Free Talent to Burn (Hidden Talent #1) by Laura Welling Page B

you’d prefer he came back into the fold. It’s that or the death penalty.”
    I’d never gotten that far in my train of thought, because I intended to find Eric before Ryder or the cops did. Forcing myself to be rational, I said, “I think it would be hard to prove he did anything wrong in a court of law.”
    “Do you want to take that risk?” He looked down at his hands, relaxed on the table. “More to the point, if he is out of control, he will most likely kill again, regardless of his intentions. Do you want that blood on your hands?”
    I could see I wouldn’t get out of here without telling him something. The truth right now was pretty damn harmless, anyway. “I don’t know where Eric is.”
    Ryder nodded. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Have you heard from him?”
    “No.” I paused. “What would you do with him, if you found him?”
    He shifted a little in his seat, his aura darkened, and I realized it was tension being released. Despite his show of relaxation, he was desperate for my help. Good to know.
    “We have some…experimental techniques for controlling Talent.”
    “Why didn’t you try them already? Wouldn’t that have saved a lot of trouble?”
    Ryder sighed. “You already know what we do at the Institute. You understand we’re in the business of training soldiers to protect this country. We need men like Eric to defend against the enemies of our way of life, and we trust our soldiers to use their Talents wisely. Of course, when someone goes rogue, that’s a different matter.”
    So much patriotic rah-rah, when all he was saying was that the end justifies the means. I disagreed, absolutely and inherently. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
    “When you find him—if you find him before we do, which is unlikely anyway—I want you to convince him to turn himself in. Or call me and I’ll do it.” He put one hand inside his jacket and pulled out a card. “Here.” He slid it across the table.
    I left it sitting there in front of me. The card was heavy and cream, and the text on it embossed. There was nothing on the card but his name—just the one—and a phone number. I didn’t even want to touch it.
    “What’s in it for me?” I couldn’t imagine why he would think I’d give Eric up to the Institute. He must have something in mind.
    Scorn flickered across his face, replaced quickly by that deliberate relaxation. “Other than preventing further injuries to innocent bystanders…I understand you’ve been living undocumented since you left us. Trying to hide from us. I don’t understand why, but we all know you don’t have a Talent. If you help us find Eric, I give you my word we’ll leave you alone. Forever.”
    “I wonder what your word is worth,” I said, quietly, hoping to provoke a reaction. I got precisely none.
    “That’s for you to decide. I note, however, that your judgment of character appears to be rather lacking.”
    I closed my hands into fists under the table. I would not let him get to me. “What do you mean?”
    “Jamie Murphy. Don’t believe a word he tells you. The man’s a common criminal.”
    I knew they weren’t friends, no surprises there. “He told me about his background.”
    “If he told you he’d reformed, it was a lie. Once a thief, always a thief. When it comes to choosing sides in this war, Catrina, I suggest you reconsider your allies. You can’t trust him. He uses people and throws them away.”
    I said nothing, staring down at the business card, balancing his words against the memory of my ruined apartment. Not many people you could trust in this business, apparently.
    “I must be going.” He slid out of the booth, drawing himself back up into that military bearing. “Goodbye, Catrina—for now.”
    He vanished behind a waitress arriving at my table. “What can I get you?” she said, and at that moment my phone vibrated in my pocket.
    “Nothing.” I stood up. The card sat on the table, embossed black numbers