Free The Infected 3: Cast Iron by P. S. Power Page A

operatives on Team one were bigots that learned who they were for targeting purposes, not fans at all.
    Lancaster and Reyes, no one should have a picture of either of them, except their mothers. It wasn’t really that strict, but they were both careful that way, which meant someone probably had surveillance on them. That didn’t bode well, as far as she was concerned.
    Friends didn’t normally bother to spy on you.
    They walked together; not making any sound, both scanning the area for attack, just in case it was a set-up. Then loaded their bags in the cargo area under the side of the bus, with everyone else. Marcia was careful, but plastered a smile on her face as she gawked at everything like a tourist. True, she was looking at the wrong things, but most people wouldn’t pick up that her staring at the buildings around them, the control tower and the high rises in the distance had anything to do with more than simple curiosity, would they? She didn’t think so, but the second Lancaster started doing it Ink did too, catching the idea easily.
    He was supposed to be on guard detail after all, so it was a good idea in general, wasn’t it? He moved closer to Tobin, ready to move the smaller man to safety if he had to. Ink wasn’t tall, about five-eight, but was so muscular he looked almost like a dwarf. Long body, slightly short legs, and arms that were a little too big for the frame. He moved gracefully though, his natural tattoos changing as he did his job. If it meant anything it was a pattern too complex for Marcia to figure out at a glance.
    The ride went smoothly, even though she stayed on high alert. The hotel wasn’t that far away, but the traffic was pretty bad as they closed in on it, not able to see the beach until they pulled up to the place, which looked modern, had a very large pool that could be seen through the glass on one end of the building and red uniformed men waiting to take their luggage under a covered area. She still had the paper in her hand, tucking it away casually as she stood, into her pocket. It had taken work to find a skirt that had one and a special trip into town. Marcia grabbed her own bag and glared a bit at the man that was standing by to help her.
    “Sorry, federal agent. I have weapons in the bag. It doesn’t leave my control.” It wasn’t true, but telling him that she just didn’t want his help seemed rude. Lancaster and the other agents did the same thing, seeming a little stern about the whole idea, but they probably really did have weapons both on them and in their things.
    Denis walked over and nodded at the two men that were waiting for them to pass over their worldly goods and did something unexpected. He tipped them ten dollars. Each. Considering his first mode that must have been hard. He was greed personified after all.
    It was his thing.
    “Sorry guys, a lot of us have something like that going on. Just on vacation, but you know how it is; the law requires us to be armed at all times. Most of use at least, there are a few people that could use the help though…” He glanced at Charlot knowingly, who glared back at them, or at least at the men that hadn’t come to take her bags yet. She wasn’t obviously Infected, but she kind of assumed slow service was a sign of someone trying to insult her over it anyway.
    It was a real enough point, but Marcia rarely traveled armed anymore. She didn’t need to. She glanced at Denis though, wondering.
    “You packing Denis?” She knew he could shoot, but his power was such that most people simply couldn’t stand up to him in a fight. Not lethal, sure, but it was still enough to get by with in most situations. Better than a firearm in most cases too.
    He looked around and raised his chin just the tiniest bit.
    “Yeah. It occurred to me a while ago that it would be easier in most cases to justify a shooting than using Infected abilities on someone, even in self-defense. The court doesn’t care that much, but public