The Decaying Empire (The Vanishing Girl Series Book 2) (27 page)

Another shot rang out, and people began to scream. Crap, I’d assumed the agents would quietly take me in. Now Bradie’s words came back. They wanted us either dead or alive.

I reached around to the small of my back. Only the gun wasn’t there.

No
.

Caden. He must’ve lifted the weapon from me. Now at least I knew who created the mayhem.

I peeked over the cars. The two agents who’d followed me now ran back to their SUVs. Shoppers ducked and darted across the parking lot.

This was as good an opportunity as I was going to get. Staying low to the ground, I wove between cars until I’d made it back to ours.

“Took you long enough.” Caden leaned against our car, grinning at me like a fool. I swear the guy could teleport at will. There was no other explanation for how he moved so quickly or stealthily.

A small sound came out of me, and then I tackle-hugged him. His arms came around me. “Aw, angel, were you worried about me?”

I swallowed the emotion rising in my throat. “You are such an idiot,” I mumbled, stepping out of his embrace.

“Had to protect my girl,” he said gently. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Once we pulled onto the freeway, Caden shook his head, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. “Well, that was fun,” he said. In the other direction, sirens wailed. We’d managed to get out of there in the nick of time.

I snorted, but I appreciated his levity. My hands still shook. That had been so close.

“So how did this happen?” Caden asked. All lightness drained from his voice.

“Tent Guy was an agent.”

Caden glanced over at me, surprise written into his expression. “That guy?” He swore. “Sly devil.”

His expression darkened. “They never went after me.”

We both could piece together what that meant. The Project wanted me badly.

Caden reached into the backseat. I looked behind us, surprised to see our purchases. He grabbed the GPS device.

“Can you set this up?” he asked, handing it to me.

I turned the box over in my hands. “You had time to purchase this before you shot that gun?”

The corner of Caden’s mouth curled up. “Naw. I pulled off the magnetic strips while I waited for you. I snuck out when the salesclerks were looking the other way.”

I tore open the package, pulling out the navigator. “Think they can find us through this?” I asked, setting the thing on the dashboard.

“Does it triangulate locations via satellite and have a particular make and model number?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Then there is your answer.”

Well, that just sucked.

We drove several hours before Caden pulled over to the side of the road. He turned to me, but I was already reaching for the bag.

“You know, we’re getting awfully good at this whole nonverbal communication thing,” he said as he watched me pull out a new vial and syringe.

I grinned. “That, or we’re just predictable.”

“Oh, burn,” he said, his mouth tilting up and his dimples peaking through. His eyes dropped to the vial I pulled from my bag. “Here, let me do it, angel,” Caden said, reaching for it and the syringe.

“I can do it,” I said, not letting go of either.

“I know you can,” Caden said gently. “Doesn’t mean you need to.”

My hands opened up before I could think twice, and he took the items from me.

Caden didn’t manage to hide the smile that tugged at his lips, as though he’d won a small battle. And if I was honest with myself, he kind of had. I didn’t give up control easily.

Taking my wrist, Caden stretched it out across the console before going to work doling out the correct amount of sedative. Meanwhile, I grabbed rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and swabbed the crook of my arm.

“Ready, angel?” he asked.

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded.

“Close your eyes,” he said, “and imagine where you want to go.”

I did as he said, and not a minute later, my eyes opened and I was there.

My father started in his desk chair, letting out a muffled curse.

He recovered, sucking in a breath of air. “Ember Bug?”

“Dad.”
I fell into his arms, the computer chair he sat in tilting dangerously from the force. This entire time I’d been so strong. And now, here in my father’s arms, for once I didn’t have to be.

He clutched me close, and I could feel his sobs racking his body as he held me. “My little girl, you’re here. You’re alive.” His hand ran over my hair, and I lost it.

I shook in his arms. “Dad, I’ve missed you. So much,” I said, my words broken by emotion.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said. “God, have I missed you.” We held each other for a while, our emotional reunion eventually morphing into happy laughter. He pushed me an arm’s length away from him to take me in. “Are you all right? You look too skinny.”

“Dad, I’m fine. Promise.”

His eyes twinkled. “Oh, your mother is going to be so envious,” he said.

That reminded me. “Dad, I
. . .
escaped a facility in Montana, and now I’m on the run with another teleporter.”

If I’d expected him to balk at my escape or question me about this other teleporter, I thought wrong. “Are you both safe?” my father asked instead.

I shrugged, trying to push thoughts of my near torture to the back of my mind. “We’re okay for now.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” My dad glanced at the room beyond his closed door. Luckily for both of us, he had a corner office that was mostly hidden from the cubicles outside it. Still, we’d attracted the shocked looks of at least two of my father’s coworkers, who could see in from the office’s inner windows.

Noticing them, he leaned in close. “Ember,” he said, “it’s not safe to talk here.”

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. They’d been here, talking to my father. My stomach clenched at that. I’d have to carefully word what I told him. The Project could glean things . . .

He got up and opened the door. “Walk behind me,” he said as he closed it. He strode down the rows of cubicles. Some of the coworkers noticed me, their eyes widening. A couple even tried to approach us, but my father waved them off.

We headed to the bank of elevators, and I hit the button for the ground floor.

“Too many of my coworkers saw you, which means I’m going to have to call that Richards asshole and tell them you visited.” My father rubbed his forehead.

The elevator doors opened and we stepped in. “That’s okay—in fact, the more you cooperate, the safer you’ll be.”

We rode in silence the rest of the way down. My stomach clenched when my father clasped my hand and squeezed it. I looked over at him and saw his eyes shine.

Outside my dad’s building, pedestrians bustled along the sidewalk. I breathed in the familiar smell of exhaust and rainwater. Ah, San Francisco, how I’d missed thee.

We began to walk. “Ember,” my dad said, “those government guys separately visited me and your mother at work yesterday. They were asking us about you.”

My head snapped to face him. Of course this would happen. The government knew enough about human nature to know that I’d probably be in contact with them.

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

My father’s solemn face turned to me. “Nothing. I told them that I hadn’t seen or heard from you since you left us.” His voice broke as he said this.

My eyes widened. He’d lied to them. My dad lied to a bunch of government agents for me. Even though he didn’t know what was going on, he loved me enough to put his own life in jeopardy.

I took his hand and squeezed it because I couldn’t put into words what that meant to me. “Dad, you shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Not the smartest thing to do,” he agreed, “and they knew I was lying, so I’ve been paranoid ever since.”

I bit my lip. “That’s probably a good thing. My lack of paranoia got me into this situation.”

He cast me a sideways glance. “What happened, Ember?”

I took a breath. “I don’t have much time, so this is the abridged version.” And then I told him what I could about what had happened to me.

“Ember Bug, what have your mother and I gotten you into?” I heard the anguish in his voice.

“They are responsible for this. Not you.”

“No”—he shook his head—“we are too. But what’s done is done.” He squinted, gazing up the road. “I’ve talked with Adrian once—very briefly. He was worried someone was wiretapping the call.”

“Dad, they probably were. These guys
. . .
they’re everywhere.” Even now the thought of being knocked out on sedatives for the next few hours had my anxiety rising.

His brows pinched together, his expression tense. I realized this was what helplessness looked like.

“Dad, the best thing you can do for me is act normal for the next several weeks. If the Project contacts you, tell them only the minimum—that you know I can teleport, that I was on the run, and that I wanted to tell you I loved you in case I died.” Other than feeding my dad a little extra information, this was all the truth. I’d come to warn him and to potentially say good-bye.

“Don’t,”
he said. He swallowed. “Don’t say that.” He rubbed his reddened eyes.

“I won’t be able to call, but assume I’m alive.” In what universe did a daughter tell her father this? Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up. I pushed it back down, fearing that once I started laughing, I might not ever stop.

My father glanced down. “Can I do
anything
to help you, Ember Bug?”

My time was almost up. “You can tell Mom that I love her.” My heart ached when I thought about Mom. I’d chosen to communicate with Dad because he was good at rolling with a situation. Mom and I would’ve spent the ten minutes being a blubbering mess together. But God, it hurt to not hold her and tell her these words in person.

“I will, baby,” my dad said, “but you have to promise me you’ll stay safe.”

I never got the chance. One moment I was there, the next I was gone.

My eyes fluttered open. My head leaned against a balled-up shirt that smelled like Caden. A blanket covered me.

“Mmm.” I rubbed my eyes and sat up.

“Evening, angel.” I glanced over at Caden, noticing the unfamiliar upholstery as I did so.

Caden rubbed the dashboard. “New baby.”

“You
. . .
stole a car? By yourself?” While I was asleep?

Caden winked at me, grinning wickedly. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

Shit. “I am.”

He shrugged. “I’m a fast learner.”

“Or you had a good teacher.”

He laughed at that. “Told you.”

“Told me what?”

“Humble is for pussies.”

I smiled and fingered the edge of the shirt I wore, realizing that I was braless. Wait . . .

My head snapped up. “Did you
. . .
dress me?”

The wicked grin returned. “We couldn’t have you high-beaming traffic, angel—it’s against the law.”

“So you took it upon yourself to dress me. How magnanimous of you.”

He turned up the wattage of that damn smile of his. “Much as I like looking at your naked body, it does little for me without that sassy mouth of yours to accompany it.”

“That’s not what your blow-up doll says.”