Deadly Game

Page 47

Senator Freeman moved out of the circle of his security guards. “I’ve been hearing rumors about a breeding program. According to what I’ve heard, and I can hardly give it credence, Dr. Whitney is forcing psychically enhanced women to breed against their will with enhanced soldiers to produce offspring to be raised as weapons.”
Ken, he sounds like he rehearsed that over and over. Mari moistened her lips and glanced toward Whitney.
“It’s all right, Mari,” Freeman assured. “I’m a United States senator. Dr. Whitney isn’t going to harm you for telling the truth. You know my wife, Violet. My word is good. I’ll see to it that you don’t come to any harm.”
She moved farther from the door, toward the back of the cell, and shook her head.
“She’s afraid Dr. Whitney will hurt the other women,” Violet volunteered. “We’re trying to help you,” she added. “Just tell him the truth.”
Eyes locked on Violet, Mari said distinctly, “Yes, Senator, it’s all true. There are several women here. Dr. Whitney holds one under threat in order to secure cooperation from the rest of us.” He already knows, Ken. I can see it in his eyes. He looks triumphant and so does Violet. They can’t be so stupid as to think Whitney would let them walk out of here if he thought for a minute they’d expose him. What are they up to?
“You’re telling me that these women are held against their will? That the doctor sends soldiers in to force cooperation?”
“You don’t need to act as if you’re outraged, Ed. You know what’s at stake here. You know what we’re trying to achieve. Besides, you’ve done much worse. You helped deliver a U.S. Special Forces soldier to Ekabela to be skinned alive. And as for you, Violet, my dear, you really should have done a better job keeping your husband’s attention properly focused.”
“We’re taking Mari with us,” Freeman said, his voice unnecessarily loud and demanding.
It had all definitely been rehearsed. Whitney would never let the senator get away with this puffed-up importance. “No, you aren’t. I absolutely won’t go with you.” Violet, whatever deal you have with him isn’t going to work you know. You can’t trust Whitney. If you’re selling all of us down the river to stay on the ballot . . .
I love my husband, Mari. I don’t want him dead.
Understanding dawned. Mari felt like a fool. This was your idea. You made the deal with Whitney. Whatever he wants in exchange for Ed’s life. You knew he was the one who put the hit out on him. There was no other explanation. Whitney wanted something from Violet and Ed Freeman, and they were willing to do a deal. In return, Whitney would call off the hit and his friends would back Freeman for the vice presidency. What did you have to do, Violet? Who’d you sell out?
You, of course, Mari. It’s all about you and your sister and the Nortons.
Ken had been running through the maze to get back to Mari. When he heard Violet’s answer, his heart somersaulted. Jack! If I don’t get to her in time, they’ll be bringing her out with the senator’s group. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.
Senator Freeman stepped close to the door. “You will come with us.”
“When I slit your throat, Senator, I’m going to do it slow, so you can feel it, just the way Ekabela did to Ken Norton.”
Freeman’s eyes flicked to his guards and then to Whitney. “So you do know Ken Norton.”
“Don’t you say his name,” she hissed. “I mean it. Don’t you dare.” She let the promise of death smolder in her eyes.
The senator stepped back, casting another swift look around him at his bodyguards to insure they were in position. Violet stepped protectively in front of him.
Mari reached out telepathically to her most vulnerable sister. Rose. Are you clear? Can you get clear?
Kane is taking me up to the ground level. We’re using the service elevators. He’s helping me escape because he’s afraid of what Whitney will do to the baby.
Violet cleared her throat. “She’s talking to someone.”
Whitney had that same little half smile on his face. “She’s talking to him. Ken Norton. You are, aren’t you? He’s close. I knew he wouldn’t leave you, any more than Jack would leave Briony.”
“Go to hell, Whitney.”
He lifted his eyebrow and gestured Freeman and Violet and their bodyguards down the hall. “There is no point in trying to reason with her when she’s this way,” he said. “We’ll let my men handle it. Would you care for coffee, Ed?” He left without a backward glance, Sean following.
“You look like his dog, Sean,” she called after him, furious that both Violet and Sean could be such traitors.
Mari heard heavy footsteps approaching her cell. They wanted her to know they were coming. They wanted her to be afraid. Fear was creeping in whether she wanted it to or not. Whitney always seemed so powerful. Had he found a way to use Mari to capture Ken, Jack, and Briony? She felt sick.
The cell door was yanked opened and she faced two of Whitney’s security team. She recognized them both. Don Bascomb thought he was tough, but Gerald Robard really was. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, both with somber expressions.
She forced a smile. “Haven’t seen you two around. How have you been?” She forced herself to look as nonchalant as possible. Mari tried to be the picture of complete cooperation.
There was no warning. Robard was on her before she was even aware she was in danger. He hit her with the force of a nine-hundred-pound tiger, driving her across the room, her head snapping back under the force and a thousand stars whirling, as the room spun and began to go to black. “Sorry, kid,” Robard said, catching her before she hit the floor. “There’s no need to make this harder on you than it already is.” He laid her on her bed. “He wants you looking in bad shape. Whatever you do, Mari, don’t defy him like you always do. Just cooperate and it won’t be so bad.”
Don Bascomb produced a needle and syringe. Mari’s eyes widened and she shook her head violently in protest. As Robard bent over her, she brought up both feet and smashed him as hard as she could in the chest, driving him back. He hit the wall from the force of her blow, grunting a little, his face darkening with anger.
“I’m trying to make this easy on you, you little she-devil. Come on, Mari, it’s the old man’s orders. Anyone else would just take the shot and go to sleep. I can work you over while you’re out, and it’s done.”
It amazed her how reasonable he sounded, as if knocking out a woman and beating the crap out of her while she was unconscious was perfectly okay. Robard swept the blankets from the bed and came at her again.
They wanted Ken to see her black-and-blue body. She was sure they planned to let him catch a glimpse of her as they brought her out to the plane. They were certain he’d follow them—and he would—even back to the Congo.
Bascomb stood back, grinning, as he pulled a couple of vials of clear liquid from his shirt pocket. “Have fun, Ger.”
There was no sound, nothing at all to give him away. One moment Bascomb was standing there looking like an ape, taunting his partner, the next he was slumped on the floor, a needle sticking out of his neck and Ken filling the room looking the angel of vengeance. The guard at the door lay in the open doorway in a pool of blood, his throat slit.
“Let’s see you hit someone your own size,” Ken said softly.
Too softly. Mari winced at his tone. It was one she recognized as being lethal. Being a practical woman, she rolled off the bed and searched Bascomb’s body for the other vial, quickly filled a syringe, and circled around behind Robard. He was concentrating on Ken, not thinking she was a threat at all. Ken shouldn’t be there. He couldn’t get caught, and no matter what, Robard had to be out cold when Whitney got there.
“Ken Norton. How the hell did you get here?” Robard asked, and feigned a right punch, only to swing around with a roundhouse kick.
Ken blocked the attack and delivered a fist with the force of his enhanced strength as well as his body weight behind it, straight to the man’s face. Robard staggered under the impact, taking one step back in an effort to regain his balance. Ken ducked under his raised fists and hit hard with three consecutive blows, a left, right, and a hook that stunned Robard. Mari stepped forward and plunged the needle into the guard’s bu**ocks, pushing the plunger to release the clear liquid.
The sound of a door slamming down the hall alerted her. Mari’s heart nearly stopped beating. She grabbed Ken’s arm and shoved him. “Get out of here. They’re coming. I mean it, go now.”
He gathered the front of her shirt in his fist and yanked her against him, his mouth coming down hard on hers. “You get into any more trouble, you call me. I mean it, Mari—you try to handle a couple of enhanced soldiers again, bent on beating the shit out of you, and I’m going to turn you over my knee.” He brushed fingers down her bruised face. “This has got to stop.”
“We’re almost there, Ken. I swear, I’ll go with you as soon as possible. Give me a little more time.”
He crushed her mouth under his, teeth tugging until she opened for him, tongue sweeping in and taking over. She could taste anger and desperate fear. No one had ever cared that much about her before. She felt empowered by his concern. Mari kissed him back, a breathless moment of hot silk, sizzling electricity, and welling passion, and then she resolutely pushed him away.
“Go. They’re coming now.”
He still hadn’t released her shirt. “You be safe, Mari. You hear me? You be safe. Whatever happens, whatever that son of a bitch Whitney manages to do, I’ll get you out of here. Understand? Stay alive and know I’m coming for you.”
The hot lick of desire mingling with his fears for her turned her heart into a melting pot of mush. She pushed at the wall of his chest again, feeling a little frantic. “I will. Just go. You have to go.”
His thumb slid down the curve of her cheek; he pressed the bloody knife into her hand, and he was gone, slipping away just as she heard voices down the hall. Mari stepped back, away from the two bodies, straightening her clothes and waiting for Whitney with her chin up.
The doctor stopped abruptly when he saw the door to her cell open and both of his supersoldiers lying on the ground unconscious and his guard dead. His gaze flicked to the darkening bruise on her face and then to the knife in her hand.
“Marigold. You seem to have had a little trouble.”
She spread her hands innocently. “The two of them came up looking to give me a shot for no apparent reason. They said something about vitamins, but you know what a phobia I have about needles.”
Violet cleared her throat, looking suddenly nervous, her gaze sweeping the hall and ceiling, even the floor. “Come on, Ed, let’s get out of here,” Violet said, tugging at his arm. “This isn’t our business.” She signaled to her team and they surrounded the senator, pushing him toward the elevator.
Realizing they were reneging on their deal, Whitney called for his guards and then stepped back watching, as he always did, detached and unemotional, waiting to see what would happen as if he were in the middle of a scientific experiment and not a life-and-death drama being played out before his eyes.
Violet’s team and Whitney’s men went at each other, fighting viciously.
Violet shoved the senator ahead of her. “Run for the elevator!”
“There’s no escape,” Whitney said, complacent.
She ignored him, running behind her husband, a gun in her hand. Mari scooped up a gun and started to follow her. A downed security guard grabbed her ankle, tripping her. She went down hard.
“Stop them,” Whitney ordered.
Before anyone else could move, Sean stepped forward and, in one smooth, efficient motion, swiped at Whitney’s throat with a razor-sharp knife.