“It changes nothing.” My voice is so sharp it’s cutting my throat and bringing burning tears to my eyes. “I did it to save Elijah, but it only made things worse.”
He frowns. “How is it worse?”
“Because now the U.S. government thinks he did some kind of treason plot. They think he was paid by a foreign country or something.”
“But you’re the one who shot him.”
I swallow around the knot in my throat. “Yes.”
His solemn eyes meet mine. “You should leave it alone. Elijah sacrificed himself for you. This is how he’d want it.”
“No, damn it.” Adam blinks at the raw edge of my voice. “I refuse to give up on him. He never gave up on me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Elijah
I have no explanation for the airport hanger.
It’s a change of scenery, at least. No more cinder block walls. Only massive ceilings coated in fireproof sealant foam. The sound of fists hitting flesh echoes off those high ceilings while a new set of henchmen take turns with me. Possibly they’re just using me for practice. Someone has to be the test dummy for torture school, after all.
I’ve had just enough recovery time to be conscious for this latest session. Lucky me.
They’ve been at it for fifteen minutes or so when a door opens at the other side of the room and a man in a suit and overcoat walks in like he’s late for a board meeting. One of the Army men makes a show of pulling out a chair for him, which he takes.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
One of them drives a fist through my gut all the way to my spine and steps back to let me finish coughing. The man in the suit stays far enough away that drops of blood just miss his shiny black shoes. He’s wearing a suit that probably costs as much as a damned private jet.
“Good evening,” he says, not sounding disgusted in the least to see me hanging here like dried meat. “You don’t know me, but I’ve been watching you for many years.”
“Well, that’s creepy.”
He adopts an amused expression. “You got your orders from the colonel, but did you ever wonder where he got his orders?”
“Let me guess. From you.”
“You always were a smart boy. I think I understood that even better than the colonel. You knew someone had to be pulling his puppet strings, but you knew better than to ask questions.” He frowns. “You were so useful, for so long. Perhaps we took you for granted.”
“Are you supposed to be the good cop?”
A low laugh. “Compared to bruiser here? No. I don’t speak with my fists, but neither am I the one who’s going to coddle you. I’m the person who controls the board. I move the pieces around. And until very recently, you were one of my pieces.”
Until Holly Frank appeared in that prison cell with me. Everything changed in that moment, no matter how hard I fought it. “You never controlled me.”
“Every creature likes to believe he’s in charge of his own fate.”
I was in charge of my own fate. Holly taught me that. She shot the colonel to free me, but it was her example that truly unleashed me. She didn’t flinch in the face of guns, in the face of danger. Holly, a woman with no military training. It was the same thing she did for her sister, hopping on the plane for France. She’s fearless. “I did what you said because it suited me. It suited me to be mindless and violent, and I let you use me. Probably to do shit that was far more traitorous and harmful to my country than shooting the colonel.”
“Traitorous.” He looks offended. “What I do may not be sanctioned by the upper echelons of military personnel, but it’s what keeps this country afloat. They don’t understand the big picture. For them it’s all about duty and regulations. The enemy doesn’t care about those things.”
“The enemy being… who? Me?”
A small smile. “You can’t play stupid with me.”
I hang my head, too fucking exhausted to care. “Let me guess. You think someone paid me to kill the colonel. North Korea or Russia or something like that.”
“Of course not, don’t be foolish. We have ties with North Korea and Russia. They may have harsh, dictatorial regimes, but they understand the chain of command. I appreciate that about them. No, I’m worried about a threat a little closer to home.”
A snarl breaks out of me. “Don’t tell me this has anything to do with Holly Frank.”
“Was that her name? I heard you got led around by your dick. Tits and ass will bring even the strongest man down.” He holds out his hands in question. “But how can I judge? I’m not immune. It’s the weakest part of our nature.”
She’s the strongest part of me. “And your point?”
“You want to protect the woman. That’s very chivalrous of you, but no, I don’t particularly care about her. You think I’m here to torture you, to kill you.”
I look down at my battered body. “It’s a decent guess.”
He smiles. “What do you do when a fifty thousand dollar diamond necklace breaks? Do you throw the whole thing away? Of course not. You have it repaired. You are far too valuable for me to kill you. What a waste that would be.”
“Fuck you.”
The Army men don’t like my tone. They express their displeasure by working as a team. One of them holds my head back by my hair while another one digs his fingers hard into the sides of my neck. It doesn’t take very long for the blood supply to get cut off. It takes almost no time for my vision to go dark at the edges. He keeps it up until my breath strangles.
When he lets go the air tastes fresh and clean.
The man in the suit stands across from me, watching this with a detached disinterest. “How did the colonel communicate with you?”
“I can’t remember.”
That earns me a blow from one of his minions.
“No, wait. I’ve got it. We communicated via carrier pigeon.”
It’s stupid and it’s reckless and I know it. I know I should pretend to take his questions seriously. The problem is that everything hurts and I want this to be over. It’s exhausting to be constantly tortured. I’d put up with it every day for the rest of my life if it meant guaranteeing Holly’s safety. So as long as she’s not part of this, then I’ll play my role. They’re making her part of it.
My friends from the CIA circle around like wolves around a corpse.
One of them steps forward to hit me again, but the man with perfect shoes holds up his hand.
“Give us a few minutes alone.”
“But, sir—” Their ringleader steps up to the side of the guest of honor’s chair, genuine confusion on his face. “This man is a highly trained operative. Are you sure—”
“He’s tied up, starved, and beaten to within an inch of his life.” Our newest arrival adjusts one of his sleeves. “As long as you guys have been doing your jobs, I have nothing to worry about, do I? Now leave.”
In the answering silence the torture squad files out in a neat row.
“So,” I say when we’re alone. “You gonna tell me who the fuck you are? Because I know you’re not military. No one in the ranks can afford that tie.”