Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page A

of her left shoulder. She landed hard, scorching the carpet, then rolled, staggered halfway to standing, reached back, and pulled what had hit her from her shoulder.
    A small dart.
    She looked at it, uncomprehending, before dropping to her hands and knees and then face-planting on the floor. Dark, acrid vapor rose from the carpet all around the outlines of her body.
    “Talk about mood swings,” said Nick.
    Coach Ira Jericho stood in the doorway, loading another dart into the pistol in his hand.
    “Check to see if she’s out,” said Jericho.
    “No way, I’m not touching her,” said Nick, still wielding the shovel.
    “What, she too tough for you, McLeish? Can’t be serious, little bitty thing like that,” said Jericho, walking toward her body.
    “Little bitty thing? Dude, you didn’t see her go straight-up psycho. She’s like a hella honey badger.”
    They both looked down at her, Nick a step behind Jericho, maintaining a safe distance. Head turned to the side, eyes rolled up in her head, Brooke’s back rose and fell regularly, deep breaths, totally out.
    “Shouldn’t we tie her up or something?” asked Nick. “Check that. She’d just melt the rope.”
    “She won’t be doing anything but drooling on the floor for a few hours.”
    “What’d you hit her with?”
    “Enough to tranq a moose,” said Jericho, looking at her closely.
    Nick leaned in closer, peering at her delicate eyelashes and turned-up nose. “I’m just kinda glad I didn’t have to clock her with this shovel. I mean, no matter how mad evil she’s gone, she’s still sort of my friend, you know?”
    Jericho stared at him. “Whatever you say, McLeish. Are you ready to roll?”
    “Put me in, Coach.”
    “Grab your gear. We don’t have much time.”
    Nick grabbed his backpack and the one they’d packed for Will, then joined Jericho at the door.
    “Guess I’ll have to work through all this emotional stress down the road,” said Nick, taking a last look back at Brooke as they hustled out into the hall.
    —
    Ajay took another bite of the ham and cheese sandwich the butler, Lemuel Clegg, had brought him and chomped on another handful of potato chips.
    “I can’t quite put my finger on what it is,” said Ajay, chewing away, “but the sandwich is particularly delicious this evening.”
    Clegg didn’t usually stay and watch him eat—in fact, he hadn’t done it since Ajay first started working on the files a month before.
    Drat.
    “Did you make this sandwich yourself, Mr. Clegg?”
    Clegg just stared at him, arms folded, scowling, immune as always to any attempts at charm. The man was so consistently, aggressively antisocial; Will had advised Ajay that the only way to make him leave you alone was to keep talking to him.
    “I’m thinking that you may have employed a different condiment this time? Perhaps some diced gherkin pickles or a strategically deployed slice of Japanese daikon?”
    Clegg looked at his watch.
    Why is he waiting? Does he suspect anything? Have I done something to give away the game?
    “I understand your inscrutability perfectly,” said Ajay with an agreeable grin. “A master chef never gives away his secrets.”
    Ajay snuck a look at his watch: 8:10.
    If this lummox doesn’t clear out of here soon, I’m going to fall seriously behind schedule.
    “I’m going to most likely be working quite late tonight,” said Ajay. “Mr. Elliot wants me to get through at least two more boxes. So I should probably get back to the task at hand.”
    Clegg didn’t move. Ajay noticed a slight clenching of the muscles around Clegg’s eyes when he mentioned Mr. Elliot’s name.
    Maybe he’s afraid of his boss. Or maybe he’s just waiting for the plate.
    Then Ajay remembered something he’d read earlier in the day and put the pieces of a small puzzle together.
    Wait till I tell Will about this one.
    Ajay stuffed the rest of the sandwich—almost an entire half of it—into his mouth and chewed aggressively, then drained