Search (SEEK book 1)

Seeing Green

Finding eyes that are the same freaky color as mine on the target I've been sent to bring to SEEK can't be a coincidence. I know it the second his cheeky smile turns to shock. A wave of confusion chokes off my words.

"Who are you?" he demands, releasing my hand like I've burned him.

A million questions buzz in my head. Is this why Ops chose me? Did Solomon do this to me on purpose so I could come get this guy? There wasn't anything in my packet about eye color, was there?

Say something. He's staring at me and I'm blowing it.

"A-Ashley... Ashley Mon-roe," I sputter, biting the inside of my cheek.

His eyes narrow into two piercing slits. "Did Matheson send you? What's your call?"

Mouth hanging open, I stand frozen and clueless, as his whole demeanor transforms from jovial and gregarious to suspicious and resentful.

"Who the hell are you?" he growls, reaching behind his back.

I don't know who the heck Matheson is, but it doesn't matter because he's figured everything out and now he's going to shoot me—right here in the middle of the woods where no one will ever find me.

"My call?" I stall, breathing heavily. His hand comes forward as I crouch. Trained for hand-to-weapon combat, I'm ready to grab the barrel of a pistol.

But it's only a cell phone. A shaky breath whooshes from my lips.

"Your call. I want to look you up. There's not supposed to be any more of us in the area so obviously you're here to bring me back. I told Commander Matheson I was out. That I didn't want to...anymore...and he thinks..."

He's muttering at me as if I'm this Matheson person.

Then, like a minute-hand clicking along the face of a clock, a shiver of adrenaline ticks down my spine and the connection snaps into place. It's the neon-green eyes, eyes exactly the same as his.

He thinks I'm a Handler!

Oh, God. He's calling the Brotherhood. Do something. Throw a punch at him, throw a rock at him, do anything!

"You want my phone number?" I ask in a pathetic squeak of a voice.

He looks up from his Android, a deep crease ebbing away from widening eyes and rippling across his forehead.

Get out of here, I think, leaning away and squeezing the fishing pole like a sword in my tingling hand. But just as I arch up on the balls of my feet, ready to swing at his head, his arm drops to his side, phone dangling loosely from his fingers. I swallow and stay rooted to the spot as though some invisible lasso is holding me back. My need to understand why my eyes are the same color as his trumps my instinct to fight.

"You expect me to believe that you just happened along?" he demands, throwing an arm in the air.

I don't know what to think. It's like he's gone soft again. He flings the cap off of his head and tosses it toward the beach. It sails like a Frisbee through the wind. Then he runs his hand through a thick tuft of curly bangs, his forehead three shades paler than the rest of him. He looks at me like I'm the crazy one.

"You're a little weird. I'm gonna go. Thanks for the um...yeah. Later." The words tumble out as the pole slips from my hand, clattering reel-end first between the rocks. I leap from boulder to boulder out of his reach and flee, leaving him gaping after me.

"Wait!" he shouts too late.

I'm halfway up the hill. But I turn wearily, yanking on a corner of my t-shirt, and face him silently. He's pacing back and forth across the length of the slippery boulders. It's a wonder he doesn't fall because he's not paying any attention to his footing. He's just watching me, as though I'm going to sprout wings and fly away.