Blindsided

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Acknowledgments

  Natalie Whipple

  Copyright

  To Ginger Clark, for believing in me, and to everyone at Hot Key Books, for believing in Fiona.

  Chapter 1

  The goalie always tenses when I approach, which makes me smile because I know I’ll score before I’ve even kicked the ball. She can’t see my eyes, can’t anticipate my moves, and it turns out this makes me an excellent soccer player. I aim for the low right corner—the ball zings by her before she can lunge for it.

  “Curse you, Fiona!” She bites back a smile. “If you weren’t on my team, I’d hate you so much.”

  “Guess it’s good I am then,” I say as she kicks the ball back to me. Stopping it, I tap it back and forth between my feet like Seth taught me.

  One of our defenders joins in the conversation. “We might have a chance at winning this year. It’s so hard to compete when we don’t have enough gifted players to make a whole team.”

  “It’ll still be fun, though. All the schools we’re playing have just as few.” I roll the ball onto my foot and pop it into the air, trying to juggle it from knee to knee. It doesn’t work so well. Since I haven’t been playing long, I’m still struggling to visualize where my knees would be between my shorts and shin guards.

  A midfielder laughs as she calls, “For someone with a killer instinct on the field, you sure are relaxed about the competition!”

  I laugh. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

  Or I’m enjoying the fact that all I have to worry about is my grades and soccer. That’s nothing in comparison to my old life, where every day I had to stress about what my syndicate-boss father would make me steal next. The three months since I made that deal—Dad leaves us alone, and Miles, who managed to imitate Dad’s mind-controlling scent, won’t share it with the world—have been the best of my whole life.

  The goalie snatches the ball from me, a mock glare on her face. “It’s annoying that I can’t argue with that, seeing as you’ve only been playing for a few months and you rock.”

  “I have a good teacher.” I grin like an idiot at the thought of all the hours I’ve spent with Seth because of soccer.

  “True.” The defender sighs, looking over to the adjacent field where the boys practice. Seth and Hector pass the ball back and forth as they run across the field. Their timing is perfect, since Hector’s sensitive hearing means he can hear any whispered directions. “Sometimes I can’t believe Seth isn’t gifted with perfect aim, because I swear he never misses.”

  “He’s just an obsessive practicer.” I’m glad none of them can see my face, because I must look like I’m lying. Seth may not have perfect aim, but he does have perfect vision—more than perfect, since it’s so sharp he can see through things. Even my invisibility. And nobody knows about it.

  “Girls! Ten laps and you’re done!” Coach Ford’s low, booming voice spreads over the field before she moves on to the boys. The other girls groan, but I happily jog with them. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of running.

  About five laps in, someone whistles long and sharp on the boys’ team. Carlos. Ever since practices started, he’s gloated about being starting goalie as a sophomore. Like this is supposed to impress me enough to break up with Seth and “realize the error of my ways,” as he always tells me. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Looking good, Fiona!”

  Hector and Seth both kick soccer balls at him, which causes the rest of the team to join in. Seth looks right at me, his eyes seeing all my post-practice grime. He says he thinks it’s hot that I’m athletic, but I’m still not sure I look hot. He’ll never give me a straight answer, like any good boyfriend, though it drives me crazy.

  As I pack up my things to go, I notice some of my team members huddled together, whispering. Not in a gossipy way—they all seem nervous, maybe even scared. I follow their glances and see a man standing in the bleachers. And he’s watching me. For how long, I don’t know.

  He’s too far away to see clearly. All I can make out is long hair, a ridiculously thin frame, and black marks on his arms that I’m pretty sure are tattoos. I try not to jump to conclusions, but the way my team is freaking out puts me on edge.

  I head over to them to ask, “Who’s that guy in the bleachers?”

  They stare at me like I’m suddenly visible. The other striker clears her throat. “Uh, we gotta go, Fi. You probably should, too, okay?”

  They run off before I can ask more questions. Clearly everyone’s afraid of that guy, so I’m guessing those tattoos are probably jaguars.

  Which means he’s from Juan’s syndicate.

  A chill runs down my spine. So far Juan Torres hasn’t stirred up any trouble with my mom and me, but I’ve always wondered how long that would last.

  I look back up to the bleachers to see if I can get a better visual, and the guy is gone. I stare at the spot he was standing in, wondering how I didn’t catch him leaving. I only looked away for a moment. He can’t have just disappeared—I should know. But he must have an ability dangerous enough to clear a field in seconds.

  Hands come down on my shoulders, and I let out a little scream. Could that guy be a teleporter?

  Seth laughs. “Jumpy today, are we?”

  I turn around and smack his arm. “Don’t do that! I thought you were…never mind.”

  His brow furrows. Sometimes I hate that he can see my expressions—especially because I can’t. There’s no hiding from him. He says in a low voice, “You look seriously scared. Did something happen?”

  I look into his blue eyes, knowing it’s pointless to lie. “There was a guy in the bleachers. He had big black tattoos, and the other girls freaked out and left without telling me who it was. Then when I looked back he was gone.”

  “Shit. Definitely one of Juan’s guys—they show up every now and then.” Seth goes into full worry mode. “So he saw you?”

  “Pretty sure he was looking right at me.”

  Seth chews on his fingernail, thinking. “Hector, wrap it up, we gotta go.”

  Even though Hector is a field away, he calls the boys’ team in and they start packing up their stuff. He and Carlos are by our sides in under a minute.

  “What’s up?” Hector asks as he puts his earplugs back in. His ears hurt if he doesn’t wear them most of the time, but he always takes them out for soccer. “We haven’t done laps yet.”

  “One of Juan’s guys was here,” Seth says.

  Carlos cringes. “Back on
the rounds again, huh? Better tell Dad to get the money ready.”

  “You think he was here for that? Not me?” I ask.

  Hector shrugs. “They show up every six months or so, bleed the gifted families dry, make threats. Not saying you’re safe, but whoever it was probably didn’t come here for you, you know?”

  I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t quite calm my nerves. “It’ll take a lot of money for Juan to ignore me.”

  “Let’s not think about this right now. We should get out of here.” Seth puts his hand on my shoulder and follows my arm until his fingers are laced with mine. Little things like that remind me how careful we need to be about keeping his real ability secret—it can be hard to remember when I’m so used to him seeing me.

  We walk towards his beat-up black truck. Hector and Carlos climb into the bed, and I take the passenger side.

  Seth’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, and when I put my hand on his knee he’s the one jumping. “Sorry, Fi, but I’m freaking out here.”

  “We knew this could happen.” I try to sound calm. Mom and I might be out of my dad’s control, but being safe from every syndicate is impossible. “My mom’s been saving — we’re prepared.”

  He nods. “It’ll probably be fine. But we’ll do whatever we have to in order to keep you safe. I promise.”

  I should be saying that to him. If Juan doesn’t think our money is enough, there’s no way I’m dragging him, Brady, or the Navarros into it. But I don’t push the topic, because he’ll fight me on it and I’m too tired for that. “You coming over later?”

  “Of course.” He smiles, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Doing homework with you is my favorite.”

  I laugh. So many of our study sessions have devolved into making out instead. “Yes, homework, because my mom is home tonight.”

  He frowns as he parks in front of my place. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

  “You better.” I hop out and wave to him as I head inside. The house is quiet and cool. I stand there for a moment to listen and wait, just in case something is off and I’m walking into a trap. Seeing that guy today brought everything back. My criminal senses are in overdrive—it feels like this is only the beginning.

  Instead of showering, I sit on the couch and pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over number two, my speed dial for Miles. Maybe I’m overreacting. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. I did ruin Graham’s plans to keep us safe because I didn’t dare trust him. But then it doesn’t hurt to be careful, to make sure Miles knows we might have trouble on the horizon.

  I press the button and wait for him to answer.

  Chapter 2

  “Hello?” The voice is not Miles, but familiar all the same. It still weirds me out that my brothers live together after so many years of fighting, but Graham didn’t exactly have a lot of places to go when he left Dad’s syndicate. Miles took him in with surprisingly little convincing by Mom, I think because he wanted to spare me the pain of living with Graham.

  “Where’s Miles?” I ask.

  “In the bathroom. You want me to hand him the phone?” I can almost picture Graham’s evil grin.

  “Ew, no.”

  He laughs. “What’s up? Miles seems to get all the calls—did you lose my number?”

  I wince, not really wanting to talk to Graham. He tries to be nice and does his best to make up for all he did, but it’s still difficult. No matter how hard I try to forget, part of me is still scared of him. “No, I didn’t lose it.”

  He sighs, and I think it sounds regretful. “Yeah, I figured.”

  “Can you tell him to call me when he gets out?”

  “Actually, we’re already running late. We have to pick up Allie before the movie, and she hates missing previews.”

  “Ugh.” Allie is Graham’s girlfriend. It’s hard to accept that reality. Because seriously, who’d want to date an infamous syndicate lapdog? This Allie chick must have a hardcore bad boy complex, which is surprising because apparently she’s really smart. She’s twenty-one and already in a doctorate program for chemistry.

  “Is it so hard to give me a message to pass on?”

  Yes, yes it is. Especially when it showcases my paranoia all too well. “It’s not really a message-type conversation. I’ll just call—”

  “Is something wrong? Is Mom okay?”

  To his credit, he really does sound worried. And he did put his life on the line to get us out of the syndicate before Dad turned me into his deadliest assassin. I should probably stop throwing up walls. Well, some walls, at least. “She’s fine, but there was a guy watching me at soccer practice…”

  “What kind of guy?” There’s a pause. “Don’t tell me this is some kind of love triangle drama, because you can leave that to Miles.”

  “No!” I bite back my annoyance. “He had tattoos, Graham. And The Pack says Juan’s guys come here to collect money from the gifted families every six months. Pretty sure he’s with them.”

  He swears. There’s shuffling noises, as if he’s searching for something. “What’d he look like? I’ll look him up in the Registry.”

  I roll my eyes. The government made up this Registry for people with “potentially dangerous abilities” ages ago, but it’s horribly inaccurate even if a person does show up in there. Under my name it claims I may or may not be able to possess other peoples’ bodies, which is ridiculous. “That thing is a joke, and I didn’t get a good look at him anyway.”

  “Hmm…you can’t give me anything? I am pretty familiar with Juan’s guys—maybe I’ll recognize him.”

  It isn’t likely. Juan’s syndicate is bigger than Dad’s, at least in numbers. When your henchmen are so recognizable, I guess there needs to be a lot more of them. The chance of Graham recognizing one guy on extortion duties in a tiny town like Madison is low. But I decide I’ll humor him anyway, otherwise he might come here and check for himself. “He was in the bleachers so I couldn’t see much more than his long black hair and big tattoos, but he seemed really skinny if that helps.”

  “How skinny?” Graham asks rather seriously.

  “Uh…I don’t know.”

  “On the verge of starving to death? Or is he gangly like your boyfriend?”

  “Hey!” Seth is perfect just the way he is. He has way more muscle than people give him credit for. “Don’t be a jerk or I’ll hang up.”

  He sighs. “Well?”

  I purse my lips, trying to remember the brief moment I saw him. “Maybe more on the starving to death side?”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

  “Why?” My heart speeds up a bit. If Graham does recognize this guy, then he’s a lot worse than your average lackey.

  “It’s just…Juan’s right-hand man fits that description. He can walk through walls, but if he eats it doesn’t work. So he starves himself as much as he can. If he pops some Radiasure he can even take other people through walls with him.” There’s a pause, and I fill it with my own worry. “No one knows much about him, not even his name. He just goes by The Phantom.”

  I gulp, thinking about the way he disappeared. If it was this wall walker, he could have sunk through the bleachers to look like he was gone. “Way to freak me out, Graham.”

  “Sorry, he’s just the first person I thought of! It probably isn’t him. He’d be on big missions—not somewhere like Madison.” I hear a voice in the background. “Hey, Miles is done so we gotta go. We’ll talk later, okay? Tell me if you find out more.”

  “Sure. Bye.” I hang up, determined to only talk with Miles for the rest of my life. Instead of feeling comforted, I am more on edge than ever.

  I rush for the shower, hoping that’ll distract me from my overactive imagination. But even with the warm water pounding my skin, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. Even if that guy wasn’t a wall walker—maybe he jumped down or has super speed or I’m just blind—the idea that someone could enter any place they want is scary.

  Wh
at if he walked right into my house? Is he standing on the other side of the shower curtain?

  Okay, no more of that. Turning off the water, I dry myself and dress in minimal clothing. I’m invisible, so no matter where a wall walker went they still couldn’t see me. Graham probably wanted to freak me out. I wish he’d grow up and stop with the teasing.

  A loud knock echoes through the quiet house, and all my attempts to calm myself are ruined. I’m not sure whether I should answer or not, but I creep down the hall and check the peephole anyway.

  When I see who’s there, I let out a relieved sigh and unlock it. “Hey! What’s with the surprise visit?”

  “You didn’t answer your phone. Figured you were in the shower since everyone was home from practice.” Bea steps in, looking worried. She runs both hands through her wild hair. “So my brothers told me and Brady about Juan’s guy. You okay?”

  I purse my lips, not wanting to talk or think about him anymore. “I’m fine, but thanks for checking on me.”

  “You’re welcome.” She plops on the couch. “I’m giving up precious boyfriend time to make sure my best friend is safe, you know.”

  I laugh as I sit next to her. After Brady declared his love for Bea when she was under my dad’s control, they finally got together after being friends since childhood. Though Brady is still worried about hurting her with his overwhelming strength, Bea is slowly bringing him around. “I’m sorry—I know how hard it is to get alone time.”

  Her lips stretch into a wide grin. “No kidding. Stupid brothers. They’re everywhere.”

  “Has he kissed you yet?”

  “I wish.” She leans her head back. “I’m trying to be patient, but if we could move past hand holding that’d be awesome.”

  “He’s so paranoid.”

  “Tell me about it. He hasn’t hurt me by accident since he was like eight, but still.”

  I nod, feeling oddly sad the more we talk about this. Truth is, sometimes I get jealous of Bea and Brady. They might have the strength problem to deal with, but at least they’re both visible. I get this pang in my gut every time she asks me to take a picture of them together—I’ll never know what I look like next to Seth or anyone. “You want some ice cream? I need ice cream.”