Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(32)

“And you discovered her like this when?”

“About two hours ago. I’d turned the lights on, since she hadn’t eaten in a while, and I—”

“Two hours pass before it occurs to you that this might be of interest to me. And it was obvious that she hasn’t been eating regularly. How long had she been fasting? Was there any purpose to that, or was it just petty cruelty on your part?”

“Well, we, ah . . . we were following your orders, sir. You said that keeping her stressed and off balance would help create the conditions—”

“And you interpreted that to mean that you should malnourish her. How very creative of you.”

“Sir, I—”

“Shut up. You disgust me. You and Hu both. Take me to her.”

He fumed silently as he followed Anabel through the facility. Angry at himself for giving inferior people too much rein. Letting the situation degenerate to the point where the girl could actually have been damaged. Such a waste. He had an unfortunate tendency to expect the best in his people, and they almost always disappointed him.

Anabel unlocked the door. The room was dank and fetid. Lara Kirk lay on the bed like a saint’s marble effigy, her high, perfect breasts rising and falling slowly. He leaned to admire her face. Translucent skin, lovely bone structure. Too thin, and those splendid eyes were set in pools of bruised shadow, but her haunting beauty was still evident. And her mouth. Perfectly shaped. He looked forward to seeing it painted red as he led her across a ballroom in an evening gown.

She was perfect. Very young, true. He was in his fifties, she was in her mid-twenties. But men of his wealth and stature almost always had younger wives, and he valued her fertility. He wanted to breed that spirit, that intelligence, and above all, her innate psi qualities, into his children. And he deeply enjoyed beauty. He had no interest in women who were not strikingly beautiful.

He approached the mental probe as a talented lover approached a kiss. Not grabbing and slobbering, but circling, taking his time. He had no doubt that he would be able to penetrate her shield. She had first dosed mere months ago, and his psi powers were immense.

They ought to be. He’d paid for them with blood and agony.

He hovered closer, savoring the anticipation of knowing her thoughts, her feelings, her dreams. Closer . . . he reached . . .

And bumped up against a force field. His psi powers bounced right off it. He tried again, digging, probing, thrusting. Then hacking.

It was like fighting air. He could not orient himself against that shield. It deflected his energy, made him feel frantic, almost frightened.

He hung over her, eyes squeezed shut. How the hell had she done this? How dare she? Drops of liquid pattered onto her face, her neck, her gray tank top. It was sweat, dripping from his forehead.

He straightened, barely catching the look in Anabel’s eyes before her gaze flicked away. Relief. Spiteful pleasure to see him in difficulty.

“See?” He heard smugness in her tone. “That’s the shield I was telling you about. See what I mean? It’s the same one she uses when—”

Whap. His invisible hand smacked, knocking her across the room. She hit the cinderblock wall and slid to the floor, holding her mouth.

“Yes,” he said. “I see. What is more important is, do you see?”

She nodded hastily, hunched and shaking.

“Get up,” he said. He turned back to Lara. The delicate jut of her nipples were brown shadows beneath the thin fabric.

Time to show everyone in this room who was in control.

He seized the shirt, ripped it right down the middle of her chest with one violent jerk, exposing her bare bosom. He stared down at her body. Like a dancer’s, but with more generous breasts. He splayed both hands over her chest. Angry as he was, her inert body excited him. The harder to tame, the more worth the trouble. To a point.

Lara Kirk was about to learn exactly where that point was.

His hands tightened. “Bring me the electric shock paddles.”





8


Miles drummed his nails as he waited for Hu to emerge from the hospital. Hours went by before the white Accura edged out of the parking garage and gave him something else to think about.

Miles waited the shortest possible decent interval, and pulled out after him. Hu’s route suggested that he was heading back to I-84 East, back up the Gorge. All he could do was follow. Gather more info.

Hu stopped at Trout Lake to gas up, so Miles did, too. As soon as Hu pulled out, he called Connor.

Con didn’t waste words. “Why the f*ck is your phone turned off?”

“You guys ready to move?”

Surprise derailed Con’s scold. “Where to?”

“I’ve got a fix on the facility where they’re keeping Lara.”

“Oh, do you, now? Thanks for keeping us in the loop!”

“I wasn’t sure till just now,” Miles explained. “And I’m still—”

“Why the f*ck did you gut the trace on your phone? We could have been right on your ass! This minute!”

“Um, that would explain why I gutted it,” Miles said. “Look, are you just going to rant? Because if you are, I’ll hang up.”

“Just give me the f*cking data,” Con grumbled.

“I’ve got a Specs trace on this guy’s car.” Miles read out the code. “I’m just out of Trout Lake, on eastbound 84. He’s heading toward Kolita Springs. I’m pretty sure that’s where they’re keeping her. It’s Greaves, that piece-of-lying-shit douche bag. It was him all along.”