Master No (Masters and Mercenaries, #9)(87)

The prod was removed, but his body continued to shake. He hated this. Hated the loss of control. Loathed the vulnerability.

He wanted Faith. He wanted to be in bed with Faith, to roll over and find himself in her arms. Safe and warm and wanted.

“Interesting enough for you, Mr. Smith?”

His teeth were chattering too much to reply.

The door opened and through the haze of his pain, he watched as Senator Hank McDonald walked down the stairs and into his torture chamber followed by Faith’s evil sister. Too bad she wasn’t a stepsister to complete the fairy tale imagery.

“You told me I could have Theo,” she complained as her heels clacked against the concrete floor.

“You should have gotten him before he slipped away,” McDonald shot back. “I told you to secure those two before I got to the house.”

“Somehow they knew you were coming. I got to their room with four guards, but they were already gone.”

Smart Theo.

The cattle prod-loving guard traded his favorite torture for Ten’s cell phone. It had been in his pocket. Useless. He’d been too interested in Faith to answer what was likely a heads-up from Theo. He wasn’t sure it would have changed the outcome. Would he have left her there with no explanation? Would he have tried to take her with him? He wouldn’t ever know.

“Apparently Romeo here was too busy to read his texts. Some super spy,” the guard said with a snort.

“That’s his phone?” Hope stepped forward. She was still far overdressed for so casual a place, but then so was her father. Evil, it appeared, had a dress code. No casual Fridays for The Collective. “I could call Theo and get him to exchange himself for Smith.”

“No.” He wasn’t about to change places with Theo. He’d done this before. He’d been in this position and he knew what it could do to a man. He’d sent men in before, back when he’d run a team. There had been times when he’d known the likelihood of a positive outcome was grim. Sometimes it was necessary, but he’d be damned if Theo took his place. Theo was still all shiny and shit. There was nothing like days of pain and mindf*cks to take the shine off a soul.

“I’m going to have to agree with our friend,” McDonald said. He took off his suit coat and neatly hung it over a chair. “Smith is the prize here. There are actually several foreign governments who would like to have a word with him.”

He had to laugh. It bubbled up out of nowhere. Some things were so dark, so black, they required laughter. “Please send me to Tahiti. I really pissed off those f*ckers.”

He’d never actually been, but he could see himself there with Faith in her bathing suit, running out into the ocean and scampering like kids who had nothing to worry about.

“I was thinking more along the lines of China.” The senator obviously didn’t appreciate his black humor. “MSS would love to get hold of you. There are also a few Middle Eastern groups who would like some face time with you.” He turned back to his crew. “After we’re done, I’ll sell him on the open market. You won’t believe what he’ll go for, so I want him to feel the pain, but don’t damage him too much. I need him healthy for his eventual death.”

Hope pouted like a toddler denied a toy. “I wasn’t going to actually trade him. I was going to set a trap and then we’ll have both. Do you really think I’m an idiot?”

“No. You’ve already done enough. How could you let your sister find out about the vaccines? I told you to use another clinic for your trials.”

Hope’s face turned a bright red. “I couldn’t find another clinic. And she never would have known if it hadn’t been for the Ebola outbreak. She would have run through the shots and my man on the ground would have taken care of the patients who came in complaining. She might have heard a few, but things got crazy during the outbreak. I couldn’t control the study.”

Ten stared at Hope. “You’re testing your drugs on Faith’s patients. Nice.”

Hope shrugged. “I’m doing something the FDA might not approve of. And it’s just people in Africa. No one gives a shit about them. My preliminary trials have proven very promising.”

“Poor Mr. Smith,” McDonald said with nauseating sympathy. Though to be fair, pretty much everything was nauseating after the cattle prod. “You know you almost had me. I believed the Timothy Graham persona. Working at McKay-Taggart got my back up a bit, but it’s a large enough company. Do you want to know where you screwed up?”

In oh so many places. His arms ached. He would have more nerve damage to deal with. “Sure. Let’s have a debrief. I seem to have plenty of time.”

“You have no idea how true that is,” the senator replied enigmatically. He undid the buttons at his wrists and began to roll up his sleeves. “I use facial recognition software, too, Smith. You did a good job of avoiding my cameras. Well, the ones you found. There’s a stuffed bear in Faith’s bedroom.”

Taken down by a f*cking nanny cam. Wouldn’t Tag have a laugh at that. “You spy on your daughter?”

“Of course.” He pointed to Hope. “This one in particular requires watching. She’s what psychologists call amoral. Hope is a bit of a sociopath. I find it useful at times, but often she finds it difficult to curb her hungers. I got her the job at Kronberg after I found her testing her drugs and surgical techniques on homeless people. Kronberg has done an exceptional job in focusing her skills.”