Trouble on Reserve Read Free Page A

all.”
    Not believing him, I reached for his shoulder only to jerk back when a jump of energy flashed between us. My eyes darted to his, and I tightened my control. It hadn’t felt like our energies balancing, and my thoughts darted back to that static shock at the gate.
    Oh, shit. Feeling as if I’d been kicked, I sat back, stones jabbing into my butt. That hadn’t been a static shock from the keypad. Someone had tagged him. Not only had someone tagged him, but Trent knew it. That’s why this stupid, windy road. He had been trying to outrun them and get in a public place where they couldn’t act.
    Trent grabbed my wrist, jerking my attention to him. “I’m fine,” he demanded, unaware I’d figured it out, but then he hesitated at my horrified expression. “What?
    The pop of gunfire brought us both up. He was tagged all right. Every shot was going to the same patch of dirt, guided by whatever he picked up at the keypad. If we hadn’t been in a ditch, Trent would be dead.
    “Stay down,” I said tightly. This was exactly why I didn’t do illegal stuff. Not being able to call on the I.S. or FIB for help sucked. “I thought you said you had some driving courses. Why in hell did you get out of the car!”
    “Because there’s no roof and it stalled?” Trent said, refreshingly sarcastic. Crouching, he made a motion to look up out of the ditch. “Let go of the ley line. No magic.”
    I looked at my splat gun. What did he want me to do? Talk them to death? “Beg pardon?”
    The moonlight shown on his face, and he winced. “No magic. I can’t risk being placed here with Amos. The man I talked to tonight?”
    “Are you kidding me?” I blurted, thinking back to the camera at the gatehouse. But knowing Trent, he’d already arranged to destroy the tapes if the camera had even been working at the time. “Damn it, Trent!” I shouted as another bullet buried itself in the dirt, the angle a little higher. “This is exactly why I don’t do illegal stuff!”
    Irate, he looked out over the road. “I said I was sorry. I said it would never happen again. Can we talk about this later?”
    I reluctantly tucked my splat gun away. If he didn’t want to be place here, I didn’t want to be placed here, and spells could unfortunately be traced back to their maker. “Stop looking up there,” I muttered, pulling him back. “And stay below the level of the dirt. You’ve been tagged.”
    “I know.”
    Shocked, I turned to him, reading his self-anger in the dim light. Satisfied he would stay put, I peeked over the edge. The man was rummaging around in the car. Most assassins worked in pairs. Where’s the other guy?
    Breath held, I eased back into the ditch. I had to get my splat ball back. Minimize the damage. “That car isn’t registered to you, is it?”
    “No, not really.”
    I peered over the edge. The man was gone or waiting for us to poke our heads out. “Good, because it’s full of holes now.” The vehicle had probably been taken right off the line and put in his garage, completely untraceable thanks to money. “I work best when I know what’s going on.”
    “There’s nothing to know. I think we should just leave.”
    There was the bare brush of presence beside me, and I turned to find him gone. Frustration edged out my anger. “Trent!” I whispered, stumbling as I followed him into the steep woods. “Assassins travel in pairs. Will you stop wandering off! I can’t do my job if you’re too far ahead!”
    My splat ball was still out there somewhere. Everyone knew I used them. Hesitating, I turned back to the road, weighing the chance it might be missed against me running into the assassin.
    A soft grunt and scuffle spun me around. In the scrub just off the road, two figures grappled.
    Adrenaline slammed into me. Springing forward, I pulled on the ley line until the tips of my hair began to float. With a soft cry, Trent spun, hitting the man’s wrist perfectly. Swearing, the man dropped the gun, only