Page 37 of Heartless Legacy

“There’s no loyalty within The Guardians, or Andor Reese. I learned that truth early on, and have always struggled with the recruiting requirement for MISTIC. I was scouting these amazingly talented fighters and setting them up for this life I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.” He continues, “And like I said, it’s a small world when it comes to mercenary work.Phoenix Foundation is well aware of my arrangement. They’ve found it useful over the years.”

I think about the way agents have looked at him. How he seems friendly with random people walking the halls. How everyone hereseemsnice. “I’m not the only person you thought was too good to join The Guardians, am I?”

“No, LaReaux. You are not. As much as I wish you’d never been brought into their orbit, I’m glad The League had other plans for you, because I had no idea how I was going to sabotage your MISTIC recruitment.”

He takes a final bite of his food, wipes his mouth, then gestures toward my tray. “You done?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

We discard our stuff in the trash and place the tray on top of the return cart. Wolfe is heading back to the Operations Center, and I have a meeting with Alexz.

I knock on Alexz’s door, shoving it wide open when he tells me to enter. If anyone’s waiting behind it to grab me, they’ll have to move fast. He’s sitting on the couch, his arm draped across the back of it. “Thea, thanks for coming.”

I look around the room and peek behind the door for threats. We’re the only ones here. “The message said we need to discuss something important.”

“We do. I want you to tell me everything you remember about your past.”

“That’s kind of random and personal, don’t you think?”

“Personal. Sure. Random, no. I track down people and items for a living and have plenty of resources to find whatever I’m looking for at my disposal, but I’d rather not resort to that with you. I’d like you to tell me.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to get to know you and hearing it in your own words paints a better picture than words on a page.”

I sit in the closest chair, arms folded across my chest. “There’s not much to tell. Mom was a drunk. CPS didn’t approve, and thought my formative years would be best spent in the homes of assholes, which were located in crappy neighborhoods, surrounded by people who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves.”

“When did your mother start drinking?”

“A better question is, when didn’t she drink?” Looking down at my busted cuticles I say, “I don’t know. I guess sometime after the first car accident. I didn’t really understand until I was in elementary school. It’s all in my case notes.”

“What is?”

“That she was basically a functioning alcoholic. You’d never know she was even drunk if it weren’t for her loud and messy break ups, and only then because her boyfriends would yell about her being drunk.”

“Your mother was belligerent when she was drinking?”

“Yup. She’d come home from work screaming about not being able to trust anyone, and trashing where we lived,going through her boyfriend’s stuff, looking for proof. We’d get evicted, and have to start all over again.”

“Moving all the time had to be tough. Your teachers never intervened?”

“Mom was a disaster, but she always seemed to have a place lined up for us to stay and a job waiting for her. So no, my teachers didn’t intervene because they didn’t know there was a problem. Mom would be sober, and doing well, and then one day she’d be spiraling. Those episodes never lasted long, and nobody was ever suspicious of my home life. If she hadn’t of crashed at the Founder’s Day Parade, I’d never have ended up in the system.”

“Can you tell me what you remember about that day?” He asks, jotting down notes.

“Mom promised to take me to the parade. We drove into town and instead of pulling into a parking lot, she aimed straight for the crowd and crashed into a fire hydrant in front of the firehouse. Then she stumbled out of the car with her vodka bottle.”

I remember how shocked I was. Mom never let anyone see what was in her bag. That day, she didn’t care. “She sat her happy ass down on the ground and preceded to chug it like it was water. I tried to go to her to help, because I knew she was gonna get in trouble, but the cops wouldn’t let me. They put me in the back of one car, my mother in the back of another, and I went into an emergency placement home. I spent a week there before ending up in my first foster home, while my mother sat in jail. The judge ordered rehab and parenting classes.”

“The courts sent you back to her when she finished?”

“Like I said, mom was a functioning drunk. She was working. She paid for the damage to the fire hydrant and convinced them it was a one-time thing. CPS released me into her custody andwe moved to Vegas. Rinse and repeat around different parts of Nevada, and you have my whole story.”

He puts his pen down and leans back in his chair. “Why did she stay in Nevada?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she liked the weather. Maybe there was some stipulation for her to remain in state after her arrest. I never asked.”

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