“I imagine they do.” Rafe’s knife sliced through a lemon and sank into the wooden cutting board. “You sound like you know a lot about this.”
“Not really.” Ava’s cool gaze swung back to Rafe. “There are groups who help people like her, though, and one in particular that operates in the Southeast. Given my background, our interests often intersect.”
The words tugged at a memory. Maya braced herself for it, but the swell wasn’t as overwhelming as usual. Maybe relieving the pressure had helped, even if she’d been counting constellations for half the night. She closed her eyes and let the thought she wanted drift gently to the top. “Sydney Winters,” she murmured.
The scrape of a chair across the floor popped her eyes open. Ava was leaning forward, her brown eyes terrifyingly intent. “How do you know that name?” she demanded.
“Hey.” Rafe drew the knife out of the cutting board with one swift movement and jabbed it in Ava’s direction. “You don’t talk to her like that.”
Ava ignored him. “What else does the TechCorps know about Syd?”
Maya laid a soothing hand on Rafe’s arm—and thanked God that Gray hadn’t shown up yet. “She’s a friend of yours, I take it?”
“I don’t have friends.” Her voice was icy and calm, but the tension in her eyes told the truth. Ava might not have friends, but she had people she’d protect. “Like I said, our interests intersect.”
“Mmm.” Maya let her eyelids droop again, and this time she didn’t try to control the flow of memories. They rose in swift succession, overlapping in an absolute anarchy of sensory recall. For a heartbeat, she thought she’d made a terrible mistake. Instinct screamed for her to exert control, to thumb through the memories in order until she found the necessary one.
She ignored her rigid training and exhaled, trusting her brain to know what was needed.
And it did.
It was just like the mechanic manuals. Like all the other things she’d ever learned for herself, instead of having them shoved into her brain against her will. A few overwhelming moments of uncertainty, and then patterns emerging from the chaos. Everything she knew about Sydney Winters, gathered from a dozen memos and scraps of conversations, fell into neat rows, and she felt like she was reading them from the air in front of her.
“Sydney Winters,” she recited. No, not recited. This was her own voice, not an echo of a memory. “Exact age unknown, but likely born before the Flares. Suspected product of one of the privatized military initiatives in Virginia. Likely an offshoot of the original Makhai Project, which aimed to produce supersoldiers for the military.”
“Is that all?”
“She doesn’t leave much of a trail, and the TechCorps doesn’t know what to make of her. She’s suspected of shutting down at least five illegal operations that the TechCorps had targeted, which they’re fine with. But she killed the scientists, too, which they’re not.”
“Yes, I imagine so.” Now Ava sounded amused. It figured that mass slaughter would amuse her. “Brilliant scientists with nonexistent morals and a high tolerance for the suffering of children must be a precious commodity for the TechCorps.”
“Pretty much.” Maya raised an eyebrow. “So what does she do? Run some sort of clone liberation underground?”
“Something along those lines.” Ava nodded to where Rainbow stood on a stool next to Knox, mixing the lemonade with heartbreaking care. “If nothing else, you should let me reach out to her about the child. There are safe houses. They know how to deal with children who could kill an adult by mistake.”
Something unexpected twinged in Maya’s chest. She’d never explicitly thought about keeping Rainbow around. She wasn’t exactly an expert on parenting, and she was pretty sure raising a child in between crime sprees and dangerous heists was all sorts of not cool. Not to mention they were pretty much all wanted by the TechCorps.
But the idea of letting her go to strangers didn’t feel good, either.
Dani walked in, a vague smile playing at the corners of her lips. It vanished when she saw Ava. Instead, her head fell back with a groan. “Ugh, you again.”
Maya picked up the stack of plates and started setting the table, mostly to get out of the line of fire.
But Ava took Dani’s open disgust with remarkable calm. “You’re as eloquent as always, Dani.”
“Okay, how do I say this nicely—wait, fuck it, I don’t care.” Dani stopped in front of Ava, bent at the waist to rest her hands on her own knees, and said slowly and loudly, “You—do not—live here.”
Ava rested her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. “Of course I don’t. I have a penthouse. With a cleaning service. And actual modern amenities.”
“As if that’s something to be proud of.”
“Give it up, cupcake.” Rafe sliced through the last lemon and stacked them on his cutting board. “She likes it when you insult her. You want her to run for the hills, give her a big hug.”
Ava furrowed her brow. “Please don’t.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She breezed past them to where Rainbow stood and ruffled the child’s brutally short hair. “Whatcha doing, bug?”
“Mixing lemonade,” came the serious answer, as Rainbow continued her careful work with the wooden spoon. Maya hid a smile and slid a plate in front of Rafe.
“She’s ignoring me again,” he muttered.
“Dani does that.” Maya patted his shoulder and slid the last plate into its spot. “Chin up, soldier.”
Rafe winked at her as he gathered the cutting board and sauntered over to where Dani and Rainbow stood. Maya shook her head and retrieved the jumble of silverware as Nina delivered a stack of bowls to go along with the plates.
“Stew’s almost ready,” she announced. “Who’s handling the salad?”
“I’m on it,” Knox replied, and Maya hid another smile. She supposed Knox’s domestic streak shouldn’t have been a surprise. A meal plan wasn’t that different from a battle plan, and Knox was almost as bad as Nina when it came to fussing over people. He’d been downloading the cookbooks as fast as she could digitize them and strategizing ways to feed their sprawling—and growing—little family.
The smell of sourdough bread in the oven was a reminder that he wasn’t half bad at baking, either.
Maya tried to ignore Ava’s renewed scrutiny as she distributed the silverware and bowls. She paused at Conall’s elbow and nudged him. “Is Gray coming to dinner?”
“Not sure,” Conall replied absently. “He was with Mace when I left.”
“I’m surprised you let James Mason roam freely,” Ava noted. “Especially with the child here. He’s clearly a threat.”
Conall shot Ava a chilly look over the edge of his tablet. “Don’t go there, lady. We’ve all agreed to have a case of amnesia about the bullshit you pulled, but Mace is off-limits. Talk shit about him again, and my memory’s gonna get real good.”
Maya froze. It was an outright threat, and from Conall of all people, whom she’d never heard say an actual angry word to anyone. The kitchen had fallen silent, too, everyone caught in the tense breath before violence exploded. Another heartbeat and Dani would be across the table again, probably packing an Ava-calibrated sedative this time.