In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(96)

Once more, her father leaned down to brush his lips over Ari’s cheek. And then he whispered as he pulled away.

“We are not going to say our goodbyes and our I love yous like one or all of us is going to die,” he reprimanded. “By all that’s holy, Ari, if you don’t get your ass back to this cell and let me and your mother out so we can escape this place together I’ll follow you to heaven and fight God himself for you. He’ll get his time later. But for my lifetime, you belong to me.”

Ari closed her eyes, peace settling over her like the warmest, most soothing blanket.

“When they come for me, be ready,” she whispered, her heart thumping, not in fear, but in anticipation of what was to come. “When they take me, you must stand together and remain in the exact spot you are when I last see you. It’s the only way I can save you. Trust me. Have faith in me. I won’t let you down.”

THIRTY-THREE

THEY came sooner than Ari expected, but she was glad for it. She’d rested against her mother, surrounded by her warmth and love, and then she’d roused from sleep, but she had remained stoic and silent, not wanting to give anything away to the silent observers she knew were there.

The only concession she’d made was to tell her parents she was fine. Just a little tired. But that was for the benefit of her observers. Because she was ready.

Not even a half an hour later, they came for her.

The same two guards came striding down the hall, stopping at the cell door, both holding guns again, but these were real. Or at least they looked real to her. Holding real bullets capable of killing in a matter of seconds. She knew it was a silent message to her not to resist. A not so silent message to her father when one of the guards simply held a gun to her mother’s head and coldly told her father that unless he wanted his wife’s gray matter splattered all over the walls he’d stand down and not make any trouble.

As Ari had requested, as soon as Ari “surrendered” herself to the guards and went without a fight, her father gathered her mother to his side and stood directly in front of the cot, his arms firmly around her.

Ari stared back at them as she was roughly shoved through the cell door. She memorized every marker, every detail, taking mental measurements of as much of a barrier she’d need to encompass them both and keep them from harm.

Then she smiled and mouthed “I love you” just before one of the guards yanked on her arm and hauled her out of view of her parents.

It was hard for Ari to act resigned, afraid, and tentative. Like she feared these bastards. When what she wanted to do was rain hell down on them with a fury they’d never experienced in their life. What life they had left, that is.

But she forced herself to be patient, knowing she needed this to go off without a hitch. She needed to be far enough away from her parents so that the most devastation would occur in the center of the compound and not the periphery where the cells were positioned and where her parents were being held.

She focused on and anticipated seeing the shock and the eventual realization that they’d seriously underestimated her. That they had f*cked with the wrong woman. Revenge was thick in her mouth, a coating on her very soul. Not a taint. Not a scourge. Nothing she would ever be remorseful over.

It was sweet. Or so the saying went.

Because the world was a better place without people like these. People who thought nothing of death, intimidation, hurt and fear to achieve their twisted objectives. The hell of it was she still didn’t know what their primary goal was. Only that they wanted to use her—her powers—in a way she knew was evil.

It could be said she was as twisted and as evil as they were, and she supposed there was some truth to that sentiment. But at the end of the day, her actions, her conscience, the consequences for her choices were between her and God. And she was okay with answering to the higher power who’d gifted her with her own “higher power.”

She was once again shoved into the sterile, blindingly white laboratory with the same two goons—this time she was going with Pete and Repete—and the smarmy “medical professional” who no more had a medical degree than she did.

“So what now,” she said tiredly, purposely injecting extreme weariness—and resignation—into her voice.

The lab rat rubbed his chin in an exaggerated fashion and studied her intently, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“So far you’ve proven to be a major disappointment,” he said in disgust. “And considering the time and money that have gone into the careful cultivation of gaining access to you, disappointment is an understatement.”

“Gee,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “I feel so insulted that a lab rat and his goons find me a major disappointment. What’s the matter? Were you expecting me to be able to achieve world peace? Or maybe fix the ozone issue. Oh wait, there’s also the issue of all the starving children in Africa.”

She began to press each digit of her hand to count down each point.

“Or maybe you wanted me to find a cure for Ebola. There’ve been at least ten cases reported in the U.S. over the last month or so. Want me to annihilate all the African nations on the Ebola watch list for you?”

“For someone who seemed willing to do anything to save your parents, you show none now,” “Pete,” aka Goon A, said in an icy tone.

She sent him a mocking smile that had him furrowing his brow in brief confusion.