Page 14 of Dark Secrets

“So rude,” Addy mumbled. “It really is a pretty big leap for…everyone.”

“I heard Evie was pushing it hard.”

There was a lot of respect in Addy’s smile. “I heard that too. I knew she’d be good for the family. Are you going to go?”

Clara slid a look at Delaney, choosing her words carefully as she rolled the last of the silverware. “I think so. Reagan said they were going to stagger them to fit different schedules and gauge interest. I figure it can’t hurt to at least check it out.”

“You think parents are going to freak out about it?”

“Weirdly enough, my mom is the one who has the biggest issue with it.” Clara rolled her eyes. “I’m still going to go, though. But.” She cleared her throat. “Back to our superhero movie marathon. I think we should start with the Batman universe, then move on to Captain America.”

They were deliberately talking in code because of her, and the secrecy of it had worry twisting in her belly. She could feel the life being squeezed out of the few timid tendrils of trust that had blossomed over the last week.

This is why trusting people was so often a wasted effort. Everyone had secrets, herself included, and it would always be easier to avoid getting involved with people and their pasts than wading into the mess and be in danger of drowning.

ChapterSeven

James pulled into the half-full parking lot of the squat beige building where they ran their training drills and killed the engine. It was more like a training compound than a warehouse, and he loved this part of his role with the syndicate more than anything else.

Declan purchased the large piece of property on the outskirts of Philly almost a decade ago after convincing his father to better train their men. Over the course of a few years, they’d gone from scrappy, old-school fighters to well-trained, cohesive units.

The opportunities to put those skills to use had been legion in the years since instituting these training policies, including regular drills and training new groups as classes. The syndicate had become untouchable in nearly every way.

A wide strip of cleared land ran the length of the building between the warehouse and the trees, and they used it both for target practice and to run outdoor drills. They didn’t bother with the drills in the winter, but target practice was always a must no matter the weather.

He let himself in through the side door and was surprised by the number of people already inside. They were clustered in groups, talking low, but their voices echoed into the tall rafters. He spotted Reagan standing at the edge of the crowd with Brogan and Holt and wound his way toward them.

“Good turnout,” he said, and Brogan nodded.

“I know,” Reagan breathed, eyes bright with excitement. “Look at how many women came.”

He turned to get a better look at everyone and noticed that women made up at least 50 percent of the group. And most of the men were really boys somewhere between sixteen and eighteen who were eligible for the next training cohort. Existing units trained separately.

“I doubt this is even everyone interested,” James said.

“It’s not,” Reagan replied. “Evie and I talked about offering some self-defense classes at different times and on different days so people could fit it into their schedules. Around jobs and childcare and whatever.”

“Self-defense and not full-on training?” Brogan wondered.

“Yeah. An opportunity for them to get their feet wet, I guess.” Reagan shrugged. “This is more than I thought we’d get for a full training group. We should have done this years ago. God bless Evie,” she sighed.

“Speaking of,” James said, “is she not coming today?”

“She said she was when I saw her this morning,” Brogan replied.

“She texted me.” Reagan held up her phone before setting it on a table with her coat. “She’ll be a little late, but she’s coming.”

“Better get started, then.”

James glanced at Brogan, who motioned for him to go ahead. Shrugging out of his jacket, James tossed it on the pile they’d already made and stepped up in front of the crowd.

“Today we’re going to put you through your paces and see what kind of shit you’re made of,” James said once the talking had stopped. “Most of you know how we run this. Holt trains on tactical ops thanks to his time in the PPD, Brogan on firearms, Reagan and me on hand-to-hand.”

He surveyed the group, noting the mix of apprehension and excitement. “We’re going to run this the way we always do. Split you off into groups and measure your skill level. By the end of today’s session, you’ll be sore, and we’ll have a better idea of where to put you and what you need to learn. Any questions?”

A woman with short brown hair and deep blue eyes raised her hand. “What happens if we do really well?”

“Assuming you pass the training,” Brogan said. “You’ll get put into the rotation for regular assignments wherever your skills are strongest. As with anyone, you’ll start at the bottom and work your way up.”

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