Discovering Zhara: Bad Girl Training (Bad Boy Rebels Book 4) Page 5

  We need help. There’s a Rogue at the apartment that has Jett held up at gunpoint. Please hurry.

  I hit send and then hold my breath, waiting for a reply. But it never comes.

  “And the stories are all the same,” Jett continues talking to the Rogue. “Someone gets kicked out or gets pissed off and quits. You’re all so angry at the organization for ruining their lives, when you were the ones who chose to enter it.”

  “Chose to enter?” The hollow laugh the Rogue releases sends a chill down my spine. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Of course I do,” Jett replies. “No one forced me to join. I made the decision.”

  “Then you’re really lucky. Or perhaps if you’d said no, it would’ve been another story.” He pauses for a lengthy amount of time and then says, “The girl hiding behind you… I want to see her.”

  “Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we,” Jett replies in a calm, but firm tone.

  “That wasn’t a request,” he growls. “The girl is going to step out from behind you or else I’m going to make her.”

  Panicking, I quickly tuck the phone back into Jett’s pocket. Then, with a few inhales and exhales, I step out from behind Jett.

  For some reason, I pictured the Rogue as an older man who’d spent too many days on the job. But shockingly, he looks around my age with brown hair that reaches his shoulder and a scar grazes across his forehead. He’s dressed in black cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and black boots.

  He eyes me over as thoroughly and then pales, as if he’s seen a ghost. “Zhara Baker?”

  “You know her?” Jett looks at me for an explanation. “Do you know him?”

  “I…” Puzzlement swirls through my mind as I glance at the Rogue then back at Jett. “I don’t think so.” This doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t look familiar, yet the feeling of familiarity presses against the back of my mind.

  Who the hell am I?

  Before I can delve too far into the strange wonderment of my identity, the sliding door to the deck bursts open. The Rogue turns for the door with the gun aimed in front of him as Jackson strolls in. Jackson doesn’t appear alarmed and I soon find out why as Benton rushes in from seemingly out of nowhere. He soundlessly moves like a freakin’ ninja cat and Tasers the Rogue in the back. The gun falls from the Rogues hand, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and his body jerks as he collapses to the floor like a tree toppling over.

  “Timber,” Jackson jokes. Then he surrenders his hands in front of him as Benton shoots him a dirty look. “Sorry, but it’s not my fault. The jokes just spill out.

  Benton shakes his head, pulls out a pair of handcuffs, and straps them on the Rogue’s wrists.

  “Hmm… I might know a way to help with that, Jacks.” Jett muses, tapping his finger against his lip. “All you have to do is stop opening your mouth.”

  Jackson scowls at him. “Like your one to talk.”

  Jett rolls his eyes. “I’m so not as bad as you—”

  “That’s enough,” Benton cuts him off, his tone sharp.

  The room grows so quiet I can hear the dripping of a faucet.

  Benton gives Jackson and Jett a firm look before fixing his gaze on me. His eyes soften a smidgeon. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “I think so.” Well, I mostly am except for one small thing.

  The Rogue knew my name.

  “Are you sure?” Benton asks, inching toward me. “It’s been a rough last twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, but then pause.

  “What is it?” Benton asks, taking another step toward me.

  “It’s just that…” I shift my weight, feeling uncomfortable.

  Is it a bad thing that the Rogue knew me? Are they going to think I’m bad?

  “The Rogue knew her,” Jett explains for me.

  “Fuuuuck.” Jackson lets the word drag out through a loud breath. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Yes,” Jett says then looks at me. “Are you sure you didn’t recognize him?”

  I shake my head. “No… I mean, well…” I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “I don’t know. He didn’t look familiar, but he felt familiar… That doesn’t really make sense, though.” My hand falls to my side and I free a trapped breath. “I had the same feeling with the guy who patted me down before I got into the car with Axel. And I have this memory of being in the car with my mom and that same guy… but I was really young at the time, so maybe I’m remembering wrong.” I wait for someone to say something, but the room remains quiet. Worry creeps up inside me. “Is something wrong?”

  Benton glances at Jackson then at Jett before focusing on me again. “I think we need to talk.” He offers me his hand.

  “Okay…” Nerves bubble inside me as I slip my fingers through his.

  When Jett and Jackson give me a look of pity, I have a feeling that whatever Benton is about to tell me is going to be bad.

  Really, really bad.

  A Goodnight Kiss

  Benton leads me into his bedroom and shuts the door. Without saying a word, he shucks off his jacket, removes his holsters and guns, and kicks off his boots. Then he takes my hand in his and guides me toward the bed. He still doesn’t speak as he helps me lie down. Then he tucks a pillow under my head and climbs into the bed beside me so we’re lying face to face.

  “I have to tell you something,” he says. “And it isn’t going to be easy to hear.”

  I force down a shaky swallow. “Okay… Is everything all right? Are Ridge, Wilder, and Xavier okay?”

  “They’re fine. They’re just doing some extra surveillance in the area. And someone will come pick up the Rogue soon, so you don’t need to worry about him.” He assures me, resting his hand on my hip. “What I have to tell you is about your family.” He blows out a stressed breath. “I don’t think there’s any easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it.” Another breath escapes his lips. “I’m pretty sure your family might have worked for an organization at one time.”

  Okay, so I knew what he was going to say would probably shock me, but I didn’t expect that.

  “How do you know that?” I ask. “And wouldn’t I know if they did?”

  “Not necessarily.” He traces circles on my hip with his fingertip. “A lot of times parents choose not to tell their kids they work for the organization. At least until they’re kids are old enough to understand.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense… When they died, we were old enough. At least Loki was. And Jessamine… Oh my Gosh, what if they do know and no one ever told me!” Adrenaline courses through my veins. “What if everyone’s been lying to me?”

  “Zhara, calm down.” His voice is gentle. “There’s no reason to get worked up until I figure out exactly what’s going on. For all I know, your parents could’ve quit a long time ago. Or maybe they were part of it before they were married. It’s hard to say for sure.”

  “But you can find out for sure?”

  “I might be able to, but it’s going to take some time.” His hand glides up my side and doesn’t stop moving until his palm is cupping my cheek. “Until then, I need you not to worry. The guys and I, we’ll take care of you. Nothing is going to happen to you—I won’t let it.”

  “Am I not safe?”

  “You are with us.”

  “What about when I go home?”

  His gaze burns intensely into mine. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  I nod, releasing a breath.

  He grazes his thumb across my cheekbone. “Now try to get some sleep. You’ve had a rough day.”

  Yes, I definitely have. Sleeping seems impossible, though. Not when my mind is so wired with thoughts of my parents being part of an undercover program. Sure, Axel seemed to know my mom and the Rogue recognized me, but besides the memory of being in the car with Axel’s colleague and my mom, I can’t remember anything else that would lead me to believe my parents worked as undercover detectives. I have feelings, though. But how can I tur
n those feelings into memories? And why can’t I remember?

  As my mind continues to race with questions, Benton leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispers. “And get some sleep.”

  I do what he instructs, figuring I’ll just lay there with my eyes shut to please him. Yet, somehow, minutes later, I manage to fall deeply into dreamland.

  Benton

  I lay by Zhara until she falls asleep, then I slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked, and return to the living room where my team is waiting. The Rogue has been picked up, so at least I can relax about that. But I have about a million other things to worry about, starting with…

  “How did he get in?” I ask Jett as I drop down into the sofa.

  Jett rubs his hand across the top of his head. “Honestly, I have no idea. The alarms didn’t go off. So, either he hacked the system or knew the passcode.”

  “There’s no way he could’ve hacked the system,” Ridge says. “My systems are un-hackable.”

  “But how would he know the passcode?” Wilder questions. “The only way that’s possible is if one of us told him.”

  They grow quiet, casting suspicious glances at each other.

  “Oh, knock it off. No one gave him the passcode.” I recline back in the chair. “And Ridge, you’re the best programmer we have, but you know as well as I do that no system is un-hackable.”

  Ridge opens his mouth to argue, but then thinks better of it and shuts up.

  “That still doesn’t explain how he got into the apartment without you hearing him, Jett,” Xavier says while typing on his phone. “Unless you were too stoned.”

  “I wasn’t too stoned,” Jett says. “I was just a little preoccupied.”

  “With what?” Wilder asks, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

  Jett shrugs, rolling his tongue in his mouth, as if trying not to smile. “Training Zhara, just like I was told to do.”

  Jackson eyes him over. “Training her how, exactly?”

  Jett shrugs again. “Does it really matter?”

  Before anyone can answer that question—because I’m pretty sure I know where this is going—I clap my hands together.

  “All right, no more talking about this. We have bigger problems.” I point at Jett. “The next time you’re with Zhara, don’t let yourself get so distracted. You’re lucky she used your phone to text me for help.”

  He salutes me. “Yes, boss, sir. But just for the record, what she did was pretty badass. I mean, she just reached into my pocket and got out my phone without me even telling her to… She can think on her feet.”

  I nod, completely agreeing with him. “You’re lucky she can.”

  “I know,” Jett says, the humor in his eyes vanishing. “I’m sorry I fucked up.”

  “It’s okay. We all do it sometimes. Just be more careful.” I turn to Ridge. “Okay, now for the next thing… I need you to do a favor for me.

  He nods. “Sure. What’s up?”

  I hesitate, knowing he isn’t going to like my request. “I need you to hack into the Shadow Files and see if you can access the list of names of the people who have been rescued from the Drug Tunnel Experiment Facilities.”

  Ridge blinks at me, taken aback. “Those files are in the Locked Section. Do you know how much trouble I can get in if I get caught trying to access those files?”

  “Then don’t get caught,” I massage my temples with my fingertips, feeling a headache coming on. “Please, just do this, Ridge. It’s important.”

  “Why?” he asks. “Because if I’m going to hack into files that could potentially get me locked up, I’d at least like to know why I’m doing it.”

  I exchange a look with Xavier and Jackson and then back at Ridge. “Tonight was a setup. There was no Taylor. No weird cab driver. Taylor never sent any of the texts. She doesn’t even have a clue what’s going on.”

  “Then how did this person text Zhara from Taylor’s phone?” Jett asks.

  “He bounced a signal from Taylor’s phone,” Ridge guesses and I nod. “But why? And who was it?”

  “Does the name Riverson Stellman ring a bell?” I ask.

  Ridges eyes widen. “The man who ran the Drug Tunnel Experiment Facilities before they were shut down.”

  “Not just ran. Created,” I press. “And he was never caught.”

  “Holy shit,” Jett breathes. “And you talked to him?”

  “Only for a second,” I say. “Then he took off. We tried to chase him down, but we lost him in the underground tunnels.”

  Jett shakes his head back and forth, stunned.

  “Wait? Why did he text Zhara?” Ridge asks. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, from what Riverson told us before he took off, it kind of does,” I say. “Because, according to him, Zhara is a test patient from one of his old facilities.”

  Our gazes move to my bedroom door. If what Riverson said was true, if Zhara was a test subject at a drug facility, then her whole life has been nothing but a lie.

  Not only that, but her future could be in danger.

  Coming Soon!

  Discovering Zhara: Sweet Lies & Deadly Kisses

  (Bad Boy Rebels, #5)

  A Sneak Peek at Reinventing Alexis: A Wild Night

  Here’s a sneak peek at Reinventing Alexis: A Wild Night (Bad Boy Detectives, #1). This story is about Zhara’s twin sister, Alexis, the detective organization, a stalker hacker, and the three guys trying to protect her.

  Reinventing Alexis: A Wild Night

  (Bad Boy Detectives, #1)

  Reinventing Alexis: A Wild Night

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover design by MaeIdesign

  Betrayal

  Alexis

  For the past seven years, I’ve been in love with my best friend, Blaine. I know, I know. I’m a complete walking cliché. But I can’t help it. If I could change my feelings for him, I totally would. But ever since my fourteenth birthday, I get butterflies in my stomach every time he looks at or touches me (in a completely friendly way, of course; otherwise I wouldn’t be babbling about my one-sided crush right now). And no, I’m not silly enough to believe that getting butterflies means I’m in love with him. I know I’m in love with him for several different reasons. One, I’d do practically anything for him, even questionable things I normally wouldn’t do. Like, for instance, when we were in high school, I lied to his mom about where he was so he wouldn’t get in trouble for going to a party. I didn’t lie because he asks me to—Blaine would never do that—but because I have this uncontrollable urge to protect him. And back then, I wasn't a liar.

  The second reason: because I can’t stand any of his girlfriends he's had. And half the time I don’t even have a good reason for disliking them.

  And the third is pretty simple. Because when I think of my future and who I want to spend the rest of my life with, I see Blaine. That’s it. There’s no one else for me.

  Coming to this conclusion when I was fourteen has been very unfortunate and has made dates and kisses pointless. Which is probably why at eighteen years old, I’ve had a total of two boyfriends, kissed three guys, and… Well, that’s about it f
or me when it comes to the boyfriend department.

  Life would be so much easier If I could just have Blaine.

  “Oh God, here we go again,” my friend Masie says from the lounge chair across from mine. “Seriously, Alexis, you need to just tell him how you feel.

  Shit. Did I just say that aloud?

  “No way,” I say, readjusting my sunglasses. The sun is hot against my pale skin. I’ve never actually worn a bikini since I burn simply thinking about the sun. Plus, I’m not a bikini girl—never have been. Masie’s theory is that I act this way because I suffer from low self-esteem, caused by being teased during my earlier years of high school. Which yes, I know happens to a lot of people. And these people, I’m sure, can wear bikinis later on in life, if they choose to. But not all of them do, so I’m not an anomaly. When I tried to explain all of this to her, though, she just shook her head.

  “Oh Alexis, when will you start seeing things for what they really are,” she said. We were about fifteen at the time, and I’ll admit I was a bit more naïve then than I am now. “I blame books. You read too much, and it messes with your sense of reality.”

  “My sense of reality is fine,” I replied. Seriously, did she just say I read too much? Jesus, Masie. I mean, she’s cool and everything, but the girl can be a ditz sometimes. “And what does that even have to do with wanting to wear a bikini? Maybe it’s just not my thing. Not every girl wants to wear one.”

  “It’s not just the bikini,” she said. “It’s the clothes you wear—seriously, you dress like you think you’re the princess of Goth. And you hardly talk to people at parties. And don’t even get me started on dating.”

  “I haven’t even gone on a date in a year.”

  “Exactly,” she said, as if it proved some hidden point. “Look, we’ve been friends for forever and trust me when I tell you that all that shit you went through our freshman year messed with your head. But you’re not that girl anymore. You’re beautiful, smart, and funny. You just need to realize it and start letting other people see it. You know, let your wall down.”