“Yes,” he said. “It’s so inconvenient when people resist the fate you have planned for them.”
“Mr. Smith,” as he preferred to be known, did not register the irony. “I know, right?”
“Regarding your refusal of this offer, the only alternative is for us to hire someone else to complete the job at which you failed. Surely your limited mind can comprehend that we will require repayment of our earnest money? And in ways you won’t enjoy.” He let his mouth curve into a smile.
It took a moment for that to sink in. Just as well, for the waitress arrived with a grubby sheet of typed paper, poorly coated with laminate. “Special’s chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn on the cob. For dessert we have apple pie or peach cobbler. The meal comes with coffee or iced tea.”
“Sounds good,” the killer grunted.
“You want coffee or tea, sugar?”
“Tea.”
The gum-popping, polyster-clad throwback to 1964 turned to Rowan with a Polydent smile. “And for you, darlin’?”
Rowan despised it when people he didn’t know used casual endearments, and he fought the urge to stick her with the needle he’d promised the hired gun. “Coffee. Black.”
As if he’d trust them to cook his food. The coffee was bad enough, and most likely he wouldn’t touch it.
“Watching your girlish figure, eh?”
He raised a brow, wondering if that was supposed to be funny. “Quite.”
“Before,” the guy said, “I think you were threatening me.”
Stifling a sigh, he murmured, “You think. Aren’t you sure?”
What a waste of a perfectly good brain stem.
“No, I’m sure.”
“So you either accept this offer or I fire you. Which is it?” This was, at base, why he’d come: to dispose of the tool should it prove faulty.
The thug finally seemed to realize that a man could be dangerous without possessing wads of muscle. “I’ll take the new deal. Don’t worry. I’ll get them this time.”
“Excellent. I’ve been instructed to tell you that your payment is in a locker at the bus station. You’ll find the key has been left in a manila envelope at the front desk of the motel where you registered as Michael Hunt.”
God, such venal humor.
Slow horror dawned in the other man’s eye. “How did you-”
“We know everything, or near enough that we can find you, wherever you may go. Don’t disappoint me again, Mr. Smith.” With that, Rowan slid out of the booth and retraced his steps through the diner.
The glass doors pushed open, releasing him of obligation. Soon, so soon now, all of this would be over.
I’m coming, Gillie. Be patient. I’ll fix everything, my precious girl.
Gillie had been alone for two days.
That wouldn’t have been a problem, except during the past few weeks, she’d grown accustomed to company. She didn’t know if something had happened to Taye or if she’d scared him with that clumsy kiss. God knew, he hadn’t seemed swept away by it.
She tested the memory of his reaction like a sore spot on the inside of her cheek and found it still tender. For all of ten seconds, he’d kissed her back, his mouth fever hot and hungry, and then he’d shoved her away, as if he were a frightened virgin.
“That’s not a good idea,” he’d said quietly.
She’d hunched her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just thought-”
“No. We’re getting out of here. Soon I won’t be your only choice, and you’d be sorry if I hadn’t stopped things.” Taye cupped her chin in his hand, eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to dispose of your virginity like this, as a defense from Rowan.”
“It was just a kiss,” she’d muttered. “It’s not like I demanded sex.”
With determination, she shoved away the faintly humiliating recollection. A kiss she’d instigated on the bathroom floor hardly qualified as magical. The awkwardness didn’t prevent her from worrying about him, however.
Her heart skittered in her chest as she stepped out of her quarters. They had long since ceased locking the door. Rowan deemed her no flight risk; that much was sure. Of course, the crazy bastard also thought she wanted to run away with him, so there was no accounting for the way his mind worked.
The white, clinical corridors contrasted markedly with the mock normalcy of her décor. She liked to pretend she was an ordinary girl with a small apartment, a television, and a job she hated. That was one reason she never came out into the facility proper; it destroyed the illusion. There was no grass, no sky, no sun, just endless white and soulless metal as far as the eye could see. Overhead, the fluorescent lights offered the same wattage day after day. She didn’t know how Rowan could choose this life for himself when the whole world beckoned.
Every instinct told her to return to her apartment. It was safe in there. Instead, she picked her way carefully down the hall. Silas often brought her this way for treatments, and she knew the cells lay past the treatment rooms. She had been kept in one until Rowan grew confident she could be trusted.
And what will he say if he finds you wandering, hm?
She got her lie ready. I was looking for you. It’s been several days since I saw you. Yes, that would work. If the words fed his ego and his delusions, he’d believe them. Gillie could envision how his face would soften and he’d give that awful smile. This time he might kiss her. She steeled herself against the possibility. At least it won’t be my first.
Gillie tiptoed past the treatment rooms. From within, she heard low moans of pain. That meant the techs were working, carrying out the doctor’s instructions. She hardly dared to breathe as she went by.
She continued down the corridor. The horror of the cells struck her anew. They were eight by eight, and each contained only a commode and a cot. An industrial drain lay in the middle of the floor, necessary because the test subjects were hosed off once a week from a spigot in the ceiling.
Some of the walls were spattered with blood, or other, less readily recognizable substances. A few of the subjects sat and rocked; others lay in the fetal position on their cots. Two paced like animals. Another pressed her hands against the glass as Gillie went by. She stopped, unable to help herself, unable to deny the woman this moment of connection. Aching, she pressed her palms to the glass from her side. There was cognition in the other woman’s eyes.
Kill me, she mouthed.
Gillie tugged on her pink scrubs, which were the only things Rowan ever ordered for her to wear. She found that faintly creepy, but at least she was out of the gray, institutional pajamas the other subjects had on. At last, the woman seemed to realize Gillie wasn’t wearing a badge.
The woman pointed at her cell door, a plea in her eyes, and Gillie had to shake her head. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
When the girl turned away, Gillie walked on. Mercifully, she could remember little of her time in these cells. They’d kept her sedated while they studied the limits and requirements of her gift. She didn’t know how the others bore it, and as for the ones who couldn’t, well, the madness was understandable.
She found Taye in the last cell. His swollen jaw and black eyes made him difficult to identify at first, but she knew the shape of his hands and the breadth of his shoulders as well. Not to mention the tousled dark hair. His gray pajamas were stained dark in splatter patterns. All too clearly she could see the crunch of cartilage and bone, echoed in the discolored fabric. Gillie recognized Silas’s handiwork; he executed the doctor’s punishments, but she’d never received the impression he enjoyed it.
Goddamn you, Rowan, what have you done?
He lifted his head as if he sensed her. His eyes took too long to focus, and Gillie had watched enough medical TV to know that meant a concussion. If only I had the key code. As if Taye read her mind, he extended a hand. Blue sparked from his fingertips, echoing in the panel, and the door popped wide, but he wasn’t steady enough to stand.