Renegade (10 page)

No.

My emotions rejected the voice, overpowering it with a single surge, freeing my feet to lunge after him. I grabbed the collar of his pajama top at the same time he reached for the door handle. He turned while I yanked him backward, the door smacking against the frame.

He contorted against me, surprisingly strong. His gun hand whipped in my direction.

I thrust my hand out, pushing his hand up, up, toward the ceiling. A shot rang out and echoed.

This time, there was no hesitation. I disarmed him, and sent him crashing to the floor, doubled over in pain an instant later. Guilt swelled in my chest like a balloon full of dirty air, but I pushed past it and darted into my room.

Hunter was still lying on the bed, headphones in place. He hadn’t heard a freaking thing.

When I saw his motionless figure, a sliver of doubt poked a hole in my certainty. Would a V.O. operative really check out at a time like this?

Then I remembered the other coincidences and my certainty resealed. No time for this now, not with the alarm Grady had triggered. Right now, we had to go.

I tucked the gun into my waistband—who knew when I might need it?—and jerked the earbuds from his ears. “Get up!” I shouted as I raced over to grab our bags. “We’re leaving! Life or death,” I added, when he looked like he was going to take his time.

“What? Are you—?” But the expression on my face cut him off. He shot to his feet. Barefoot—his shoes were in the duffel bag—he stumbled after me. “I thought we were spending the night?”

“Change of plans. I’ll explain later but right now, we need to go.”

I wanted to believe it was testimony to his trust in me, but it was more likely proof of his guilt that he followed without question. At least, until we got to the top of the stairs, where Grady was still doubled over on the floor.

“Jesus, Mila, what’s going—?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grady,” I shouted over him, hurrying past. “I promise—Ashleigh will be fine. Just a choke hold. Hunter, he’ll be fine, and I can’t wait for you,” I added, giving Hunter’s arm a harsh yank when he stooped over to check on Grady. “The car. Now.”

Looking like he’d just been blindsided by a semi, Hunter turned away from Grady and stumbled after me. I was sure to a normal guy, this would look like a total train wreck. Grady down upstairs, Ashleigh slowly crawling to her feet downstairs. Being yanked out of bed and shoved out the door in the middle of the night, without warning. But Hunter wasn’t a normal guy.

He was just an incredibly skilled liar.

I made swift work of the stairs, passing a worse-for-the-wear-looking Ashleigh at the bottom. “Your grandfather needs your help.”

Hunter followed, but in his silence, I swear I felt the sting of his accusatory stare drilling into the back of my neck. We burst out the front door, and all of a sudden, the siren’s screech was magnified. They were close.

“Are we running from the police?” Hunter finally gasped, as he tried to keep up with me. We raced across the brick-lined path, onto the concrete drive, the night wind cold and biting as it whipped our faces. Unlike last night, the dark sky tonight was backlit with what looked like a thousand stars, their sparkle gleefully illuminating us for anyone who cared to watch.

“I’m not taking another step until you answer me,” he shouted. I craned my neck, and sure enough, he’d stopped, hands on his thighs, gasping for breath.

Suddenly furious at his subterfuge, I whirled, ready to unload the full brunt of my rage. He was vermin. Lower than low. Worse than Holland, who at least hadn’t whispered sweet nothings to me when he tried to stab me in the heart. No, Holland would stare straight into my eyes, and let me see the blade coming. Whereas Hunter . . . Hunter would slip it between my shoulder blades with one hand, while the other pretended to hold me tight.

But I couldn’t just unleash on him. I had to act the same as before. Like I had no idea he was V.O. I had to best him at his own game.

I grappled for an excuse.

Think, Mila! What would you have said to get him to go before you knew his real identity?

Simple. Prebetrayal Mila would have stuck as close to the truth as possible. And now, there was even less reason to stray. He already knew everything.

“
Look, you’re going to have to trust me on this. They made a mistake—they think I’m someone else. A girl wanted by the police. I could explain it to the cops, but we’re underage, traveling without guardians . . . I had to defend myself. Do you want to be taken in to the station?”

“Do I want . . . ?” He trailed off, lips parted in disbelief, eyes sweeping over my face like he was trying to place a stranger.

From the south, I heard a new siren, its wail joining the other. I couldn’t wait—but I couldn’t leave Hunter, either. He had to come with me. Even if I had to drag him.

I’d taken one step toward him, to do just that, when he picked up his feet and kicked into a run. “Once we get in the car, I want to know exactly what the hell is going on here.”

Yeah, so do I. I want to know who you really are and why you’re truly with me.

I commanded the gate to open when we were still many strides away. We slipped through the widening gap and sprinted for the Jeep.

The sirens were so close now.

I jumped into the driver’s seat and flung the bags into the back. I didn’t even wait for Hunter to close his door before I peeled away from the curb. I was sure the closest siren was coming from the north, so I whipped the car in a one-eighty and headed the opposite way. Terror pounded a rapid rhythm in my heart. If we passed them going the other way, and they bothered to get a good look inside . . . I couldn’t allow that to happen.

And all the time, I was acutely aware of the GPS device. Blinking away like an armed bomb beneath my feet. Reminding me that as long as I had Hunter with me, the V.O. would follow my every move.

I floored the gas and after a brief hesitation, the car lunged forward. Hunter didn’t speak, but his hand was gripping the handle on the ceiling, so tightly his knuckles whitened. I made it two blocks before I heard the siren around the corner. I shut off the lights and whipped into an empty driveway on my right.

I turned off the engine and scooted down in the seat. “Duck,” I hissed, and Hunter followed suit.

Through the window, blue and red lights flashed, moving quickly. When they disappeared, I peeked out the window, to see the taillights fading. I restarted the car and a moment later, we were hauling butt toward the freeway.

Meanwhile, the flash drive pressed into my thigh through the material of my jeans. A reminder, I guess, that no good deed went unpunished. I curled my hand around it. Hopefully whatever was on here would give us a new lead on what to do next, because if it didn’t . . . I was lost. Alone in a world with no purpose.

Hunter shifted positions, slouching away from me and brushing at his wayward lock of hair, and my android heart rang hollow. Alone in a world where, no matter how hard I tried to sustain it, hope bled out all around me.

I patted my pocket one more time. And if the files were some kind of trap? Well, then . . . then I was as good as dead.

Even though some would argue that I was never alive to begin with.

I
steered the Jeep away from Grady’s house, on high alert. Every car we passed was a potential threat; every pedestrian, a potential soldier—coming to take us back. The night sky loomed overhead, much too festive with its parade of stars. At least this time, I’d remembered to use the lights.

Hunter remained silent, watching the flashing scenery as if slightly catatonic. Feigning shock—a wise choice. What kind of person wouldn’t succumb to it after being hauled out of bed by his girlfriend to run from the cops?

The kind who worked for a secret espionage group. I snuck a sideways glance at his tall form, slumped against the passenger seat with his mussed hair spilling across the window. He didn’t look like a fraud. He looked like a normal—gorgeous but normal—boy.

Then again, I looked like a normal girl, so that proved exactly nothing.

He remained motionless, except for his left hand, clenching and unclenching in his lap. The silence drew out between us, making the interior heavy with tension.

After a few more tenths of a mile, he turned to face me. No quirky smile now. Not a hint of that tenderness I’d caught in his eyes earlier. Just incredible strain, attacking his forehead with lines, pulling his lips downward. Making his hands ball into fists.

I wasn’t sure what type of lies to expect next, so I braced myself.

“You’ve knocked out an old man who fed us and gave us beds. We’re running from the cops—possibly wanted for some kind of crime? What
the hell
is going on?”

His posture, his tone—he had the I’m-the-injured-party thing down to an art. The doubt rose again, but anger rose higher, smothering it with a hot black haze. Liar. Beautiful, deceitful, heartbreaking liar.

I swallowed once, twice, and wrestled my anger into submission. “I told you. Ashleigh thought she saw my picture on a news report and called the police.”

“And was it?” he demanded, his volume rising like a crescendo.

“Was it what?”

His jaw dropped, his eyes widened incredulously. “Jesus, Mila, are you kidding me? The picture she saw. Was it you?”

I flinched at his tone. If he was acting, he was damned good at it. He’d pegged the reactions of a normal boy thrust into this situation perfectly. Freaked out and angry and, yes, scared, all rolled into one.

Of course he had. But why? What were they after? Why the elaborate ruse?

I could only think of two viable reasons. One, they wanted me to lead them to whatever information was in my pocket. Or two, they were conducting an elaborate, up-close-and-personal study. Trusting Hunter to figure out what made me tick, how I reacted, exactly what my android functions were. Basically, a variation of one of Holland’s experiments. Test the android’s capacity for human emotions, before exploiting her for their own twisted purposes.

“We look very similar,” I hedged, the words forced through clenched teeth.

“So it wasn’t you.” He leaned toward me, and I was assaulted with dual reactions. Recoil from his nearness, battling out the urge to lean in and meet him halfway. I sat still, ignoring them both. “If it wasn’t you, why did you run?” he asked.

I gave what I hoped was a helpless shrug. “I ran because I’m scared, Hunter! There’s a picture out there of a girl who looks like me, who’s wanted for a crime. Do you think the cops would believe anything I had to say? I’m sixteen—as far as they’re concerned, I’m a runaway! If they pick me up, it’d be a huge mess—no one to bail me out, and forget about finding my dad,” I said, my words tumbling out faster and faster.

He wasn’t the only one who could act.

I inhaled an exaggerated breath, then said, “I know, I probably chose wrong, but I panicked. I’m sorry that you got caught in the middle. I was afraid if you stayed behind, they’d arrest you.” I forced myself to reach out and touch his arm, prepared to combat disgust at the contact. Instead, tingling spread across my skin like wildfire. Even now.

If only this could be an act, too.

“Okay,” he said slowly, rubbing two fingers over his temple. “But what about Grady, and Ashleigh? How did you take them down?”

God. Would he ever stop with the questions? “My mom thought it was important that I learn self-defense—just in case. And they jumped me first.”

I didn’t add that I’d actually protected him from Grady, because even now, I couldn’t produce a single logical reason why. The thought of a bullet entering Hunter’s heart made my own feel like it was breaking again.
Stupid
, I admonished.
He doesn’t care about you at all.

As it turned out, apparently that didn’t matter. Despite the blistering rage that I barely had a handle on, despite the stab of pain every time I pictured the GPS tucked safely away under the wheel, my heart refused to yield.

But at least I knew better than to trust it now. This was all on me for not realizing that I wasn’t the only one who could lie.

His brows shot up. “They jumped you first.”

“Yeah.”

I saw him shake his head and move his lips wordlessly, like he still had a difficult time comprehending.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I thought something was off with that old guy. I mean, really, who defends their flowers. But Ashleigh—”

“She thought she’d get a huge reward.”

“So their friendliness, their interest in us was just a lie—to get something from us.”

“Exactly.”

“I wish you’d yelled or something so I could have come to help you.”

He was buying my lies, wanting to support me. Why did I feel guilty? He was lying, too, pretending he didn’t know what was going on.

“It all happened too fast,” I told him.

My hands clenched the wheel.

The 3-D visual overtook my visual field, rotating a large white vehicle with red, white, and blue stripes across the side.

Holland, it had to be. Headed directly toward Grady’s house.

I pressed the gas a little harder, praying that I’d put enough road between us and Grady’s house to avoid detection, and that Holland was still keeping the details of my escape somewhat guarded, to save his own hide.

But I needed the information Grady had given me, and I needed it fast. Pretty soon, I’d be surrounded by enemies, and without Mom’s help I was floundering in the dark.

A ball settled in my throat, strangling my airway until swallowing felt like a monumental task. Mom. I missed her now more than ever.

Hunter’s yawn snagged my attention. He wiggled and repositioned his feet to get comfortable. “Maybe we should just find a place to stay for the night—you’ve got to be tired, too.”

Suspicion bloomed, filling my head like a toxic cloud. “I’m fine.” No way I was stopping on his count and walking into a trap.

I kept the speed just under the limit, obeyed all the traffic laws, and shoved the hat I’d stashed under the seat low on my head. The scenery had lost all of its appeal. Any sense of wonder, of expectation—gone. It was duty that drove me onward. The sooner I solved that puzzle, the sooner I could disappear. Leave Holland, the V.O., and Hunter behind me.

When another hour had passed without a return of the helicopter or a sighting of a cop, I pulled the car onto a stretch of grass by the road, just in front of a copse of trees. There’d been nothing around for miles, but it wasn’t like I could just pop the hardware into my wrist with Hunter there.

For a second, I pictured his face filled with horror, the same horror I’d experienced the first time Mom had shown me the deviant nature of my wrist. Then I shook off the ridiculous thought. More like greed. He’d want to know every little bit he could about my functions, so he could report back.

“Why are we stopping?” These were the first words Hunter had uttered in the last thirty minutes. Ever since our last talk, his mood had been distant.

“I have to . . . you know,” I said, waving a few crumpled-up napkins in my hand. Despite everything, my cheeks burned. But I needed a way to ensure my privacy, and this was all I had.

“Ah,” he said, his tense expression finally easing when his lips twitched. “Watch out for poison ivy.”

“Please.”

Cheeks burning even brighter now—seriously, manufactured embarrassment? Get over yourself—I jumped out of the Jeep and darted around back, heading for the trees.

My legs crunched through vines and ivy while I kept plowing a path away from the road. Finally satisfied that I was well out of view of the car, I ducked behind the biggest tree I could find. Through the branches, I could still make out the car, but this was the best cover I could muster. It would have to do.

The trees illuminated with that familiar reddish glow, making it easy for me to see. Hunter wouldn’t have the same advantage. Combined with the fact that I could see if he tried to follow, I should be safe enough here.

I groped in my pocket and extracted the card, closing my eyes for a brief moment while clutching it tightly in my fist. Nerves and excitement battled in my stomach, waging a war that resulted in a weird, jittery sensation, like I could barely stand still. This was it. Here, in my hand, was potentially the only avenue left open to discovering the truth. If this didn’t pan out, that road might be blocked in a permanent dead end. Unless I wanted to risk my luck sneaking back into Holland’s compound to see what secrets I could find.

A shudder passed over me, and then I opened my eyes, willed myself to take the plunge. I pulled apart the skin on the inside of my wrist, revealing the thin slot. A perfect rectangle, just waiting for someone to insert a card like this one. I waited for the old slithery twist of revulsion to sweep over me. Feet planted, spine rigid, I braced myself. But there was nothing beyond a slight twinge. More of a wistfulness than anything, for realities come and gone and no longer within my grasp. Instead, my body tingled with a kind of heady excitement, and my wrist actually throbbed with a desperate urge. As if encouraging me to insert the card.
Now.

No more deluding myself that I could will myself into a real human girl. That time was over.

I willed my hand to steady, this time, refusing to avert my eyes from the dark recess into my arm that shouldn’t exist. With pinched fingers, I fed the card into the waiting chasm, hope building that finally, whatever truths Mom had hidden from me would start to unfold. Anticipation tingled through my waiting wrist as I watched the card slide in.

Heat first. Then, the familiar buzz of electricity crackled up, up, up my arm.

I put my other palm against the tree, bracing for the overwhelming slam of information that I’d experienced before, which had almost brought me to my knees. But it never came. This time, my mind was prepared for the energy that rushed into my head, opening wide to receive the streams. Not only that, but the more information that entered, the more my entire body felt energized. Almost like my cells were feeding off the data as a source of power.

I threw my head back and outstretched my arms, catching sight of glittering stars that suddenly didn’t feel quite as distant as they once had.

I embraced the exhilaration, anticipating when the illegible nonsense would transform into recognizable language. Like the power of alchemizing metal into gold.

A whoosh of information, like a flash flood roaring through a dry riverbed. And then—files. Lots and lots of files.

I latched on to the nearest one, the blinking square a beacon in a sea of chaos.

Symbols burst out from the square and I paused, waiting for the frenetic activity to slow, for the gibberish to vanish as the symbols realigned. They pulsed, wavering and merging, like glittering hieroglyphics. Flickering into new rows, assuming new shapes.

Every single one of them, utterly unreadable.

I frowned, waiting for them to move again. But they didn’t. The information refused to budge, sticking firmly to its illegible formation.

Why would my mom go to all this trouble to lead me to a file full of complete nonsense?

The words blinked in my head, answering my question. Encrypted. That’s right. The files Mom had left were encrypted.

The sinking pit in my stomach vanished. If Mom had encrypted the files, then it meant I possessed the ability to open them. I just had to figure out how.

I focused on the first file. I’d broken codes before—surely I could do it again.

I waited and . . . nothing.

My fingers curled into rough tree bark as I took a deep breath and tried again.

It was no use. Not even a faint blip, or the slightest sense of unraveling. The data strands moved around, only to form a new nonsensical pattern.

What did that mean? Why would Mom give me files that I couldn’t decode? Had she messed up somehow? Had she used an encryption system that was too new for me to break?

I pictured Mom, her capable, long fingers, her grace under pressure, and the answer was clear. She wouldn’t. Somehow, someway, I possessed the ability to open the file. I had to keep trying.

Anxiety uprooted somewhere in my gut, but I didn’t allow it to build. I had to approach this logically. Maybe I was just starting in the wrong place.

I shoved the first file aside and grabbed at another flashing beacon. But every time I tried to get a firm grip, it changed shape, morphing into something insubstantial, before popping back up in another part of my head.

Each attempt met the same result. The moment I thought I caught the code within my grip, it wriggled away, too slippery to hold down for long. My hands clenched harder, and I felt the bark crumble beneath my fingers like dried leaves. All this way, just to hit a dead end. Now what did I do?

Methodically, I went through the process, over and over again, a growing numbness deadening my last bit of hope. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.