X-Team Three

Part Nine: (Theo) Gina

"Get in the damn truck, Theo!" Zane shouts as he leans out the driver's door, his face a mix of panic and concentrated anger.

I glance back over my shoulder, breathless, to make sure we weren't followed. Chaos is ensuing behind us, but no faces are pointed in our direction. That makes me uneasy, though. We can't have gotten out of that this easily. I don't have time to consider the situation, however. We need to get Gina to safety.

I climb into the passenger seat, and Zane's lead foot on the pedal slams the door shut beside me before I can even get a hand on it. The tires squeal, and I punch him in the arm.

"We're trying not to gain any attention, dumbass," I hiss. "And you could've taken my fingers off if they had been in between the door and the frame!"

"I think laying low was shot out of the water when you forced the car accident, Theo," he snaps back. "And people survive just fine with a few missing digits."

I ignore him and turn around in my seat. Gina is stretched across the backseat with her feet in Drew's lap. She's watching his hand curiously as it curls around her swollen ankle. Shit. Not here and not now. The last thing we need is an already distracted Zane trying to drive us back to headquarters with a screaming woman in the backseat.

"Do you have to do this here, Drew?" I snap. I'm hoping that he gets my meaning so we don't have to explain the incredibly painful psychic healing process to Gina who's already freaked out enough. Zane takes a sharp turn out of the mall parking lot, slamming me into my door.

"I suppose with the way Zane's driving it would be pointless to do it now. I'd just have to start all over again to heal all the bumps and bruises from being tossed around a truck," Drew responds, shooting daggers through the back of Zane's head with his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, you two! I'll slow it down once it's safe!" Zane exclaims, slamming on the brakes at a stop light. Gina cries out in pain when her injured arm smashes into the back of the driver's seat.

I lean over the center console and lock a gaze so threatening on the side of his face that I see him stop breathing. "You'll slow it down now, Zane," I growl, emphasizing each word. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows nervously.

When the light turns green, he taps the gas, and we begin driving at a normal pace. I turn around, my attention back on Gina and Drew.

"Have you explained to her what's going to happen when you do this?" I ask Drew.

He shakes his head. "I was hoping I could just get it all done in one shot. That way she'll only have to endure it once instead of in stages."

"Endure what?" Gina groans, holding her arm tighter now that it's been crushed against the driver's seat.

Drew sighs and removes his hand from her ankle. "Gina, I'm a psychic healer. I can mend every single one of your injuries quickly, but the process isn't comfortable."

I scoff at his interpretation of his abilities and roll my eyes. "Isn't comfortable? Seriously? Gina, it's painful as all hell, but you'll be back to 100% within hours instead of weeks."

Her eyes widen, and her mouth pops open. "I have to endure pain worse than this just to get rid of it?" She closes her eyes and rests her head back against the window, her scowling mouth twisted in pain. "Can we wait until we get to wherever we're going?"

"Sure," Drew states. He rests his palms against her shins just to keep her legs as still as possible.

"Where are we going exactly?" she asks, opening her eyes again and looking right at me.

"Back to our headquarters. You'll be safe there. No one gets in unless we want them to come in," I explain.

What I don't tell her is how much interrogation is going to be involved once she's healed. The government just wants us to keep her safe until the trial, but we're not a witness protection program. There's something paranormal about her case or they'd be taking care of it themselves. My first question is whether she knows what it is or not. Or is this something the feds dug up while running prints from the crime scene. You would think they'd give us as much information as possible, as much as they know, but the feds feed us information on an as needed basis. And they only do it via written word. It only took one case before they realized sending a government agent to give us our missions meant Zane could glean out all the tidbits we weren't supposed to know about as soon as he was in the presence of the messenger. Besides, I'm dying to know how her parents got involved with a crime syndicate in the first place. She looks like a regular, suburban, young woman. No track marks in her arms, takes care of herself, and according to her file, she lives in a condo in a rather wealthy suburb. Something's not meshing here.

"My thoughts exactly," I hear Zane whisper.

"So who are you guys?" she asks. "I've dreamt of all three of you for months now and have no idea why."

"I'm Theo Short," I say, then point at Zane. "This is Zane Schwartz. And the gentleman next to you is Drew Burnside. We're agents for X-Team Three." She looks at me exactly how I thought she would. Exactly how they all do. As if I had just turned purple and floated out the window. "The X-Teams are teams of government agents with specialized abilities. We basically take the cases that the FBI, CIA, and police departments can't or won't."

"And why am I one of those?" she asks.

"We don't know," Drew responds. "Usually a case like this is deemed FBI and you're thrown into a witness protection program until the trial. But, apparently, there's more to the story here and we need to figure out what."

She winces as she sits herself up slightly with Drew's assistance. "When you say specialized abilities, what do you mean? Like gun specialists or SWAT stuff?"

Zane chuckles. "It's a little more complicated than that," he explains. I see him glance at her in the rearview mirror. "I can read minds. Theo can control them. Drew, well, you know now can heal injuries and illnesses with psychic abilities."

Her expression turns blank as she looks at us all. I can't tell if she believes us or not. But I suppose that doesn't matter. She's under our protection now whether she likes it or not, and we don't fail.

"X-Team Three?" she asks. "Is it three because there are three of you?"

"Nope," I respond, turning back around and gazing out the windshield. "There are 12 of us on X-Team Three. Plus support staff."

"Then what's the three for?"

"It's the number that separates us from all the other X-Teams in the world. There are quite a few," Drew states.

She's silent for a long time, at least for a few miles. She and Zane are the only ones who know what she's thinking so I watch his face out of the corner of my eye. He smiles every once in a while, frowns other times, but mostly his expression is just respectful. She's been through a lot, I suppose, and is still kicking. That does deserve respect.

We turn into the driveway of our unassuming, brick structure in a rather dangerous portion of the near west side of Chicago, and Zane stops the truck at the gate. He waves at the hidden camera residing high on the side of the building, the gate lifts, and we pull through.

"That's the only security here? A flimsy gate and a camera?" she asks. I can tell she's trying desperately to be polite about it so I don't take offense to her tone, especially after everything she's been through, but I smile because she has absolutely no idea.

"No," Zane states. "That's the only security we allow the outside world to see." He looks back at her in the rearview mirror again, offering a small knowing smile. "Trust me. You're safer here than you would be if you were a gold bar at Fort Knox."