Fight to the Finish (7 page)

“You know,” I began again, “the last real conversation we had was over a month ago.

And we both know how that played out. I told you about Professor Quirk and you told me you needed time to think. And then you got sent away on a mission, we exchanged a few text messages, no phone calls, and here we are.”

David nodded. “Being a Specialist doesn’t give much time for other things, does it?”

I chuckled a breath. “That’s putting it lightly.”

He smiled at that. “And so?” he prompted me.

I sighed. “David, I guess at this point I just want to know what’s on your mind. I know you’re not happy about Professor Quirk, but let me remind you
he
kissed
me
.”

David nodded. “I know that, GiGi. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. Guys are going to hit on you. That’s just a fact of life.”

I tried not to get flattered at the beautiful part, but I
was
a girl after all. “Then why do I feel like we’re going to break up over this?”

He didn’t respond, just kept looking at me.

“David?” And then it dawned on me, and my heart paused a beat. “
Are
we breaking up?”

“GiGi,” he quietly sighed. “It wasn’t the kiss. It was never the kiss.”

“Then what?” I asked, surprised that I could talk with a huge lump forming in my throat.

“It was the ‘we clicked on an intellectual level’ part. That really hurt.”

I swallowed. “Oh, David. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

With a shake of his head, he held up his hand. “Tell me what you want.”

For you to touch me, to hug me, to tell me we’re okay
. But instead, I shook my head, unable to collect my suddenly spinning thoughts.
What can I say to save this? What can I do?

“That’s just it,” he softly responded. “I don’t think you know what you want.”

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I want you
, I wanted to say, but instead responded, “What do
you
want?”

He gave me a sad smile. “You shouldn’t have to ask me that.”

“But . . .” hadn’t he just asked me that exact same question?

“And now,” David continued, “with Randy temporarily here, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

David shook his head. “Nice, GiGi.”

“I’m

sorry.”

“Listen, we work to close together for there to be any awkwardness between us. So,” he held out his hand, “friends?”

I felt like I was back in the cafeteria with Randy.

David lifted his brows, waiting.

And so I did the only I could. I reached out and took his hand. “Friends.”

* * *

Dinner and a good night’s sleep did not happen to me. All I could think of was David. I played and replayed every moment we’d spent together. Every word we’d spoken. Every kiss, every touch. Come five in the morning, I’d had about enough of my wildly running thoughts. I got up, dressed, and made my way down to the lab. I did the only thing I could to forget about David, I dove into my Demise Chain assignment.

I had exactly six days before I went in front of Harry Noor with my state-of-the-art program. Mystic and David had exactly eight days until tryouts, eight days to learn how to be world class fighters.
Plenty of time
, I tried to convince myself.

I spent hours researching something I never thought in a million years I would. Fighting.

I watched countless videos that had been filmed all over the world, some legal, some not so much.

I poured through archived files of the library, the internet, and, believe it or not, the History channel. I played a few fighting video games. I analyzed programs that were currently on the market. I hacked into servers to find out which software developers Harry Noor, the owner of 60

I knew TL didn’t like me hacking things without prior approval, but this was for him and his family. He wouldn’t mind.

Back to my research . . . I took notes. I cross referenced those notes with other notes. And then I found myself with a whole list of questions for Bruiser.

List tucked in my pocket, I walked into our bedroom and found her laying on her bed with her head buried in her pillow.

“Hey,” I said, plopping down beside her on her bed. “Why aren’t you training?”

“We’re on a ten minute break,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“What’s up with you?” She rarely, if ever, looked down and out.

She let out a long, loud sigh. “GiiiGiii,” she whined, “I don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” And then it dawned on me. “The mission? But why? It’s fighting. It’s what your specialty is.”

“I’m not going to be fighting. I’m going to be Mystic’s stupid girlfriend.” She rolled over. “I’ll be standing on the sidelines looking all dumb and airheady.”

I laughed. “Who says you have to be dumb and airheady?”

Bruiser heaved another sigh. “TL. Just a few minutes ago before he told us to take a break.”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense.

“He says Harry Noor likes his girls sweet and innocent and a tidbit dumb.”

I laughed again. “What? But you’re not going to be Harry’s girl, you’re Mystic’s.”

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Bruiser wiggled up on the bed. “I know. But TL wants to do everything possible to be in Harry Noor’s good graces. He doesn’t want to do anything to raise flags, piss anybody off, etcetera.”

I nodded. “Well, that does make sense. Mr. Noor
is
the owner of the Demise Chain, and we want to get into the fights. And we definitely need to play all of our cards right. And if TL

thinks your being sweet, innocent, and a little dumb will contribute to that, then he knows what he’s talking about.”

With a groan, Bruiser dropped her head back. “Why do girls always have to play the sidelines? I can fight better than David and Mystic.
I
should be competing, not them.” She slammed her fist into her hand. “I’d bust some people up.”

“Bruiser, you’re not on the sidelines. You’re part of a top secret mission to save TL’s daughter.” Hello? Did she not see this? “I’ve been on four missions now, and you’d be amazed what roles people play and how they all fit together into a sort of puzzle to solve the greater problem.”

“I mean, my God,” I continued, “Jonathan was my modeling agent in Ushbania. Do you think he really liked that? And me? Ug. I was a model? And Nalani in Rissala was a greasy, toothless boat captain. And Beaker in Barracuda Key a cheerleader? Can anybody say snort?

And then down in the Junoesque Jungle, I had no control. I was just another female, serving the guys, sitting in the back. My point is, it all comes together in the end, and every role is just as important as the next.”

“I hear what you’re saying.” Bruiser scrunched up her face. “It’s just . . . well, fighting is my one true talent. I’m not as smart as the rest of you guys.”

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“What? What are you talking about? That’s absolutely ridiculous,” I argued. Bruiser was one of the smartest girls I knew. And funny. And great to be around.

“Hey.” Mystic stuck his head in. “Can I come in?”

We both waved him in.

He lowered himself to his usual spot at the foot of Bruiser’s bed. And folding his legs up, he took what I referred to as his meditative position.

We both stared at him, waiting . . .

“This mission is against everything I believe in. Everything my parents taught me.” He looked up at us. “And I’m trying to figure out a way to tell TL I can’t fight. There’s got to be a way to get me in that room without requiring me to fight.”

I almost rolled my eyes. Why did it seem like it was my job to convince my team members to go on missions? When had I become the ranch’s Psychologist?

“I know,” Bruiser agreed. “I’m not happy about this either. I say we both go and talk to TL. There’s got to be some other way. And, dude,” Bruiser reached over me and bopped Mystic in the head, “I can’t believe you don’t want to fight. I’d give anything to be in your shoes.”

“Guys.” I held up my hands. “TL would not design a mission and put you into a role unless he felt you were fully capable. And he’s certainly not going to redesign a mission based on your uncomfortableness. Believe me, I know.” I felt like a broken record. Hadn’t I said similar things to all my other team members?

“It’s an honor,” I continued, “to be chosen.”

The both just looked at me.

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“Listen,” I said, none so gently. “This is part of our new life. It comes with it. God knows I’ve done things I didn’t want to.” I got up off the bed. “That’s the bottom line. So you just have to suck it up.”

They both scowled at me.

I walked from the room, feeling like a crabby butt for my harshness, and not quite understanding why I had gotten so irritable with them. I guess I just didn’t have the patience right now. Maybe it was the whole thing with David and Randy. I didn’t know.

“Jeez, Kelly, can you be any less understanding?”

I turned to see Randy leaning against the hallway wall.

“Everybody gets scared when they’re prepping for their first mission, especially when it’s out of their realm of comfortable zone. Everybody experiences second thoughts.” Randy pushed up from the wall.

David came out of his bedroom. “I agree with Randy.”

Great, now I felt even worse.

David knocked on my open bedroom door. “Hey, guys, can we talk?”

Mystic and Bruiser waved him in and Randy followed.

With a sigh, I turned and walked off, feeling more and more horrible about myself with each step. I needed to apologize. Next time I saw them I would.

* * *

That evening I found myself in my lab pounding my head. Give me something to hack or a code to break and no problem. Design a state-of-the-art, not-like-anything-else fighting program from scratch? Sheesh. What did they want from me?

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I had a ton of questions and knew Bruiser had the answers, but after what had happened earlier, I didn’t feel comfortable approaching her. Or Mystic for that matter.

Chapling sat over in the corner behind some patch panels. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was testing (on himself) the Influence-Sway Skins (his creation, his term) that he’d taken from Dr. Gretchen and tweaked to fit our needs. The Skins would not only record muscle aptitude, they would give us a multi dimensional image of the skeletal. If they worked, we’d use them in conjunction with the Combat-Thrash program (my creation/my term) that I had yet to fully develop. The program that would coach any fighter to greatness.

“OW!” he yelped.

Guess the testing wasn’t going so well.

My cell buzzed and I looked at the display.

* * * TL’s stat code.

Chapling waddled out from behind the patch panel, rubbing his chest through his T-shirt.

“I need to find someone else to test things on.” He squinted his eyes at me.

I held my hands up. “No. Nonononono.”

He smiled. “Let’s go. Did you get the stat code?”

I nodded and followed him out the computer lab and down the hall to the conference room.

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Chapling rapped softly on the closed conference room door, and TL opened it.

Around the table sat everyone going on the mission: Nalani, Jonathan, David, Mystic, and Bruiser.

Chapling and I took seats beside each other to TL’s left.

TL ran his gaze over everyone in the room, taking a second to make eye contact with each of us. “I’d like to start out by saying this is an incredible place we live. Regardless of your backgrounds, I hope each of you realize what an honor it is to have been picked for this program.

You are an elite, talented, intelligent group, and I’m proud to say you are on my team.”

No one uttered a sound as we stared at him. I was sure they were picking up on the same thing as me. While his words were complimentary, his tone came across disappointed.

Pushing back from the table, TL stood, and rolling his chair in, he rested his hands on top of the leather seat back.

My eyes wandered down to his ring finger where he wore no wedding band. I looked across the table to Nalani’s finger and saw the same. What kind of relationship did they have that not even in the safety of the ranch did they wear rings? I didn’t understand the two of them.

TL took a breath. “David, go ahead.”

David hit the remote, and the wall inserted screen flickered. An image of Zandra popped up with a rag tied around her eyes and tears streaking her face.

I sucked in a breath as I stared at the curls matted to her little cheeks.

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“This picture arrived today,” David explained. “We traced it and have found out it was mailed a block away from where Zandra was taken. This picture was probably snapped moments after she was kidnapped.” He pressed the remote, and another image came into view.

It was a note, just like the first. FIND HER OR SHE DIES.

David put the remote down. “That message came with the picture.”

“What about prints?” Chapling asked.

David shook his head. “Nothing.” He turned to Mystic. “Do you get anything looking at that?”

Mystic shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I need to see her eyes.”

“Again,” TL spoke up. “The kidnappers could be anybody. Nalani and I have so many enemies.” TL stopped for a second and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “What do they want? It doesn’t make sense. Do they want me? Nalani? Money? To free someone from prison? I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead even harder. “At this point, I’m beginning to doubt if they want anything at all. Maybe they’re just playing a game. I’m beginning to doubt their intentions .

. . and what exactly their plans are with,” TL swallowed, “with our daughter,” his voice cracked a little.

I swallowed, too, at the raw emotion in his tone. At the horrible things that
could
happen to their daughter.

Dropping his head, TL pressed his fingers into the sides of his temple.

“Please . . .” Nalani squeezed her fingers together so tight her knuckles turned white.

“Please, you all in this room, you’re our only hope.”

My stomach clenched at the desperation in her voice. And I realized this was the first time I’d heard Nalani speak since first seeing her.

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