The Decaying Empire (The Vanishing Girl Series Book 2) (25 page)

Caden was right—I was stupid. Stupid to think he would leave me, stupid to think Eric could convince him to do so. Had I given the situation more thought, I would’ve realized this earlier on. But there’d been so many ifs to the way things unfolded, and I’d approached the situation from an emotional standpoint, not a logical one. I got scared, so I ran.

“So they left withou—”

Out of thin air, a teleporter appeared directly in front of me. I didn’t even have time to react before his fist shot forward. Reflexively I ducked, and instinct took over.

I dropped low and kicked out at him. The teleporter jumped, dodging my kick. He lunged for me, and I scrambled backward, shucking off my bag. He was stronger, faster, and better trained. In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and I was desperate. Very, very desperate.

My leg shot out like a whip, my foot connecting with his jaw. His teeth clicked together, and he stumbled back two steps, right into Caden’s waiting arms.

Caden wrapped one arm around the teleporter’s neck and applied pressure. The teleporter desperately kicked at Caden’s shins and shoved his elbow into my pair’s ribcage. Despite the guy’s efforts, Caden didn’t budge. Within seconds it was all over. The guy’s eyes rolled back and his muscles went limp.

“Climb!” Caden yelled. He needn’t have bothered. I already had the same idea.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I reached for the first branch of a nearby tree and hauled myself up. Caden was right behind me.

I was in the middle of climbing when another teleporter appeared. He coalesced right next to me. Too bad right next to me was in the middle of the air.

“Incoming!” I shouted down.

Caden flattened himself against the tree.

The teleporter hit the ground hard. I winced when I heard the air whoosh out of him. Not pleasant, that was for sure.

Caden dropped to the ground next to him and grabbed the gun from the teleporter’s holster. He aimed it at the back of our assailant’s head. “Move slowly if you want to live.”

The guy lifted his head. As soon as he saw his weapon turned on him, the teleporter raised his hands. “Truce, man.”

“You know how it is, Bradie.”

Bradie’s eyes flashed. “Does that mean you’re going to shoot?”

“Depends,” Caden said.

Bradie caught sight of the fallen teleporter lying next to him. “Shit, what did you do to Sean?”

“You’re not in a position to be asking questions.”

Bradie’s gaze moved back to my pair. “Caden, you wouldn’t shoot me?”

In response Caden cocked the gun.

“Okay, okay,” Bradie said, raising his hands a little higher.

“Who sent you?” Caden asked.

“Who do you think?”

“Plug your ears, angel,” Caden said to me, not taking his eyes off Bradie.

The teleporter’s eyes widened. “Whoa, wait, man. Sorry—fuck—
sorry
. I’ll answer your questions, just don’t shoot.”

Caden waited.

“Dane sent us. He’s upset, although he’s pretending it’s business as usual.”

Caden nodded. “Keep talking.”

“There’s not much more to say. We’re in the dark. All we know is that apprehending you two is a high-priority mission.”

“You’re avoiding the most important point,” Caden said.

Bradie drew in a breath, then exhaled. “Dead or alive,” he finally said. “Preferably alive, but at this point
. . .
he just wants you two stopped.”

Two
. That was an important detail. Did Dane not know that Eric and Serena had also escaped, or had he just not told the teleporters more than they needed to know? If I had to guess, I’d say the latter.

I held my tongue in case the Project hadn’t learned of Eric and Serena’s escape. I didn’t want Bradie going back to Dane and feeding him information I’d unwittingly given. As it was, Bradie would report that I hid in a tree the entire time, utterly useless.

Shit. That would be exploited; weaknesses always were. I couldn’t afford to be seen as weak.

I crouched, grabbed the branch beneath my feet, and swung my body down to the ground, well aware that if either of these two had cameras on them—which was highly likely—another teleporter would be sent in shortly.

And they’d be coming for me.

Now was the time to send a message.

Bradie’s eyes moved to me before returning to Caden. On anyone else, I might’ve seen fear. But on a teleporter, fear had been trained out of us, and in Bradie’s eyes I only saw calculation.

I walked up next to Caden and held out my hand, knowing he could read into the hard planes of my face. The cold, heavy weight of a gun fell into my palm.

I approached Bradie, my face grim.

He put his arms up. “Whoa.” His eyes moved to Caden. “I thought if I cooperated you wouldn’t shoot me.”

I closed the remaining distance. Crouching, I smashed the gun across his left temple and cheekbone.

“No one said anything about pistol-whipping you,” I said, rising to my feet.

I walked over to the other teleporter, who was still unconscious, and hit him too, across the face, albeit with much less force.

Once I’d finished I handed the gun back to Caden. He looked impressed. And a little turned on.

I checked the pulses of each teleporter while Caden disassembled the gun. “Both are still alive.”

“Good,” he said, tossing the parts and pieces aside, “then let’s move.”

We jogged for an hour, sticking close to the road. During that time we’d been watching the cars that drove by. Oh, and I almost hacked up a lung in the process. I still was somewhat out of shape.

The first several cars we saw raised the hair along my arms. The drivers inside looked like civilians—beards, long hair, casual clothing. Essentially things that wouldn’t scream
agents
.

What gave them away was not the make or model of the car, nor the individual inside. It was the number of cars that drove down the freeway. In this corner of the United States, traffic was all but nonexistent.

Once we identified them as agents, additional details gave them away. For some it was a certain hollowness in their eyes. For others it was the hard set to their jaw or mouths. For others still, it was the way they sat in the car, as though they were ready for action. Or, more damning, if they looked off into the woods.

“We’re going to need to get a car soon,” Caden said, rubbing his eyes. “That, or we’re going to need to climb.”

What he wasn’t saying was that he needed sleep. We both did. The thought of more teleporters appearing while we were asleep . . .

I nodded. “A car,” I agreed. We needed to keep moving. But we also needed to make sure that we didn’t hand ourselves over to some covert agent.

Salvation came fifteen minutes later when a semi carrying lumber drove up the freeway. As soon as we saw it, we sprinted for the road.

Just inside the tree line, I placed a hand on Caden’s chest. “Hold back for ten seconds.”

I removed the rubber band holding my hair back and shook out the long tresses.

Caden watched me. “You know, you’re a terror to men everywhere.”

I rolled my eyes. “Last I checked, you liked the way I terrorized you,” I said, backing toward the road.

Caden caught my chin before I could get away and gave me a quick kiss. “I do. Now, go catch us a trucker,” he said, releasing me.

Thumb out, I walked onto the shoulder of the road, smiling as I did so. It took the trucker less than three seconds to slow down the semi. Even I had not been expecting such a quick reaction, manipulation involved or not.

He’d almost come to a complete stop when Caden stepped up next to me.

“Need a lift?” the trucker said, his eyes moving over me, then Caden.

“That’d be great,” I said, giving him a grateful smile. I put a little extra wattage into it, and the trucker grinned back.

Caden elbowed me. “Tone it down a bit,” he whispered. “We want a ride, not a marriage proposal.”

I turned to glare at him before hopping into the truck.

“Where you heading?” the trucker asked once he’d pulled back onto the road.

“Canada.”

The trucker wheezed out a laugh. “Sorry, sugar, but I can’t cross the border with you two.”

I held back a sigh. “Then the nearest city.” We needed food and access to cars. Once we got them, we were going to cross the border.

CHAPTER 16

E
ventually the trucker dropped us off at the exit to Eureka. If only we’d been here hours earlier
. . .
At least we were close to the border. It was fifteen minutes to Canada via car.

I glanced over at Caden as we headed into town. He had dark smudges under his eyes, and I swear that sheer force of will alone kept him upright and awake.

“Let’s find a place for you to teleport,” I said.

His need for sleep must’ve been fairly dire, since he didn’t fight me. We walked toward a half-vacant motel.

My life had brought us here.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked as we crossed the parking lot.

“I’ll get us into the room, we’ll take turns teleporting, and once we’re done, we’ll go joyriding.”

In other words, we’d steal a car. It was just one more illegal activity to add to my growing résumé.

We picked a room that was outside the lobby’s direct line of sight. I leaned against the wall next to the door, acting bored while I used my body to shield Caden’s movements.

He stuck something into the lock, jimmied it, then slammed his elbow down on the doorknob.

The door swung open, and Caden stepped aside to let me pass.

“It’s scary how good you are at breaking and entering,” I said.

Caden gave me a sleepy smile. “You’re welcome, angel.”

I returned the smile and made my way to the bed.

I collapsed onto it, and a moment later, I felt a warm hand stroke my back. I reached for the hand and gave it a tug, but Caden resisted.

“You first,” he said.

I flipped onto my back to look up at him. “No way. You’re the one who’s about to collapse.” I’d at least gotten some drugged-up sleep with the sedative.

He lifted a shoulder and took a seat in a nearby chair. “I can manage. You first.”

I blew out a breath. No use wasting time arguing. I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyelids, steadying my breathing. When five minutes passed and I was still wide-awake, the chair Caden sat in scraped back. A moment later the bed dipped, and a warm arm wrapped around my waist.

“You’re safe, angel,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to the back of my head.

Whether it was comfort, warmth, or security, the press of his body seemed to do the trick, and I drifted off to sleep.

The first thing I saw was the unassuming metal drain set into the concrete floor in front of my feet.

By the time I’d processed the sight and realized what it meant, I heard a sound from behind me.

I turned, my gaze sweeping across the room I stood in. Strange stains discolored areas of the concrete. Chains hung from the ceiling, and several more dangled from the walls. But the most damning aspect of the room was the chair bolted to the floor and outfitted with leather wrist and ankle bindings, with a tray of knives, tweezers, and clamps next to it.

They’d been preparing for me.

Fuck.

A man—a huge, beefy, scary-looking man—in fatigues stood guard, a large gun strapped to his back. The scariest bit about him, though, was his face. There was something disturbingly wrong about how normal he appeared. Like restraining and then torturing me was just another day on the job.

And it might be.

“You can make this easy,” he said.

My body screamed at me to flee, but I already knew there was no way out for me. I was going to have to fight this grizzly of a man.

I shifted my weight. “You and I both know that’s a relative term in this room.”
Easy
only meant I’d be playing by his rules for longer.

He shrugged. “Fine,” he said, beckoning me forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

A reluctant torturer. How sweet.

Rather than rushing him, I waited. I’d have to use swift, evasive techniques when fighting him, which meant that he’d have to make the first move.

When he realized I wasn’t going to attack, he sauntered forward.

At the last minute, I moved, taking two quick steps toward the chain that dangled from the ceiling. I jumped and caught it. Swinging my legs forward, I angled them for his chest.

He anticipated the move, just as I hoped he would. At the last second, I snapped my feet up, placing the blow just beneath his chin.

The hit clipped his jaw, and his head snapped back. I dropped to the ground as he rubbed his chin, staring at me thoughtfully. Like he’d assumed I was a harmless kitten only to find out I had teeth—adorable ones. He still didn’t consider me a threat, still hadn’t even reached for his gun.

I crouched, keeping my center of gravity low. He prowled forward, leaving all sorts of areas exposed. He couldn’t have stated more clearly that he wasn’t taking this seriously.

I backed up with each step he took, nearing the torture chair and the tray of horrors.

“What are you? Ex-Navy Seal?”

He didn’t respond. Figured.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the tray. I lunged, grabbing the first device I could and throwing it at him in one fluid movement.

The object—a serrated knife—bounced off him.

Fail.

I reached for another, and he caught my arm. “I don’t think so.”

He swept me into his arms like I weighed nothing, and I went ballistic.

With my free hand, I went for his eyes while I twisted in his arms. This was a kill-or-be-killed situation. I hadn’t come this far only to be snuffed out.

He ducked his head, and my fingernails gouged out skin. The human tank didn’t even wince. My feet kicked out, but they met only air. This was a fight I couldn’t win; I couldn’t even stall it very well.

An intercom in the room clicked on. “Ember Pierce, you’ve been detained for questioning for crimes against the State.”

I stilled at the sound of Dane Richards’s voice. He was here, waiting for this confrontation. And now he sat in front of some screen, watching this all play out.

And “detained for questioning”? I didn’t realize torture needed a euphemism. Color me surprised.

My captor threw me into the chair and muscled me into a strap. I screamed, thrashing out against him. I had just seconds to undo this situation before I’d be unable to do so.

My foot connected with my attacker’s shin, and he flinched, giving me the opening I needed.

I reached over and began to unbuckle the strap. A powerful hand pushed my shoulders back against the chair. He grabbed my free hand and forced it into the leather bindings.

Fighting wasn’t working. Time to try something else.

“Please,” I begged, “I’m just a child.” Obviously, that wasn’t quite the truth, but my gut told me that this guy was not into hurting women or children. He’d been too gentle with me, even when I’d been doing my utmost to escape him. The gun that still rested at his back was proof of that.

He ignored me, capturing a foot and buckling it into the ankle strap of the chair.

“All I want is my freedom. I’m an American citizen,” I said, adding a little sob to my words. It wasn’t all acting either.

“I cannot allow you to compromise national security,” he said. His eyes told me something else. A spark of conflict flared in them. It was gone so quickly that I could’ve imagined it. But I didn’t.

I found the chink in his armor.

“I’m not compromising national security!” I said, “I’m just a teenager! I was unwillingly taken from my home, forced on missions. I escaped because—”

“A soldier doesn’t desert his company.” Despite his words, I noticed a certain hesitation to his movements, like he was trying to stall for time.

Behind him Caden winked into existence.

Thank God.

It took him all of a second to comprehend the situation. Silently he crept up to the man in fatigues.

The intercom crackled on, and I bit back an oath. “Caden, you do not want to do that.”

My attacker straightened, confused. Just as he began to turn, Caden slammed his fist into the man’s temple.

The man collapsed.

Of course it worked when Caden did it. Lame.

Before the man could get up, Caden wrapped an arm around his throat, applying pressure to the sides of his neck. “You shouldn’t have attacked her,” Caden whispered against his temple.

The man bucked, and holy shit, watching these two was like watching a tornado hit a hurricane. Whoever this guy was, he knew what was happening to him. The man shoved his body backward. The two tripped and fell. Caden grunted as his back hit the ground, but he didn’t let go of the man’s neck.

The man jerked his head back, and Caden only barely managed to duck his own head in time.

Caden’s lips curled inward, and his muscles strained against his shirt. And then all at once, the man’s resistance fell away and his eyelids fluttered closed.

Caden let the man go only to lift the gun from his body and slam the butt of it into the man’s temple. All the while the intercom remained eerily silent.

Slinging the strap of the gun across his chest, Caden came over to me and unhooked the leather bindings. His gaze flicked to the tray of metal devices and then to me. No words were needed.

Caden pulled me to my feet, and then he crushed me in his arms. Both of us were shaking.

“I am so glad you nodded off,” I finally said.

“Me too, angel. Me too.”

Once Ember vanished, Caden made quick work of the place, strapping the unconscious man to the chair, checking the number of rounds in the Beretta M9 he now carried.

Everywhere he looked he saw reminders of what almost happened to Ember. What
would’ve
happened had he not accidentally fallen asleep to thoughts of her. His body still shook slightly from how close he’d just come to losing her. Again.

So far all the Project’s interest, all their attacks, had been aimed at her. Despite Bradie’s confession that both of them were wanted either dead or alive, it seemed the Project had prioritized eliminating her.

He glanced around the room. In this business torture was only implemented to glean information. Whatever the Project wanted from Ember, it involved more than just punishment. She had to know something that Dane either wanted or wanted suppressed. But what?

Footfalls sounded outside the door. Caden raised the gun, aiming it at the door. He wouldn’t shoot immediately
. . .
but he might once the situation became clearer.

When the door swung open, a shock ran through Caden, though he hid it from his face. He’d been expecting Dane, but the sight of him here in this
. . .
detention center
—it broke something inside him. Guards flanked his former commander, their weapons aimed at him.

“Put down the gun, son,” Dane said, his voice irritatingly reasonable.

“I’m not your son.”

Caden saw the brief flash of irritation that crossed Dane’s face. “Put the gun down, Caden,” he said more forcefully.

Caden only had a handful of minutes left, and he knew that despite the man’s faults, Dane wouldn’t torture him. He tossed the gun aside.

When the guards stepped forward, Caden flashed each of them a dangerous look. “No,” he said.

Richards put a hand out, and the soldiers halted. “Perhaps we should go somewhere else to talk?”

Caden folded his arms over his chest. “If this place was good enough for Ember, then it’s good enough for me.”

“Fine. But if you so much as twitch toward the weapons in the room, my men will shoot to kill.”

“I can live with that.”

Dane nodded, and he and his men stepped fully inside the room. The door slammed shut behind them, and immediately the room felt claustrophobic. Having several guns aimed at you will do that.

“You need to go back, Caden—with or without Ember.”

Caden shook his head. “You set her up—and nearly killed her—all because she learned too much.”

“Caden, you and I both know it was more than that.”

And it was.

“She was going to blow our cover—national security was at risk. You seem to have forgotten what that means.”

Caden took a step forward. “I’ve
never
forgotten what that means.”

“Then why are you running?”

“Sir—” Caden wanted to curse. Even after everything, he couldn’t drop the honorific title when speaking to Dane. “This is about more than just me. I made the decision to fight for my country way too young, but I still stand by that decision. But Ember doesn’t, and I’ll be damned if I lose her again.”