Toxic (The Zara Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  “Who cares what society says,” I say. “Screw them. Everybody deserves to be happy. I am glad that she got her happy ending.”

  “Me, too, Zara,” Austin says.

  He’s right.

  Not everything is black and white. And that’s okay. It’s good to be different than everybody else. I only wish I had known that when I was younger.

  Wednesday, September 26

  Guns.

  On Wednesday afternoon, the guys and I have to part ways. They each have different training classes. Tristan is taking an advanced hacker class, Cam and Dylan are taking some kind of advanced MMA training class, Austin is taking an advanced class on psychology, and Stefan is taking a medical training class. And me... well, I get the honor of taking an introduction to weapons class with none other than Zach Stone as my teacher.

  “Have you ever shot a gun?” Zach asks.

  I laugh.

  He’s got to be joking, right?

  “Have you?” he asks.

  “I’m from California. What do you think?”

  “You must get your sarcasm from your mother,” he says.

  “You think sarcasm is an inherited trait?” I ask. “I’m guessing you haven’t been around many sixteen-year-old girls.”

  “Can’t say that I have,” Zach says.

  I guess I can try to be a little nicer to the guy. I mean, he’s taking time out of his day so I don’t have to take this class with a bunch of freshman. Really, I am lucky I’m not here with a bunch of fourteen-year-olds.

  It’s weird to think that two years ago I was fourteen. The amount of maturing in two short years is exponential. Really, in a few years, being two years older than these kids will be nothing.

  “No, I have never shot a gun,” I say. “I’ve only seen movie prop guns.”

  “Okay,” Zach says. “What about a bow?”

  “You mean like Katniss in The Hunger Games?” I ask.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” he says. “What about a knife?”

  “Um... Jason got a pocket knife when he turned thirteen, if that’s what you mean,” I say. “And I’ve cut vegetables before.”

  “Really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “I helped our cook,” I say. “I’m not a complete spoiled brat.”

  “I never thought you were,” he says.

  “So, what kind of weapon am I going to learn to use?” I ask.

  “I’ve always excelled with guns.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Zach asks.

  “Just... you. You seem like a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy,” I say.

  Zach pulls at the collar on his shirt, revealing a scar just under his collarbone. “I used to ask questions first.”

  “You got shot?” I ask.

  “Yes, I did,” he answers. “I was twenty years old and thought I was the best. Then somebody shot me.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life,” he says. “Well, not the initial shooting. It hurt. But not nearly as bad as when it was pulled out. We didn’t have any medicine at the time. A guy I was working with reached in and pulled the bullet out with his bare fingers and stitched me up. I cried like a baby.”

  I try not to laugh, imagining Zach ‘crying like a baby,’ but I can’t help it.

  “You are something else, kid,” he says.

  “Are you going to show me how to shoot a gun?” I ask.

  “Yes, I am,” Zach says. “Is that okay?”

  “My mom would kill you if she knew what you were teaching me,” I say. “She taught me that guns are bad and that the whole world would be better off without them.”

  “Yeah, and I bet your mom’s bodyguards still carry guns, don’t they?”

  I nod.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says. “When it comes down to it, the bad guys are going to carry a gun and they will not hesitate to shoot you.”

  “Have you killed people?”

  Zach looks at me, not saying a word.

  “Is that personal?” I ask.

  “I hope you never get put in a situation where you have to choose between your life, or a teammate’s life, and the life of a terrorist,” Zach says. “Or it might be somebody in the mafia who has killed hundreds of people. Or maybe it’ll be a sick pervert who sells girls for profit.”

  “But who am I to judge if my life is worth more than theirs?” I ask.

  “That is what is going to make you good at your job,” he says. “You have a conscience. A lot of people at Spy School lost theirs a long time ago. Now, let’s get started.”

  Salt.

  After working with Zach for an hour, Cam picks me up. I guess Zach has something else to do, something that I can’t know the details on. I feel bad that Cam is stuck babysitting me, but I definitely don’t mind hanging out with him.

  “Hey, you ready?” Cam asks, as he gets out of the black SUV he pulled up in.

  “Yeah,” I say, then turn to Zach. “I guess I’ll see you... whenever?”

  “Just remember the rules—no boys in your room,” he says.

  I roll my eyes, but feel slightly mortified that he mentioned it in front of Cam. “I know. I promise.”

  Zach walks in the opposite direction and Cam opens the passenger side door for me.

  “Thanks,” I say, sliding into the seat. He waits for me to get in and then he closes the door for me.

  Even though Cam is from the UK, he has chivalry like he’s from the south. Actually, all the guys do. And I know that’s not a Spy School thing. That’s just a... my guys kind of thing.

  I smile to myself.

  My guys.

  I know they’re not mine, but the thought still brings a smile to my face.

  “What are you smiling at?” Cam asks.

  “Nothing. Just a silly thought,” I say, buckling my seatbelt. “So, you’re on babysitting duty tonight.”

  “I am,” he says. “And I’ve told you, it’s not babysitting duty. It’s guard duty. And it’s really not much of a hardship to hang out with you all night.”

  “Still, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” he says, as we take off towards Zach’s house. “I hear you shot your first gun today?”

  “I did,” I answer.

  “How was it?” he asks.

  “Zach is teaching me how to shoot a riffle. I always imagined guns were small,” I say. “But this thing is huge. We tried shooting from my shoulder, but that hurt. A lot. So he taught me how to shoot by resting the gun on my hip. It’s harder to aim, but it hurt less.”

  “Good,” he says. “You’ll probably have a bruise on your shoulder.”

  I rub at the spot. “Probably.”

  “Did he tell you how to shoot somebody?” Cam asks.

  I flinch as he asks the question. “Yes. He said if I shoot somebody that I shouldn’t stop shooting until they’re dead.”

  “Did he explain why?”

  “He said that if I shoot somebody and it doesn’t kill them, their adrenaline will kick in and it’ll only make them fight harder,” I say.

  “Good,” he says. “When you switch to a hand gun, it’ll be easier.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “Guns still kind of make me uncomfortable. I’ve always been taught that they’re bad, and now it’s just a tool I’m supposed to use in my job.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Cam says. “Guns are there for protection, otherwise we don’t use them. They train us so we’re not scared of them.”

  “Aren’t Brits supposed to be super anti-guns?”

  “My parents went to school here,” he says. “Guns have always been a part of my life.”

  “That makes sense,” I say.

  We pull up in front of my house and Cam checks his phone. We have security cameras up inside my house and I know he’s checking to make sure nobody is inside. Once he’s made sure, we get out. I follow C
am from the car to inside the house, where he once again does a sweep, just to be sure. Then he sets the alarm and we sit down in the living room together.

  I don’t have any homework today. I guess last night they had midnight drills at the school and they always make sure not to assign homework the next day so everybody can catch up on sleep if they need.

  “You know, one thing I don’t miss about being in the dorms is midnight drills,” I say.

  “You went to one midnight drill,” Cam says.

  I grin. “I guess I’m just lucky.”

  “I figured you’d miss Taylor the least,” he says.

  “Oh, my gosh. That girl is so mean,” I say. “I swear she glares at me in the hallway between classes. If looks could kill, I would have died a hundred times over.”

  “Nah, just once,” he says.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “You can only die once,” he says.

  “Tell that to Sam and Dean,” I say.

  He laughs. “You like Supernatural?”

  “Jason and I used to watch it together,” I say. “I haven’t seen it since, like, season nine or ten. My mom would get so mad because I was too young to watch it and I’d get scared. One time, I lined all the windows in our house with salt. Our house was on the beach, so there were a lot of windows. It took our maid weeks to get it all cleaned up.”

  “Zara, you are full of surprises,” he says.

  “What? I didn’t want any ghosts haunting my house. Plus, I was seven. Give me a break.”

  “I bet you were a cute seven-year-old,” he says.

  “Meh.”

  “We need to talk,” Cam says, scooting away from me slightly. I know whatever it is, it must be serious.

  “Uh oh,” I say. “What did I do this time?”

  “I’m the team leader, so it’s my job to check up on everybody in the team. Make sure nobody has problems with each other,” he says.

  “I haven’t had a problem with anybody,” I say.

  “I didn’t think you did,” he says. “Are the guys being nice?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “They’re always complete gentlemen.”

  “What about...” he pauses, as if he doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to ask next.

  I have a pretty good idea what he’s going to ask.

  “Are you going to ask if any of them have made a move on me?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “No,” I answer. “And if they were going to, I’m pretty sure that you would know before I would. They’d come to you, right?”

  “I just had to be sure.”

  “You know, Zach had to approve of me joining your team before I was allowed,” I say.

  “Really?” Cam asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he approved it. I mean, he knows we work well together, but you’re his daughter and you’re on an all guys team.”

  “It surprised me, too,” I say. “But you know, his profile on me said I would get along with everybody on the team except you.”

  He grins. “Seriously?”

  “He said we’re both too much alike to get along.”

  “Maybe,” Cam says. “But I like a challenge.”

  “Oh, I’m a challenge?”

  “The best kind.”

  “So, you think we will fight a lot?” I ask.

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Then why do you want me on the team?”

  “When I say that we will fight, I don’t mean in our personal life,” he says. “I know from your file that you have a problem with authority figures. I’m the same way. But before they ever let me lead my team, I had to work through that.”

  “You’re my team leader. I will follow your orders on the field because that is what I’m supposed to do,” I say. “You make the final decisions, always. It’s what keeps us safe.”

  “Exactly,” Cam says. “It’s when we get back from missions... specifically missions that we fail. You’ll argue that I did the wrong thing.”

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “Inevitably,” he says.

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Then you’re going to have to learn to trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I say.

  “No. You trust me in theory,” he says. “But I need you to trust me with everything you are. I need to you trust me even when you think, no, when you know I am wrong. That is when I need you to trust me. Forget your own thoughts and feelings. Forget reason. And just trust me.”

  I think about what he’s saying.

  And he’s right.

  “How do I trust you completely?” I ask.

  “It’ll come with time,” he answers. “Trust is earned, and I plan on earning every bit of your trust.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “You know what we need to do today?” Cam asks.

  “What?”

  “We haven’t worked on your claustrophobia in a while,” he says. “We got distracted with everything that happened last week.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Yeah. We need to do that.”

  But my breath is coming in too fast.

  “Zara, calm down. I’ll be with you,” he says, grabbing my hand.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll always be with you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  And with that promise, I trust Cam just a little bit more.

  Not ever.

  Zach still isn’t home when I go to bed. Cam ends up sleeping on the couch while I go upstairs to my room. I feel bad leaving him there, but I don’t have a choice. Somebody has to be here. If not him, one of the other boys.

  I know that I shouldn’t feel safe. Somebody tried to kill me... they tried to kill us. But with the boys around, safe is exactly how I feel—like nobody can hurt me.

  As I’m about to shut off my lamp, my phone starts to ring.

  It’s my dad.

  My heart is suddenly beating twice as fast as I answer it.

  I haven’t talked to him since I found out that he’s not my biological father. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s my dad, but I can’t forget that I know.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say, hating how nervous I feel.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he says. “How is boarding school?”

  “It’s... surprisingly fun,” I say, now standing up. It helps to pace back and forth while I talk to him.

  “I got your email,” he says. “With the pictures from Tokyo. Sounds like you’re having a vacation and not doing much school work.”

  I smile. “Dad, it was so much fun. I mean, we were there to work, but the last day, we got to explore the city for a while. It was the best.”

  “I notice that there aren’t any girls in the pictures,” he says.

  “Yeah, it was just me and my team,” I say, leaving out the part of Zach Stone. “The girls here don’t really like me that much.”

  “They’re just jealous,” Dad says. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the school.”

  “You’re my dad. You have to say that,” I say. “The girls here are very pretty.”

  “Tell me about your team,” he says. “I can’t know much about your school, but you can at least tell me about them.”

  “Um, yeah,” I say, looking at the pictures I sent him. “Um... Stefan is the one on the left. He’s from New Zealand. He has the coolest accent and he’s probably the nicest guy I have ever met. Next to him is Tristan. He is this genius computer hacker. He’s amazing. And then next to Tristan is Cam. Cam is the team leader. He’s... intense, but in the best way possible. Then um... me. Obviously. Next to me is Austin. He’s kind of the therapist of the group. He can get anybody to talk about anything. Literally. And then next to him is Dylan. He’s southern and takes the whole southern charm to the next level. Actually, all the guys do. But Dylan traveled a lot as a kid. So he can adapt to any situation. It’s pretty cool.”

  “They sound nice,” Dad says.

  “They are,” I say. “If they we
ren’t...”

  Zach wouldn’t have let me on their team.

  But I can’t say that to my dad.

  “Is one of them your boyfriend?” he asks.

  “No,” I answer. “It’s not like that. We’re just... friends.”

  “Uh huh,” he says. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “I’d love for you to meet them,” I say, changing the subject from me.

  “I’d like that, too,” Dad says. “Do you have a nice roommate?”

  “Um... I’m not in the dorms anymore,” I say.

  “What? Why?” he asks. I can hear the panic in his voice and I realize I shouldn’t have said that. “Where are you at?”

  “I’m just... in a house,” I say. “Um, there was this thing, but I’m okay.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “A kind of thing I can’t tell you,” I say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Are you by yourself in this house?”

  “No,” I answer, now really wishing I hadn’t said anything. “There is a teacher with me.”

  “What teacher?”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “He’s really nice.”

  “Your school is letting you stay in a house with a male teacher?” Dad asks. “That’s it. I am coming to get you right now.”

  “No, Dad. Um... it’s not just a teacher,” I say. “It’s Zach Stone. He would never hurt me. He only moved me here to protect me.”

  “Zach Stone,” Dad says, then sighs. “So you know.”

  “Yes,” I answer. “But you know it doesn’t change anything. You’re my dad. Always.”

  “Just... don’t forget about me, okay?”

  “I won’t. Not ever.”

  “You’re still my baby girl,” he says.

  “I know. And that will never change,” I say.

  “Are you okay? With... knowing?”

  “You and Mom never had a perfect marriage,” I say. “I thought maybe she had an affair when I was a kid. I never expected... you know... but it doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you getting to know Zach?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “He’s nice.”

  “You’re a lot like him,” Dad says.

  “I am,” I say. “I’ve never been athletic like you, or charismatic like Mom.”