Promises in the Dark (34 page)

And then she noticed the water leak that spread across the floor.

She sighed with relief, glad he didn’t see her in a near panic. She headed for the shower, took a long, hot steamy rinse and dressed quickly.

He’d let her sleep late and the CIA was due very soon. If she was lucky, she’d grab a meal before they came.

“Hey, Liv, you around?” Zane called, and she walked out of the bedroom, realizing her chance for food was gone for now, as the CIA agents in charge of her case were walking in behind Zane.

“We’d like to speak with Olivia alone,” she heard the man she knew as Agent Blane tell Zane, who looked at her as if to check her response.

“That’s okay. As long as you’re close,” she told him with a smile.

“I’ll be right in the garage,” Zane told her. He waited a beat, looking between her and the agents, and then went out to the garage again.

And dammit, the fridge was still leaking, despite his best efforts to fix it, and although it was something minor compared to everything else, it was bothering the shit out of him.

He hadn’t had a hell of a lot to do around here to work off excess energy while Liv had slept, and so he’d taken to tinkering with it.

He was on his side, penlight between his teeth, trying to see underneath to the motor, when the dart caught him on the side of the neck.

He reached up and yanked it out of his skin, but it was too late. Whatever drug the metal point had been laced with took effect almost instantaneously because even as he tried to stand, his legs buckled under his weight and he found himself back on the floor.

He could hear and see everything but couldn’t move a damned muscle. Wondered how the hell these men had gotten into the garage.

One of them one bent down toward him, whispered, “This one’s for Kieran,” and showed Zane his own picture on a cell phone, the one taken in Kambia by the man Zane killed, and he knew.

DMH had been there the whole damned time, hiding behind the other distractions—the soldiers, the missionaries. He’d lost focus and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that again.

There was nothing he could do about it now but memorize the faces, the voices of the men standing over him. Whoever they were, they didn’t think Zane would live long enough to hunt them down.

But he would. He had no doubt about that.

“Please, come sit down.” The female agent motioned to the small dining table that had its own nook in between the kitchen and the living room. The wood floor was chilly on Liv’s bare feet and she tucked them under her as she sat across from them.

“You’re going to have to keep moving a bit if you want to do this on your own, Olivia,” Agent Pearl said, her voice soft, which belied the spine of steel Olivia knew she had. She’d seen the look in the agent’s eyes when she’d described what she’d gone through at the hands of DMH, and Olivia knew she’d want this woman on her side in a fight.

But the truth of her words stung too much for her to deal with effectively right now. “I know that.”

Agent Pearl nodded. “What happens when Zane Scott needs to report back for duty in five days if he doesn’t want to run the risk of being AWOL?”

Olivia stared down at her hands, hands that had once gotten her through the toughest of days and allowed her to face down her demons by losing herself in helping people. No one had talked to her about getting back to that. “I’ll figure something out with Dylan Scott.”

Agent Blane simply took notes, his expression pleasant enough as he did so. And still, Agent Pearl talked about safe houses. The possibility of a trial when they caught up with Elijah or the other major players for DMH. Using her information to stop DMH’s black market organs.

“That’s my top priority,” she told them. “Was the information I gave you helpful in that regard?”

Agent Pearl clasped her hands together. “We can’t share that with you, Olivia.”

“Right, suddenly it’s all classified when I want to know what’s happening with information I gave you that could get me killed.” She rubbed her head, the throb behind her eyes sudden and sharp. At the same time she heard the garage door go up.

Zane. God, she needed to talk to him, got up and headed toward the door before the agents could stop her.

She realized later that this was her biggest mistake, especially once the door opened and the tear gas hit her square in the face, filled up the room so fast there was no place to run.

The last thing she saw was the empty garage … and then Elijah’s face.

The scream that rose up died in her throat as her head hit the floor.

She used the remote to turn down the TV—she’d been watching old episodes of
Law & Order
—and waited for him to talk.

He didn’t at first, just sank down on the mattress next to her. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, not his fatigues, and more than a five o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks.

She forced herself not to reach out and rub the scruff, or to kiss him, but even so, she couldn’t help moving closer to him. He responded by pulling her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“We’ve got intel on DMH,” he said finally, and she swore she heard a crack in his voice before he continued. “They might have Zane.”

She moved so she could see his face, sat up straight, grabbed his hand. “You need to go, Cael. Go find him.”

He nodded. “I hate leaving you this soon, but I don’t have a choice.”

“You can help me and your brother by going. I trust you to get the job done. I know you can do it.” Her tone implored him to go but she realized her hands gave her away, because they held the front of his shirt, the fabric balled in her tight fists.

“Noah knows you’re here. He’s not happy about it, but he said he’ll make sure you have money, that you’re okay until I get back,” he said, and she nodded—and held his shirt tighter for another long moment before releasing him.

He got up then and riffled around his drawers, packing gear into an Army green duffel while she watched. Weapons were lined up, the discarded ones got locked in a steel case, which in turn was locked in a closet. He stripped, and redressed in his fatigues—jungle greens—and laced up his heavy boots.

All she could do was watch, growing colder by the second.

He’ll come back. He will come back
.

When he was done packing, he turned to her, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I wish I had more time.”

“It’s okay.”

“Vivi, you should seriously consider the FBI’s offer,” he told her.

“I was waiting for you to bring that up.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but with this … I can’t be here to protect you all the time. And letting you just sit around wasting your gift with computers is a fucking crime,” he said fiercely, enough to make her start. “If you join the FBI, they can protect you and you can help them. I know you have a problem with trust, I get that. But I think it’s time you let go of the past a little, for your own good. For our own good. Trust and loyalty can be a really good thing.”

“I can’t promise, Cael. But I’ll think about it.” Because deep in her heart, she knew he was right.

He motioned for her to come closer. She did, wrapped her arms around him, wanted to say so much, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was, “You’ll come back for me when it’s over, right?”

His voice was tight when he said, “Try to stop me, Vivi.”

She wanted to make him swear to it, as ridiculous as that sounded. “It—this—might never be over.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll help you any way I can, make sure DMH can’t touch you.” He paused. “It’s like this a lot, you know. Me having to leave suddenly. I can’t get in touch with you. It could be a while.”

Translation: Secret missions would happen often and she’d need to decide if she could deal with it. Long absences where she wouldn’t even know how he was could easily break a woman.

He was digging in his pockets. Handing her keys. “For the apartment. Check the mail for me. Bills are paid online automatically, so you’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure about this? About letting me stay here?”

“Yes. Because I want to come home to you. And trust me, that’s never happened. I’ve never said it to any woman.”

She believed him. And so she palmed the keys and held them tight.

“I’m coming home to you, okay?”

He would. His eyes held a promise that made her sure enough to let go of his shirt and touch his cheek instead. “Go, Cael. Go now.”

A fierce kiss and then he walked away, without looking back. The way it had to be. The only way it could be.

So beautiful. He’d let her run, and run she had … but she could never escape him. He’d told her that before, but now she’d truly know.

She’s in love with the SEAL
, Ace had told him earlier, after they’d made the trip to dump the man off. Ace had given him an idea for Zane, and Elijah was beginning to learn how truly effective torture was as a method to instill madness.

She’ll forget him soon enough
, he thought to himself, looked down at her and smiled. Sooner than she’d think.

She knew how lucky she was.

Lucky
. She laughed, the sound a harsh echo in her ears.

God, she wanted Zane to have the same kind of luck. She knew that, no matter what, neither of them would ever be the same if they survived all of this.

Then again, both of them had lived through worse.

Trouble
. Most definitely.

When she’d woken earlier, she was confused, but she’d still known it wasn’t Zane touching her, not the way the fat hand mauled her breasts while a sweaty, smelly palm clamped over her mouth, holding the chloroformed cloth in place until she’d slumped forward, unable to remain conscious from sheer will alone.

She hadn’t been out long—she knew that. The sun had still beat down on her in the back of the moving car where she had been tied and was recently yanked from to be put into this dark room … unless a full twenty-four hours had passed.

Frantically, she checked her arms for needle marks and found only one.

Good. Now she had to figure a way out of this.

“You called for him in your sleep.”

The voice, so familiar, made her snap to attention. Her blood ran cold when she looked across the room and saw him—Elijah, the man responsible for all this, the one who’d had her on the run.

He would not win. “How did you find me?

Elijah laughed. “You’re assuming we ever lost you.”

She chilled at the thought that she’d never been truly free of them. That DMH was both vicious and patient, and now they’d taken the man she’d fallen in love with from her. And would maybe even keep her alive, to do God knows what for them.

She thought back to the predictions made when she was still a child—predictions from another madman—wondered when she’d realize she wasn’t in charge of her own fate. Never had been.

What Zane would say to that she might never know. But he would never forgive her for refusing to fight, for giving up.

Without him though, she didn’t think she had the strength to try.

Elijah knew who she was thinking about, if not what. But he wasn’t stupid.

She wished she’d kept Zane’s gun closer, or one of his knives … wished so many things. “What do you want from me?”

“Sadly, nothing. I did, of course, but you’re of no value to me now that you’ve spoken with the CIA.”

“They’ll never let you get away with this.”

“With kidnapping you again? They will. They already did. Those agents you met with are dead. The rest is inconsequential. Black market transplants are a small part of our operation.”

“You’re an evil bastard. Screwing with people’s lives like this—”

“Save it. Your passion bores me.”

“Then let me go.”

“I have a better plan. I can still have you, but without the mouthiness. You had it good with me, Olivia, you just didn’t realize it. Now you will, and it’ll be too late to do anything about it.”

He stood and walked over to her. She saw the needle, attempted to get up and stop him, but he was too strong, grabbed her and sank the needle into her arm. “This will make you pliable. Before long, you’ll do anything I want. Anything anyone wants.”

He let her go and she fell like a limp rag doll to the floor. She knew he’d lock her in here again, the way he’d done countless times before when she was his prisoner.

She could still hear his laugh echoing in her head as he stood over her. He would continue to drug her into submission until she was nothing but a shell, succumbing to his way of controlling her … and she could think of nothing worse.

It took a great effort, and concentration, but she managed to spit out, “I’d rather die.”

“That could be arranged.”

At the sound of that voice, Elijah grabbed her roughly off the floor and turned with her in his arms.

A tall, handsome blond man with a very large sawed-off rifle pointed at them waited in the doorway.

“This doesn’t concern you at all,” Elijah said.

“That’s where you’re wrong. All of your mistakes concern me.”

Elijah’s grip was strong, holding her up because she certainly couldn’t stand on her own—the drugs had numbed her so badly she could barely feel her legs.

She smelled the fear, being this up-close and personal with him—no doubt it was partially hers, but it was also him—he was definitely worried about this other man.

Granted, so was she, but the loopiness kept the panic down, allowed her to float outside her body, an observer wondering how this one would end.

“Be reasonable, Ace. DMH is nothing without me,” Elijah said.

“At one time, maybe so. And it took a while, but now that I’ve finally accessed all your personal files, I know all your secrets.” The blond man smiled and a chill went through her at the dead look in his eyes. “You know what they say, three can keep a secret if two are dead.”

“You killed Marty?” Elijah asked, his voice shaking slightly.

The blond man shook his head, said, “Not yet. You’re first,” and came forward with two fast shots—she didn’t even have time to scream. She remained frozen as she felt the heavy hand on her shoulder begin to pull her backward. She shifted, lurched forward to avoid falling and managed to turn in time to see Elijah slump to the ground.

In his forehead, two perfect entry wounds.

He was dead but any joy for that was short-lived when the handsome blond man grabbed her roughly by the arm.

“You’re of no use to me, Doctor.”

“Where’s Zane?”

“You’re about to be reunited with him. I promise.”

It was a promise she wasn’t sure she should want granted.