Cloak and Dagger (The IMA Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Boutilier. What you are implying now is treason and unless you have sufficient proof to back your claims, I suggest you keep such idle speculations to yourself. I have to question your motives in telling me this. Especially now. The timing is convenient.” He straightened, causing his suit to stretch tight at the seams. “Too convenient.”
    “ What are you implying?”
    “ There are some who say you are the — what was that phrase? Powder keg doused in petrol? — of this organization. Nearly all your allegations against Mr. Callaghan are applicable to you, Mr. Boutilier. Then there is the matter of these petty squabbles which, from what you tell me, you do little to discourage. You speak of abusing power — you, yourself, are not faultless.”
    “ You think I want your job?”
    “ To be perfectly honest, Mr. Boutilier” — something hard pressed against my chest — “I'd rather not find out.” I waited for darkness. “That is why I have asked Mr. Callaghan to do it for me.” The pressure against my ribs disappeared. “ Think of this as an incentive to find real proof.” The gun was still in his hand, but it was no longer aimed in my direction. I couldn't imagine that was the incentive he was referring to. Even though it wasn't a joke, I almost did laugh this time.
    “ I think I'd prefer a pay raise.”
    “ Be content with your life.” Richardson tucked the gun back in its drawer; I noticed he didn't turn the safety back on. Was he losing it, or were his concerns valid? I was betting on a mixture of both. “Would you have allowed me to shoot you, Mr. Boutilier?”
    “ That depends, sir.”
    “ On what?” He looked genuinely curious.
    “ Whether you intended to pull the trigger.”
     
    Christina:
    My cell phone buzzed inside my black leather satchel. It was Renee. “Hello?”
    “ Where are you? Class is starting soon.”
    “ I got into another fight with my mom.”
    She sighed. Or maybe it was static. “Again? Oh, Christina.”
    “ She attacked my clothes.”
    It was definitely a sigh this time. “What were you wearing?”
    “ That outfit I showed you in Cosmo.”
    “ What was wrong with it?”
    “ Apparently fat people are only allowed to wear sweatsuits,” I muttered. “Tell Alvarez I'm going to be late. Tell him…I had a family emergency, or something.”
    “ All right. But he's not going to believe me. See you when you get here.” She hung up.
    I ran.
    Like any decent private school, Holy Trinity had a back story. It was built in the 1800s, as a mission. The original chapel remained at the heart of the heart of the school and was used for assemblies and graduation. Many people admired the sprawling stucco buildings—designed in imitation of the original Spanish Colonial Revival style — and we were reminded on a daily basis how lucky we were to attend a school with such a pristine and historical campus.
    I would have been happy to go to an ordinary public school, like the rest of my friends from Lewis and Clark Middle School, but my parents pushed me to go to Holy Trinity because private school had status and prestige. That was important to my mom and dad. Several female senators had gone to and graduated from Holy Trinity, as well as a number of female lawyers, doctors, and moderately successful business women.
    I squeezed through the door of my Spanish class, out of breath from the run, trying to keep my expensive bag from hitting against the frame and getting scuffed. More scuffed. Señor Alvarez glanced up from the role sheet as I slunk into my seat. “Late again, Parker,” he said. Across the aisle, Renee shot me an apologetic look. I tried , she mouthed.
    “ Sorry, sir,” I mumbled, digging my Spanish workbook out of my backpack.
    He rolled his eyes and some people giggled.
    The uniforms were supposed to hide status, but everyone knew. These were teenage girls. My mother's name garnered prestige and a reputation, but since I didn't jibe with that reputation and wasn't the