Page 47 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)

DESMOND

“D esmond.” Charlotte whispered my name like it was a password that had just unlocked all the secrets of the universe.

She dropped my hand, whipped around to me, and drew in a breath, as though she was going to shout a warning. What was she suddenly so worried about?

“Execute!” Bryce yelled.

The guard closest to Charlotte drew his gun. I lunged in that direction, but the guard stepped forward and aimed his weapon at Charlotte’s head before I could tackle him. The other guards also drew their guns and aimed them at Charlotte.

“I would stop right there if I were you, Dez,” Bryce called out in a mocking voice. “Unless you want to see your girlfriend’s brains splattered all over the snow.”

I swallowed a frustrated growl, but I had no choice but to do as he commanded. Bryce grinned, drew his own gun, and pointed the weapon at me. He jerked his head. Another guard stepped forward and searched Charlotte. He removed the gun she’d had stuffed in her jacket pocket and tossed it aside.

“What is going on?” Niles asked, his gaze darting from one guard and gun to another.

“Desmond and Charlotte haven’t been entirely truthful with the rest of us,” Henrika replied. “They aren’t arms dealers. They’re spies for Section 47.”

I muttered a curse, as did Charlotte. We had known Henrika could blow our cover at any time, but I’d been hoping we could take her down before that happened. Once again, though, she was three steps ahead, and she had just put Charlotte and me in even more danger.

Steig curled his hand around the hilt of his hunting knife, while Oriana cracked her knuckles, sparks of golden, caustic combusto magic flickering around her fingers.

Niles pushed his glasses farther up his nose, but his lips curled back in a disgusted sneer, as though he was plotting the best way to kill us both.

Oriana’s dark, angry gaze swung over to Henrika. “Wait a second. You knew they were Section spies? And invited us here anyway?”

Henrika held her hands out wide. “Guilty as charged.”

“Why would you do that?” Steig bellowed. “We came here to buy your weapon! Not get captured by Section 47!”

Henrika shrugged. “If you want to walk away just because a couple of spies turned up, go ahead. I can always find other buyers for my formula.”

“ After you perfect it,” Charlotte snarled. “Right? Isn’t that what this is really about? Making your precious formula the deadliest it can be?”

Confusion filled me. What was Charlotte talking about?

Henrika let out a laugh and clapped her hands together in delight. “You really are too clever for your own good, Charlotte. It’s too bad General Percy can’t see the big picture like you can. He might have prevented this whole thing from happening.”

“What does the General have to do with any of this?” I asked.

Henrika looked at me, fury sparking like matches in her green eyes. “He has everything to do with this, dear Desmond. And now Jethro is finally going to pay the price for his arrogance and treachery.” She paused. “Or, rather, you are.”

I opened my mouth to ask her another question and give myself a few more seconds to figure a way out of this mess—

Crack!

Crack! Crack!

Crack!

In the distance, gunshots zipped through the air.

Bryce checked the smartwatch on his wrist and nodded, as if he’d been expecting the commotion. “And that would be the Section strike teams swarming the golf course and firing on my men. Right on schedule.”

“Jethro is nothing if not predictable in his impatience,” Henrika replied.

“What do you want?” I asked, my hands balling into fists.

“ You ,” Charlotte said in a soft, strangled voice. “She wants you , Desmond. This was never about leaking the UC list or any weapons auction. This was all about luring you into her trap.”

I frowned. “Why would she want me? I’m just a Section cleaner.”

Charlotte gave me a grim smile. “You’re a Section cleaner who survived a Redburn explosion. You’re Henrika’s flaw .”

My gaze flicked over to the dead scientist and locked on the horrific burns that had decimated his skin.

The clearing melted away, and I was back on that blackened beach, the explosion blasting over me just as it had done countless times in my nightmares.

The chemical fire of the Redburn formula just kept eating, eating, eating away at my skin like a red-hot monster that wouldn’t be satisfied until it had devoured me completely . . .

“You also happen to be Jethro’s son,” Henrika added, her voice snapping me back to the here and now. “Which is an unexpected but delightful bonus.”

She jerked her head at Bryce. “Let’s move. Now. Before the strike teams reach the woods.”

Bryce stepped forward and aimed his gun at Charlotte’s head.

She tensed, although she glared at the former cleaner.

There was nothing I could do. Bryce could pull the trigger before I could take one step toward him, and I didn’t know if I could use my galvanism to grab hold of the bullet’s kinetic energy and send it spinning away from Charlotte. Not when he was that close to her.

“Your choice, Desmond,” Henrika purred. “Come with me and save Charlotte. Or stay here, try to fight your way through my men, and watch her die.”

My gaze zipped from one person to another. The dead scientist sagging against the tree. Henrika smirking at me. Bryce and the guards aiming their guns at Charlotte. Steig, Oriana, and Niles glaring at me, Charlotte, and Henrika in turn.

As a Section cleaner, I’d been in a lot of dangerous situations. Faced a lot of long odds and had to make a lot of tough choices, most of which involved picking the lesser of two evils. But these odds weren’t merely long, they were bloody impossible , and really, it wasn’t a tough choice at all.

Not when Charlotte was involved.

I stared at Charlotte, memorizing the way the winter sun brought out the highlights in her auburn hair. How her eyes crinkled and her heart-shaped lips quirked with worry. And most of all, I breathed in the cool, soothing blue of her aura, knowing I would need it for what was coming next.

Then, when I had that all locked away in my mind and especially in my heart, I looked away from Charlotte and walked over to Henrika.

“Good boy,” she purred again.

“Desmond, no!” Charlotte yelled. “Don’t do it! We can find a way out of this! Together!”

She lunged forward, but one of the guards grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

Fury roared through me. “You want me to go with you? Tell your men not to hurt Charlotte,” I growled. “Right now. Or your guards will have to pump me so full of bullets to take me down you’ll never figure out how I survived your monstrous formula.”

Henrika arched a chiding eyebrow. “Temper, temper, Desmond. But very well. Although for the record, I never had any intention of killing Charlotte. Ms. Locke still has her part to play in this little drama, just like you do, Mr. Percy.”

My gut twisted. I had no idea what Henrika was planning to do to me or how Charlotte fit into any of this, but it wouldn’t be anything good.

“Give them the order,” I growled again.

Henrika jerked her head at Bryce and the other guards. “You heard him. No one shoots or otherwise harms Ms. Locke. Am I understood?”

The guards all nodded, even Bryce, although he did so quite reluctantly.

Henrika snapped her fingers. “It’s time for Desmond to go nighty-night.”

“With pleasure,” Bryce said. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

The former cleaner slid his gun into its holster, stepped in front of me, and flexed his fingers. Bryce grinned, then snapped up his fist and punched me in the jaw.

Thwack-thwack-thwack .

Bryce followed up that first punch with three more in rapid succession.

He put the full force of his enduro strength into each blow, and pain exploded in my face like grenades detonating one after another.

My galvanism surged up, trying to turn the jarring force into usable energy, but the pain quickly overwhelmed my power.

A strange, numb sensation also spread through my body, and everything took on a dull, fuzzy haze, as though the entire clearing had somehow been plunged deep underwater . . .

Thwack.

Bryce plowed his fist into my ribs. This blow was harder and sharper than the others, and another, larger grenade of pain exploded in my chest.

I didn’t even feel my legs buckle or my body hit the ground, but they must have, because suddenly, I was lying in the snow, trying to move my head so I could stare up at Charlotte. But it didn’t work, and my eyes slowly slid shut, despite my best efforts to keep them open . . .

“Desmond! Desmond, wake up!”

The last thing I heard before the world went black was Charlotte screaming my name.