Carter set the box down and heaved a sigh of relief. The room was really starting to look like a cafe. The walls were painted, cabinets installed, and brand new appliances sat gleaming on the counters. And despite the temptation, he’d hauled every single thing in without using his power at all.
Beside him, Molly ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “Well that’s the last one,” she said, glancing around the room. “I guess we could start unpacking them. Or take a break.” She leaned against one of the round tables.
“Break sounds nice,” he said. “Some of these boxes are heavy.”
“Yeah?” she said with a grin. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you. All you have to do is—”
“Hey, if I used my power for everything, I wouldn’t build up any muscle tone.”
Brennan woke up in a sudden state of panic, certain he was about to die. He fought his way free of the sheets, panting as he searched the room.
Everything around him was dark. Quiet. Familiar.
It was just a dream, he told himself, even though he couldn’t remember dreaming anything at all. It was a dream, he thought again, firmly. It did nothing to numb that sense of danger, or the pain lodged in the pit of his stomach. Reflexively, he felt at the healing scar on his abdomen, relaxing as his fingers brushed the circle of rough skin where the bullet had hit him. Jerking awake hadn’t done much for the soreness, but everything was still closed up.
Of course it was.
It had been almost two months. He was fine. There was no danger.
As unplanned break-ins go, this one had gone pretty smoothly. So far, anyway.
Selena knelt under the window and pulled her glove tighter over one hand, smoothing out the wrinkles between her fingers. Of course, she hadn’t actually broken into anything yet, just hopped a couple of fences and avoided a roving security guard in a golf cart. Honestly, she’d expected better security for a university with a rep for technology. After all, they built rockets here. Well, parts of rockets.
A quick peek past the shrubs and trees revealed no late night stragglers wandering past. The patch of sidewalk she’d chosen was fairly secluded—shaded by a couple of nicely placed trees and warded by a spiked garden fence. The most she had to worry about here was someone looking for a spot to make out.
She adjusted her glove again, and sent a spark through the conductive material, feeling out the fit. The metal strip against her wrist felt awkward, and the charge in the capacitor tingled at the contact. Still, not bad for a prototype. She could tweak it later.