Unleashed (TalentBorn Book 4) Read online

  TALENTBORN:UNLEASHED

  Book 4 of the TalentBorn Series

  C. S. Churton

  This is a work of fiction. The characters and events described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or to living persons alive or dead. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  Cover by May Dawney Designs.

  Copyright © 2019 by C. S. Churton

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  The three men have me surrounded. Their hands are raised in fighting stances as they circle me, and their eyes watch my every movement. One of them has a knife.

  It won’t be enough.

  My lips curve upwards in a smile and one of the men shifts back on his heels. He tucks his chin and gives me what I suppose he thinks is a menacing stare, and my smile widens. I know a thing or two about menacing, and this guy isn’t it. There’s only one man on the planet I’m afraid of, and he’s not here right now. As for this clown, he’s about as scary as a day-old kitten.

  A flash of movement catches my eye – knife-guy is slashing his weapon through the air in front of him. I’d be worried if I thought for one moment he was fast enough to get anywhere near me. But he’s just trying to distract me, which can only mean one thing.

  I pivot on my heel and launch myself at the guy creeping up behind me. My open-handed strike connects with his nose, filling the air with a satisfying crack. It’s my very favourite sound, like the opening notes of a much-loved song that tell you you’re going to be rocking out to your favourite tune any moment. I take a half-second to revel in it as he staggers back, doubled over, then I slam an elbow into the back of his exposed neck, and leave him to take a nap.

  A foot scuffs the concrete floor behind me, and I turn with a snarl on my face: another coward’s attack. It’s the kitten. I throw a punch, but he blocks it with raised arms. I aim another flurry at his head and he blocks them all, but that’s fine. I just wanted to get his arms out of the way of his stomach. I drive a knee into his midriff and leave him gasping on the floor.

  Two down…

  Knife-guy is watching me through narrowed eyes. He thinks that little piece of metal is keeping him safe. He’s wrong. He might be carrying a weapon, but I am a weapon.

  He swishes the blade at chest height, side to side in a silver blur. It looks very impressive. He should join the circus. I admire his little display for another couple of seconds, then applaud him with a grin. Honestly, it really is very good.

  He frowns, and I launch myself forward, ducking low to attack him and punish his distraction. I land three strikes before he recovers. His weight shifts and I twist round, throwing up an arm in time just as he brings the knife down. A sharp sting burns across my forearm, but it’s just a flesh wound and I block it out. His attack has left him wide open. I grab his wrist and sweep his legs from under him. He hits the ground hard, knocking the wind from him, and I prise the blade from his grip. He’s on his back, breathing hard, and I drop down on top of him, pressing the blade against his throat.

  “Anna, enough.”

  I recognise the voice from across the room. It belongs to Chang, my unarmed combat instructor, and I ignore it. It’s been so, so long since I’ve had any fun. I press the knife a little harder to the exposed windpipe. Just a little more pressure and the skin will split like a rotten tomato.

  “Doctor Pearce won’t be happy to hear you’re disobeying orders.”

  I pause, and then peel my lips back in a snarl. I climb off the prone form and toss the knife aside irritably. Chang is right. I don’t want to anger the doc.

  Without a backward glance, I stalk inside my cage, pulling the door shut behind me, and dump myself on my bed, not even bothering to watch the four men leave my basement. The doc’s basement. Of course. Nothing here is mine. Not that it matters. The doc gives me everything I need. I lay back on the bed, ignoring the throbbing in my arm. It’s only a scratch – it will heal in a couple of days. If the doc thinks it’s bad enough to warrant medical attention, then he’ll get it fixed. If not, he’ll punish me for being so clumsy.

  I turn the training session over in my mind, trying to pinpoint my mistakes – there had been several. No doubt Chang will spend hours grilling me on them tomorrow, but it isn’t like I’ve got anything to do between now and then, anyway. Might as well put my time to good use. Maybe the doc will go easier on me if I can tell him exactly why I let his property get damaged.

  The door at the top of the stairs swings inwards, interrupting my musing. The man who steps through has wiry white hair, and deep laughter lines etched around his grey eyes. I swing my legs off the bed and watch him in silence.

  “Good afternoon, Anna,” he says, wearing his customary half-smile. His eyes linger on the red slash on my arm for just a heartbeat. “You have a visitor.”

  I frown, immediately on my guard. The only visitors I get down here – aside from the doc himself – are sparring partners, and him. Ryan. I’m not afraid of Ryan anymore. There was a time when I trembled at his name, whimpered when the doc told me he was coming, but I’d been weak then. That was weeks ago, longer perhaps – it’s not so easy to keep track of time down here. If he’s come back, I won’t submit so meekly. I’m stronger now, faster, better trained, and I’m not afraid.

  It’s not Ryan who steps through the door. I recognise the lean young woman with dirty-blonde hair hanging loosely around her face. From before. I cock my head, trying to place her. I don’t often think about my old life anymore, it makes me uncomfortable. Like trying to stare up at the sun for too long. I call them BTD memories. Before the doc. And like anything from my life before, they’re not important.

  “You remember Megan, of course.”

  I do. I freeze where I’m sitting as the memories come rushing back. In Gardiner’s office, with him – the traitor – on a misguided mission. The gun in her hands, the confusion as she switched sides, the punch of betrayal to the gut – we were there to ‘rescue’ her, after all. Her blood on my hands. Her blood on her face. I grin savagely. That’s an image I don’t mind.

  “Your nose healed well,” I say, hopping off the bed as she reaches the bottom of the stone staircase and stops outside my cage. My door isn’t locked, but it’s closed – I prefer it that way and the doc indulges my whims.

  “What happened to your boyfriend?” she asks with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Anger flushes hotly through me and my grin transforms into a snarl.

  “Don’t talk about him,” I growl, shoving my door open and stalking towards her. I feel sick every time I remember how thoroughly he had me fooled, and I don’t need little miss snarky reminding me of it. I see electricity crackle between her fingers – that’s her talent – and my grin returns. My talent is better.

  “Didn’t you short out last time I shifted? Seems like a pretty useless talent to me. Must’ve really hurt your ego when you had to get your hands dirty like the rest of us.”

  “Girls,” the doc says, with a warning in his voice.

  Megan lowers her hand and I take a half-step back. If the doc wants me to be nice, I will. For now. I’m not about to upset the one person who’s actually in my corner, not for her sake.

  “Anna,” he says, “Megan will be accompanying you on your next mission.”

  I blink several times in quick succession, trying and most likely failing to keep my annoyance from showing on my face.

  “She will.” It’s somewhere between a q
uestion and a statement, and I tear my eyes from the unwelcome intruder to look at the doc as I say it.

  “Yes, she will,” he says, and I spot the slight movement of his eyelids that tells me I’m on thin ice. I’m dangerously close to questioning his orders. “You will be apprehending a dangerous target, and you need back up. Megan will subdue him, and you will shift him to a holding cell.”

  “If that’s all she’s there for, why not just send a handler with a taser? Or better still, just give me a taser. I don’t need her slowing me down.”

  And I don’t trust other people with electricity. I hate the feeling of it arcing through my body, knotting up every muscle until I can’t breathe… And I definitely don’t trust Megan. Doc only chuckles.

  “You really don’t play well with others, do you?”

  It’s true, I don’t. With good reason. I mean, everyone I’ve ever known has eventually betrayed me – except the doc, of course. He’s the one person who still cares about me.

  So I’ll do it. I’ll work with Megan. But only because he wants me to.

  “What’s the matter, Anna – afraid I’ll show you up?” Megan asks, earning herself a glare from the doc.

  “I just don’t want you getting hurt,” I reply sweetly. “I seem to recall you’re pretty fragile.”

  The doc coughs, and whatever retort she was about to spit dies on her lips, though it’s still lingering in her eyes. Good. I’d hate to think she backs down that easily. I loosen off my shoulders and switch my attention back to the doc.

  “So, what’s the mission, Doc?” I ask, brushing past Megan and ‘accidentally’ knocking into her with my shoulder, which I just happen to accidentally tense right before it happens.

  The doc drops a dossier on a small table in the corner of the room – pretty much the only furniture outside of my cage, aside from the doc’s chair – and flips it open. I lean over his shoulder, and see the photo paperclipped to the top. It’s a man in his mid-twenties, and the lower half of his face is covered in stubble which doesn’t quite hide the scar running from his lower lip to his chin. I squint at it. An old war wound, for sure. He’s a fighter. He’s looking back over his shoulder, directly at the camera. It’s a surveillance photo, and the doc’s guys are professionals, so this guy must have good instincts to have sensed the camera on him. My lips curve upwards. I love a challenge. I was getting bored with Chang’s ‘volunteers’.

  “This is your target,” the doc says, detaching the photo and holding it up so Megan can see it too. Right. Mustn’t forget Megan. I refrain from rolling my eyes, only because they’re still examining the photo. The man’s eyes are hard. Cold. He’s alert, but he’s not afraid. He thinks he can take care of himself. He hasn’t met me yet.

  “His name is James Bradshaw, and he is in possession of some information I require. You will bring him in. Alive.”

  He meets my eye to make sure I don’t miss the instruction. Geez, talk about prickly. Honestly, you get carried away with a knife just one time, and no-one lets you forget it. And it’s not like he’d specifically told me not to kill that one, anyway. Still though, this is the doc, so I nod my head in a serious manner and try to look contrite. He never lets me have any fun. He smiles indulgently.

  “If he’s a little roughed up, I’m sure it won’t do any harm.”

  I grin and nod with more enthusiasm, and then remember Megan at my shoulder. She’d better not get in my way.

  “Not to be negative,” Megan says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind one ear and sounding distinctively negative, “but Xena’s talent is going to knock mine offline when she shifts us in.”

  “Which is precisely why you shall not be shifting in.”

  Good. The idea of touching her – unless it’s with my fist – makes me shudder. No, wait, not good. How are we supposed to get close enough to snatch him?

  “Bradshaw has an eye for the ladies. He frequents several clubs, one of which is The Core. You will pay the club a visit and lure him outside. Once outside, you will subdue him, and Anna, you will shift him back here.”

  “Makes Snow White here kind of redundant then, doesn’t it?” I ask.

  “Bradshaw is known to have an associate with him,” the doc says, ignoring my gibe at Megan and pulling a second photo from the dossier of a soft looking man with short, curling hair atop a pasty, unmarked face. “This is Mickey Dobson. He is of no interest to us. Though,” he adds with another glance in my direction, “I would prefer he survive the encounter.”

  I feign a sigh, but inwardly I’m thrilled. Two targets. Finally, a proper chance to flex my muscles – especially if Megan keeps out of my way.

  “You will leave later tonight. Get some rest.”

  The doc turns and leaves, with Megan following behind like a puppy dog, and I take the time to have another look at the photos. Both men look like they can fight, though Dobson is going to be the softer target of the two. I’ll take him out of action first, so I can focus on Bradshaw. That said, Megan’s bound to get under my feet and try to steal all the glory for herself. Maybe I should go after Bradshaw first, and leave her to worry about the lesser target. And once I have the real target subdued, I can go rescue her. I smirk. Just a little shift to take her powers out of commission wouldn’t hurt…

  I’ve got a few hours at least before the doc comes back for me. He wants me fresh and rested, but I’m in the best shape of my life. I don’t need to rest. I do need to memorise Bradshaw’s face, though. If I walk straight past him and Megan spots him first, I’ll never live it down. I don’t need her stealing my thunder. I take the photos and head back to my bed, pulling the cage door shut behind me.

  Chapter Two

  I’m not sure how many hours later it is when the doc comes back – no clocks down here – but the thought of getting out there has given me a serious itch, and I’m about ready to lose my mind if I don’t get to scratch, and soon. The itch is so bad that I don’t even blink at the outfit the doc dumps on my bed, or the fact that it’s equally trashy one to the Megan is wearing. No, scratch that, not equally trashy – I’m going to look good in mine.

  I know better than to argue, so I don’t waste any time squeezing into the tight leather trousers and halter top. I complained last time the doc sent me out in a skirt – it made it tricky to fight, not nearly enough flexibility. The leather trousers are far more flexible. And dressed like this, there’s no way Bradshaw won’t follow me outside. I grab a brush and tie my hair back, quickly twisting it into a plait that runs halfway down my back. I’m just a bow and arrow away from being Katniss. I cock my head as a thought strikes me, and look at the doc.

  “Where am I supposed to hide my weapon?”

  “You’re not. I told you Anna, I want him alive.”

  “Spoilsport,” I pout.

  “Scared of a little hand-to-hand combat?” Megan says.

  “Hardly.”

  I brush past her, knocking her with my shoulder again – she really does make it too easy – and smile sweetly at Doc Pearce.

  “Ready, boss.”

  “Flynn is waiting for you outside,” the doc says. “And Anna? Don’t disappoint me.”

  “Never,” I promise fervently.

  I hurry up the stairs, with the sound of Megan’s heels clicking behind me, and tap twice on the door. The lock disengages and the door swings open. Flynn’s hulking mass is blocking our exit – he’s all muscle although he barely knows how to use it. He’s pretty good at operating the remote for my collar, though, so I avert my eyes and shows him what the doc calls ‘appropriate respect’. He steps silently aside and lets us pass, then follows us through the building. I know the way out – I’ve been on enough missions by now to know the way blindfolded, and that’s even taking into account that most of the time I just shift where I’m going. I can feel the EM disruptor humming silently in the collar around my neck – not its sole function, but the only one I care about right now. The doc hasn’t turned it off yet, but he will when I need to shift. It�
�s just his way of keeping me safe: we both know sometimes my temper gets the best of me, and I truly don’t want to disappoint him.

  Megan doesn’t say a word to me on the way to the club: she’s still too busy sulking to acknowledge me. Fine by me, there’s nothing I want to say to her and frankly I still don’t see why Doc Pearce is insisting I let her tag along. Flynn doesn’t speak to us either – I’m not even sure the Neanderthal knows how – which makes for a quiet ride. I don’t waste the time, running through the plan in my head even though it’s already committed to memory forwards and backwards. There’s no such thing as too sharp.

  Megan’s still pretending I don’t exist when the car pulls up a block away from the club, as if that’s going to give her an edge over me. I shake my head and step out of the car. I can already hear the thrumming music coming from the club. I’m aware of her following behind me as I reach the entrance. There’s a line waiting to get in, but I have no intention of queuing. I walk straight past them and up to one of the bouncers, who’s running his eye over the tight-fitting leather which leaves little to the imagination.

  “Hi, boys,” I say with a smile, flicking my tongue over my upper lip. One of them smiles at me, and I beckon him closer with my finger.

  “Come and find us on your break,” I purr in his ear. “We’ll make it worth your while.”

  He looks at the other bouncer and nods, and they move the red rope barrier blocking the door. Some of the crowd queuing murmur their disapproval but I pay them no attention as I sashay inside.

  Music throbs throughout the darkened club, so that I can feel it travelling right up through my spine and rattling my brain around inside my skull. I don’t like the constant noise – it means anyone could sneak up on me, and that makes me vulnerable. I don’t like to be vulnerable. Knowing Megan is watching my back does nothing to put my mind at ease. I wouldn’t trust her to watch a goldfish. I scowl in disgust, then smooth out my features and start weaving my way through the mass of bodies, scanning faces for our target.