The Fugitive

The Training

Training. Finn had told me that we were getting started with training. Working as a team and all that worthless nonsense. The closest I'd ever gotten to working well with others was when they left me alone.

Of course, Jay had been different. Even though we coordinated the hits together, him being my eyes in the sky, we had known when to give each other space. Sometimes I still touched my ear, like an earpiece would be there with Jay's voice on the other end. Surely, any moment now he would crack a joke. Even if I could just hear him say "Nicole" again, I would be okay. But that was impossible, and I knew it.

No. It's possible. More than possible. We'll take down Huxley, then find Jay. And then we can escape and work together, just like the good old days. We can take down Huxley. We've done it before.

We've done it before, but how much did I lose?

Thoughts like these didn't belong in my head. No longer did I consider myself the greatest hitman in the world, not after so many people had made a fool out of me. But not even they could take away the danger of a man driven by desire. I would do this. I would work with a team. I had to do anything and everything possible to get Jay back alive.

But then the harder question surfaced, as if that was even possible. Why hadn't Jay found me? For four months after the wretched explosion at Pearl Harbor, I had rotted away in a jail cell, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Jay was alive. Even if my location wasn't public knowledge, surely he of all people would have known where I was.

Familiar doubt and dread crept into my mind. What if he really is dead? What if I go through all of this just to discover he really did die the night of the explosion? But I shook the thought immediately. I didn't think I could suffer through his death a second time.

It should have been me. I should have stopped the detonation instead of Jay. He had so much more to live for. So many hopes and dreams for the future, while I was struggling over a broken past.

A past that is still broken, but at least now I know what the puzzle looks like. At least now I can start picking up the pieces.

——

A fight. I was finally going to have a real fight. Training, maybe, but still some good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. The prospect of humiliating Finn and Derek got my blood buzzing, humming with adrenaline and the pent-up energy inside of me.

My hands curled instinctively into fists, and I glanced around. I was at the disadvantage, if you could even call it that, because I'd never been to this training room before.

The fighting floor was about as wide as a basketball court. In the center of this floor was a circle about six feet wide.

All around the floor, the walls were covered in mats. Maybe to absorb sound so no one could discover the base, or maybe because this "team" was too wimpy to take the blow of a solid wall. My bets were on the latter.

To my right stood Maisie. She wrapped her hands, hardened eyes flickering toward her soon-to-be opponents. She didn't brag, and that in itself spoke volume. Either she was really great and really horrible. And I think I had a suspicion which it was.

Derek cracked his knuckles and Finn rolled his head, stretching out his neck. The soft flesh he revealed would be so easy to put a knife through. Or a bullet. Or maybe just a well-placed hand.

James was nowhere to be found, although he didn't seem like a fighter. He was the man behind the computer, I gathered. Good with numbers and letters, but not hands.

As for Aldridge, I had yet to see her. She had practically disappeared after our introductions in the hallway. I glanced back to Derek, who didn't bat an eye at her absence. Maybe he knew where she was.

No, he probably just didn't care. God, how did Aldridge get stuck with such an oaf?

Finn clapped his hands, bringing the entire group's attention to him. "All right, everyone, let's get down to training. Now, we do have a newbie, so I guess it's time to review the rules."

He flashed me a smile, faker than I thought humanly possible, and continued.

"Rule number one—no weapons unless I say so. I don't care how you get the job done, no matter how dirty, but no weapons. Your hands are the deadliest things you can use, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

I had to hold back a smirk. Please. I had shot, and undoubtedly killed, a police officer from a moving helicopter. I'd like to see Finn do that with his hands. What would he do? Rip off his arm and hurl it at the officer?

"Second and final rule—a training session is over when someone is rendered unable to fight or gives up. But if someone does give up, they have chore duty for the rest of the month."

Finn looked around. "Well then, let's get to the fun stuff." A small smile twisted across his face. "It is Sunday, the start of the week. Usually, we rotate chores, but I think something else is in line since we've got someone new."

I sighed. "Look, I won't even be here long enough to get through a rotation. We get the job done, I get my friend, and I'm gone."

Finn exchanged looks with Derek before meeting my eyes. "It sounds like you're under the impression that this will be a quick and easy job." He laughed. "Believe me, a lot of training and planning will go into this. You might as well get comfortable."

"How long are we talking?"

Finn took his time, seeming to toy with the question.

"Several months."