Erasing Faith(104)

I stared at him in utter horror. This was far worse than anything I’d imagined. He was talking about mass murder — discussing it so casually, you’d think he were describing a routine trip to the dentist’s office.

“You are evil,” I whispered.

“Thank you,” Benson said, as though I’d complimented him. He walked away a few steps, so he was hovering over Wes’ prone form, and I used the opportunity to scramble backwards to the other side of the table, my purse now only inches from my hand. Istvan’s eyes followed my every move — they hadn’t unlatched from me since he’d stepped inside the cabin — so I couldn’t grab my gun. Not yet.

But now, it was just a reach away.

My stomach turned and my hands twitched in desire to curl around my pistol as I watched Benson deliver a brutal kick to Wes’ side. Looming over him, he watched carefully to see if Wes would regain consciousness and seemed angry when he failed to.

“Pick him up, put him in that chair,” he snapped at Istvan, gesturing toward Wes’ prone form.

“Is there a reason I can’t just kill him now?” Istvan muttered.

Benson’s eyes went cold — he didn’t like his authority questioned. “Besides the fact that I f*cking said so?” His voice was even more frigid than his gaze. “I want him alive so I can see the look in his eyes when I finally put a bullet between them.”

I watched helplessly as Istvan grabbed Wes under the armpits and heaved his body into one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. Benson’s eyes were glued to Wes, his hawk-like gaze unwavering. I used the few unsupervised seconds to reach into my purse and extract my Lady Smith. I’d never been so grateful for the pistol’s small size — it was practically undetectable, clasped between my hands. I positioned my body behind the table — a measly shield, but it at least kept their eyes at bay.

When Wes was settled in the chair, both Istvan and Benson turned back to face me. I felt my hands go clammy against the metal barrel of my gun as they stepped closer, moving in unison at some unspoken signal. What they didn’t see, with both their eyes trained on me, was Wes, whose face contorted in a mask of pain as he twitched back into consciousness. His eyes weren’t yet open, but he was coming to.

I felt hope flutter in the pit of my stomach. Alone, against the two of them, I stood about as much chance of lasting as an iceberg in hell. But with Wes’ help, maybe I could make it out of here.

If he didn’t make a sound…

If they didn’t notice him moving…

If I could stall until he awoke…

…we might just have a chance.

There were altogether too many “ifs” in that equation for my liking.

“Is this the part where you kill me?” I glared at Benson, putting a few more feet of distance between us, hoping to draw them further from Wes. His eyelids were fluttering slightly — I hoped he was listening.

“No,” Benson said. “This is the part where he kills you.”

Istvan stepped closer to me and I could see, behind the burned skin he wore like a horrific Halloween costume, a madness in his eyes that hadn’t been there three years ago.

“Istvan, you don’t have to do this,” I said, taking another step away. This time, my back hit the wall — there was nowhere else to go.

“I don’t have to,” he said, a dark edge to his voice. “I want to. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years, Faith. A lot.” His eyes skimmed down my body in a hungry way that made my stomach clench in fear. “Been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Shit.

“You really don’t think other people will figure out what you’re planning?” My voice trembled a little, but I kept speaking, trying to keep my eyes steady on Benson. I couldn’t bear to look at Istvan anymore and I was too scared to glance in Wes’ direction, fearing they’d notice he was waking up. “You think Wes is the only one smart enough to figure out you’re working with Szekely?”

Benson’s glare intensified. “No one will find out and, even if they do, it doesn’t matter. As soon as I’ve brokered the prototype deal, I’ll leave the agency.”

“They’ll find you.” I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. “They’ll track you down and kill you.”

“Szekely’s base is impenetrable,” Istvan chimed in, his voice boastful. “Even if they find it, they won’t get inside.”

“I thought his compound was destroyed three years ago,” I said, trying my best to sound guileless.

“His Budapest compound, maybe,” Istvan snarled. “But not the underground one—”

“Bordas!” Benson clipped, trying to cut him off. It was too late.

“—in Tokaj,” he finished.

I tried to hide my smile. Istvan had always been a little too chatty for his own good.

“Dammit, Bordas!” Benson yelled, turning to his partner. “Shut your mouth in front of her.”

“Who’s she gonna tell? She’ll be dead in a few minutes.”

I paid no attention to his words, or the angry rebuttal Benson shot back at him — my eyes were locked on Wes, who’d finally regained consciousness. Our eyes met and I saw, there in the depths of his gaze, that he knew exactly what was happening here. I scanned his face, taking in the slight lift of his brows, the infinitesimal tilt of his head in Benson’s direction, and it was as though, in that sliver of time, we shared one mind. I adjusted my grip on the gun and bobbed my head in a tiny show of acknowledgement.