland and I said in unison.

“Why are you in Phoenix?” Weyland asked me.

I shifted my weight to a more relaxed stance, knowing Weyland wouldn’t let them take me in. “It’s been a rough day, so I decided to drop by an old favorite.” It wasn’t like I’d
wanted
to mess up whatever I’d interrupted. I just didn’t want that Lemurian dude doing… whatever it was he wanted to do.

What
did
the Lemurians do all day, anyway? It’s not like there was a war to fight on every single one of them.

“Drop by?” Weyland’s unspoken meaning was clear. He wanted to know if I’d teleported, like it was some big travesty that I might have.

“Yeah, you know. Like I always do.”

Except he didn’t know I could control my teleportation power now. He didn’t know I could do it at will, or that I no longer needed Trevor as an anchor point. Although that may have now been undone thanks to the Altern Device. I mentally noted to check into that later. For all I knew, the only reason I could get here tonight wasn’t because of my previous connection, but because my connection to Weyland—who
is
here—was strong enough to fight what the Altern Device had done to me.

One of Weyland’s eyebrows rose, but the guy in charge extended a hand. “My name’s Eric.” He gestured to Mr. Mystery Man. “And your dancing partner here is Josh. You’ll need to come with us.”

I shot Weyland a ridiculous look. “No, I don’t. And I’m not going to. I said I wouldn’t tell.” I was
not
going to follow him into Sketch Ex-Military City.

“You don’t have a choice, Chelsea,” Weyland said. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, right.” I stood firm. “Like you’re gonna stop me. A lot’s changed in two years, Lieutenant.”

His eyebrows danced again like he was trying to figure out what I meant. If he pressed the issue, he’d get his wish.

“It’ll just be overnight,” Josh said, stepping toward me, eyes pleading. How different an “overnight” with him
might
have gone.

If only.

I backed away from him. “You used me to get your mark.” It was stupid to say it, since that’s all it was. A moment’s enjoyment of what another person could make you feel. But that in-sync connection we had wouldn’t leave my mind.

“Yes.” Josh looked me straight in the eyes, confirming my feelings about the instant chemistry. But they also held the conflict of this situation. Whoever Josh was, I probably wasn’t going to get the chance to find out.

Probably for the best. People around me tended to disappear.

“We’ll fly you back in the morning,” Weyland said. “You just need to talk to the General.”

Why was he so insistent? I stuck my tongue against the side of my cheek while I thought this out. This was all so stupid. I wanted to come out, have fun, and then go back to TAO in time for the briefing in three days about that
stupid
Altern Device. They’d already cleared me and Trevor medically—aside from the telepathy—so at least
that
was done. But the briefing…

Then again, did I really want to talk about what happened? Did I really want to talk to
Trevor
about it? No. I didn’t.

“Fine,” I said. “But I won’t need a ride back.”

“You’ll have to explain that to me later,” Weyland said.

I shook my head. “You already know, and it’s otherwise classified.”

Eric gestured to the door. “We should leave before the cops show up.”

People had mostly cleared out when the gunfire went off, but sirens already echoed in the distance. I’d never seen a bar empty out so fast, not even after many nights at the Franklin. That Weyland’s team had managed to clear everyone out before someone whipped out a phone to snap a video was impressive. Even the bartenders had disappeared.

“Fine,” I said.

I followed Weyland outside to a car and climbed into the front passenger seat beside him. I trusted him, and I honestly wanted to know both why the military hunted Lemurians outside of TAO, and how Weyland had gotten mixed up in it. I hoped he would explain all of this to me as we went wherever we were going, but he was silent. Probably waiting for me to do the same regarding SeaSat5. I gave him nothing but quiet in return.

Instead, the woman from earlier spoke. She had black hair that cascaded down her shoulders, and green eyes. She was pretty and fierce-looking. “What’s with the extra?”

Weyland eyed her from the rearview mirror. “She’s an old friend. The General has to debrief her.”

“And sign her life away, saying she didn’t see anything.” She extended her hand to me through the car seats. “So sorry about that. I’m Mara McNab.”