cool with a hint of ice-berg. “What, have you lost your fucking memory? She’s a national security threat. She’s hacked into NSA and CIA systems, attempting to access confidential files. Why are you acting like a moron who’s lost his mind?”
“Is that so? Exactly when were you going to mention that Symone Jackson has supernatural abilities? She’s no techno–terrorist. She’s a Tracker.”
Rex was silent for several heartbeats as if weighing his options between truth and lies. “No. She’s not a Tracker. But she’s very important to Reaper’s long term vision of this group. You need to proceed with caution and bring her in. Better yet, wait for your damn reinforcements. Where is she?”
There was nothing Garrett hated more than a liar. “Where did she get her abilities?”
“That’s need to know, Soldier.”
Rex was hiding something. “I can’t do my job if you’re hiding things.”
Rex expelled a breath. “Need I remind you, Soldier, that as we speak, we’re in the process of evaluating your brother’s blood for the genetic markers of ALS? I would hate for Reaper to get a wild hair that we need to see him in person and run tests that way. Some of those tests could be uncomfortable.”
Michael. Icy dread settled in Garrett’s stomach. His whole life he’d been sure he was doing the right thing. Following the rules. Helping people. But no. He was the bad guy he’d always read about. Somewhere along the noble line, he’d made a wrong turn and hadn’t even seen the marked path. For a moment his head spun as his brain tried to reconcile the people who’d helped cure him with the people who were threatening his family.
So much for being brothers in arms. Rex had been his commanding officer in the Army Rangers. He’d known about Garrett’s medical history. Known it was only a matter of time before symptoms showed up. Garrett submitted to voluntary medical testing every six months.
It was during one of those tests that Rex said he had a solution to his problem. Rex had saved his life on more than one occasion. Garrett had no reason not to trust him. They were like brothers, after all. Next thing Garrett knew, he was burning like someone had lit him up from the inside. When the burning passed, he found out they’d made him into something akin to the damned X-Men. He’d been naïve enough to trust Rex then. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Think dumbass, think. He had to keep Michael away from them. But as long as they thought he was following orders, they wouldn’t hurt his brother. Maybe if he could save Symone’s life, she’d be willing to return the favor. It was a weak plan, but it was all he had to go on with short notice. He’d have to get to her first. If he couldn’t get to her, he’d start with tracking the kid she’d helped tonight.
Garrett forced the next words out of his mouth, fighting with the rein on his anger as he did so. “I’ll bring her in. But then I want some answers. Michael has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of it.”
“We can do that. Just bring in the girl. Where is she now?”
“I last spotted her in the Mylands Warehouse district, near Smith-Collins Road. I followed her for a mile, but then lost her scent completely. Is cloaking one of her abilities?” Garrett wondered if Rex would buy his answer. Rex was no doubt checking his tracking chip location as they spoke.
“Not that I know of. She must have help.”
“Am I allowed to know what her powers are? Or is that need to know too? I need to be able to defend myself.” He also needed to arm himself with as much information about her as possible.
“I already sent reinforcements. You won’t have to engage her on your own. They’ll be there by tomorrow night.”
Garrett needed to find her before the others did. If Rex and Reaper wanted the girl, they’d have to get through him. All he had to do was find her and warn her.
“Understood,” he mumbled.
“You have your orders, Garrett. Reaper wants her. Bring her in. Come back, and you can get your brother taken care of.”
Garrett wrestled with his flare of rage. It was a wonder he’d lasted in the service so long. Taking orders didn’t come natural to him. And veiled threats, meant to remind him who was really in charge, did nothing but fuel his rebellious urges. If