AGENT 23 BLACKOUT (Agent 23 Book 1)

CHAPTER 18

"What were you thinking?" Kayla crooks her neck forward, furrowing her eyebrows. "He's your father, and he's trying to connect with you. Can't you see that?"

"After all these years, does it matter?" I try to keep my voice down so my dad doesn't hear me in the other room. "What does he expect us to do? Get together and go to the city amusement park? Ride a roller coaster with our hands in the air?"

"Maybe he wants to go to dinner with you and get to know the boy that grew up into a teenager? If he can ever get to that point."

I roll my eyes and look up at the ceiling, exhale a troubled breath. No matter what kind of answer I reply with, I know she's right. So, I revert to the root of the problem. "I feel bad about what I said to him. I do, Kayla, but couldn't he at least say he was sorry about the night he walked out on me and my mom? He just tucked me into bed, said goodnight, and disappeared. Then he shows up almost five years later, to what... to..."

"To save your life," Kayla says.

I nod and realize once again she's right. "Okay, I'll apologize. In the morning, I promise."

After a long, anxiety releasing moment, Kayla raises her chin as if she's contemplating something, like she's debating on a certain risk she might take. I don't know what's on her mind, but her body language sends an unspoken signal to a part of my brain that wants to accept the encrypted message eagerly. I suspect that part of my brain is my frontal lobe, but I could be mistaken. It could be some primal region that goes back to when mammoths and cavemen walked the Earth. My eyes grow large as her expression softens, and she slinks toward me. I'm not sure our relationship has progressed to this—as a matter of fact, I'm sure it hasn't. We've only talked for the first time tonight—but Kayla surprises me. Yes, she buried her head in my chest on the sofa earlier, but that was trauma speaking. Now, it's something else.

With tight lips, she walks up to me and gives me a hug. Her forehead grazes my chin on the way to my shoulder. My arms stiffen as I extend them to accept her. The rest of my body tenses and my brain battles unbelief—that this is really happening—but then reality hits me, and I wrap my arms around her and return her embrace.

I must admit, this is something I could get used to. Long term, like forever.

And I wonder why my dad left two teenagers alone in the living room? Guess he's a little rusty with his parenting skills.

Following our comforting embrace, she pulls back. "Just remember, he hasn't come out and said it yet, but we both know what a meeting with Agent 24 means. At the very least, it means your dad is planning an exchange, his life for my father's. I would never ask him to do such a thing, but he's Agent 1, and we could never stop him if that's what he's set on doing."

"I know." I offer her a half-smile, craving another hug.

As if reading my mind, Kayla embraces me.

As I hold her, my chin angled up, resting on top of her head and the gentle cushion of her flaxen hair, I replay the nights events over in my mind and come to the same conclusion as my dad... The Collective set this whole thing up to draw my dad in and torture him by involving me. Sure, they wanted the mayor dead, possibly because of his late-night project. The one Kayla knows nothing about. But ultimately, Zero's motives may hinge on nothing more than revenge and vindictiveness. I don't want to think about what this person wants to do to my dad.

After our second hug, Kayla's eyes linger on me tenderly, her fingertips grazing my palm as she walks away, retreating to one of the spare bedrooms to sleep. As she shuts the door behind her, I stare at my dad's room, wondering if I should apologize now for my hateful words, or wait until morning like I promised Kayla?

I decide to do it in the morning. I don't have the courage to do it now.

For a second, I cast my gaze at the third spare bedroom and opt against it. Instead, I grab a pillow and a blanket from the room and crash on the couch. I train my eyes on the front door. I don't know what I'd do if Agent 24 storms into the living room, but if he does, I'll be waiting, not because I'm an assassin like him, but because there are people in this house I want to protect. And there's another thing. I remember when the headache hit me in the coffee shop as I stood beside Kayla's table. After it passed, I sat down calmly and offered to be her study partner. There were other times when I felt more in control, like before Agent 24 attacked me on the bus. Moments before he made his move, I visualized the possibilities of how he might come at me.

When he pointed the gun at me in the alley, I reacted with skill and precision. I've never, and I repeat, never have I had a gun pointed at me. But I reacted like it was a common occurrence. Maybe my line of thinking is a figment of my imagination? Worked up by the unfathomable series of events that have unfolded tonight? But I don't think it is. Even though The Collective has been unsuccessful in capturing control of my mind, I realize they were partially successful in downloading the skills to defend myself against Agent 24.

In the night's stillness, I ponder what other skills I've gained? I may soon find out.

As I drift off, for a hazy moment, I imagine a life where Kayla and I meet and begin a normal relationship. We walk, holding hands, on our way to Lattes. We grab coffee and continue on to a bookstore down the street. It's surreal, like it's really happening. I feel the peacefulness of this fantasy world as we browse a collection of spy novels. Not sure why we're looking at this genre, but it feels right. I admire a book with a cover displaying a man in a dark suit and a red tie, holding a gun at his side. When I return it to the shelf, Kayla turns to me. She pulls me toward her, our lips drawing close. Electricity and magnetism sparks between us—our body heat arcing like lightning from passion-charged clouds. As she's about to plant a kiss on me, she leans to the side and says with a whisper in my ear, "Your phone is buzzing. You should check it."

I startle awake in the living room of the safe-house, my leg vibrating with the alert of another text message. The realization of what's happening shakes me to my senses as I dart up from the sofa to check my phone.

The text message reads:

Meet me at the old fort on the coast tomorrow at midnight. Bring your dad, and I might let your wannabe girlfriend's father live. No police or he dies. Tell anyone and he dies. Come unarmed and don't try anything stupid or I won't stop until all of you are dead.

Then the text confirms our suspicions:

It's a trade, the mayor for Agent 1.

Finally, he drops a map pin location for us to follow, so there's no mistaking where it all will go down.