G.U.A.R.D. Book #4: Tracked

-23-

    I had been through a lot in the past year. I not only learned my mom was a legendary agent in a top secret agency (if we're not including Dad in this), I was ripped from my home, I went through grueling training that strengthened my mind and body, but also heightened my fear, and let's not forget the whole Cindy-dying-and-coming-back fiasco. Through all this, I had many mixed feelings about my mom. She kept her past a secret; but she kept it a secret to protect us. She never once visited me when I became a G.U.A.R.D. recruit; but she was probably busy beating the crud out of the League. She killed her first husband.

... I had no arguments against that one.

When I saw her for the first time, I had no idea what I was expecting. Maybe she would be decked out in tactical gear surrounded by macho men and tough women, ready to storm a League base. Maybe she would seek me out, appearing just as I remember her: a dorky mom who never let her son talk back.

And part of me expected to someday meet her on the field. I, however, wasn't counting on having a bullet in the back of my thigh and another in my calf. I couldn't hug her because the pain was too great, and I couldn't shout at her because my energy was so incredibly depleted—of course, the tears may have also hindered that one.

When I saw her for the first time, I wanted her to show me what a great agent she was, kicking and punching like a pro. Either that, or I wanted her to go straight to the explanation. Not wasting time on pleasantries. Going straight to, "Dustin, this is how, why, what, where, and when."

But here she was, crouched so our eyes could meet, her fingers cradling my head. The first thing she said to me? "Hi."

And I cried.

I grabbed her wrist, and she slid her hand down so we could clasp fingers.

"Hi," I said, sobbing.

Her eyes were teary, and she gave me a small smile. "Hi."

I pulled her hand closer, letting it touch my cheek. "Hi."

I know it was childish, but in that moment, it was like everything was right in the world again. Like all the weight of my guilt and my friends' safety and Ally's kidnapping (again) and everything else was gone. And it was just Mom and me. It was Mom. And everything was better.

Then reality came crashing in the same time the door opened. Another team of agents swarmed in, carrying Jensen in a stretcher with Cleve hurrying in behind him. Mom quickly moved out of the way. They set Jensen on a temporary gurney at my head. His face was less than a foot from mine. I wiped my tears.

"Who's the chick, Ryder?" he struggled. There was a lot of blood in his abdomen area.

"Call me that again and you won't live to regret it," Mom told him.

And I laughed.

It was such a Mom thing to say. Kit, who was lying beside me and had yet to let go of my shirt, jumped at the noise. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that an agent decided to start tampering with my wounds. I yelled, then stifled it to a groan, grinding my teeth.

"What's going on?" Cleve asked.

I noticed she had literally one scratch on her. One.

An agent at a monitor announced, "We have French recruit Louis Leroy. Repeat: we have French recruit Louis Leroy."

Mom ruffled my hair, gave me a kiss, then went to the agent. It embarrassed me. Such a small thing, but still. Cleve stared at me as if I hair sprouting out my eyeballs.