Overture (North Security, #1)(15)

I give Josh a terse nod. Whatever it is, it can wait.

He offers a salute, lacking his usual ironic twist.

When it comes to the command structure, we don’t fuck around, not even on a bachelor party. He jumps, his movements as casual as stepping off a porch. The wind carries him sideways, so it looks like he’s floating. In the next moment a deepening fog swallows him whole. My stomach clenches into knots, but it has nothing to do with the men who just jumped out of the helicopter.

“Your turn,” comes a voice in my ear. The pilot.

“Sorry, Jeff. Looks like you’re our designated driver.”

“We’re all driving once we get to the cars,” he reminds me, his voice unnaturally clear as the wind buffets around me, pulling me toward the door even as it tries to shove me deeper into the belly of the chopper. “And I’d rather be behind the controls than jumping out.”

I glance at my phone again, sliding the little circle on the video replay back. There’s the white truck again. I can make out his silhouette, but only barely. It’s brighter in the air than it was on land. Dusk already fell. I narrow my eyes at the video, watching as the truck pulls forward.

There. A movement, breaking the flat line of the seat beside him.

As if someone had been crouched low to hide from the cameras, bobbing up a second too early. Who the fuck is in the truck with him? I’m afraid I already know. My gut was legendary in the navy. It’s not about a magical sixth sense. It’s a culmination of all my tactical knowledge and hands-on experience. A million different data points coalesced into a single decision—safety or danger. Life or death.

“Hell,” I say.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take me back to the compound,” I say, biting out the words. Except they’re already gone. Even at 150 knots it’s going to take twenty minutes. They already have a head start, and there’s only one place they would go, especially without telling me. Into the city.

To practice that safe sex you told her about, my mind says helpfully.

Jesus.

“Sir?” comes Jeff’s voice. He wouldn’t normally question an order, but this isn’t exactly a mission. If I stay quiet another two seconds, he’s going to turn the chopper around no matter what.

“Belay that,” I say, my voice harsher than I intend. “Keep going.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, which is basically the same as asking what the fuck I’m thinking.

I honestly have no idea. Why the fuck is she going into the city right now? The answer is simple: to put the safe sex talk into action.

Which means she could be hooking up with some frat boy right now.

All I can see is red when I think of some asshole in a club thinking Samantha’s an easy target. It would be easy to blame Laney for being a bad influence or Cody for helping her sneak out, but Samantha’s a smart girl. She knows how dangerous the world can be. There’s a fucking reason she isn’t allowed to drive around without an escort. But I haven’t told her every single reason. That’s on me.

Yeah, I’ll take this jump, but I have no intention of tracking down a dollar bill.

“Tell the boys not to wait up for me,” I say. That’s the last thing I get out before I step off the helicopter floor. The wind holds me tight in its grasp, sucking the air out of my lungs. I’m twisted and turned, and I let my body drift through it.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, but I save it, save it, save it. That’s for later, when I find Samantha somewhere in the city. And whatever fucker thinks he can put his hands on her.


SAMANTHA

Bass reverberates through rusted metal and torn leather. The truck pulls to a slow stop around the corner from the club, hiding in the shadow of an abandoned warehouse.

“I don’t like this,” Cody says, gripping the steering wheel like he’s forcing himself to keep it still. He looks about two seconds away from kicking the gear into drive and taking us home.

“Of course you don’t like it,” Laney says, fighting to open the door. It fights right back, struggling to keep her inside as if it’s an extension of Cody’s will. She gives it a kick with her black heels, and the door finally springs open with a bereaved grunt. “You don’t like anything fun.”

“We’re only going for an hour,” I say quickly before Cody can change his mind.

Cody lives with his father in an apartment in town. His father isn’t around much, which is probably a good thing. Most nights he’s in a bar starting a fight.

And spending the next day in lockup.

Laney’s mother works for North Security. She’s on the Red Team, the most active group of soldiers, so Laney stays on the compound more often than not. The three of us made up a strange little band of friends, despite our many differences. Like the fact that Cody has in-out privileges at the gates without needing a security escort. That comes from doing work after school on the compound. Ironic, since he’s the only one of us who doesn’t live there.

“Why did I agree to this?” Cody mutters, more to himself than to me. “Your parents probably know a hundred ways to kill someone. And they’re definitely going to kill me.”

“No, they’re not, because they’re not going to find out.” Laney slams the door shut and then smiles sweetly through the dusty window, posing as if for a camera.