“He’ll come back.”Henderson’s voice was the epitome of calm faith.“I can’t send you to Vegas.”
You aren’t listening.Just like Dad, set on your own opinion.“We need the money,” she pointed out, pitching her tone low and reasonable.“We’ve only got another eight weeks of operating funds, less if we’re unlucky.Until we get the new Headquarters fully up and running—and drain the old resource net—we’re going to burn our budget down to the bone.I’m going to Vegas, Henderson.Send Cath with me, if you’re so worried.Or Yoshi.Either will be able to help.”
“You just don’t give up, do you?”Henderson arched a dark eyebrow.“I don’t want to lose you, too.”
But you’re okay with losing him?That was unfair, she told herself.But she still thought it.“You won’t.But we need the money, and Cath and I are the best bet.You know that.”
A slight scuffing sound from the hallway; Yoshi appeared.“It’s showtime.”He flashed her a quick grin, scooping up his laptop.The slim Japanese man wore a blue cable-knit sweater and jeans despite the scorching summer heat outside.Maybe sandaled feet made up for it.Then again, he’d be in an air-conditioned van unless something went terribly, dreadfully wrong.“Everyone’s waiting for Cinderella.”
Rowan’s gaze met Henderson’s.She hadn’t known him too well before, but now she could read the faint, ironic smile.She’d won the argument with cold logic.
“All right,” Henderson barked.“Let’s get moving.And, Yoshi, do a workup for a Vegas run for Rowan while we’re waiting, all right?”
“Love to.”Yoshi’s dark eyes sparkled.He’d already done the workup a week ago, at Rowan’s quiet request.“Gonna play the horses, Ro?”
“You bet.Right after Cath makes us rich at roulette.”Her pulse rose.Adrenaline was copper in her mouth, she lowered her respiration and pulse with a few moments of attention.She couldn’t afford to get nervous now.“Thank you, General.”
“Don’t thank me.”He slid the maps into his battered olive-green map bag.“It’s dangerous, and Del would have my hide.”
“He’s not here to protest,” Rowan said flatly, and followed Yoshi out of the room.
CHAPTER2
Green eyes wide and dark,she stood with Andrews’s hand around her upper arm.Motionless, since she was too sedated to recognize the danger, trusting Delgado completely.
He wasn’t ready for that.
Pale hair, damp and dark against her forehead.More rain kissing her skin, sliding into Del’s eyes.Stay still.Just stay still.Moving, every muscle strained, every nerve screaming.Until I can get to you.
Andrews sneering, certain he had both of them—but Delgado whirled, throwing the knife.His other hand came up, the weight of the gun strangely familiar.The bullet took out the other Sig as the knife buried itself in Andrews’s shoulder with a meaty thunk.Rowan made a thin noise and swayed again.
He caught her arm.“Are you all right?Goddammit, talk to me…”
Agent Breaker woke up, arm flung across his face and the dream fading into unreality.Again.The metal shelf was hard, and he strained as he did every morning toremember.
It didn’t work.Whatever he’d done to himself seemed permanent.Even the Colonel’s star psions couldn’t reverse it, and the Colonel seemed a little upset.This Price girl, whoever she was, managed to hop one step ahead of every Sigma trick.They seemed to blame Del for that too.
If he’d trained her, he’d done it well.
The door to the concrete cube they called a room slid aside and Del curled up to sitting, a hand closing around a knife hilt.It was damp and chilly down here, but he didn’t care.The bed was a single metal shelf, the cube had a drain in one corner; two blankets and a bare light bulb were recently accorded luxuries.The single metal bar for exercise—pull-ups, inverts, and the like—sliced across the cell, low enough that he had to duck to avoid it.
This room wasn’t made for comfort.
Not like a space he remembered with scarves scattered over the bedstead, books stacked on shelves, and a clean warm perfume in the air.Sunlight fell through the window and glass door of that room in the most secret corner of his mind.Del had the idea that if he waited long enough, was still and silent enough, he might catch a glimpse of whoever owned the space—maybe the woman they were so eager to find.
It never happened, but that room had held him during the worst of the beatings, the deepest of the drug-induced questioning sessions.
That room had saved his sanity.
Wheat-blond Andrews leaned against the doorjamb, without Jilssen for once.“Hey.”His deceptively-sleepy blue eyes moved over the concrete cube, as if Del was holding contraband in some corner.
He was, yes, but wasn’t about to let the Colonel’s second-in-command know it.“Hey,” he returned, the knife lifting, playing through the sequence that would end with it whipping through the air and burying itself in the lean man’s throat.It would be immensely satisfying to see Andrews’s eyes bug out, hear him choking on steel, maybe with his fingers scrabbling at the hilt while Del moved in on him.
Del could strip him of weapons and grab his magkey, but there were armed guards at either end of every corridor, as well as the security net.And the trackers.
Don’t forget the trackers.Wait for your time, Agent Breaker.Just wait.
Where was Jilssen?The traitorous doctor who had allowed Sigma to take Society Headquarters was coming around less and less—maybe because of the way Del stared, aching to tear the man’s throat out.Didn’t matter—Jilssen was a small problem in the scheme of things.
