Tenderloin (Abby Kane FBI Thriller) (13 page)

“Now that I know you live there, most definitely.”

Cabrera winked at me, but I didn’t mind. This was the first pass at me he had made all night. I had actually started to wonder why he hadn’t done it sooner.

“Your turn to divulge. You’re a pretty young woman. I find it hard to believe you’re not taken.”

If he thinks I’m young, why argue?
“You of all people should know what it’s like to do what we do and try to hold down a relationship.”

“Of course, but it’s about priorities. If it’s important, it doesn’t fall to the side.”

As I stared into the kerosene lamp that provided our light, I thought about what Cabrera said. He was right. Why didn’t I have a boyfriend? My last real relationship was with my late husband. I’d had a few dates since, and there was Wilky, my old partner.

“What are you thinking?” Cabrera asked, snapping me out of my thought process.

“I’m thinking about what you said. I don’t know if there is an answer. I’ve gone through so much emotionally in the last four years that I felt I needed a recovery. And of course, I’ve got the kids to think of.”

I went on to tell him that my relationship with the kids when their father died was virtually nonexistent. “Being a mom to them was the one thing I committed to when I made the decision to move to the States. Family would be a priority. So, it is.”

“Nothing wrong with that. That’s where your time and energy goes. There’s nothing left right now to give to a relationship.”

I had never looked at it that way, but Cabrera made a lot of sense.

“You’re the rock of the family,” he continued, “the one everybody relies on.”

“I am. I’m all the kids and Po Po have.”

“You need someone, too, Abby. You can’t live your life only for others, no matter how important it is for you.” Cabrera reached out and pointed at my chest. His eyes were locked onto mine as he spoke softly. “You need to know that there’s someone watching out for you, that you can take a day off and all won’t go to hell.”

I stared back at Cabrera. Was what he said true? Was I sacrificing my own needs? Was it so apparent? I looked deeper into his eyes for any sort of giveaway, any sign that he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. All I saw was warmth and honest caring. Despite my complaining and my standoff approach to his ways, it was clear he actually listened to what I said. This was a side of Cabrera that he had yet to reveal until now. Here was a softer, gentler man.

Neither of us said anything, but it didn’t feel awkward. I followed the path of his hand as it gently touched the side of my face. His palm felt comforting. I suddenly felt safe. And even though there was a part of me questioning what was happening, I chose to ignore it.

He slowly leaned in until our lips were only a breath apart, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand moved beneath my chin and held it steady. Still he would not close the gap that I wished would disappear. I wanted his hands to hold my face. I wanted to feel his lips pressed upon mine.

He moved slowly forward. My heart lunged at him with every beat, and my hands tightened around my thighs as I restrained them from lurching out and grabbing on to him. My entire body wanted him in that moment.

And then he spoke.

The words, “I’ll watch over you,” left his lips right before he pressed them against mine.

I’m not sure how long I was lost in the moment, but I suddenly regained some sort of consciousness, only to realize he was holding the full weight of my head in both hands, and my mouth was open, but it wasn’t working. He pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I slipped into La La Land for a moment.” I then grabbed each of his arms, and pushed him back onto the mat and straddled him. “Let me make it up to you.”

Chapter 30

The Ortega brothers had not slept all night, nor had they left their perch near the observation window except for the occasional bathroom break or visit to the kitchen. Empty cookie containers and candy wrappers lay scattered on the desk and floor around them. Julio swished his hand around in a large bowl, searching for popcorn, only to come up with hard kernels. He stopped and reached forward to the desk in front of him, his eyes never leaving the window as his hand groped the countertop until he felt the familiar shape of a soda bottle.

What the brothers had witnessed for the last fifteen hours was a scientific feat, a significant move forward in their research. They were two little boys watching their science project at the school fair come to life. Between bites, they documented everything they had witnessed. Juan operated the camera while Elan made notes on his laptop.

Inside the room, the metal table lay in a twisted heap. The two leather straps were torn from the screws that held them in place. What used to be a wooden desk was now a scattering of splintered pieces, and streaks of dried blood graced the safety glass.

Malcolm #70 was turning out to be everything the Ortegas had hoped for.

But by early morning, their test subject had relegated himself to sitting in the corner. He didn’t move. He didn’t make a noise. He only stared at the Ortegas. Nothing they did, not the food they delivered, not jumping around like idiots, not putting a chimp in the room, had any effect on him.

The brothers had begun to think they had failed once again. They thought he had taken a turn for the worse and fallen into a catatonic state. Any minute, they expected to see foam pour from his mouth, followed by his grabbing his chest and arching before dying of cardiac arrest. The thought of having to disappoint Faro Zapata once more was not something they wished for. They were quite sure they had already been given their last chance.

But a few hours later, the situation changed.

Malcolm showed renewed signs of life. He got up off the bed and moved to the center of the room, where he paced from one side to the other. What struck the brothers as strange, even though it was common behavior for animals, was that he never took his eyes off them. With every turn, his eyes remained locked on to them, focused and intimidating. The second eerie observation was the pacing: even and unwavering.

For two hours, the brothers watched, barely sitting in their seats, as they waited for a different reaction. None came.

“I don’t understand. There was so much to note in the first few hours,” Elan pointed out.

“Maybe he’s accepted his situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s accepted what’s become of him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s no longer trying to break through the window to get to us.”

At one point, the brother’s worried that the custom-made safety glass would not contain Malcolm. To add to that, they were forging new ground, and there was no way to tell how he would continue to react.

“Should we try to communicate again?” Elan asked.

Before Julio could answer, their test subject stopped pacing. Both brothers stiffened.

“What do you think is going on in his head?”

Julio shook his slowly while watching. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s trying to figure us out.”

Elan turned to his brother, letting his eyes trail, afraid that if he looked away, he would miss a moment.

A low chuckle bellowed up Julio’s throat.

“What so funny?”

He turned to his brother. “He understands.”

Julio then stared Malcolm down and pointed to the chimp they had put in the room earlier. It sat in the corner eating a banana.

“Wait. What are you doing? Why are you pointing at the chimp?”

“Watch and learn, little brother.” He darted his finger once more.

Malcolm looked at the chimp and then back at the brothers before taking long strides over to it, catching the primate by surprise. The chimp yelped and swung with both arms to escape Malcolm’s grasp. Within seconds, he had dislocated its neck. He continued to twist the head around and around until he ripped it right off.

Elan was speechless and immobile. He couldn’t believe he had witnessed such a horrific act. Seconds felt like minutes before he uttered a reaction. “Why did he do that?” He asked as he grabbed his brother by both arms and turned him his way.

Julio, on the other hand, had a large grin on his face. He shook his brother off of him and flipped on the speaker switch. “Did you enjoy that Malcolm? Did you find it exhilarating?”

Elan knocked Julio’s hand away from the switch. “Are you crazy?”

“No. I am in charge. Malcolm is following my orders. Don’t you understand? We have control over him.”

“He is not a toy. He is a human being.”

“He is what we want him to be. He may be stronger and much more intelligent than he was before, but don’t forget how addictive the drug is. If he wants more, he will listen.”

Both turned back toward the window. Malcolm walked around aimlessly, not in a controlled manner like he did before. He still held the chimp’s head, dropping it only before taking a seat on the bed.

“What time is it?” Julio asked.

Elan checked his watch. “It’s a little past noon. Why?”

“He’s tiring. The drug appears to be wearing off.”

Elan looked at his notes. “We administered the dose at seven last night. That’s nearly eighteen hours.”

Julio gave his brother an encouraging pat on the back. “Let Malcolm rest until tomorrow. Give him food and water, but don’t disturb him otherwise.” Julio took one last look at their test subject. “Soon we’ll introduce him to Señor Zapata.”

Chapter 31

From the doorway, Elan watched Malcolm like a mother would her sleeping child. He lay quietly on the cot, deep in sleep. The subtle rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he was alive. He appeared content and comfortable. The effects of the drug had run their course, and his body, drained of energy, had returned to its original condition, that of a generally average twenty-two-year-old university student.

You see, Elan already knew how the drug affected an elderly man, one who was weak both physically and mentally. It had turned him into an uncontrollable beast—before it killed him. But what if the new and improved drug was given to a man who was young, healthy and intelligent? What would happen then?

He entered Malcolm’s room with trepidation, unsure of how the man would react now that the effects of the drug had worn off. To test his level of sleep, Elan carried a wooden chair over to the cot and dropped it onto the tile floor. The young man didn’t move, not even a slight flinch. He continued to sleep as if he hadn’t rested in days. He hadn’t.

Elan moved his fingertips around Malcolm’s wrist until he felt the light beating of a pulse and recorded his blood pressure. Then, he hooked Malcolm up to an electrocardiograph machine to measure the rate and regularity of his heartbeat. As it currently stood, he was unaware of any lingering effects of the drug on a subject’s heart.

Through all of this, the young man continued to hibernate, ignoring the prodding and poking. Most people would have woken or, at the very least, stirred.
Was excessive sleep a side effect of the drug?
Elan scribbled the question in his notebook.

When Elan finished with his tests, he sat quietly at Malcolm’s bedside. Hours passed before Malcolm moved and made a tiny noise. Was he awakening? Perhaps he was dreaming. Elan leaned forward and whispered, “Malcolm? Can you hear me? It’s Dr. Ortega.”

Just as before, the sleeping man didn’t respond. Earlier, Elan had thought Malcolm had woken, but when he spoke to him, there was no response. After a few minutes, Malcolm stirred again, this time turning his body to his side. Elan gently grabbed his forearm and gave it a light squeeze. There was movement under his eyelids. Elan leaned closer, his mouth nearly touching the man’s ear. “Malcolm, can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes and answered with a deep, growly voice.

“I heard everything.”

Chapter 32

When I woke the next morning, the muscular warmth that had slept beside me all night had disappeared. I can’t say finding myself alone didn’t let me down. I could have been convinced to go another round. In fact, I’d been hoping to be woken up that way.

I liked Cabrera, but something inside me prevented me from opening up to him entirely. Why? He’s a great guy.
What’s the problem? Why not just go with it?
We’d just had great sex, yet I could feel the wall around me being reinforced. Why?

Despite being comfortable around Cabrera, I hadn’t let my guard down entirely. I wasn’t sure why. Recently, the last few months or so, I’d noticed that my level of trust with others had become highly guarded. I started to wonder whether this was always the case and I had only just noticed or if it was something new.

I wanted people in my life. I wanted to share with others. And I guess I did have people I shared with, but it always felt like surface-level stuff. Why didn’t I do girlfriend things with Agent Tracy House? We got along, had similar interests, yet I never called her. My excuse was always, “She didn’t call me.” Where did that answer leave me? Alone, with no close girlfriends. Yet I really did want some. I kept coming back to the same question:
What am I afraid of?

I had woken with a smile and then rained on my own parade.
Sheesh.
Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m completely normal.
I exited the hut and did two loops around the village before heading down to the river. That’s where I found him.

“Hey, sunshine,” he called out.

“Please, let’s not do nicknames. Stick with Abby.” I pointed to his hand. “How are you able to get phone service out here?” I’d had no luck with my phone and had been dying to text the family, especially Lucy. I knew she would go crazy over the pictures I had taken.

“Satellite phone,” he said. “It’s standard issue here. Cell service isn’t reliable everywhere. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, I got that rude awakening before we even entered the jungle.”

He offered me the device. “Do you need to make a call?”

I thought briefly about putting a call in to Reilly but decided it was better to have that conversation privately. “It can wait. Are we leaving soon?”