Bent (The Gifted Series) (28 page)

              Gun fire rang as Leah ran, ducking, diving, and proving to be quite the contortionist. 

              Carter looked away; he had a job to do, but he could hear Mattis’ sharp intake of breath and Tiago’s muffled curses as Leah ran.  He ordered himself not to look her way.  He knew he’d be just as frightfully mesmerized as they were—she was like kin after all.  Instead, he narrowed his gaze through the scope on his assault rifle, focusing on the rooftop and second store windows.

              “Gotcha,” he sneered, noting a sneaky bastard along the rooftop to his far right.  The dude was goin‘ all trigger happy on Leah.  Carter took aim, feeling his usual steady confidence when wielding a gun—other than Felix’s wife, Jamie, he was hands down the division’s most accurate and practiced shooter.  And yeah, it nagged his shorts that Jamie had him beat, but she
was
taught by his father, so it went without saying that she’d been trained well.

              He shot twice and the dude went down.  He couldn’t be certain if it was a kill shot, but the guy was definitely out of commission.

              A distraction by way of Tiago’s curses and his “I think she’s been shot” had Carter jerking in Leah’s direction.  Her body was pressed against the side of the building, and her face was contorted in pain.  He could read the F-bombs flying from her lips.

              This “logic” that Tiago preached to Carter was gone; he morphed into a raving bull and was charging forward, full froth at the mouth.  If it were any other circumstance, Carter would toss Tiago’s earlier remarks back in his face, rightfully getting in his digs, but Carter now had a greater appreciation for Tiago’s pain.  The woman he loved sat within those walls and hell, high-water, or dip-shit snipers weren’t keeping him away.

              “No!” Mattis’ arm wrapped around Tiago’s neck, jerking him back, but Tiago instantly calmed and breathed, “She's alright.” Relief showered him, his eyes remaining unfocused—Leah was communicating telepathically. “It’s a sprained ankle.  That’s all,” Tiago added. His chest heaved as the adrenaline began to fade.

              “Good … good,” Mattis muttered, releasing Tiago and giving him a brotherly slap on the back. "Way to maintain there, T."

              “And this is why I never take a woman,” Bowen grumbled, receiving silent but glaring responses from the men who circled him.  Unfazed, he waltzed to the edge of their cover. “Now if we’re done with the dramatics, let’s move our asses.” 

              Tiago told him where to go, but Bowen had already ducked out into the open and made a beeline for the side of the building.  More gunshot sounded, and without thought, Carter corned the carport and tuned into what he did best.  He saw the prick—second story, four windows over.  Leah was directly below.  With the glare from the sun, all he could do was pummel the window pane, hoping like hell he’d nail him.  Just before he pulled the trigger, the gunman’s body came barreling out the window and landed below Leah.  Leah pulled her glock and shot his quiver body twice. Carter smiled, knowing this was Leah’s mental handy work.

              In the next instant, Tiago, Mattis, and Carter were darting across the open space, meeting up with Bo and Leah. 

              Tiago firmly grabbed her arms. “You all right, baby.”

              Leah laid loving eyes upon him, but her voice remained all business, “Just fine, Gracen.  Little trouble walking, but I still have full use of this.” She tapped the side of her head.

              “So we can credit you for convincing this wanker to take a leap?” Bowen asked, gesturing towards the broken body before them.

              “Leah’s mind control is an impressive thing,” Tiago noted proudly, and this was no lie.  Being pure blood and Tuatha de Danan ensured Leah impressive skills.

              “Indeed,” Mattis agreed, then pressed, “However, your injured ankle poses a problem—change of plans.”

              “No,” Leah cut in. “If Carter can get me inside, I can still take down Patrice’s lackeys, but you’ve got to get the hypnotics or we’ll be battling Joss.”

              “She’ll fight them off,” Carter stated with no room for argument.  “And make no bones about it, Stephan’s ass is mine.”

              “Get in line,” Carter heard Bowen grumble as he hugged the building and skated off toward a different entrance.

    *     *     *    *

              Joss felt the haziness of being controlled, her body performing actions her conscience did not demand.  She gave a slight push against the hypnotics, testing her mettle, and her heart fluttered when she felt some give.  This was promising. 

              Blank faced she glanced over to Samuel, wondering again what was up his sleeve and wishing she had Leah’s ability to sense emotions.              

              Gun fire snapped everyone’s attention to the east side of the empty warehouse.

              “They’ve arrived,” Stephan bit out.

              “You were always good with the obvious,” Sam chortled, turning to walk toward a far corner of the building, near one of three entrances.  He glanced back, flicking his chin toward Joss but speaking to Stephan, “What about her?  We leaving her perched front and center for all to see?”

              “Seems the perfect location for her take out anyone who enters?” Stephan replied.  He then turned, spouting orders to Clip as the two made a break for the stairs.

              “Dammit!” Joss heard Sam mutter.  He then approached her, locking gazes. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m assisting the Agency.  I know you can’t communicate and I also know you’ve been instructed to kill all agents, so I’ll try to detour them until Brett can reach the hypnotics.” 

              Relief washed over Joss, yet she didn’t dare attempt to acknowledge his words—she couldn’t risk their notice, so she remained blank-faced and ready for battle.  Sam took a step back, ready to turn away but halted.

              “Look,” he began, “an apology is the lowest attempt I could make to rectify what I’ve done and what I sat by and allowed to be done to you, but I don’t know how the next ten to twenty minutes is going to go down, so it’s all I’ve got to offer at the moment.”  He grabbed her shoulders firmly, leaning down to look her directly in the eye. “I’m sorry, Jocelyn.  Sorry for every deplorable act you were forced to do.  I’m sorry for so much ...” His eyes wandered aimlessly over her shoulder, lost in irrevocable regret.

              For once Joss was relieved she couldn’t speak because she honestly didn’t know what would fly from her mouth: rage, accusations, a nasty “feck off and die,” or quite possibly, sympathy.  His grief was that palpable. 

              Could she believe him a changed man?  He was never vile toward her; he’d been present during her initial torture sessions, but she couldn’t recall his hand ever brutally harming her.  Maybe, just maybe he’d been a prisoner to Patrice in his own right. 

              She gave a slight jump as more gunfire rang out and both shifted their gazes to the floor above.  Just at that moment the east side entrance busted wide open, and in ran Carter and Leah.

              Her heart cried with want for the man she loved, but her arms automatically lifted and she took aim at both her lover and a woman she called “friend.”

             
NO
! she mentally screamed.  She couldn’t bear this, yet the hypnotics orders were crushing her from the inside out.  How many hypnotics were controlling her?  Fifty?  A hundred?  Her hand shook as she battled to not pull the trigger.  More pain struck and she realized her index finger had just done the unthinkable—God above, the trigger had been pulled.

              “No!” Samuel gritted, grabbing her arms and shoving, directing the shot elsewhere.              

             
 
Joss yelped in pain when she missed.  She then wielded on Samuel, teeth bared.  Gun still in hand, she spun underneath their locked arms, loosening Sam’s grip.  She kicked upward with her right leg, attempting to strike him in the chest, but Sam anticipated and jumped backwards. 

              Joss wanted to stop, desperately she did, but the crushing weight of voices directing her actions was insurmountable.  She attempted to halt her body—to fight for control.  Her trembling gaze met Samuel’s scrutinizing stare; understanding dawned, and he knew that she was trying to fight their hold. Warily, he stayed back.  Absently, she swiped her nose, feeling it run.  Her eyes flicked to the back of her hand upon seeing the crimson color in her periphery.
 
This caused her hold to waver.

             
Kill the agents
. 
Kill the agents
. 
Take down anyone who intervenes
. Their voices pounded, never relenting.
 
Her body shook, a cry escaping, and then she heard Carter’s voice drawing near.  He was saying something that sounded vaguely like a command, but she couldn’t focus.  Another cry of agony and frustration rent forth.  She wiped more blood from her nose and tried to remain steadfast, strong, but it was too much: the voices, fighting Samuel,
those feckin’ voices
, Carter’s nearness.

             
Kill them
. 
Follow your orders
.
 
No remorse
.
Put them down
.

              Her hold faltered and without thought, her right arm jerked toward Carter and she shot, but in the same moment, Samuel dove in between, taking the hit.  He landed with a thud and grunt on the floor.

              Joss didn’t give him a second’s notice.  Her eyes were trained on Carter who came to a screeching halt ten feet in front of her with his hands raised.  She noted Leah limping along behind him.
 
Leah raised her weapon and Carter barked, "No!"

             
What happened to Leah
? she wondered.  But the voices, the damn voices, never wavered, distracting and pulling her back to her orders.

              “She's fighting them," Carter said to Leah, who although leery, pulled her weapon back.
 
Carter continued, "Can you penetrate their hold, Leah?" His gaze glued to Joss.

              Leah continued her approach. “No, it’s identical to the first time we crossed Joss’ path.  It’s a wall.”

              Joss watched as Carter took a step towards her. “Stop,” was all she could painfully muster.  Her body ached with the amount of resistance she was putting forth.  Her assassin brain took hold—her hits now stood before her, and if she just shot them, the pain would disappear, and she could ... 
Could what
?  Return to her imprisoned life.  Return to Patrice’s demands.  Return to Stephan—to his sick, depraved acts.  Bile rose at the thought and instantly, she reinforced her resistance. 
 

 
Never
would she return to that life. Never!

              She was here to kill Stephan not the beautiful man who stood before her. Her hand swiped her nose again—the flow accelerating.  She could feel her body weakening, and she only hoped that eventually her body would give out entirely.  Then Carter could take her away from here. 

              “Sweets, you can do this.  I know you can," Carter calmly crooned. "Please, drop the gun and just walk to the door with us.  We’ll get you away from here.”

              “Stephan,” she drawled viciously.  Her hands now shook so forcefully she wondered if she could manage to aim straight let alone grip her gun.

              Carter nodded.  “I know you want his death, but Bowen will see to it.  Stephan’s not leaving here alive.”

              “Mine,” she drawled.

              The voices struck again with what felt like reinforcements.  Her bloodied hand gripped the side of her head in a losing battle with the escalating agony.

              “Joss!” Carter took another step toward her and her right hand jerked upward, trained on his chest.

              More gunfire sounded above, along with muffled shouts. 

              Leah gasped eagerly. “I think I finally have a hold on some of the hypnotics.”
 
She then snickered with satisfaction. “You might be good at hypnotism, but you ain’t got nothing on my mind power, baby.”

              “Too ...” Joss grunted, trying to focus on Carter, “late.”  The torrid pain was pulling her under.  It was mere seconds before she’d cave.  She was left with no other options; she wouldn’t shoot Carter again.  Quick as a cobra's strike, she tossed the gun from her right hand to her left, took aim and shot her right hand, questioning why she didn't do this sooner.  If wounded, her abilities would lesson, or with any luck, she’d pass out entirely.  A shriek of utter agony escaped as debilitating pain coursed through her hand.  The hypnotics pursuits and the physical pain from the gunshot buckled her.  She lurched forward—forehead hitting the concrete as she fought the need to expel her measly breakfast. 

              Vaguely, she heard Carter’s voice; he was in the same room, mere feet away, yet he seemed miles from her. His cursing protests were garbled and fading, but then she felt his arms wrap around her.  The warmth and scent from his body suffused her, offering a cocoon, and she wanted to cry with joy, sadness, anger—every emotion she’d pent up for so damn long.  She wanted to breakdown in his arms and sob, yet through sheer force, she hazily brought herself back to the moment.

              Carter seemed to be fussing with something.  Her half-masted glance flicked his way and she realized he was fussing with her hand.  He’d already stripped himself of his T-shirt, had shredded it, and was wrapping her throbbing wound.  Words were spilling from his lips, but she battled to understand them.

              “Baby, did you hear me?  You’re gonna be all right—keep it elevated for me, sweets.”

             
Kill him
!  The sound jolted her like a defibrillator to the brain.  She fought against herself, trying to prevent her left arm from raising the gun, but the weapon was suddenly kicked away.  Her eyes barely registered Leah, and she wanted to weep with thanks.