Being Emerald. Sylvia Ryan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ were done with them.”

      “Me too. I got my next assignment today. Go date is July fourth.”

      “Jesus,” his father hissed. “That fucker is messing with you.”

      “He’s good at the game. My job is different too. I’ll bodyguard the woman who runs the Fine Arts and Artifacts Program. I’ve got a couple of months to train her before we go to DC.”

      “The new assignment explains the dream coming back after so many months.”

      “You think?”

      “Being responsible for a woman. The anniversary of Emily’s death as the go date. Hell yeah, he’s stirring things up, fucking with your head.”

      “So, same shit different day.”

      “Yeah, son, same fucking shit. Have you met the woman yet?”

      “Yeah, briefly.”

      “I saw a video highlighting the mission the other day. It’s been on steady rotation in the feeds. She was in it.”

      “Laila?”

      “Yes.”

      Rock could practically hear his father rolling his eyes. It bothered his dad that he left women relatively unnoticed since Emily’s death.

      “In the interview,” his dad said, “she seemed certain she knows where the Declaration of Independence and Constitution are being stored.”

      “I guess we’ll find out.”

      “She’s pretty.”

      The words grated. “Subtlety still escapes you, Dad. Always has, for both of us.”

      “Huh.”

      Rock knew that sound. Knew it wasn’t good. “What?”

      “He’s putting you in a position to have to protect another woman. He has to know it would crush you if you failed.”

      “You think Morgan’s going to try to kill her?”

      “Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d be completely absolved of any wrongdoing if the mission just never returned. Plus, I think having the people’s focus on the freedoms this country was built on is the exact opposite of what he wants. You have to wonder why he’d bring so much attention to the retrieval of documents that will so blatantly undermine his rule in New Atlanta.”

      Rock hadn’t considered that. “You think he’s counting on us not to come back?”

      “Well, in your case, isn’t he always?”

      He weighed his father’s words. “Maybe this time he’ll plant someone to make sure of it.”

      Normally, being killed outside of New Atlanta wasn’t a worry because he trusted his team, but his usual team wouldn’t be with him this time. “Shit.”

      “Some people think this Washington trip is a suicide mission.”

      “Every mission is a suicide mission, but I get what you’re saying. I have to find out more about the program and the woman running it before I get a good sense of what fucked up scenario he’s throwing me into. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it.”

      “I don’t doubt it, son.”

      “I’m getting tired of this bullshit. I’m done, Dad. I can’t anymore.” Months ago, his plan to leave New Atlanta permanently had come to him like a lightning bolt of divine inspiration. The Onyx Zone recovery missions had given him a sense of freedom that, over time, had grown to an almost uncontainable need. He was more alive in the dilapidated and overgrown places he’d traveled than he ever was in New Atlanta. Often, he walked off by himself and enjoyed the absence of restrictions, and the relative safety of being away from the Gov’s eyes and long-armed reach. Ironic. When he’d first started working in Onyx, Rock had hoped to die in there. His general aversion to being alive had diminished over the last year, but not his aversion to life inside Emerald Zone walls.

      “All right, son. I suppose I knew it was coming.”

      Rock ran his fingers through his hair again and stopped the motion, gripping a fistful of it on top of his head. “You need to visit with Xander.” His mention of the Amber Resistance leader’s name caused several seconds of dead air. His father didn’t know it yet, but Xander held a letter for him. It outlined the plan. They would meet at the drop house and disappear together.

      “All right.”

      “I’ll talk to you soon.” He disconnected the call. The man was his lifeline. He’d been waiting for the right way to break the news he was leaving. Now that the tunnel from Amber to outside the walls was completed, his father could leave with him. They would be together under one roof again soon. Most days, that knowledge was the only thing that kept him going and kept him sane.

      It had been almost a year since he lost the woman he loved and the companionship of his father, friends—every important relationship in his life. A year since the devastating removal of the physical touch he needed. For twenty-seven years he’d been wrapped in the soft comfort of another’s bare skin brushing his countless times a day.

      Then it was gone. He’d never get used to the deprivation of it, the hollow feeling in his belly that seemed like a permanent part of him now.

      He was dead inside. He still drew breath. He still had thoughts, though he tried as hard as he could to eradicate those causing him to feel anything, but he wasn’t the same man who’d lived and loved in the Amber Zone. He’d constructed layers of protection around himself. That shell, like the bark of a tree, shielded the ever-hemorrhaging wound with a rough, dark barrier. He rarely allowed himself to acknowledge his raging anger and desperate need for human contact. If he allowed himself to feel all the emotions that crowded him every day, he’d have probably killed himself, or somebody else, by now. Every waking minute held potential for Rock to totally lose it, to explode in a dangerous fit of pent-up fury. He was like a diamond created under immense pressure, becoming something hard and cold.

      This next mission would be his last. He was going to walk away. He couldn’t wait.

      Chapter 2

      Laila Lewis stood in the hallway, just outside the door of the conference room. This initial briefing marked the beginning of the final two months of training and preparation before the mission. The Fine Arts and Artifacts Recovery Program was her baby. The trip to DC was the culmination of thousands of hours of specialized education, apprenticeships and the ultimate goal of her life’s work.

      For years, the anticipation had been practically overwhelming. But today, facing the sea of Black Guard uniforms, her excitement was muted by fear. She had no interest in engaging in polite conversation with any of the people here. Rock was the exception. No uniform, but still in black. He was a goliath, standing head and shoulders above the rest. Two hundred pounds of badass, standing there with bulging arms crossed over his chest. Armed men in camouflage stood at attention against the white walls, no expression, no movement, like pieces of furniture. Nobody sat at the massive conference table yet.

      A high-level crowd attended, and СКАЧАТЬ