The Sway (7 page)

He put his hand on my shoulder and I shivered involuntarily.

“Do you want to know what it's like for me, when I'm around you? It's only fair that you feel and understand how these last few months have impacted me.”

What an abrupt change of subject. Sneaky boy. I didn't really want to get into the chain reaction of events that led me here, anyways. Thinking about the planning that took place behind the Eisenhower protocol, to The Sway and my recruitment, to Cole … I pursed my lips and nodded slowly.

“Okay. Have at it.”

He brushed his fingers against my temples and slowly massaged. My mom used to do something similar to this when I had headaches as a kid. I instantly found myself relaxing and my eyes fluttered closed.

That relaxation proved fleeting and my body suddenly lit up as lust overwhelmed me, the emotion coated in red and making my body heat up in places foreign to me. I opened my eyes to find myself looking into Cole's intense gaze. The next emotion that followed the lust was respect; I don't know why that surprised me. Protection radiated around the latter and it had a dark edge to it—threatening, almost.

I lifted my hands to his wrists and slowly broke the connection. The emotional display had been more intimate than any kiss I had ever snuck at the academy. I could feel Cole's desire and respect for me, like something tangible. I had no idea I was even desirable—Eisenhower had not trained me to be a seductress or a Black Widow—let alone that Cole even knew I'd existed over the time I had been assigned to him.

I hadn't moved my touch from his wrists. He slid his hands slowly down my face and along the sides of my body, coming to rest on my waist. He pulled me flush with his frame, my hands ending up on his hard chest. The greens of his eyes seemed brighter than before. I realized, for the first time, that I had to considerably look up to see Cole's face. He had more than half a foot on me.

He slowly pressed his lips to my forehead and then my temple. Then he pulled back and looked at me again with a knowing smile. Cole leaned in after that and kissed me. Slowly at first, with a gentleness I had no idea a guy like him was capable of, especially after feeling his lust toward me.

Being kissed by Cole wasn't like a truth or dare stolen kiss. If I could swoon, I would be swooning. He parted my lips with his tongue and the kiss got more intense. Everything slowed down for me; camera flashes were going off behind my closed eyes. Cole's heart sped up under my palms, and my own tried to keep pace with his.

Loud footsteps echoed on the wood-planked stairs leading to Cole's room, from a size twelve shoe. The slight swish of the suit pants rubbing together with each step told me about the good quality of the fabric.

Wait a second. How did I know this? What the freak was going on with my brain? I knew though, without a doubt, that Hank Thomas was three steps away from walking in on me and Cole kissing, and that was just not something I wanted to deal with. I quickly pulled away to find a curious look on Cole's face. At nearly the exact same time, the locked door to his room snapped open and his dad walked in to see him hugging me tightly against him.

The way that Cole's dad looked at me sent a sharp slice of cool dread through my soul. He knew me, the real me. Not Julia Statton—he knew my cover, who I was, and where I'd been.

I was so screwed.

“
W
heels up in ten minutes
. Are you kids ready?” Hank asked.

I could not get a read on the man for the life of me. One minute, the need to watch my back would be paramount; the next, it felt like he might take me out for ice cream. If I hadn't seen him leading Letum and giving the world as we currently know it an ultimatum, he would have just been like any normal Upper East Side dad—overworked, rich, and turning on the charm in social situations.

Cole kept his arm around me. “Almost. We'll be down in a bit.”

Hank nodded and made eye contact with me. “Have you guys had a chance to watch the news?”

Cole pulled his phone from his pocket and shook it from side to side. “No. My phone has been dead for the last two days. I forgot to take a charger when we went to the cabin. There isn't any service out there, anyways. You know that.”

Hank looked at me again. “Is it the same for you, Julia?”

I nodded. “I actually don't even know where my phone is. Why? Is there something on the news we should see?”

Playing the dumb blonde was easy.

“Oh, I'm sure there is some crisis or another. I will order you a new phone,” Hank said.

I began to object but as Hank turned and walked out of the room, Cole pulled back and looked at me. My eyes must be wide and I probably looked like a scared kitten.

“It will be okay, Jules. I promise. I swear you can trust me and I know my dad. Something is up.”

Jules?
Cole just nicknamed me. Nicknames implied friendship and meaning. I just didn't know if this was part of his act for his dad or if this was Cole.

I nodded and collected my backpack from the bed, slipping it over my shoulders. Cole scooped up his bag, and we made our way in silence to the waiting helicopter. This one was bigger than the one we took to the Catskills.

The helicopter landed at a shady looking airport in Brooklyn. The buildings were worn down and weeds had grown to two-feet tall between cracks in the cement. Hank exited quickly. Cole and I promptly followed him to a rusted-out, half-circle hangar. The doors were quickly pushed open by two men in all black with baseball caps pulled low across their eyes. It was freezing cold in the city today, so my jacket was doing nothing against the bite of the wind blowing in.

As soon as I stepped past the threshold of the hangar, the door started sliding in reverse and clanked loudly into place. I looked around and was surprised at the interior of the space—not nearly as bad as the outside would lead you to believe. Even more impressive: the Boeing 757, sleek and lit up like a freaking Christmas tree. It had a tiny imprint along the side marking it as Thomas Holdings.

Business expenses, my eye. That thing was nicer than any plane I had ever seen, right on par with Air Force One. Hank was one rich man. Another guy clad in the same getup as the men who'd opened the door stood in an assumed position and waited for us to hand him our bags.

“I will put your bag in your room, Cole. Miss Statton, yours will be in the guest suite,” the crewmember said.

I nodded. Right, bedrooms on a plane, la-de-freakin-da.

I made my way up the metal staircase and mentally prepared myself for what would most likely be one of the most lavish setups in plane history. In my research on Hank Thomas, the man had boasted ownings of nothing but the finest, because why the hell not? He had money to burn; so much money that if Cole and his kids didn't want to work for their entire lives, his great-grandchildren would still be able to go to an Ivy League college. In short, a shit ton of money.

Oops, where did my filter go? If I were saying my thoughts out loud, you would think I was a sailor. Was this the real me? The girl I would be without the Eisenhower protocol?

Walking onto the plane, I had to bite my cheek to keep from dropping my jaw. This was a house in a plane, and forget Air Force One. Italian leather, sleek finishes, two levels fitted inside, not to mention the soldier-capacity flight attendants and pilots. Seriously, if anyone might have questioned the man Hank Thomas was, they only had to take a quick peek in his plane to get the idea.

“We will be in the air for roughly three hours. Please make yourself at home. We will have lunch in about an hour. Cole can show you to the guest suite,” Hank said.

I nodded and quietly followed behind Cole.

For all the ferociousness I had bottled up inside me, nothing had put me in my place like Hank Thomas. He was fierce and put together; he had this spark for life and he always looked like he knew more than you. Which was probably true, and beyond infuriating. Half the time, he deserved an ass kicking. I was on a plane to who knew where, with a man threatening to ruin our world.

Breathe, Julia. Breathe.

W
e landed somewhere
in the Caribbean three hours later. I had to hide my shock at the crisp blue water and humidity that welcomed me as we exited the plane. The outrageous beauty the islands offered wouldn't surprise Julia Statton. As far as Hank knew, I was still that girl.

We got shuffled from the plane to a speedboat in less than ten minutes and another thirty minutes later, an island came into view. From what I could see, not a single soul on the island didn't wear the soldier black. The boat effortlessly swung into the dock, and a rainbow assortment of fish swam below us in the clear blue water.

“Welcome back to Darby Island, Mr. Thomas,” a soldier said.

The next soldier to guide us on our journey was dressed in black cargo shorts and a cut-off black T-shirt, and he held out his arm toward a waiting Jeep. I followed behind Cole and Hank, trying not to panic. Hank could literally murder me and no one would be the wiser, considering I was officially dead, anyways. Such an idiot. I couldn't believe I'd agreed to come. What was his end game? Other than his son's safety, what did he want?

I took an inventory of my surroundings as we tore through white sandy beaches toward a single colorful colonial mansion nestled into the trees. It was beautiful. At least I would die in a pretty place. The Jeep pulled to stop, and I quickly opened my door and surveyed the house.

“You can stop with the dramatics now, Julia. You're safe here. Stop thinking those ridiculous thoughts, would you? And call me Hank, for Hell's sakes.”

I stopped walking, having run into a non-existent brick wall.

“Excuse me, Mr. Thomas? I don't know what you mean.”

He huffed and let out a chuckle. Not like an evil, I'm-going-to-take-over-the-world cackle, but a soft grandpa chuckle. Like I was really amusing him. What the fuh?

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Cole asked slowly, as if talking to a child.

Hank motioned for Cole to get out of the Jeep that had pulled into a circular driveway.

“I will explain it to you both outside on the veranda. Harrison, bring us some lemonade, would you?” Hank said as he strolled into the grand dwelling.

Lemonade on the veranda? I just might have stepped into some alternate reality because Hank Thomas didn't invite kids for lemonade. He made deals to end the world.

One of the soldiers broke away from us and headed into the gorgeous white kitchen, while the other one carried bags up the stairs.

Cole brushed his fingers against my skin and I had the strangest urge to grab onto his hand, like onto a lifeline. I swallowed my emotion and attempted to slip on the mask of well-practiced calm. He bumped my shoulder and I turned to look at him.

“Don't shut it off. Your emotions. It makes it so you can't calculate your surroundings accurately. You need to be able to take in everything, including emotions. The government was full of shit when they taught you that. That is the first thing you need to learn to forget. Okay?” he said softly.

I nodded once and he slipped his hand through mine, interlacing our fingers. Hank was pushing the sliding glass doors into a wall, making the room completely open to the outside.

The ocean breeze rolling through felt refreshing and made me wish I had an umbrella drink in my hand. Not that I had ever had the luxury to enjoy a drink with a cute little umbrella in it; it was just the only thing that would make this view perfect. The long, sheer curtains blew in the wind, and Hank took a seat on one of the Adirondack chairs.

As Cole and I sat down, he refused to let go of my hand. Any time I pulled against him, he gripped me tighter. Harrison brought out the drinks and, wouldn't you know it, they all had pink umbrellas in them. He set the tray on the table positioned in the middle of all of the patio furniture and I leaned in to grab a drink, dropping Cole's grip. I had to fight the want to run my sweaty palm across my pants. Yep, completely overdressed for the beach.

“Cole, son, I can only imagine what was running through your mind when you saw me in the broadcast at The Sway. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it sooner,” Hank said.

I dropped the glass of lemonade, and it shattered into hundreds of pieces.

How? How could he know? A sheen of sweat broke out on my hairline.

“Yes, Miss Caldwell. I am well aware of The Sway and its dealings. I'm glad you chose to be a part of it. The Eisenhower protocol has been corrupt for years now. They have no idea of your potential, and I am guessing you don't, either.”

I looked over at Cole to try and get a read on what was going through his head. Different looks played across his features. I recognized shock, fear, understanding, pride, and confusion, all within the few seconds of that one glance. The lift in his brows and the twitch in his cheek gave away the things he was feeling.

“Fascinating, Miss Caldwell. Do you always take the time to analyze people's facial features so you understand their emotions?”

Harrison swept the glass up and handed me a new ice-cold lemonade at the same time.

“I'm sorry, but how in the hell do you know what I am thinking?” I tightened my fingers and pulled them into a fist, before smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle on my clothes. How could life literally be flipped inside out in less than one hundred hours?

Hank laughed as he took a breath to calm himself and leaned forward. “You think my son has an ability that just magically appeared? The gene is handed down in families. I would guess one of your parents has an affinity for doing something really, really well and that was a genetic mutation, which manifested stronger in you, or it just presented itself as extreme intelligence.”

He was about to be named mayor of Looney Town, because Homeboy was out of his ever-loving mind. My parents weren't special. My dad was an accountant. My mom was a homemaker. She was good at making sugar cookies and being a mom. They loved unconditionally; if that was a superpower, then they won.

“No, dear, not out of my mind. I am actually in yours. It is truly an incredible thing to see the way things fit together like puzzle pieces to you.”

I attempted to keep up with a calm exterior, but this whole ‘embracing my emotions' thing was messing with my control. “I don't know what you mean. Everyone works out thoughts and feelings in their own way. Mine is just slightly more analytical. It's not like I can feel people's emotions—” I nodded to Cole, “—or slip into someone's freaking head.”

I widened my eyes to Hank. “I don't even know if you can call what I have an ability.”

All done using air quotes around the word ability, because really, it was necessary. So what if I approached things and could see how they worked together? Everyone did that.

“No, Julia, everyone does not do that. With a little training, I think your ability will be even more incredible. Soon, I think you will be able to see the cause and effect of every single thing around you and possibly stop things from happening in real time. It will be amazing to witness,” Hank said.

I popped my mouth shut. He planned to witness me evolve into a crazy person … great. So he didn't want me dead, which I guess was a bonus. But what the hell did he want from me?

“Dad, what do you mean you saw what we saw at The Sway? I don't understand.”

Thank goodness Cole had found his voice again; I needed a second to think.

“I know, son, and it will take some time to explain. That's why I brought you here to talk, free from cell signals and bugged apartments. I need you to understand.”

Cole stood up. “You need me to understand what? That you sold your weapons to the most influential and evil leaders in various parts of the world to destroy it all? Why? Why would you do that?”

Hank undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. “I had to, Cole. I had to make them think that they had the power. They will all be in the same place a week from tomorrow. We can take them all out in one efficient Saturday night. Please, let me explain.”

Cole sat back down and mindlessly reached for my hand. I gave it to him willingly and he squeezed it quickly twice, as if to say thank you. Hank leaned forward and grabbed a glass of lemonade and took a pull from it. The Adam's apple in his throat moved up and down as he gulped the sweetly sour drink.