Targeted Read online

  So why hadn’t he done it yet?

  Tragar had no answer to the question.

  Well no—that wasn’t exactly true, he corrected himself. He hadn’t killed her yet because he wanted to know what she was capable of. When Two had convinced him to take the contract, he had hinted darkly of a female with hidden depths—a monster buried just below the surface that might burst through her mild exterior and leave a trail of blood and destruction in her path at any moment.

  A monster like that was right up Tragar’s alley. He preferred to take targets who were dangerous and could give him a good fight. Even better if innocent lives might be at stake. In fact, when he’d seen that this female—this Emily Brooks—worked with younglings, he’d almost taken her out from a distance at once, even though it wasn’t his usual way. Better to break his personal protocol than risk young, innocent lives.

  But he’d delayed—stilling the itchy trigger finger on his sonic rifle for two reasons. The first was he preferred a fair fight. Unlike some of the other Verrak, he didn’t usually take targets at a distance. He took them somewhere safe and secure and let them choose their weapon and fight him face to face—let them die with honor. No matter what heinous crimes they had committed, everyone deserved dignity in death. That was Tragar’s belief, anyway.

  The second reason he didn’t shoot was that he saw the way Emily interacted with the younglings. During his first observation one of them had fallen, scraping a chubby knee on the hard walkway that ran between the school buildings. The young one had run crying to Emily, her knee seeping blood, her eyes awash with tears.

  Here we go… Tragar’s finger had tightened on the trigger. Surely the sight of blood would bring out the ravening monster Two had sworn lurked in the innocent looking girl’s breast. He was ready to shoot her down the moment she went for the youngling’s throat.

  But instead of going feral—becoming a thing of teeth and claws and appetite—the girl he had been sent to kill gathered the youngling into her arms. She dried the little female’s tears and said some words of consolation—too low for Tragar to understand though he had been studying her language for days now.

  The little female had quieted, obviously feeling safe and comforted in the arms of Tragar’s target, who still showed no signs of attacking. Gradually, his finger had loosened on the trigger and then he had put down the rifle altogether and just watched.

  Gods, it reminded him of Landra…the way she was with Jalex when he hurt himself…

  No! Tragar had pushed the memory away. He took a deep breath. I do not allow my past to dictate my present or my future. There is no then. There is only here and now. There is only the target.

  It was a Verrak saying—a necessary reminder since most of those in his elite brotherhood came from a background of loss and sorrow. But though he repeated it to himself over and over, he still hadn’t been able to kill Emily Brooks. Not then and not now, ten days later.

  He studied her—watching her wipe at her eyes with a hand that trembled. Why was she crying? What had agitated her so? For a moment he imagined holding her against him and asking her what was wrong. It was foolish of course—a fantasy that could never come true. But there was no denying she would be pleasant to hold.

  She had a lush body hidden beneath her shapeless garments—he could tell. It was a shame she didn’t wear clothing that showed her shape, but just the outline of her curves was tantalizing. Not that he was supposed to be looking at her that way—she was only another target, after all. Still, those full breasts and rounded hips…

  A burning sensation in his left arm brought him back to reality. It was the narsh—the mark of the Verrak—given to him when he first passed the trials and took the oath. Tragar looked down at the thick black lines criss-crossing his muscular arm from shoulder to wrist. The narsh burned to remind him that he had a job outstanding—a commission as yet undone.

  Tragar ignored it. He was used to doing so. He almost never took jobs with time limits on them, preferring to take his time and get every detail exactly right.

  I just need to know her, he argued with himself. Need to find out what’s so special—what makes her dangerous before I pull the trigger.

  And so he watched…and waited. Soon, he would kill her soon.

  But not…just…yet.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re late—where have you been?” Mrs. Peltz’s narrow face was a mask of rigid disapproval.

  “I’m so sorry! I…I got sick,” Emily said, grasping for the first explanation she could think of. Really, it was true—seeing herself morph into a stranger in the mirror could certainly be considered an illness, though not of the physical variety.

  “Well if you’re that ill maybe you’d better take a sick day.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Emily muttered. “I’m certainly, uh…ill.” For the first time she wondered if she ought to seek medical attention—was it safe for her to be around her class if she was having delusions? But it wasn’t like she was having violent urges or anything. And she’d been through this before, in college and hadn’t hurt anyone. No, you were the one who got hurt, whispered a little voice in her head. You were the one who got—

  “Shut up!”

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Peltz’s iron-gray eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline. “What did you just say to me?”

  Oh God, had she said that out loud?

  “I’m sorry. I…I thought one of my kids was talking too loud in the library.” Emily gestured at her class who were happily browsing through the easy reader stacks, still assisted by Ms. Andrews who was helping them find books to check out.

  “And so you yelled ‘shut up’ at them?” Mrs. Peltz’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing completely. “Is that how you speak to your class?”

  “No, I…” Emily shook her head, realizing that she had just made things much, much worse for herself. “I’m sorry,” she muttered desperately. “I just…I’m just not feeling well.”

  “Are you on something?” The librarian’s eyes narrowed. “Some kind of medication?”

  “What? No!” Emily snapped, stung into raising her voice. “No, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the way you’re acting, young lady.” Mrs. Peltz frowned at her. “First neglecting your class, then shouting at them? It seems to me that someone ought to know about that.”

  “I told you, I’m just feeling sick.” Emily wished she didn’t sound so defensive. “Honestly, Mrs. Peltz, that’s all it is.”

  “Well…” The librarian sniffed, her long, boney nose wrinkling as though she smelled something bad. “You’d better get yourself together in a hurry. Ms. Lane’s class is due here any minute and your library time is almost up.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get my kids.” Emily nodded her head humbly.

  She managed to herd her class into a line at the circulation desk and made sure they all had their library folders so Mrs. Peltz could check them out. As she did, the librarian stared at Emily with thin-lipped disapproval. Emily tried not to show any emotion but inside she was alternately seething and worrying.

  How dare the librarian imply that she was on some kind of drugs? And who would she tell if she was feeling suspicious enough—or mean enough—to seek out someone in the upper administration? George Washington Elementary was in a very nice area of Carrollwood—one of Tampa’s upper class neighborhoods. Teachers were held to the highest standards and any kind of personal problems were frowned upon.

  It seemed to take forever to get all the kids checked out but finally Emily had them lined up at the library exit door with Avery at the head of the line, looking at her expectantly. She was about to tell him to go when the entrance door opened and Julia Lane walked in with her own class.

  “Oh Julie, hi!” Emily was glad to see a friendly face. Julia taught first grade and she was a friendly, open, happy girl with honey blonde hair and big blue eyes. She was also skinny, but Emily didn’t hold that against her.

  “Ems