Relentless (The Hero Agenda, #2) by Tera Lynn Childs, Tracy Deebs Page A

splinters.
    As for the floor, it’s littered with the remains of everything that wasn’t nailed down—including what looks like most of my Froot Loops.
    Dante and Deacon are kneeling over Rebel’s unconscious body, one winding rope around her wrists, the other around her ankles.
    “How did you let this happen?” V demands. She turns to Riley. “I left you in charge.”
    He holds up his hands defensively. “We didn’t even know she was awake until we heard the crash.” He inches back, pointing at the table full of Jeremy’s electronics.
    Correction, at the table that used to be full of Jeremy’s electronics. Now it’s flipped over backward like a barricade, with its former residents scattered around it like shrapnel.
    Jeremy makes a strangled sound that’s somewhere between an angry bear and a drowning cat. He shoves the box of chemicals he’s carrying into Riley’s arms and then rushes to the aid of his fallen gadgets, hurtling debris as he goes.
    “On the bright side,” Riley says with a nervous grin. “At least she didn’t get away.”
    “You are all completely incompetent.” V drops her own load on top of Jeremy’s with a little extra oomph, and Riley almost buckles under the weight. “It has to be sheer dumb luck that’s kept any of you alive.”
    “It’s not like you lot coulda done any better.” Nitro takes V’s box from Riley’s load. “It ain’t easy keeping a crazy bird with telekinesis and a serious rage issue under control.”
    “Don’t be too sure about that. When I put people out, they stay out.” She gives him, hands down, the scariest smile I’ve ever seen. “Next time I’ll show you how it’s done.”
    It hits me the wrong way, pissing me off more than one snarky comment should. But she’s been like that all night, telling us over and over how incompetent we are and it’s getting really freaking old.
    What’s also getting old is people talking about my best friend like she’s our enemy, like she’s some kind of rampaging animal that has to be controlled. Whatever is going on with her, whatever Rex and the heroes did to her, she’s still Rebel. Somewhere inside, she’s still the girl I grew up with. I have to believe that. A quick glance at Dante’s face tells me he feels exactly the same way.
    “Hopefully,” I say, pushing past V hard enough to get her attention as I head toward the kitchen, “there won’t be a next time.”
    “There is always a next time,” she counters.
    I ignore her, focusing on the job to be done instead.
    “Get Rebel into the bedroom,” I order Deacon. “Put her on the bed and make sure she’s comfortable. If we’re lucky, she’ll sleep until the serum is ready.”
    To my shock, and pretty much everyone else’s shock, V moves to Deacon’s side and says, “I’ll help.”
    I turn to Nitro and Dante. “I need space to work, and since the table’s a lost cause, get the mess cleared off the kitchen counter. As for you”—I point at Draven and Riley—“get the rest of the equipment from the car and bring it into the kitchen. We’ll leave Jeremy alone with his electronics. Hopefully he’ll be able to salvage something.”
    Although, I have to admit, that doesn’t look likely. My ex-boyfriend is currently in the middle of the living room, sorting through his broken electronics and emitting a low, mourning cry that I’m certain will have every wild animal in a fifty-mile radius trying to break down the door.
    It takes about half an hour for us to get all the equipment in place and powered up. When I tell them I won’t need any more help, Riley and Nitro take over the other half of the kitchen, preparing what Riley is calling the Breakfast of Hillains. V supervises, stating that she doesn’t want to give Nitro the chance to set anything else on fire, and the twins head out the front door to do God only knows what.
    Draven stays by my side.
    “Do you think it will work?” he asks as I get ready to start making the serum.
    I