“Don’t make me shoot you.” Enzo kept moving forward. “It will look bad on my record, and you know our supervisors hate that kind of paperwork.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed to slits. His hand tightened on his gun. “If you’re an officer, why would you shoot me?”
Enzo came even closer. “I told you I was an officer, so you’d know that my gun is loaded, and I won’t miss. I’m not asking again.”
This was taking too long. The guard doubted Enzo, probably doubted the gun was loaded. But would he risk his life on his suspicions?
“What was your score on the ACE?” the man asked.
“Thirty-six, and you’re a lot closer than two hundred meters.”
Whatever that meant, it convinced the guard that Enzo was telling the truth. He scowled, unbuckled his holster, and let it fall to the floor.
Charity pulled out the tranquilizer gun and shot him in the throat. He swatted at the dart and yanked it out. “Why did you do that? I already dropped my gun.”
She left Enzo to deal with explanations and ran down the hallway to find her father’s cell. As she passed the windowed doors, she caught sight of men and women inside the rooms. They all wore neon yellow jumpers. The small rooms looked to have nothing in them besides a bed, toilet, and sink.
Three-fourteen. Where was it?
She spotted her father before she saw the number. He paced the room, head down, somber. She’d know his silhouette anywhere.
She pushed the button to open his door. A beam of light shot out, scanning her face. When it finished, the cover over the keypad slid back. She typed in the number and the door switched open.
Her father turned to her and a startled expression replaced his frown. “You came.”
Was it surprise in his voice or worry? She couldn’t tell. He rushed to her, arms out, and she threw herself into his embrace.
She only let herself hug him for a moment. No time for more. She pulled the shoes from her purse and gave them to him. “Enzo has clothes for you to change into.”
Her father tucked the shoes under his arm and glanced down the hallway to where Enzo hovered over the semi-conscious guard. “Before we go, we have another person to rescue.”
“Another person?” Charity repeated. Getting the three of them out of the building would be hard enough. “We need to go before someone realizes a guard has been drugged.”
Her father headed up the hallway instead of toward Enzo. Charity lifted her hands in frustration, then followed him. Was he trying to get them caught? They didn’t have clothes for anyone else.
He stopped at cell number 307 and motioned for her to open the door. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Fine. The person had to be someone who could help them. Perhaps a muscled man with skills who her father had met in prison. Charity pushed the cell’s button. The facial recognition scanned her and unlocked the keypad. Her father typed in a number.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“A telekinetic.”
“A telekinetic? Aren’t they dangerous?”
“Yes.”
Great. Telekinetics were known for turning weapons against people, and they didn’t have any limitations on when they could use their powers like psychics did. Did her father really know what he was doing?
The door swished open, revealing a girl sitting on the bed. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old. Her shoulder-length blue hair showed a couple of inches of black roots, and her tattooed lipstick and eyeliner looked at odds with the large yellow prison jumper.
They were rescuing a child. Could the girl help them, or did her father just feel sorry for her?
She glowered at them with cold, hateful eyes. “What do you want?”
Charity’s father smiled calmly. “We’re breaking out. Come with us.”
The girl didn’t move. “Come with you where?”