Free Forbidden Fire (Forbidden #2) by Kimberly Kinrade Page A

Newsweek , U.S. News & World Report , The New York Times and L.A. Times . As an investigative reporter, it was my job to uncover the stories no one else could break. Once, when I was young and cocky, I landed on something I knew would be Pulitzer material, only I kept hitting dead ends. Not just normal, contacts-dried-up, leads-too-scared-to-talk dead ends, but literally—people kept ending up dead. All accidents, of course, unrelated to me or my story, but my gut told me there was more to it. I didn't take the hint. I kept prying."
    He put his mug down and pulled up his flannel shirt, revealing a fairly toned stomach for an old guy—and a nasty, familiar-looking scar.
    "You were shot." I rubbed the still-healing bullet wound on my own arm.
    Brad's eyebrows shot up. He'd obviously never heard this story.
    I asked the question I already knew the answer to. "What story were you working on?"
    He looked me straight in the eyes. "I'd met some very powerful people who, in exchange for not having their names plastered all over national headlines, offered me an interesting story about kids with paranormal abilities who are rented out as spies."
    My mouth dried up in an instant. I couldn't swallow. I grabbed my water and chugged it. Clients who broke Rent-A-Kid's confidentiality agreement faced serious harm. Though, it did make sense that someone would spill the beans eventually—especially if a famous reporter had serious dirt on them, and they needed to shine the spotlight on an even bigger story to protect themselves.
    Bernard continued, "Of course, I didn't believe them at first. They would have said or done anything to keep me from printing what I knew about them. But they had proof. They'd kept videos, pictures, and other records of the kids they hired. I looked through it all and.... What if it was true? The evidence was damning, but that could have been faked. So they agreed to hire a kid spy and let me see the powers firsthand."
    I perked up. He'd met someone from my school? "How long ago was this?"
    "Oh, I don't know, eighteen years ago. I met a girl who could move objects with her mind. I wouldn't have believed it, but I witnessed it with my own eyes. I started asking around, using contacts to dig up dirt on other wealthy and powerful members of our society. Not everyone used this service, but I found two more who had and were willing to trade information to keep me quiet.
    "I can only assume I was getting too close, because one day my house was robbed of all my research, and I was shot and left for dead. On that same day, someone killed all three of my contacts. It took me months to recover physically. I lost the trail and could never figure out how to pick it back up. After that, I tried going back into journalism, but had lost the appetite for it. That's when I started teaching. So yes, Sam, I believe you."
    I exhaled hard, expelling the pent-up pressure in my lungs in one great whoosh. I didn't know what I had expected from the professor, but this punched me in the gut.
    Drake shifted on the couch. "Maybe coming here was a bad idea. If you're already on their radar, we could be putting you in a lot of danger."
    "I'm tired of hiding. This is the story that got away, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it get away again. I'll help you kids as much as I can. Consider this your home while we figure out what to do next. I still have some powerful connections here and there. Sam, if you'd like, I can take a sample of your hair and find out what drugs you were given."
    "That'd be great. I'm over the worst of it, but I hate not knowing what was done to me. This test... it's confidential, right?"
    "Yes, your identity will be protected."
    Bernard went over to his desk and pulled out a small vial.
    I plucked a few hairs from the root and handed them over.
    He slipped them into the vial and filled out a form. "I'll have these picked up right away. We should have an answer within a day or two."
    He looked at Brad. "And you,