shake my head.
“Then I need to know what the hell is taking so long . . . This should’ve
been a one to two-week mission, tops. The longer it takes for a family to sign
the paperwork becomes exponentially that much harder for them to make the
decision at all. It’s not easy to get them to go through with our unorthodox
terms and actually sign on the dotted line. So you have to strike while the
iron is hot, while the thrill and the honor of our prestigious organization
knocking on their plywood door is still running rampant in their wee small-
town hearts.” Exaggerated gestures and speech came to an abrupt halt.
My turn. “I’m getting closer sir, but I’ve recently had a setback . . .”
• 267 •
Weston gavel-banged solid oak with his fist. It was a testament to years of self-control training that no one flinched. “Closer doesn’t amount to a hill-of-beans in this game. I want that PGC signed up and ready to ship out in a
week’s time. Setback or no setback!”
“Honestly, it may take more than a week now, sir,” I said.
“What exactly is the hold up? Honestly.”
“It’s the Connelly girl, sir. I’ve recently had to contain her, and she’s pretty
upset with me at the moment.”
“She has proven resistant,” Weston acknowledged. “But we knew going
in she would be our greatest challenge. Isn’t that precisely what you’re for?”
He indicated me with an expansive hand.
Ranger’s smirk morphed into a sneer.
I shifted in my seat. “Civilian Connelly doesn’t follow the normal pattern
of behavior for civilian girls. She’s . . . stubborn and highly resistant to the
idea of her beloved eight-year-old brother being sent away.”
“And so the irresistible Peter Davenport has proven resistible after all.”
Somehow Weston came off sounding amused by this bit of news.
Ranger lifted half a lip.
“She’s smarter than we gave her credit for,” I allowed.
“So she’s a clever girl. Are you not a hundred times cleverer? If not, then
we’ll have to reassess our whole program.” Weston chuckled, turning to his
panel for support before swinging back my way. “You admire her?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Not really.”
“It’s no use denying it. It comes off in your tone when you talk about her.
When you say stubborn, you may as well have said sublime.”
Reese’s hand fluttered to smooth back an imaginary hair that strayed
from her chignon.
Damn. “I guess Civilian Connelly has moral standards I admire,” I
admitted to a lesser charge.
Ranger loudly guffawed. Reese shifted in her seat. Davies remained
impassive. Weston made a growling noise as if I were speaking nonsense.
“Morals?” he spat out like a dirty word. “Let me tell you something about
civilians’ morals, my dear boy—they are like those plastic rulers they give to
schoolchildren—easily bent to the point of breaking if need be. And civilian
females are shallower than a puddle of piss. You have the looks, the car, the
smarts, the breeding,” he counted off, seeming to run out of adjectives before
fingers. “Don’t tell me this civilian girl is impervious to al your assets?” He raised caterpillar brows. “Maybe you need a booster shot?”
Ranger risked a chortle at that one.
• 268 •
I didn’t even deign a glance. “Civilian Connelly’s moral code is more important to her than external trappings. She is unlike most teenagers in
that sense. Therefore, I need to take it slowly or else risk scaring her away
completely.”
Weston turned his outrage on Reese like this was partially her fault that
he hadn’t received his shiny new toy yet. “I see from your reports, Cadet
Caruthers, that the girl does indeed fancy your own Cadet Davenport,” he
goaded her out of frustration. “What do you think is the hold up from a
female’s perspective?”
Reese cleared her throat lightly like one does before giving a long rehearsed
speech. “Civilian Connelly has led a sheltered life, and is therefore, naturally
cautious around outsiders. It took much longer for Ryan and me to win her
over than anticipated.” She paused to emphasize her point: it wasn’t only
Cadet Davenport having trouble making Civilian Connelly cooperate with
their agenda. “She also has deeply entrenched religious beliefs, and would be
reluctant to shed those beliefs in the course of two weeks. I agree with Cadet
Davenport’s gradual approach in regards to her courtship . . .”
Ranger snorted rudely. “Of course she would.”
Weston held up a palm, and Reese continued. “Coming at her with
too much too soon would likely result in her dismissing Cadet Davenport
altogether as too worldly and amoral for her to bond with sufficiently. I-I
think that was partly where Ryan went wrong,” she added in an aside. “In
addition, the strong bond she has with her brothers would take longer than a
couple of weeks to weaken. As you can see from my report, she’s not interested
in being free of the burden of raising her brothers. It has actually become the
most important thing in her life since the passing of her mother. I also agree
with Cadet Davenport’s assessment that she doesn’t follow what is considered
to be normal civilian behaviors.”
Ranger interrupted again. “I respectfully disagree with Cadets Caruthers
and Davenport. I’ve met the girl, and she struck me on both occasions as . . .
I’ll use layman’s terms here—a clueless country bimbo. You should’ve seen
the way she was dressed and out prancing around on the night we picked her
up. In a trashy neighborhood no less.”
My chest burned at the way he was spinning this. And I still couldn’t
make sense of the way he became irate every time he talked about her.
Realizing, or reading my mind, Ranger’s eyes cut to mine before
composing himself. “And just for the record, I’ve never met a civilian girl I couldn’t nail in a week. Morals or no morals—I’ve hooked up with plenty of
• 269 •
church-going girls on Saturday night who just turn right around and wake up a little extra early for church on Sunday morning.”
“May I interject, sir?” I asked.
“By all means, son . . . shed the light upon us,” Weston said with no small
amount of irony—religion had no place in this scientific institution.
“Officer Nealson jumped to conclusions on the night he is referring.
Civilian Connelly was most likely coerced into wearing something . . . out
of the ordinary for the special occasion of her birthday. I’ve never seen her in
anything other than demure skirts and jeans, except for that one exception.”
Ranger huffed out an incredulous throat noise to convey how his opinion
differed from mine.
“I can corroborate Cadet Davenport’s intel,” Reese joined in. “At the
camp, she was the only one not wearing shorts, despite the heat. Knowing her
socioeconomic status and wanting to bond with her over clothes, I suggested
she could borrow some of mine. She declined, citing her father as the reason.
Apparently, he adheres to very strict, old-fashioned ideas of what is appropriate
attire and behavior for young
ladies.”
“Pish-posh!” Ranger slapped the table. “What is this?—a ladies’ tea party?
Are we here to ascertain the exact measure of length of that skank’s skirt or
whether or not her brother is really a gifted civilian?”
Commander Davies spoke up for the first time: “Ranger is right here—
this is all irrelevant information.”
Ranger leaned back, his arms folding across his chest. Reese colored
slightly. I continued to look impassive though I wanted to reach across the
table and choke fathead till he deflated.
“Do you have anything new to add in regards to the Potentially Gifted
Civilian in question that is not currently in the report?”
I loosened my jaw (and fist under the table) to answer Weston. “The
Connelly boy is very advanced academically as is indicated by the preliminary
test results highlighted in the report. He’s also physically superior—both in
appearance and athletically—in relation to his peers.”
“How did he score on that stress test again?”
“He scored a 74.25,” I supplied then paused to let Weston mull this over.
Civilians were required to score in the ninety-ninth percentile across the board
to be considered—unless they were gifted.
Weston stared out the window at a cloud formation, drifting across his
California sun.
“Unfortunately,” I continued, “I’ve yet to see any definitive evidence that
points to giftedness above and beyond the indicators I’ve mentioned.”
• 270 •
“That’s for our team to decide,” Weston growled. “It’s your job to deliver him to us. Sometimes these gifts are hidden, or the subjects themselves are
even unaware of their unique capabilities. Being born that way, it simply
becomes their norm. Or they may even try to suppress their specialness to fit
in. You mentioned the boy was deliberately missing test questions; he may
also be hiding other aspects of his talents.”
I nodded, allowing this.
“Have they committed to sending the boy to headquarters for the
physical?”
“It’s in the works.”
“It’d better be.” Weston eyeballed me straight. “Or I may have to send in
reinforcements—I have high hopes for this particular boy.”
“The father has proven to be almost as hard to pin down as his daughter,” I
emphasized, trying to move some heat off Kate. “I believe he’s more unwilling
to part with his trophy kid than initially thought. I just received a verbal
commitment from him two days ago regarding the physical. He was willing
to agree to it . . . provided that he be present during the screening.”
Weston looked aggravated by this bit of news. “You let us handle the
father—you concentrate on the daughter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We need her too preoccupied with Prince Charming to have the time, or
the inclination, to whisper in Daddy’s ear about sending little brother away.”
“She’s very upset with me at the moment—”
“If you can’t handle this girl, Davenport, maybe it’s time to step down
and allow Nealson to resume control!”
Ranger lifted his brows, his palms rubbing together greedily. He followed
up with his signature one-side-up lip curl.
My stomach clenched. Could not have that. “With all due respect to
Officer Nealson’s proven record, I believe that would work against The
Academy’s objectives in this case.”
“Why is that exactly? I was under the impression Mr. Connelly is a
big fan.”
“I believe his daughter has a different opinion . . . and it’s a strong one.”
Weston looked aggravated again. “What makes you say that?”
I shifted in my seat, slanting a look at Ranger before ratting him out. “I
didn’t mention it in the report earlier, believing I could easily get around it,
but Officer Nealson was most unprofessional in our initial encounters with
Civilian Connelly.”
Ranger’s face burst into the shade of someone about to commit murder.
• 271 •
He lunged across the table, a finger-stab aimed at my face. “You’re the one being unprofessional by allowing a seventeen-year-old girl to get one over on The Academy!—kind of like the tail wagging the dog, don’t you think?” My
face remained placid as bathwater. Attempt to turn tables on me was a fail,
so he redirected to Weston. “I guarantee the results you want within a week,
or . . . you can demote me!”
“That might be hard to accomplish when Kate absolutely loathes you, and
Andy loves me,” I replied serenely.
“Oh, so now it’s Kate and Andy, is it?” Ranger’s voice got all nasally. “Now who’s being unprofessional? You’re allowing your personal feelings to get in the way of your mission!”
“Loathes?” Weston latched on to the word as though it were an
impossibility for a product of The Academy. He shot Ranger a dark look
before twisting his head back my way. “How could the girl possibly loath
someone she’s barely met?”
“It’s just another thing in which Officer Nealson seems to excel at
exceedingly well,” I answered, not even trying to keep a straight face. Reese
bit back her smile, and even Commander Davies looked amused. Weston
looked the opposite of amused.
Ranger’s complexion darkened further. “In my opinion,” he seethed
through clenched teeth, “we’ve been too easy on this family already. If that
girl won’t turn, and the father won’t sign, then maybe it’s time we make them see the light. Resistance has never stopped us from claiming a Potentially
“Strong arming and scare tactics would only succeed in the Connellys
digging their heels in further,” I interjected. “These are not weak-willed
individuals we’re dealing with. And it would shed the public spotlight on our
very private organization. The whole town is well aware of the prestigious
honor being offered to the Connelly boy . . . and is paying attention to the
outcome.”
Weston pursed his lips, contemplating. “Davenport’s right—” Ranger
sulked immediately. “—claiming a PGC without parental consent is a sticky
situation, even when we’re dealing with a different country, much less in our
own back yard. We don’t want to end up on the evening news.”
“We have enough sources in high places to squash a story before it gets
out,” Ranger countered.
“Calling in favors results in a redistribution of power and a deterioration
of funds. Not to mention a story can survive on social media alone these days.
• 272 •
Even with our best tech guys on it, a story can snowball out of control in a matter of hours.”
Commander Davies spoke up again: “If we’re unable to get Connelly
to willingly sign the paperwork, Plan B is to get him denounced as an unfit
father, giving us the opportunity to swoop in and save the young man from his
neglectful, alcoholic father,” he reminded Weston. “How is our contingency
plan going?”
“Plan B is underway and Mr. Connelly is playing right along . . . He just
happens to be neglectful at best and abusive at worse,” I said with obvious
disdain.
&nb
sp; “You are, of course, documenting everything?”
“Yes, sir.”
“From my understanding, we have the school administration’s support,
the Connelly boy is chomping at the bit, the father is almost on board, and
the Connelly girl is contained. Would that be an accurate assessment of the
current condition of your mission, Cadet Davenport?” Commander Davies
summed.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you think another check at this point would grease the skids further?”
Davies asked.
I breathed in, deliberating. “I’m not sure.”
Ranger snorted and shook his head. “You’re not sure of anything, rookie.
I’ve never seen a civilian balk at free money. They all have ‘big principals’,” he air-quoted, “until you offer them a fat check. That’s what always tips them
over the edge and actually gets the pen on paper. They’re all whores at the end
of the day—just variations between streetwalkers and high-class call girls.”
Nobody stopped him to argue. “. . . We paid them like a dime-store hooker,
maybe they think they’re worth more? It’s probably worth it to us to save time
and just cut the guy a check for fifty-thou and be done with it . . . once we
know the Connelly boy is gifted.”
I thought over what Ranger said; it actually made a lot of sense. I’d
wondered for a while why The Academy was trying so hard to sign Andrew.
Didn’t even appear he was gifted. I felt there was something more—some vital
piece of information I was missing or wasn’t privy to.
“Another check could help at this point, or hinder, because this particular
family has some pride about accepting charity,” I deliberated. “The father
cashed the check, but only because we framed it in just the right manner and
just the right amount so as not to be considered either a bribe or charity.”
“I agree with Cadet Davenport,” Reese said.
• 273 •
“Surprise, surprise,” Ranger addressed the ceiling then me: “If only you had this much influence over Miss Connelly.”
Like a public fart, I continued to ignore Ranger. Reese shot him a withering
look before continuing: “She is already suspicious of our organization to begin
with and already considers the check to be a bribe. She is currently citing this as evidence that The Academy has ulterior motives and is trying to bribe