Free The Takeover by Teyla Branton Page B

another year. The thought didn’t hit me with as much agony as it once had. It just was.
    “They’ll love the baby. It’ll be okay.”
    He nodded. “I just . . . things aren’t decided between Stella and me. I-I love her. I have for a long time. I think Lorrie would understand.”
    “Tell them.”
    The kids came back then, with heaping plates they would devour almost completely. The cook had given up baking or boiling vegetables for them and instead had a constant variety of raw choices available. Spencer particularly liked the sweet peas, shells and all.
    I watched them begin eating, joking and laughing together. It was peaceful, this slice of time where the horrors we experienced often didn’t seem quite real.
    Until I thought of Senator Burklap and his family, who would never be eating again. On that lovely note, it was probably time to head up to the meeting.
    “Aunt Erin, I—”
    I held up a hand, silencing whatever Kathy had been going to say. I sensed a distinct change in the air, one that triggered all my awareness. It took me a few precious seconds to understand what was different, to realize that I was receiving a jumble of thoughts from beyond the mansion. And if I could sense thoughts and life forces outside the electronic grid that protected us from mental assault, we were vulnerable. Unless Ava was holding some kind of unprecedented drill, only the Emporium could have wiggled through our mental protections.
    “Down!” I said to the kids, reaching for my gun.
    Immediately, Spencer and Kathy dived under the table, no questions asked. The weeks of training and subsequent grounding and household chores had seen to that. Max followed them, his tail between his legs, and Chris shot to his feet, his own gun ready. I faced the door; he faced the window that overlooked the garden.
    I felt someone trying to get inside my mind—someone I recognized. Ava. I let her in. Erin, we’re about to have a visitor. She wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t know if . . . Look, don’t shoot anyone in the next two minutes, okay?
    I blew out a sigh of relief, but I didn’t put down my gun and I didn’t tell Chris to lower his weapon.
    “Who is it, Ava?” I said aloud for Chris’s benefit. “Why shouldn’t we shoot?”
    Just don’t .
    A soft pop! sounded in my ears, and a woman who appeared to be our friend Mari Jorgenson materialized in the dining room—Mari with her black hair dyed red for her undercover job protecting Patrick Mann. She wasn’t alone. The two men with her appeared to be Keene McIntyre and my younger brother, Jace. Keene’s piercing green eyes, framed by his red hair and beard—also dye jobs—were as mocking as his smile. Jace had let his blond hair grow shaggy, but it looked good with his black leather jacket.
    At the same moment, I became aware of Ritter bursting into the dining room, a sword in one hand and a gun in the other, looking rather like an avenging angel.
    “Don’t shoot!” Mari said, standing between us and the men.
    “I knew we shouldn’t have surprised her,” muttered Jace, holding up hands that were nearly as deadly as Ritter’s. “Erin, it’s me, Jace. You’re not going to shoot, right? It really is us. No illusions or nanite tricks, I promise. Come on, put the gun down.” Even as he spoke the electric grid came back to life, shutting out the world beyond the mansion.
    I stared, my heartbeat slowing. “You guys are supposed to be in DC.” But it was them, and their mind shields were down—a wise choice if they didn’t want to be shot.
    “We were until a second ago.” Mari gave an excited laugh and took several steps toward us. “That’s the surprise! Or part of it. As you’ve noticed, I’m not here alone. Ava’s known about this for weeks, but I begged her to let me surprise you.”
    Now I understood. As I folded Mari in my arms for a hug, I had to admit it was a fantastic surprise. “Oh, Mari, this is great!” Before, she could only shift to a place