Finally. A reaction.
Now he had a starting place and knew what to do: establish a common bond. “If my girlfriend contracted a life-threatening disease, I’d want to die myself. She’s my life.” He told himself the words were a lie, but he couldn’t stop an image of Mishka from flashing through his mind. Every muscle in his body tightened. Not now. “Joe knows you weren’t yourself when you attacked him. He knows you didn’t mean to hurt him.”
Nothing.
“At least tell me how you’re doing, Patty, so I can tell Joe. He’s so worried. He’s not sleeping. He’s not eating. I’m afraid he’ll get sick. So tell me, how are you?”
“How do you think I am?” she muttered, the words slurred. “Home, home, want to go home.”
“I want to help you get there,” he said, doing his best to hide his relief. She was talking. “I want you back with Joe. First, you have to answer some questions for me. Okay?”
She stilled, not even breathing that he could see. Then her lids lifted slowly and she was staring right at him, her dark eyes seeming to swirl with vast tomes of knowledge. More knowledge than any twenty-three-year-old should possess.
“Same questions you asked my friends?” Her voice was layered now, both high and low, like Nolan’s had been.
Jaxon blinked in surprise. Friends? To his knowledge, none of the victims knew one another. They didn’t live next to one another, didn’t work in the same buildings, didn’t frequent the same salons. And since becoming A.I.R.’s “guests,” they damn sure hadn’t had any contact with one another. “Which friends?”
“The girls here.”
“How do you know I spoke with them?”
She smiled, and the sight of that smile was a little freaky. Too sharp teeth in a saliva-filled mouth. “They told me.”
“How?” The women had not been allowed to leave their rooms. Except for their doctors, they had not been allowed visitors. More than that, the walls were soundproof. No way the women had been able to talk through them.
The light in Patty’s eyes dimmed, leaving them suddenly vacant. “Who are you?” Once again, the words were slurred, no longer layered.
Jaxon’s brow furrowed. What. The. Hell? “My name is Jaxon. I came to help you.”
“Am I dying?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “He’s sorry. He didn’t mean to do it.”
He? The otherworlder? “Do what?”
“Hurt me.”
“I’m sure he didn’t. What’s his name?”
A tremor racked her, and she drew her arms tighter around her stomach. So tight the blue lines of her veins swelled.
“Patty. Who is ‘he’?”
“I’m not gonna tell,” she said in a singsong voice.
Protective of the one responsible for her current position? Most likely. None of the others had been. And that Patty was, a woman who had only spoken to him because he’d mentioned her love for her boyfriend, seemed odd. “If I know who he is, maybe I can find him and bring him to you.” Jaxon’s warm breath created a sheen of moisture underneath the mask, uncomfortable and constricting. “Would you like that?”
“He gave me a baby,” she said as if Jaxon hadn’t spoken.
“Yes.” Gentle, gentle. A quick body scan upon arrival had revealed that little gem. Just like the others. “I know.”
“It’s a boy.”
“That’s wonderful, but how do you know?” She was only a few weeks along and none of the other women, also pregnant, had given any indication that they even knew their situation.
“He told me.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Jaxon found himself asking again.
“He talks in my mind. Like the others.”
Who talked in her mind? The Schön or the baby? Who were the others? The other victims? “What do they tell you?”
“I’m hungry,” she said, once again ignoring his question. Maybe she hadn’t heard it. Her expression was lost, her trembling more violent. “Want to eat.”
“Answer my questions and I’ll bring you anything you want, I promise. Joe told me you like chocolate chip cookies. I have a box at my desk.”
“No cookies.” She licked her lips, then smacked them together with a ravenous growl that had nothing to do with cookies. Slowly her gaze rose, just like before, and latched onto him. “No cookies.”
Great.
She stilled, a predator who had just spotted prey.
She was gearing to attack.
Sighing, he turned and the door opened automatically. He stepped into the hall, heard Patty screech. He cringed and turned again. She was racing toward him, teeth bared, saliva dripping from them.
The doors locked together before she reached him.
Part of Jaxon wished he’d snuck a gun inside that cell. He suspected the doctors were going to let each woman go to term with her pregnancy. He suspected the sick babies were going to be tested, mere pincushions. The thought sickened him. He could hear their excuses now: For the good of mankind.
“Jaxon,” Mia said, suddenly beside him.
He hadn’t heard her approach. He didn’t face her, but continued to stare at the door. “Yes?”
“I think we found Nolan’s voice signal.”
CHAPTER 16
Two days before
I know, honey, but something’s come up. I need an hour, maybe two, okay? Then I’ll be home.” Pause. A warm smile. “You’re a tough negotiator, you know that? All right, all right. Forty-five minutes and no longer. I’ll be home then.”
Pause.
“Love you, too.”
Kill me. Hearing Estap goo-goo with his wife always sickened Le’Ace.
“Talk again soon.” Senator Estap hung up the phone and faced Le’Ace, his soft expression hardening into something menacing.
She’d always marveled that he could morph from loving husband to fierce master in a matter of seconds. Though she despised him with every fiber of her being, she had to concede that he wasn’t an ugly man. Didn’t have horns, fangs, or a devil’s tail. He was average height, lean, with thick brown hair and intelligent hazel eyes more brown than green.
She had hazel eyes, and she hated that they shared the trait.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his middle. Dressed in a very expensive double-breasted suit, he radiated wealth and power. The years had (unfortunately) been kind to him. His skin was smooth, mostly unlined, and glowed healthily. There were only a few strands of gray in his hair, but she knew he’d had those chemically added to give him a more distinguished air.
Truly, she would have loved to kill him. Savagely. Painfully, slowly. People would find pieces of him in different corners of the world for years. One fear stopped her, however: what if her control panel, wherever it was, fell into the hands of someone worse?
Estap had never commanded her to sleep with him or blow him. Someone else might do that and more.
“Did you enjoy rehabilitation?” he asked her.
Rehabilitation, aka punishment.
She was seated across from him. Over the years, he’d changed offices many times, but their positions had always remained the same. Always he sat behind the desk and always she sat across from him like a naughty schoolgirl.
“What do you think?” she asked in return.
“I think you hated every minute.”
She shrugged, refusing to give him the reaction he craved. “Wasn’t too bad.”
His gaze sharpened.
No emotion. Reveal nothing.
After leaving the compound, she’d been escorted to a laboratory where she’d been strapped down. Scientists had attempted to “clean” the chip and remove any feelings she might harbor for Jaxon.
Emotions promoted rebellion, after all, and Estap couldn’t have his pet gearing for revolt.
She’d fooled everyone into thinking the procedure worked, that she’d forgotten most of her time with Jaxon and everything that happened between them in private. And they’d believed her because, to them, she was merely another computer to program. Press a button and voilà.
They didn’t want to acknowledge that her memories were stored in her brain, like a human, and not in the chip. Then they might have to question their treatment of her.
“Why am I here?” she finally asked.
Estap kicked up his legs, resting his ankles on the desk’s surface. “I have a job for you.”
“I’m listening.” She remained still, not shifting in her seat, not even blinking. To reveal her dread was to invite his satisfaction.
“We’ve tracked the Schön who calls himself Nolan. Remember him?”
“Yes.” Every scientist she’d seen the past week had asked her that question.
“We think he revealed his newest location on purpose, and we think he did it to draw you to him. We think he’s ready to talk to you again.”
“And the A.I.R. agent you told me about?” she asked, managing to keep her tone neutral even though she was shaking inside.
Estap paused, his gaze cutting into her like a laser. “We will not bring him back into the equation unless absolutely necessary.”
Both a blessing and a curse. “What equates necessity?”
He stiffened. His tongue slid over his teeth. She thought he meant to ignore her question. Instead, he replied, “Nolan’s infatuation with love may cause him to seek you and the agent together rather than separately. If that’s the case…”
She could hope, at least. She missed Jaxon terribly. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought of him, yearned for him, ached for him. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t regretted the way she’d sent him away.
He hadn’t betrayed her, hadn’t abandoned her. Even though he’d left her frozen in that bed, he’d actually meant to save her as promised. As she’d suspected, sending him away had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she’d had to do it. Or so she’d told herself. A clean break was always easier.
Easier. Yeah.
After she knocked him out, Dallas had launched at her with a roar. She’d been distracted, trying to ease Jaxon’s body gently to the ground, and so the agent had managed to tackle her unaware. She’d lost her breath.
“If you killed him,” Dallas had snarled as they’d rolled around in a bid for dominance, “I’ll rip out your fucking heart.”
“He’s sleeping!” she’d shouted.
The otherworlder, Devyn, had watched the entire exchange with a grin on his handsome face.
Their attention had turned to Jaxon, then, to look him over. She’d sneaked from the room and into the caves below before they decided to freeze her in place and take her with them. Each step farther away from the man who’d pleasured her and held her so tenderly had been agony. Tears had streamed from her eyes and when she’d watched them leave the compound from the underground monitors, she’d crumbled to the ground and sobbed like a baby.
She’d cried so hard, in fact, that the chip had eventually shut her down completely in an effort to compose her.
Jaxon was everything she’d ever desired for her life, yet something she could never have because she would ultimately destroy him. Yet he already meant more to her than anything else ever had. Even, she suspected, her own life, which she had done despicable things to protect.
She wanted more of him.
If ordered to hurt him, she knew she would not be able to do it. She’d rather endure the physical punishment and pain Estap would heap on her. Actually, she would willingly and happily endure both to be with Jaxon again.
Did he think of her? Did he remember her with fondness or was he furious with her for sending him away unconscious?
A pang of regret and hope sparked inside her chest again, a potent blend of torment. Maybe she could sneak to his house. Maybe she could explain. Maybe—
“—listening to me,” Estap said, his hard voice biting through her thoughts.
She blinked, trying to clear her head. “I’m sorry,” she lied. She would find a way. Just one more time. She had to see him one more time. “I was considering the best way to approach Nolan.”
“I’ve considered that for you.” Estap sat up, grabbed a folder, and tossed it at her. “I think you’ll like what I’ve decided.”
Yeah. Right. Dread overshadowing all other emotions, she caught the file and flipped it open. She did not look at it, though. No, she kept her attention on Estap. He would explain; he liked the sound of his own voice.
“Since he’s fascinated with love and we do not want to involve the A.I.R. agent unless absolutely necessary”—neither of them had spoken Jaxon’s name aloud, she suddenly realized, but had been referring to him as the agent—“you will approach him as if you have not been able to get him out of your mind. You will tell him you love him and that you want to be with him.”
Like that would work. Idiot. “Sir, I think the Schön are only attracted to women who are fertile. That is something I can never be.”
Estap motioned to the papers in her lap. “Look at the file.”
Automatically, her gaze lowered. Her eyes widened as she scanned the contests. Medical records, photos. “A man was infected with the virus?”
“Yes. I think it’s safe to say he wasn’t ovulating.”
The man in question had gray-tinted skin with patches of black. Rot, she guessed, as his body was slowly dying. His eyes were sunken, his pale hair falling out in chunks. He’d probably been a strong man once. He possessed big bones that were capable of holding large amounts of muscle mass. Now he looked emaciated.
