Exposed (21 page)

But if they only knew … knew what she’d almost done in the vault. June let her head fall to Meg’s warm shoulder and cried.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ivan

The wooden planks hiding the entrance to the mine slammed behind Ivan. He let them clatter and bang together and glared at anyone who shot a glance his way. Daring them to push him. 

What the hell was he doing here? 

Ivan shoved his hands into pockets and ground his teeth together. He knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He wanted someone to push him, he wanted an excuse to fight. An excuse to show these miserable, rotten people who they really were.

Jesus. It was embarrassing to even think of yesterday. To think of how he’d paraded through town with that damned bouquet of flowers. And what had she done—thrown them in the trash. 

A few of the newcomers standing near Clayton watched him walk past. Ivan could feel their stares, but he jutted his chin out and kept walking.

He shouldered past a knot of people bunched near a barrel of fire, strode past others getting a light show from Frank. 

There were a lot more people here tonight. Clayton must have been busy since they’d met last. Ivan tucked his chin and glared—at Adam Daly and Teddy gripping beer like that would give them courage; at Betty Carroll and Veronica Clark taking it all in with wide eyes. 

And he glared at June. Glared at her most of all. Hurt rippled across her face, and she ducked her eyes from him. A sting of guilt pricked at his chest, but he ignored it. 

He went straight for a tin bucket of ice filled with beer. Don Neilsen narrowed his eyes at Ivan.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Ivan said. He punched a hole in the can with the opener.

“My family isn’t the one—”

“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” he said, his voice deadly.

Don strode away, leaving Ivan with his black thoughts. He’d wanted him to keep talking, wanted to feel the sharp pain of his fist in someone’s face.

Instead, he took a long drink. The beer tasted metallic and too acidic. Ivan was used to vodka. This tasted like piss. Ivan tipped his head back and gulped it down, waiting for the warmth to flood his body. For anything to drown out June.

“Ivan?”

Speak of the devil. 

His fingers went tight around the empty can, and it crinkled under his grip. June tried to lay a hand on his arm, but he yanked away and kept his eyes focused away from her.

“We need to talk. I owe you—”

“Save it, June.” It took every ounce of control Ivan could find inside himself not to look at June. “You owe me nothing.”

June let out an exasperated sigh. “What you heard me say—”

“I really don’t care,” Ivan spat. “Go tell it to Frank.” 

He tossed the empty can aside and grabbed another. Then he walked away from June without another glance. More than a few heads turned his way. Kent Michaels leaned close to Blanche Sutton and whispered something, and the woman’s blond bouffant snapped Ivan’s way. 

How had he been so stupid to believe any of them could see him as anything more than his last name? 

Ivan tensed. He needed to get out of here. But he couldn’t move. If he left, he’d look like he was running. Ivan looked past Kent and Blanche to find June and glared.

But something niggled at the back of his brain. What she’d said? He hadn’t heard June say anything. Ivan slammed back the rest of the beer. So she’d not only tossed his gift in the garbage, but she was talking about him too. What was it he’d seen in her again? Because Ivan sure as hell couldn’t remember.

Clayton called over the low chatter and started introducing everyone, helping them showcase their newfound power. Who cared if tall, red-haired Betty Carroll could suddenly levitate. Or that Kent could turn his flesh to metal. 

Who cared if June kept looking past Frank’s shoulder trying to catch his eye.

Teddy sidled up to him with two beers in his hand and held one out to Ivan. Ivan didn’t take it.

“Have you seen Don?” Teddy tipped a beer toward a far corner being lit by a lantern. 

Cora and Veronica Clark were watching, wide-eyed, as Don stretched his body long and thin. His arm stretched like a string of warm taffy. Don’s face shone with sweat from the exertion, and Ivan could see the struggle in his clenched jaw and red cheeks to keep his ten-foot-long arm from losing control. He was reaching up toward the loft overhead.

He almost made it. Don’s arm flopped with a loud
thwack
onto the floor of the mine, and the people watching him all groaned. 

“Don’t know about you,” Teddy said, “but I’m glad I don’t have that power. Looks painful.”

Don’s arm was slowly shrinking back to normal size, and if the sweat and grimace on his face was any indication, the man could feel every single inch of it. Ivan finally took the beer from Teddy and walked away without a word. He’d learned his lesson the hard way not to trust the thin veneer of kindness. It was all a sham. And the fact that he’d fallen for any of it just made him look like an idiot.

Clayton was speaking again, though Ivan barely listened. He stood in the shadows and let his anger and hatred flow through him.

“… need to stick together,” Clayton was saying. “We need to learn to trust each other and our powers so we can use them to the benefit of our town.”

“I’m not sure I trust everyone,” Blanche spoke up with a pointed glance Ivan’s way and a protective hand over her pregnant belly. Next to her, Veronica nodded.

“If it’s me you mean, just come out and say it,” Ivan said loudly.

More faces craned his way, but he held his head high.

“Come on,” Clayton called, trying to get control of the group. “We can’t work together if we don’t have trust. I trust
everyone
”—he looked at Ivan as he said it—“who’s here with us.”

Silence met him. And in that silence, someone snickered. Out of the darkness, another harsh snort of laughter. 

Then the boards covering the entrance to the mine slid apart, and Butch walked in.

The mine went absolutely silent and still for one second. Butch sauntered into the cavernous space with Ralph scurrying behind.

“Get out,” Clayton demanded. His voice echoed up to the rafters and disappeared down midnight black mine shafts.

Butch leveled a glare at Clayton. “You were just blathering on about how we have to stick together.” Butch stalked closer, Ralph at his heels. “And what else”—he tapped his forehead with his finger—“What was that about benefiting the town? How was it benefiting the town when Cora attacked Ralph?”

Around the crowd, every head snapped to Cora. Ivan had no idea what Butch was talking about, but by the way Cora sucked her lips between her teeth, it was obvious he was telling some version of the truth. She and Clayton shared a worried look.

“Didn’t tell everyone about that?” Butch mocked. He faced the others. “You’re all so quick to accept Cora, but I bet you didn’t know her power hurt Ralph so bad he couldn’t even remember the attack for weeks.”

“It was self-defense,” Cora spoke up. Her voice was stretched thin as Don’s arm.

“Or using your power for yourself. But I guess the rules don’t apply to you like they do everyone else since you’re a Briggs now.”

Ivan had heard enough. He may not have liked these people, but they were better than Butch. “Just shut up. You really think
anyone
believes you?”

Butch nearly reeled backward, his eyes wide with anger. “What the
fuck
is the Commie bastard doing here? He’s invited, but not me?”

“Ivan is welcome here,” June said, loudly but evenly. “You’re not.”

People around her murmured. Ivan knew full well not everyone agreed with June. But the fact that she stood up for him made a small part of his anger uncoil and soften.

“Butch, you need to leave,” Clayton said. 

“Wait,” Veronica said, stepping forward. “What’s your power?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Clayton said, barely keeping his voice in check. “He and Ralph aren’t welcome here.”

Don, one arm still longer than the other, came to stand next to Veronica. “Then why is someone like Ivan welcome? We all know what he is.”

“What am I?” Ivan hissed.

It was Blanche who spoke up. Her lips and fingers were still frosted blue from practicing her power of freezing objects. “My husband says your family could have helped the Soviets attack us. You might be the reason I’m like this. You might be the reason my baby will be like this.”

Around her, a few others nodded.

Ivan nearly quivered with a horrible mixture of rage and humiliation. “I didn’t … we’re not ….”

“Why would Ivan’s family attack us?” Clayton spoke up. 

“Maybe they had orders,” Don said. “How should I know?”

“It seems awful convenient that our town gets attacked and we’ve got Soviets living in our midst,” Butch cut in.

Ivan blinked slowly and stared at Butch. “Are you really that dumb? Why would the Soviets give us superpowers? That’s like giving your enemy weapons.” 

But Ivan knew from experience that things didn’t need to make sense for others to believe them. Around the group, a few people seemed to consider what Ivan was saying, but not everyone.

“Denying is what they’d tell you to say,” Kent said, his eyes narrowed at Ivan. 

The man was shorter than Ivan by more than a head, but his arms were thick as trunks. Ivan had watched him spar with Teddy earlier—his flesh turned to metal and became near indestructible. If it came to it, how could Ivan possibly defend himself against these people if they truly turned against him?

Clayton spoke up. “Ivan makes sense to me. There is no reason the Soviets would give us superpowers.”

“They probably got their reasons,” Butch said. “But I can tell you this, you’ll all be sorry if you trust that man over me. I’m one of you. He’s not.”

“You’ll never be one of us, Butch,” Cora said.

Don shook his head. “If he has power, he’s one of us. It don’t matter if you and Clayton don’t like him, Cora.”

The grin that curled Butch’s lips was wide with malice and triumph. It was a look that curdled Ivan’s blood. Butch wove through the crowd, tapping at his temple. When he got to June, he poked the side of her head. Ivan lurched forward, ready to shove Butch away from June. 

June stepped away from the awful man. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

“Don’t need to, unless I want to.” 

The smirk on his face made Ivan’s hands clench into fists. “Don’t
ever
touch her,” he spit.

That only made Butch’s hideous smile stretch wider. “I can do better. Get in there”—and he tapped at his own head—“make them do things.”

“That’s awful,” Betty said with a gasp.

Teddy spoke up. “We’re here to figure out what’s going on, not spin some tale. Tell us what you can really do. If you even have an ability, that is.”

Butch raised his eyebrows, his mean little eyes scanning the crowd. He settled on Ivan, and Ivan knew in that second something was about to happen. 

He squared his shoulders and stared Butch down. Let him try. He was itching for a fight.

Something exploded in his mind. A thought—no, a
need
. Ivan blinked rapidly, stared at the way he held his fists up in front of his face. 

Punch yourself.

It made so much sense. His brain demanded this simple request, and the need to follow the order flooded through Ivan. Dimly, Ivan knew this didn’t come from him. Butch swam in his vision, his eyes narrowed and his teeth bared in determination. But Ivan couldn’t fight it, didn’t know how to deny the drumbeat of his brain demanding that he take his fist and …

Punch yourself.

It felt so good to obey. Ivan swung one arm out in a wide arc and slammed a fist into his stomach. Someone gasped, and in the cloud of pain Ivan didn’t know if it was him or one of the others. He doubled over, sucking in air and coughing.

“That was for yesterday,” Butch growled.

Ivan struggled up to dig his elbows into his thighs. Every breath hurt, but his mind was his own again. Off to the side, he heard Frank chuckle and then June snap for him to shut up. 

He wanted to make Frank sorry for laughing at him, sorry for trying so damn hard with June, but that wasn’t who deserved his anger. Butch was. Black edged his vision, tunneling until all he saw was Butch. Staring at him, smiling. Triumphant.

Ivan charged. 

He plowed a fist into Butch’s gut, another rapid punch into the side of his ribs. Yet Butch was solid, and the large man grabbed Ivan around the shoulders and slammed him to the ground. Ivan had been spoiling for a fight all day, itching for it, and now the chance was here. He was back on his feet in an instant, and he rammed Butch’s chest with a shoulder, knocking the brute off his feet.

Ivan straddled Butch, pinning his arms under his knees. He landed one punch, then another, knocking his fists into the side of Butch’s head until his knuckles screamed.

Arms, arms grabbing him, hauling him off Butch. Two more men—Will and Teddy—yanked Butch to his feet and held him back. Butch ducked his chin and grunted with exertion, his face going redder than it already was. 

For half a moment, Will loosened his grip on Butch, his mind obviously under Butch’s control. Then Will grabbed him again only to have Teddy let go. Butch clenched his eyes shut and roared in pain, and both men holding Butch gained control of their senses again.

“You got a hold of yourself?” Clayton asked at Ivan’s ear. 

Ivan nodded and felt Clayton let him go, but still he hovered right at his shoulder. Will and Teddy dragged Butch toward the wooden slats, Ralph scuttling after them. 

Butch’s nostrils were flared, his small teeth bared in a feral grimace. “Don’t think you’ll get away with that, Commie,” he growled.

Ivan glared down at him, still breathing hard. “I’d love to see you try.”

Butch spit at Ivan, and a blood-tinged globule landed near the toe of Ivan’s boot. Butch yanked his head toward the people gathered around them.