No Peace for the Damned

to her, but she knew it was some kind of power. And she was pissed.
    Great. I hadn’t even entered the room and already one of my “teammates” hated me.

Theo sat at the head of the table beside Jon. His scent had drawn me like a magnet the moment I walked in the room. He was gorgeous: a jaw rough with stubble, long hair that curled at his collar, eyes warm like melted chocolate. The hard contours of his face put my brothers’ pretty-boy looks to shame. And when he gasped at the sight of me, sucking in a deep breath along with everyone else in the room, his faded T-shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest, my own breath faltered. Power pulsed beneath my skin. This was wrong. I was too distracted. Vulnerable.
    I dragged my gaze away from him and forced myself to focus on the nine other people in the room. Banks and Thirteen stood off to the side. Most everyone had blinked themselves back into focus and were now either confused or pissed. The GI Joe seated closest to me, a big guy named Charles Hilliby, was especially itching for a fight. As was his wife, Marie, the Latina fashionista to his right. Their minds were sharp, suspicious, but neither of them was really a concern. Not like the psychic I sensed in the room. Automatically, I made sure my mental walls were set.
    A loud smack came from my side, and I turned. Banks had whopped the small Asian techno-geek, Nicky Chang, on the back of his head. Chang coughed and sputtered, then covered his eyes with his hands—like if he didn’t see me, maybe I’d just go away. I rolled my eyes. Only the weakest minds got so out of whack at the sight of me that they had to be slapped back into focus.
    “Er, we’re sorry about that.” A pretty brunette rose from her seat on the opposite side of the table. “We just weren’t expecting…well, someone like you. You know, with powers.”
    We wore nearly identical outfits, only she looked comfortable in hers. Then she smiled. “I’m Heather,” she said brightly, “Heather Lamping. Welcome to the team.”
    What. The hell. Was this?
    Thirteen’s team was supposed to be an elite task force. An experienced group of Network agents willing to take down my father and uncles. Instead, he had trigger-happy newlyweds, a video gamer who couldn’t look at me without passing out, and a fucking preschool teacher complete with patient smile and peach sweater set. Hell, other than Theo and Jon—who were dangerously controlled at the moment—the only other capable fighters at the table seemed to be that chick Cordele who’d opened the door and a silent blond giant named Shane Bailey. He hadn’t missed a thing since I’d walked in. I turned to Thirteen, the angry confusion plain on my face.
    Look closer
, his thoughts whispered. He’d lowered his mental shields, anticipating my telepathy. I glared at him for a moment then turned back toward Heather. She smiled expectantly.
    “Um, hi,” I finally managed. Her smile turned sympathetic as she sat back down. I probed deeper into her mind. She had strong, natural mental blocks like Theo, but they were easily pushed aside. God, her thoughts were as pleasant as her smile. Genuine, kind, sympathetic…wait a minute. Not sympathetic. Empathetic. She actually related to what it was like for me to stand here, knowing that everyone in the room was suspicious of me. She felt it as if it were her own discomfort. She was the psychic I’d felt earlier. But she was more than that. She was a true empath.
    And she had absolutely no idea.
    I turned wide eyes to Thirteen. I could block psychic intrusions, no problem. But an empath? I didn’t want this lady knowing my feelings all the time.
What the hell, Thirteen?
He ignored my silent question and stepped forward again.
    “I would like to introduce you to our newest team member,” Thirteen said evenly. “Magnolia Kelch.”
    Jaws dropped, faces blanched. Shock and anger permeated the room. But Theo and Jon showed nothing. No reaction, no movement. Just total control. If those two turned out to be as strong as I sensed they were, maybe Thirteen didn’t need the rest of the team.
    GI Joe Charles swung around in his chair and grabbed my wrist. “How dare you bring an enemy…!”
    I didn’t think. I just reacted.
    I crushed his hand instantly, the bones breaking to bits under my grip. I slammed a quick extended-knuckle fist into his larynx, no more than bruising his windpipe, but incapacitating him nonetheless. Then I swung him completely