Destiny Strikes Read Online Free Page A

underneath the floorboards and into a Conductive Grid she had built in the ground around her home. She had the diffusion devices installed throughout the house. One thing she’d learned early on, soil, and rubber were effective ways to diffuse currents.
    “Do you hear that?” Wallace asked. “It almost sounds like someone making popcorn or playing with a whip?”
    “It’s nothing,” she said, brushing it off casually, while asking, “By the way, what’re you up to today?”
    She ignored the fresh smell of smoke.
    “Turns out when I decided to stop in on Avedon, he was still up. Not too long ago, we returned your bike. Even though I’ve never borrowed your bike before. We’re good, right?”
    Poleaxed by Wallace’s dumb question, she couldn’t believe he didn’t realize there would be consequences for taking her motorcycle. Avedon knew better and probably laughed his ass off instead of warning Wallace of how much trouble he’d be in over this screw-up. They were both asses.
    “Don’t worry about it for now. We’ll discuss it later.” She tried to sound convincing. “As long as we’re family, we can forgive each other, right.”
    Hah. While the statement was true enough, there was nothing written in stone about teaching a person not to do it again.
    Hanging up, she went upstairs to change.
    In a haze of purpose, Fallon dressed in leather biker attire: black vest, pants, and high-heeled boots, then made her way outside. Once she checked SAM over, a cloud of white smoke trailed her down the drive. She knuckled back on the throttle as she hit open road.
    The blurring scenery augmented the sun shadowing the eastern side of Seattle’s Cascade Mountains. Wind pressed against her skin-tight clothing and lashed her helmet, calming her in a way few understood. Her brothers would never grasp the gravity of the despair she’d undergone growing up under such tight constraints. Control or kill.
    Freedom for her came the day she’d ridden her first Indian motorcycle in 1947. Harley really earned its pay, upgrading SAM’s frame. Underneath mounds of chrome, paint, and a few integrated modern conveniences the melding of the two was beautiful. The original kick-start ignition revealed SAM’s real age.
    Where her brothers had formed countless relationships with other people, the only bond she’d made strong enough to stand the test of time was with her motorcycle.
    Pathetic. But true.
    Something happening to her baby made her feel ill.
    When she arrived at the upscale condominium, her anger peaked again at the sight of Wallace’s car. None of the reason’s he’d taken SAM seemed true. The twerp lived to stir the pot. Knowing the best way to rile her was through her motorcycle.
    After parking, she took the stairs slowly. Several deep breaths later, she knocked. Her hand poised to knock again. Avedon opened the door.
    “What’s up?” Avedon’s grin was mischievous as it spread wide across his handsome face.
    Hug rejected, she pushed past his open arms.
    “Not today, buddy.”
    Her search of the apartment found Wallace laid up in Avedon’s spacious entertainment room. He gripped a PS3 controller in his hands, engrossed in Infamous 2 gameplay.
    Hands on her hips, she waited for him to acknowledge her presence.
    Time up, and furious, she ignored the hunky animated character who wielded lighting as he saved Los Angeles from mutants. “ One day maybe you’ll be able to control your gift and do some of the cool shit this guy does,” her brothers had often teased. She never let on how much it hurt she was inept at brandishing her power. Maybe it would always be so.
    Resentment fragmented reasoning, she moved in front of the screen blocking Wallace’s line of sight.
    “Move outta the way.”
    “Why’d you do it, Wallace?”
    His arms dropped between his legs dejectedly. Rolling his eyes, he complained, “This ain’t about SAM, is it? Come on. I said I’m sorry. Now move!”
    His lack of remorse galled her.