Teddy ran her fingers along the edge of the picture in her pocket, hesitated. Another secret. This one, something private, a part of her that she had only started to understand. Something she wasn’t ready to share. Her friends didn’t have the same things at stake. But if it was going to convince them, maybe this information would help. Teddy removed the photo from her pocket.
“This is Yates,” she said, putting it on the table and pointing a finger. “And you recognize Clint.” She looked up to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “And these are my birth parents. This picture was taken at Sector Three, where they met. Yates told me that my father was murdered because he resisted the government’s demands. And my mother is out there still, hiding from the people who were responsible for it. You know that blood samples went missing this year. They belonged to three individuals with specific genetic markers. Individuals whose parents were both psychics who had trained at Sector Three. Yates believed they were specifically targeted by his organization.”
Teddy looked around the room. Jillian was still twirling her hair; Pyro was shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet; Molly had begun to pick at her sweater again, her confidence gone as suddenly as it came; Dara was rubbing her hands together; and Jeremy was staring at Teddy, unblinking.
“Just drop another bombshell, why don’t you?” Dara said.
Teddy looked down at the photograph. Had her parents known when she was born that she’d be psychic? “The three blood samples that were taken belonged to Brett Evans, Christine Federico . . . and me.”
Pyro stood, his eyes flashing dark. “When?”
“What?” Teddy said.
“When did you find out?” He stared at her, his facial features hard. The flame tattoos on his neck had flickered to life.
“A little after Halloween, I guess.”
“Teddy, you could be in danger,” Jillian said.
“You’ve known for months and you didn’t tell us.” Pyro ran his hands through his hair. “I knew you had trust issues, but this . . . Jesus. Something could have happened to you.”
Hearing it from him made it feel that much more real. “I know,” she whispered.
Again the room fell silent. Teddy was surprised that Jeremy was the first to speak. “Well, I guess we’re breaking in to an FBI computer.”
“What?” Dara said. “You’re joking, right?”
“I mean, it seems like the only logical option,” Jeremy said. “Teddy is in trouble. She asked for our help.” He stood up.
Teddy was surprised that it was Jeremy jumping to her defense first. She looked between him and Molly, but Molly was only nodding along to Jeremy’s words.
“The boy makes a point. I guess I’m in, too,” Dara said.
“I’m already in,” Molly said.
“Look at what’s been happening around here. Three blood samples were stolen. Two recruits went missing. Teddy’s saying she could be next,” Jillian said.
Pyro still looked like he was going to set something on fire. “You’ve kept this to yourself for too long, Teddy.”
If she didn’t know better, she would have said that he looked almost hurt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if I could trust you.” She saw the fire in his eyes turn dim. “We need you,” she said.
He waited. They all waited. In the moments of silence, Teddy considered the man she’d dismissed as a player. She’d been the one to see only what was on the surface. Everything he’d done and told her about himself—his dedication to his partner’s family, his inability to leave Molly behind—had shown him to be deeply loyal. Someone who could love fiercely. Someone who, once he found what he wanted, wouldn’t be that willing to let it go. She had been the one unable to let him in. Maybe it wasn’t Pyro who had set the terms of their relationship but her.
His body tensed and he squared his shoulders, his decision made. “Of course you need me,” he said.
“Is that a yes?” Dara asked.
They waited as Pyro seemed to measure his words, the outcome. “You think I’d let you punks go without me?” He stood. “But we’d better not get caught. Federal prisons are fireproof.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
IN THE HEIST MOVIES TEDDY had watched with her dad—the ones that usually took place in Vegas—schemes fell in place pretty quickly. Plans were established, materials gathered, key players recruited, locations scouted, and the mission executed. What movies never portrayed was the waiting. The Misfits soon realized that heists demanded an excruciating amount of waiting. And Teddy Cannon? Not the most patient person in the world.
The visit to FBI headquarters was scheduled at the end of the semester. Which left Teddy with weeks of pretending like everything was normal, weeks of classes where she acted as though nothing had changed.
Instead, she focused on the plan. Went over every step in her head, went through every location, every variable, every possibility. Jeremy would transport them to and from San Francisco on his boat. Dara and Molly would camp in a hotel room on the top floor. While Molly ran the tech portion of the break-in, Dara would facilitate communication between the teams. Jillian—with all the birds of San Francisco as backup—would stay on the ground as their eyes. Pyro would provide ground transport, surveillance, and muscle, if they needed it. Which Teddy hoped to God they didn’t.
But the whole plan hinged on her. She needed to enter the FBI offices, log on to Nick’s computer, and leave the premises before any FBI agents noticed that the team had broken about a dozen laws right under their noses.
The first obstacle to overcome: mental influence. If the plan went sideways, she might need to convince someone to keep quiet. And for that, she needed Jeremy.
Jeremy waited outside of Fort McDowell, hands in his pockets. Teddy still found Jeremy difficult to predict. At times, he seemed overanalytical; at others, completely disinterested. His support had surprised her, but she had to stop worrying about the team. She had to embrace
