Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress #6)(8)
Author: Gena Showalter

She’d go insane. With rage. Yes, rage, and not an insatiable urge to fling herself against him and slide her tongue into his mouth. Ava had called dibs, after all. Not that Ava had done anything about it. There’d been no time for flirtation, and at the end of each day, everyone was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed.

Not Noelle, though. Not tonight. She deserved a break. From Hector, from exercise … from her own tormenting thoughts. Plus, Ava wanted those butterscotch candies and Noelle hadn’t yet found a way to have them delivered.

That changed now.

Having peeked at (cough stolen cough) the week’s schedule, she knew the agents planned to let the recruits sleep the entire night. A first—and a one-time-only thing. A reward of sorts for Ava setting a camp record at target practice. Go Ava! The little tyrant had hit her mark every damn time, no matter the angle she’d stood, and even when they’d blindfolded her.

That’s my girl. So, while Noelle’s peers snoozed and snored, and while the agents zoned out in front of a plasma screen, she snuck out of camp.

Midweek, she’d found an escape hatch on premises. Her dad had been an intelligence agent for the government as well as a businessman, and he’d taught her that Plan B’s were a necessity. So, while it was smart of AIR to have a place for trainees to go if otherworlders attacked, they should have hidden it better than underneath the back porch of the trainee bunk, with only a thin layer of dirt covering the lid.

Why not just hang a sign overhead that flashed the words Party Through Here.

Noelle had to shimmy underneath the wooden porch slats, streaking her bare arms and legs with the dirt, and ended up inhaling a mouthful of granules, but … Worth it. No one had used the thing in years, as proven by the rusty hinges. The air inside was musty and coated with dust.

Fortunately, the long, narrow tunnel had everlasting bulbs posted on the rounded ceiling, providing a well-lit path for anyone who walked. Or … drove? Hells yeah! There were three small go-carts lined up and ready to shoot into action.

I must have died and gone to heaven. Noelle climbed into the car at the head of the line. Voice activation and thumbprint ID had been disabled. Probably because the AIR agents who came to camp varied greatly. So all she had to do was turn the key already resting in the ignition.

The engine roared to life loudly, making her cringe and pray no one inside the overhead bunk heard. She waited a moment, expecting someone to peel back the lid, but … no.

Grinning, she pressed the gas, and boom, shot into motion, speeding down the tunnel, twisting, turning, the blasts of air lifting her hair from her shoulders and winding the strands together.

Take that, Hector Dean. Not that she was thinking about him.

Exhilaration pumped through her blood. She’d so needed this, every fiber of her being crying out for something that would fulfill her and quench the constant hunger for more. In fact, she would have to find a way to win another night off. Ava had to see this.

Even better, Ava had to race her.

Twenty minutes later the tunnel ended abruptly. A wall of brick with a dilapidated wooden staircase hanging in the center loomed ahead. Noelle slammed on the brakes, barely missing a lethal smash. She laughed out loud. Fun.

After shutting off the car, she climbed the steps, picked the lock of the new hatch, and shoved the heavy metal aside. Cool night wind blustered as she peeked out. Two graffiti-covered buildings at her sides. They were several yards apart, with a dark abandoned alley in the center, leading straight to—

New Chicago’s Main.

Rock on.

She climbed the last step and shimmed to a stand, then closed the lid and gaped. Wow. Anyone who walked this alley would see cracked concrete, nothing more.

Urgency riding her, she grabbed the lipstick from her pocket—a girl had to be prepared for anything—and marked the rim, then tossed the now-contaminated gloss in a nearby trash bin.

Her exit strategy taken care of, Noelle practically skipped from the alley. She made sure to note the shops. One a twenty-four-hour photo. The other an abandoned, crumbling crack house. Quaint.

She also made a mental note to inquire about buying both buildings. She could fix the alley, maybe turn it into a garden-type area, then run goods and services through the tunnel at her discretion.

What a day!

Cars whizzed along the road. Bikes and scooters, too. Despite the late hour, crowds had yet to thin on this poorer side of town. Humans and otherworlders traipsed the sidewalks, talking, laughing, shopping. She spotted a few Arcadians, the race known for white hair that couldn’t be dyed, the ability to teleport, and in some cases, the ability to use mind control.

A group of Terans, a very cat-like species, with pointed ears, spotted skin, and feline grace. One Mec, tall and thin, with skin that glowed different colors with different emotions. And two Deleseans, with six arms and azure skin that kind of reminded her of whale blubber.

One day I’ll be policing these people. A surreal thought. Noelle had always been the troublemaker. So, arresting others for breaking the law? Kinda seemed wrong.

Maybe that’s why Hector kept pushing her so intently. Maybe he doubted her capability and integrity, as she’d first assumed, and thought to mold her into something better.

You don’t need improvement.

And you’re not thinking about him.

Deep breath in, filled with the scents of corn dogs—her mouth watered—car exhaust and perfumes, as well as faint traces of dirt and … other things. Towering lamps lined the streets, and the shop signs pulsed. Live Nude Girls. World’s Best Coffee. A Toys R Us right beside a Hooters. The moon was full, a shining beacon of gold.

“Hey, darlin’,” someone called. “How much for an hour?”

He better not be talking to me.

“Hey, you, in the red shorts. I’ll take whatever you’re selling, no matter the price.”

Yep. Me. The only clothes she’d had were for working out. Right now she sported a red tank and matching too-tight shorts. Streaked by dirt as she was, she probably looked like she spent a lot of time on her knees and back. Plus, her hair was tangled, as if someone had plowed their fingers through one too many times.

Someone had, of course, but that someone was her.

Noelle didn’t bother searching for the guy, just threw a finger in the direction of his voice and kept walking.

“Bitch!”

His friends snickered.

Yeah, yeah. Took her fifteen minutes, but she finally found a candy store. A bell chimed above the door when she entered. Ava would flip out of her mind when Noelle presented her with a butterscotch breakfast in bed.