The Drafter

“What? Like she’s going to remember any of this?”

Peri started when Frank was suddenly behind her, the rifle now in Allen’s hand and out of her reach. His meaty fingers pinched her arm as he pulled her away, but she was too shocked to react. Her heart pounded as Allen set the rifle on the bar with a sliding click, brown eyes evaluating. Sandy’s aim never wavered, her expression mean, as if she wanted an excuse.

Not Jack! But it felt like a wish, and she tensed as the truth cycled down to one ugly certainty. If she jumped, she’d lose everything—be exactly who they wanted. She’d be whatever they told her she was. How many times have they done this?

“And now she gets it all,” Sandy said sarcastically. “Welcome to the party, Peri.”

“Jack?” Peri said, and he winced, not in pain, but in guilt.

Anger flared. “You bastard!” she shouted, lurching for him, only to be brought back by Frank’s iron grip. “You stinking son of a bastard! You knew? How many times have you done this?” she shouted, thinking over the tasks she could remember, seeing the gaps, the anomalies. A fragment here, a missing hour there. That time she lost eight months? Peri’s fury grew, and Frank’s grip tightened. I trusted him. I let him do it.

Flinching, Jack scooted himself backward until he was propped against the low stage. “I’m sorry, babe. I did it because I love you. It’s the only way to stay together.”

“Stay together?” Peri exclaimed. “You lied to me!”

She fought to get to Jack, but Frank had her, arms pinned to her sides, helpless. “How long? How long have you been doing this? Lying about our tasks, making me into … a corrupt agent? Was my name on that list? It was, wasn’t it. And it wasn’t me, it was you!”

Jack lifted the scarf from his middle and let the blood-soaked yarn hit the floor with a sodden plop. “You can’t tell me you don’t love the adrenaline,” he said, shifting his torn shirt to show the body armor dented and smeared with synthetic blood. “The excitement. The money.” He looked up at the last, giving her a shit-eating grin.

“I’m not a mercenary. I don’t kill for money.” Peri wiggled as Jack levered himself up gingerly to sit on the low stage. He must have known he might be shot tonight, even down to where to put the sack of fake blood. Damn it all to hell.

“If you’re not doing it for money, then you’re doing it for kicks.” Jack reached awkwardly to the straps, and the sound of Velcro ripped the air. His innocent blue eyes were full of knowing. “Admit you like it. The thrill, knowing that you might have to kill someone to survive. The sense of superiority you get from it. Otherwise it wouldn’t have taken you this long to figure things out.”

“Let me go,” Peri muttered, twisting in Frank’s grip as Sandy watched in amusement. “Let me go!” she demanded, throat raw. She was a soldier. She did not do this for kicks!

But she was caught. The doors were barred. Jack was unhurt, and they were going to shoot her to make her draft. And that man now over by the bar—Allen—was waiting to spin her back four months to where her ignorance lay. Not this time. Not again.

“I won’t forget this,” she vowed as Jack set his body armor on the stage and cautiously palpated his middle. “I don’t care if you take away a year. I’ll remember.”

Sandy looked at Allen as if for his opinion, and the man pinched the bridge of his narrow nose in thought. “She’s right,” he said, and Jack’s head snapped up, his fingers fumbling as he rebuttoned his bloody shirt. “There’s too much to fragment and not enough to form a memory from. Not after Jack’s been in there already, making holes.”

“Hey, I gave her a clean memory,” Jack said, and Peri’s heart thumped at the glimpse of his holster under his coat. “Do you know how hard it is to fragment an entire person? Make a realistic timeline from two?”

He can do that? she thought, her lips tasting a memory of chocolate, nothing more.

“Four months isn’t enough,” Allen said. “There are too many residuals, and the gaps will fester until she digs the truth out or MEPs trying. I have to take her all the way back.”

Peri went still in Frank’s grip, scared. “All the way? What is all the way?”

“Hey. Wait a moment.” Jack awkwardly got to his feet, hand to his bruised ribs. “I’ve got this. I know her mind. A year maybe, but no more. She trusts me.”

“Not anymore,” Peri snapped.

“I agree,” Sandy said. “Take her all the way back. It’s the only way to be sure she stays useful.” She beamed at Jack. “Just think. You get to fall in love with her again.”

“Aww, fuck,” he muttered, infuriating Peri.

“Let me go!” Peri demanded. She’d had enough, and when Sandy looked away, she acted. Heart pounding, she breathed fast, enriching her blood. Frank’s grip tightened as he guessed she was going to do something. It was exactly what Peri wanted.

Peri went loose in his grip. Frank leaned forward to keep their balance. His chin dropped, and Peri slammed her head back, teeth clenched; his nose crunched and he howled in pain.

Peri dropped again, breath held and core tight. Frank instinctively tightened his grip until she could lever him over her. Her breath came in fast as his weight arched over her then slammed into the floor to knock him breathless. She was already moving, barreling into Jack on the stage and grabbing his Glock from behind his coat. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">