“According to what law?” Weston recanted. “Not one that governs our organization. No, I’m afraid that’s quite impossible—much like snatching back a new toy from a toddler. She’s already quite attached, just angry at the moment. And I want her so dizzy with love that she’s desperate to come visit her Romeo at The Academy. If you do your job right, she’ll be willing to sign her own brother away to do so.”
I looked across to Davies in appeal. “The girl is barely seventeen and has led a very sheltered life, as was mentioned by Cadet Caruthers. I believe her to be innocent to the point of being pure . . . I don’t feel comfortable seducing a seventeen-year-old virgin!”
Ranger guffawed and leaned forward as if forcing the point. “The girl works at a truckstop diner and wears Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots to the local watering hole. She’s no virgin—she’s playing you, rookie!”
“My dear boy, what you feel comfortable with is entirely irrelevant. However, I would like to point out that this is not a mission to steal some poor country girl’s virtue, but to procure her gifted brother,” Weston reminded me mildly. “The point of you seducing Miss Connelly is to have her so besotted with love that the bond she has with her brother is weakened and the one she has with you, her first love, is strengthened. Quite harmless— and romantic—in my opinion.”
“Well, in my opinion,” I countered, a tad too audaciously, “a flirtatious friendship would be just as effective in creating a bond . . . without pushing the boundaries of decorum.”
Weston narrowed his eyes at me. “I understand your concern and even admire your ethics . . . to a degree. However, you have to look beyond one single civilian girl to the bigger picture we’re creating here. Consider her collateral damage, if you must consider her at all.”
Collateral damage. I clenched my jaw so hard you could actually hear it snap shut. Reese darted me a soft look; I returned one—this couldn’t be easy for her. Ranger was glowering, while Commander Davies appeared to be more bored than anything else.
Weston dispassionately went on: “Most civilians not only pollute themselves, but the very world we live in with their lack of self-control and instant self-gratification. We have only to look to global warming and the impact that is having on our planet because of sheer laziness and lack of innovation on their part. Fortunately, The Academy is changing all that. That is why we must obtain greatness—when and where we find it—to harness and nurture for the betterment of all mankind, instead of allowing it to go to waste,” Weston finished as though giving a speech to prospective donors.
“And, Officer Nealson seems to have a differing opinion on Civilian Connelly’s experience.” He held up a preemptive palm. “Furthermore, the young lady is no longer a child. It wasn’t so very long ago a seventeen-year-old female was considered mature enough to marry off, run a household, even bear children. And, according to a report you wrote yourself, this particular young lady falls into that category. I’m paraphrasing here: ‘Miss Connelly is mature beyond her years.’”
“Only in certain aspects of her life,” I argued. “She’s had to take on the responsibilities of a mother at a young age, but in other ways—”
“And you have responsibilities to this organization!” Weston bolted up, ghosting his chair backwards. “You can’t allow one girl to get in the way of your duty. Therefore, you will pursue her again, make amends, and seduce her to the point that she forgets her own name much less that of her brother’s. It’s basic biology—a female cannot focus on anything but her paramour while her brain is being addled with the rush of love-induced hormones.
“More potent than any drug, Davenport. Therefore, I think a Booster-T is warranted in this case. We’re not taking any chances with this PGC . . . I have high hopes for him,” he added again, absentmindedly picking up a picture of Andrew.
“Yes, sir,” I acquiesced with poor grace.
“Because if this girl gets in the way of our goal one more time . . .”—he looked pointedly at Ranger, who grinned manically as if on cue—“I’ll have to send in backup. Since you obviously have such a soft spot for the young lady, I’m sure you can appreciate how your lighter touch on her life would be infinitely better for her than The Sledgehammer.”
The twin spots of heat were back on the ridge of my cheekbones.
“We understand each other?” Weston’s eyes were twin nuclear beams of threat.
Too angry to speak, I jerked my head up and down.
“Good. And if it makes you feel any better, I believe the age of consent in most states is, in fact, seventeen.” After I gave a single incline to my head, he continued: “I’ll give you two more weeks to reach your goal of signing young Andrew Connelly. I can see how this setback would affect her trust in you, and coupled with her obstinate nature, would take a little longer than anticipated.” He flashed me the peace sign, managing to make it look ominous. “But just two more—I’m more than anxious to get this boy on premises to see what particular assets he has for us to use.” So much greed dripped from his mouth someone should’ve offered him a napkin.
Plucking a fresh cigar from inside his suit pocket, he waved it around with a pleased expression. “You are dismissed.” Everyone rose to leave. “Caruthers, type up a summary of this meeting for the files and submit it to Davies by the end of the day.”
“Yes, sir,” Reese replied, gazing longingly at me as I made to leave.
Weston clapped a hand on my shoulder, arresting my flight. I erased the disdain from my face and turned around.
“May I suggest using good old-fashioned jealousy as a means of entrée back into Miss Connelly’s life? In my day, it seemed to do the trick when I was dealing with a particularly willful filly.”
I nodded noncommittally.
“Cadet Caruthers,” Weston called to Reese, who was hovering unobtrusively by the door. “What is the name of the Connelly girl’s friend, my dear?”
“Ashley-Leigh Montgomery,” she supplied.
“Ah.” Weston slithered a smile my way. “I would try courting the lovely Miss Ashley to get . . . Kate is it?” I nodded curtly, hating the sound of her name in his mouth. “Kate’s attention again. Stoke the fires of jealousy, m’boy . . . gets the young ladies’ loins heated in a hurry. . . . That and a testosterone-shot,” he said, grinning broadly.
“Yes, sir.” I felt sick to my core with revulsion for this man—this organization. It had already gone too far, my first mission. If this was what it would be like—plucking innocents from their families, destroying lives—I knew I wouldn’t last a year. But the threat to my parents, Reese, and now Kate wasn’t an idle one. I just didn’t see a way out . . . yet.
“Oh, Davenport . . . one more small thing.”
I about-faced reluctantly; it felt like I couldn’t breathe until I got out of that room. “Sir?”
“How about the youngest Connelly child? We haven’t really given him much thought. Do you think there’s anything there?”
“There’s not much to think on, unfortunately,” I replied dispassionately. “He’s just a typical four-year-old attending a subpar, church-based preschool. The family and teachers caught onto Andrew’s giftedness early on. Not the case here, I’m afraid. There is no indication that he’s even above average academically. He is slow and clumsy, and his speech even seems underdeveloped . . . no gold to mine there.”