Deceived Read online

  “Yes, I am. What do you say?”

  “I say: it’s a date.” You arrogant asshole.

  “Where are you staying? I’ll pick you up.”

  “Why don’t I meet you? I’m going to be doing some shopping today, and I’m not even sure what side of town I’ll be on by the time I’m done.” I angled my head and smiled bigger. “I’ll be sure to wear something extra special tonight. Where would you like me to meet you?”

  Vance added my number to his phone, then texted me an address where I could meet him.

  When he was gone, I dropped into my chair and exhaled. I was poking a hornet’s nest by getting involved with this guy.

  ~~~~~

  I arrived at Bar 325, a hot new night club in the Pearl District, a few minutes early, but Vance was already standing outside the club, beside a bouncer who was taller and way more muscular than the athletic Vance.

  He hadn’t seen me walking toward him yet, and he looked fidgety. He was looking in the opposite direction when I touched his arm. He flinched, nearly elbowing me in the face.

  I jerked back with a yelp. “Whoa there, cowboy.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly and laughed. “I thought you were… never mind. I’m glad you’re here. You ready?” He lifted his chin toward the door.

  “Is something wrong, Vance?” I looked around, eyeing the people on the sidewalks. It had started to rain lightly.

  “No. I’m sorry. It’s been a long and weird day.” He touched the small of my back, then leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I’ve been looking forward to our date all day though. And…” He glanced down the length of my body at my form-fitting black and gray dress. “You weren’t kidding when you said you would wear something special. You look amazing.” He leaned in and kissed my neck. “Shall we go in?”

  I squirmed away from his touch and walked toward the bouncer, who was checking IDs.

  He caught up to me easily and said, “Don’t worry about the ID. I can get you in. I’ve got connections everywhere.”

  “I’m not worried.” I smirked. “I can take care of myself.” I pulled out my Kentucky driver’s license, and as I handed it to the bouncer, I immediately began controlling the bouncer’s mind to see a legitimate driver’s license of someone who was twenty-two years old.

  He handed it back to me, and I quickly replaced it inside my purse.

  Vance held the door open and allowed me to enter first. As I did, he said, “Impressive, Howard. Who knew that would turn me on?”

  I winced at the thought.

  Vance and I ventured inside, where a band was already playing. He led me up some stairs toward a table overlooking the dance floor. Another couple was already sitting at the table. They were hunched close.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Vance said close to my ear so as to be heard over the music. “I invited a couple of friends to join us.”

  I smiled. “Of course not.” I was actually pleasantly surprised that Vance and I wouldn’t be alone the entire night.

  “Amy, Travis, this is Briana,” Vance said when we reached the table.

  “Nice to meet you,” Amy said loudly and held out a hand.

  I shook it. Travis lifted his chin in a cool greeting, and I gave him a low wave.

  “I’m going to get us some drinks,” Vance said with yet another touch to my waist.

  I was going to need Lexi’s or Jonas’s mind control ability before this night was out. I didn’t need Vance pawing at me all night. I needed information, then I would make some excuse as to why I had to leave early.

  I tried to watch Vance as he weaved his way over to a small bar. He ordered a couple of drinks, no telling what kind. It wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t drinking whatever it was.

  “So, Briana, Vance tells us you just got into town,” Travis said. “How long will you be staying in Portland?”

  “Not sure yet,” I answered, pulling one of the chairs out and sitting. “I’ll be visiting family.”

  Travis nodded. “You in college?”

  “Just graduated boarding school. Not sure of my plans yet.” I pointed between them. “What about you guys? You in college? Or do you work here in Portland?” They looked close to college age.

  Travis put an arm around Amy. “Amy here is a genius who graduated from Meed College with a dual degree in biochemistry and molecular biology, and is now working at a lab making the kind of money some of us only dream about.”

  Amy nudged him. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

  I agreed. Like I cared what she made. The fact that she worked at a lab was interesting, however.

  He grabbed her face and placed a big kiss directly on her lips.

  “Besides,” she said, “it’s not like you’re not well on your way to a fancy graduate degree yourself.”

  “True,” Travis said. “But everyone’s becoming a lawyer these days.”

  “Yeah, but not every lawyer has a job before they’re even out of school.” She kissed him again. “And at the same company where I work.”

  Vance sat a clear drink in a small glass in front of me. It had a cucumber slice swimming at the top and what looked like a sprig of mint. “That looks dangerous,” I said with a quirked brow.

  Vance took the seat next to me. With one hand on my knee, he lifted a microbrew in the other. “To running into old friends,” he toasted with a smirk that sent a chill down my spine.

  I grabbed the drink and clinked it with his, then pretended to take a sip. I could smell vodka and some sort of cucumber liqueur, and a distinct hint of mint. Vance’s eyes dipped from mine to my lips, then lower and back up.

  “Everyone loves the cucumber cooler,” Amy said, then turned to Travis. “Dance with me.” She pouted when he looked at her. They were a cute couple.

  After they walked away, Vance put an arm around my chair and massaged my shoulder. “So, out with it, Miss Howard. Why are you here in Portland? When we talked last summer, you had no intention of returning here after high school. And…” His eyes drilled into mine. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised you agreed to meet me out tonight. Pleased, but surprised.”

  He had good reason to be surprised. We didn’t exactly part on good terms the last time I saw him. But that had nothing to do with why I was here now. So I stuck with answering his first question. “Yeah, well, my parents do still live here, and apparently I have to choose some sort of future that will provide money to live on.”

  He lifted a brow. “Did Daddy Warbucks cut you off?”

  I laughed, but didn’t mean it. “No, but I can’t expect him to pay my bills forever.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that.”

  “So what about you? What’s my dad got you working on these days?” Smooth transition, I thought sarcastically to myself. Why didn’t I just ask him if he was helping my dad to clone my dead brother by working with Sandra Whitmeyer?

  I wouldn’t even be considering the idea if Addison hadn’t suggested it was happening. But Addison wasn’t the only reason for my suspicion. The previous summer, during my internship, the interns had been challenged to come up with an idea they thought would be good for Howard BioTech, no matter how out of reach it seemed. I, of course, was at an advantage, because I knew the sort of technology that interested my dad. I also knew that as daughter of the owner, I couldn’t win the competition, so I thought up the most ludicrous, unethical idea I could come up with. I had thought it was completely hypothetical—but it fed perfectly into what Addison was suggesting.

  In response to my questions, Vance went on and on about how he was promoted twice this past year, but I couldn’t get him to tell me anything about the projects that had gained him his newfound positions, and I grew increasingly bored by his droning voice.

  Then I felt someone slipping in and around my brain. Jonas had taught me how to recognize such an invasion and kick them out, so I did exactly that, and then I sat up straighter and began searching the crowd for the culprit. I knew who it was. Addison had followed me to Po
rtland, and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or bad.

  “Hey, hold that thought,” I said. I held up a finger, interrupting Vance’s diatribe about his favorite subject: himself. I stood. “I need to hit the restroom. You need anything?”

  He breathed a sigh of exasperation at the interruption. He stood and grabbed my hand, pulling me close and examining my eyes, making me squirm. “Hurry back,” he said, his voice hoarse. He leaned in and kissed my neck. “We still have a lot of catching up to do.”

  When he released me, I turned and walked away as steadily as I could manage on shaky legs. When I was sure he was no longer watching, I picked up speed until I was safely in the ladies’ restroom.

  chapter six

  Jonas

  So cliché. Of course it was raining in Portland when I landed. I had flown straight from Liberia, Costa Rica to PDX, immediately hailed an Uber, and while talking on the phone with Raven, had instructed the driver to drop me in the Pearl District—the latest and greatest strip of warehouses turned into restaurants and bars, hot spots for twenty- and thirty-somethings. Raven was sure Bree was here, but she couldn’t get any more specific than a half-mile area without being here herself.

  That was one hour and two busy nightclubs ago.

  Raven MacMillan was Kyle’s girlfriend and my newest friend. Thanks to the tracker at the base of her skull, she could supposedly track the whereabouts of every human clone in existence. And in a strange sequence of events with Raven while in Costa Rica, I’d learned that both Addison and Bree were in Portland.

  No one had seen or heard from Addison in months—not since the incident on Palmyra where Sandra was turned into a turnip—and we weren’t certain of her stability. And after the way Bree and I had left things, I certainly wasn’t going to leave her unprotected. Besides, I needed to know how she had discovered the tumors inside Tane and Tamati, and how I could find them in the future. On top of all that, Raven had insisted there was a cell of clones in Portland. And since Lexi had no idea who these clones were, we decided it was in our best interest to check it out.

  I thought about all the reasons I was here. Funny—the one reason that hit closest to home was the simplest: I wanted to see her. I felt bad about how I had left things with Bree and I wanted to make sure she was all right.

  I pulled my light jacket tighter, lifting the collar to keep the cold raindrops from hitting my skin, and crossed the busy street toward my third bar of the night. Scanning the minds of patrons of the previous bar had uncovered nothing useful. The problem was, the only bar left for me to check was a nightclub that only allowed patrons over twenty-one, and I was only eighteen. So was Bree.

  Of course, Bree didn’t act her age of eighteen—she was much more mature—and she certainly didn’t look eighteen. And she could easily convince anyone screening her license that she was of legal age.

  A bouncer sat on a barstool outside an establishment named Bar 325. The building was constructed of reclaimed timber on the outside, but the sleek signage and the door made of polished wood and leaded glass gave the building an air of artsy sophistication.

  As I approached, the door opened, and loud music spilled out. The bouncer had one foot planted firmly on the ground, while the other rested on a rung of the stool. He was checking the IDs of a gaggle of girls who couldn’t have been a day over seventeen or eighteen. By the way he examined the cards, then each of their faces, he agreed. “Sorry, girls. Gotta be twenty-one.”

  “But we are. Do you not see the dates?” one of them whined.

  “Oh, I see the dates. This one is a fake.” He handed one of the cards back. “And this picture is clearly not you. But if you’d like, I can call that policeman over and get a second opinion.” He glanced across the street to where a local cop was patrolling on foot.

  The girl jerked the card from the bouncer’s hand. “Come on, girls, we didn’t want to go inside this dump anyway.”

  He shook his head, laughing under his breath.

  I stepped up to him next. “Hey, buddy,” I said. You recognize me. I’m a regular. You don’t even need to see my ID. “Those poor girls don’t even realize you did them a favor.”

  He lifted his head in recognition. “My boss would can my ass if I let in that jailbait.” He reached and opened the door. “Good to see you, man. Have a beer for me.”

  “Will do.”

  I stepped inside and took a second to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Though the outside of the bar had been of old, rugged wood, the inside was sleek. To the back of the main bar area was a stage where one band was breaking down and another was waiting to set up. Seating on the first level was a mixture of high-top tables next to the bar, booths around the perimeter of a dance floor, and lower tables in front of those. On an upper level, people sat at short, round tables or stood in small groups.

  This was definitely the most popular of the clubs I’d entered tonight. Men held various sized glasses filled with the microbrews Portland was known for, and the girls appeared to be drinking everything from craft beer to colorful martinis to wine.

  I ventured farther in, scanning faces and examining minds for any sign of Bree. She had a gift for disguising herself from others, including me, but I could always identify her mind. I walked slowly down the length of the bar and circled back around, wondering the whole time what Bree would be doing in a place like this, yet I was running out of options.

  A girl in slim jeans and a low-cut blouse slid out of one of the booths and made her way toward me, holding a hot pink drink in a shallow glass. When she came near, she stumbled slightly and fell into me, spilling her drink on my arm. I caught her elbow, steadying her.

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” She giggled and began to swat at the liquid dripping from my jacket. “Let me make it up to you with a dance.” She walked a couple of manicured fingers up my sleeve and lifted her head in the direction of the dance floor, vacant between bands.

  “That’s not necessary.” My jaw was set, but she was too intoxicated to notice my irritation.

  By then, a guy at her table had noticed us. He stood and pulled at the sleeves of his yellow and green rugby shirt. His face turned the color of what was once her drink, and he marched toward us with clenched hands.

  I so didn’t have time for this.

  “Want to get your hands off her?” he yelled over the next band’s sound check.

  I lifted my hands, holding them out to the sides as if to say, “No foul,” and chuckling under my breath.

  “Sandy, you okay?”

  “As if you’d care,” she slurred, then, after pushing her dark brown hair away from her face, she slid her gaze back to me. “My friend was just getting ready to buy me a drink. Weren’t you?”

  “He was, was he?” Mr. Rugby pushed his sleeves up like he was preparing to fight.

  “Look, pal. I don’t want to hurt you. I came in here to find someone. It’s not my fault you can’t hold your girl’s attention.” Like I was one to talk. Bree could have already spotted me by now and be slipping away. I didn’t expect her to welcome me with open arms.

  Mr. Rugby stepped closer, his face even with mine. I bit my cheek to prevent the smirk fighting its way to my lips. “You might not have come looking for a fight, but you got one… pal.” He spit my own word back in my face.

  “Oh, dear.” Miss Pink Martini began backing away. “I’ve stirred up some trouble.” Her lips spread into a sly smile.

  My eyes widened. I’d been played. But what Mr. Rugby still didn’t know was that Miss Pink Martini had picked the wrong person to play games with tonight.

  I smiled at him, then eyed a pitcher of dark amber ale on a nearby table. Walk to that table, I ordered. He did. I nodded behind him. Now pick up the pitcher of beer and pour it over your head.

  When he lifted the pitcher, a guy at the table began yelling. “Hey, man! What the hell do you think you’re doing with our beer?” But it was too late. The beer drenched Mr. Rugby’s hair, streamed down his face, and
splattered against the floor.

  Now go hug Sandy, I ordered, amused by his shocked look. She didn’t mean to make you mad, and she wants your forgiveness.

  As I walked away, I heard Sandy yell, “Get off me! You’re soaked in beer. Gross!” With a glance back, I saw her shoving him away from her and into the same guys he’d just stolen a pitcher of beer from. From there, a fight broke out.

  I climbed the wooden stairs to the second level, still scanning the minds of people in the bar for any sign that Bree was there. Just as I was starting to lose hope that I would find her tonight, I felt her presence nearby, like a red hot ball of flame. Her mind was usually a mixture of spicy and sweet, and she had a way of wearing her emotions like a brightly colored winter scarf, snaked around her neck. But tonight I sensed something a touch bitter, anxious even, and she was heavily guarding her mind.

  Tension crawled up my spine and spread through my shoulders. She had run from Palmyra—from me—but I would still protect her from whatever was causing her anxiety tonight.

  The balcony was dark. Small crystal candles sat on each table, providing minimal light. Most of the room’s light came from the stage, where the band now appeared ready to play. I scanned past a bachelorette party, easily identifiable due to the fact that one was wearing a white veil and they were all doing shots. I didn’t drink alcohol—not often anyway—but I knew enough to know that those shots were going to hurt in the morning.

  And then I saw her. She was sitting at a small table at the end of a long row. She was facing away from me, her dark red curls hanging halfway down her back, but I’d recognize that mind anywhere. She was mentally berating the blond girl sitting across from her, who was laughing obnoxiously loudly.

  “Dance with me,” the blonde said to her date, then gave him a fake pout. I hoped I would never fall for such a ridiculous tactic from a girl.

  The guy agreed, and away they went. Some guy beside Bree stretched an arm around the back of her chair, and his hand lazily brushed her shoulder. I clenched my hands into fists and was about to march across the room, throw Bree over my shoulder, and haul her away, but just then she stood. “I need to hit the restroom. You need anything?”