Inferno

by Adriana Noir

  Sebastian glanced up as the waitress set his coffee down and scrambled back behind the relative safety of the counter. Her actions brought him a small twinge of amusement. Maybe she was a smart girl after all.

  He pulled the files out and spread them on the table before him. Taking a long sip of his coffee, he scanned the documents. His smile faltered and faded. He sat up a little straighter, his intense gaze narrowing in interest. The quiet rustle of paper filled the diner as he frantically flipped through the pages, searching them from front to back.

  “What is this?” he mused, his pulse quickening.

  Bracing his elbows on the table, Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his sinuses. It did nothing to diffuse the dull ache budding behind them.

  The incident reports were clear. Nothing in them came as any shock. What did was the complete lack of evidence backing the statements that Taylor was dead. Marx claimed they’d transported her remains to the hospital, but there were no pictures. No body. Nothing. Nothing but useless words and the familiar tingle that assured him Taylor was near.

  CHAPTER 14 ~

  Taylor jerked awake with a start. Grimacing, she struggled to elude the heavy fist entrenched in her hair. She wasn’t sure when she’d lost consciousness, but the look on Marx’s face warned the man was far from pleased. Her eyes darted to his free hand, a surge of relief sweeping through her when she saw the open plastic bottle he held. She licked her cracked lips in greedy anticipation, no longer feeling the pain. All she could think about was getting that first much needed sip and quenching her thirst.

  Her mouth felt like a desert wasteland, her tongue a thick, prickly cactus. It felt like it had been days since she last had a drink, though she had no way of knowing for sure. Time was just one long, meaningless stretch here. Exhausted, she battled the heavy pull of her eyelids.

  “Now, now,” Marx chided. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet. There’s so much more waiting in store for you, Miss McAvay. So much more,” the commander growled.

  He jerked her head back harder, the sharp angle forcing her neck to bow. Ramming the rim of the bottle against her lips, he poured the water down her throat. The rush of cool water was a blast of heaven. She gulped it down greedily, not wanting to waste a single drop. Marx poured faster. Unable to keep up, Taylor choked, but the stream kept coming. She coughed and sputtered, jerking violently against her restraints, frantic with her efforts to breathe. Laughing, the commander shifted the bottle so water poured up her nose, flooding the back of her throat.

  A hot rush of blood flowed down her arms, amping her terror. It was too much. She was drowning and shredding herself to ribbons just to stay alive.

  Marx paused, smiling as he stroked the edge of the bottle against her cheek. “We wound tiny threads of barbed wire through the chains,” he explained. “You might want to stop struggling or this game won’t last long.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she croaked.

  “You know why. You took the best man I had and turned him against me. You turned him against this organization and his team. I spent years forming him, shaping him into the perfect killing machine. My time, my money, all of it was a waste. What are his plans, Taylor? Hmm? What is he planning to do with Blue?”

  She sucked in a sharp hiss of pain as the hold on her hair tightened. An unspeakable fear crawled through her as she realized she was helpless to protect her baby if the man decided to start swinging. She had to try to keep him calm, but how? The brief mental scramble cost her. Hauling her head back again, Marx started pouring. This time, the water came harder and faster than before. Bucking against his fist, she gagged and wretched, expelling the meager contents of her stomach in a violent heave.

  The commander’s face darkened with rage. His broad features contorted, shifting into something feral and demonic above her. Tossing the now empty water bottle aside, he kept his hold on her hair and clouted her with the back of his fist. His heavy silver rings cracked against her cheek. The blow left her head reeling.

  “I’m going to ask you one more time. What are his plans with Blue?”

  She didn’t know. She honestly didn’t. Unable to think, let alone lend voice to her words, she gave a helpless shake of her head.

  His thick lips tightened into a grim purse. Folding his arms across his chest, Marx stared down at her and nodded. “Consider that the last drink of water you’ll get. Things are only going to get worse for you from here on out. I guarantee you by the time I am through, your tune will change. You will go from wanting to live to praying for death. You have two hours, Taylor, and that is all. Two hours and you had better give me the answers I need.”

  ~*~*~*~

  The harsh fluorescent lights in the hospital were blinding. Sebastian winced, wishing he’d had the good sense to grab a pair of sunglasses. His head still pounded, the throbbing in his temples setting his teeth even more on edge. The small handful of aspirin he’d swallowed hadn’t been enough to shake the lingering side effects of a hangover. Southern Comfort his ass. The label had been full of false promises. He’d found little comfort at the bottom of that bottle, and the day after was proving to be a real bitch.

  Lesson learned.

  The soles of his shoes clacked against the linoleum, marking his long strides as he roamed the corridors in search of the administrative office. A few turns later, and he found what he was looking for. He didn’t bother knocking.

  The startled secretary took one look at his face and pointed him toward the Chief of Staff’s door without a fight. It was just as well. He really wasn’t in the mood for games. What little bit of patience he’d had to begin with had worn perilously thin over the past couple days. All he wanted was to find Taylor and go home. The sooner that happened, the safer everyone else would be. At this point, he was no longer above a few frivolous casualties just to prove a point. In fact, he was starting to welcome it.

  The plump woman seated behind her desk surged to her feet the moment he burst into her office. Her ruby lips parted in indignant protest, but he silenced her with a quick jab of his finger in her direction. Heavy jowls swayed along her chin as she jerked her head back in surprise.

  “Shut up,” he warned. “I’m here looking for some files on a patient you recently had.”

  She pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose with a meaty finger. Brown, beady eyes narrowed even further, dropping into distrustful slits. He balled his fists, resisting the urge to blast the look right off her face.

  “We don’t just give that information out, sir. You’ll have to make an app--”

  Suspicion turned to fear after he flashed his badge. It never failed to amuse him how quickly the shield opened doors and shut yaps. He smirked as she changed her tune and turned to the large metal cabinet behind her. His amusement faded as he leaned over her desk and flipped through the pages of the hospital records. The file proved no more enlightening than the police’s copy. Still no autopsy photos. Still no tangible proof of Taylor’s demise, just page upon page of more meaningless words.

  Cracking his neck, Sebastian rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shake the thick knots of tension gathering behind them. Where was his lost little lamb? Marx was good. He would give him that much. The web of lies surrounding her disappearance grew denser with every turn. Lucky for the director, he enjoyed a little challenge. He made a mental note of the doctor’s name and, without another word to the woman behind the desk, turned in search of the man.

  Dr. Pollaski was not a difficult person to find. He was well-liked and respected among his colleagues. It was too bad he was no longer of the same opinion of the good doctor. There was something to be said about a man who was willing to risk everything to help save the life of a stranger. He’d put a lot on the line by covering Taylor’s pregnancy and helping them find treatment outside of the hospital or clinic doors. That, he appreciated. Unfortunately, Wayne Pollaski had picked the wrong person to lie to this time.

  Leaning against the wa
ll, Sebastian folded his arms and watched him finish his latest round of assessments. He was a tall man with a high forehead and a gentle countenance that alluded to the doctor’s kind heart. More than once, he’d paused to glance Sebastian’s way with a look of recognition and curiosity. He waited until the physician exited the last room in the corridor before pushing himself off the wall and approaching his side.

  “Dr. Pollaski?”

  “Yes. What can I do for you?” the man asked, offering a warm smile Sebastian didn’t return.

  “Perhaps you remember me.”

  “I do, but I can’t place the name.”

  “Sebastian Baas. I have a few questions regarding a patient you treated last week. My fiancée, Taylor McAvay, a twenty-one year old Caucasian female who was transported here after a terrorist attack. The records indicate you were the attending physician that night.”

  The man’s dark grey brow furrowed. He stopped his stride and lowered the clipboard, a small frown creasing his face. “I remember her, but not from that night. May I ask what this is about?”

  Sebastian pulled a worn photograph from his pocket. He knew the image well. It was one he’d worn close to his heart over the past week and not a night had gone by where he hadn’t studied each curve, each highlight and subtle shadow as he traced the contours of Taylor’s face. Turning it toward the doctor, his jaw steeled.

  “Think hard. Did you see this woman that night?”

  The man’s eyes flickered away. “It’s hard to say. Many of the victims were badly burned upon arrival. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be of much more help in this case agent…”

  “Baas,” Sebastian stated softly. His lips curved into a slow smile. “The files claim you pronounced Miss McAvay dead shortly after her arrival. Is that right?”

  The man’s chin lifted in thought. “I don’t recall.”

  Sebastian smirked, his piercing green eyes boring into the physician’s. “That is why I am here. Where is the body, Dr. Pollaski? In all of the reports, there is no evidence of her corpse ever reaching the morgue. No photographs of the autopsy.” His gaze narrowed. “No indication whatsoever that she ever entered this hospital, dead or alive.”

  “Someone must have botched things up downstairs. I am sorry, Agent Baas, but that’s not my department. Nor is it my problem.”

  For a moment, he pondered jamming a gun under the bastard’s chin and asking if that was a big enough problem for him. Instead, he struggled to pull in the reins on his raging temper.

  “No?” Sebastian asked, stepping into the man. He was surprised when the doctor didn’t budge. Looking up at him, he could feel the cold glint spark in his eyes. It was the only warning he was apt to give, and the look was usually enough to make people cave. “Let me tell you what is your problem. I love that woman. She was carrying my child, and I have every reason to suspect she’s being held somewhere against her will. The men that have her will beat and torture her until there is nothing left. Perhaps that is not a concern in your eyes, but I assure you hindering my attempts to investigate her disappearance at this point will pose a very definite problem for you.”

  Dr. Pollaski regarded him for a long moment. His gaze flickered ever so briefly to the photo before he shook his head. “I truly am sorry. I wish I could be of more assistance to you.”

  Sebastian flashed him a cold smile. “I am sure your family will wish the same. Funny thing about security tapes, Wayne. They are everywhere nowadays, and unlike people, they have no reason to lie.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Taylor lie awake, too terrified to sleep despite the exhaustion wracking her body and the determined pull of her eyelids. She had to find a way out of this room. She had to find a way to protect herself and her baby. Her stomach cramped, twisting with demanding hunger pains. Neither of them would last long without food or water. The pain of losing Sebastian was bad enough, but the thought of her baby’s sweet, innocent little body withering away inside her was more than she could bear. Maddened by a combination of fury and grief, she screamed into the darkness and raged against her restraints.

  It didn’t take long before the door burst open and a powerful surge of light filled the room. Stilling, Taylor regarded the man staring back at her with wild eyes. He was broad, stocky, and bordered on the edge of being overweight. His wide, flat features were somewhat familiar. She’d seen him once or twice before, but his name wasn’t one she could place. Deciding that made him inconsequential, she turned her head and looked the other way.

  His name didn’t matter. His rank didn’t matter. All that mattered was escaping this godforsaken death pit. Revulsion crawled through her as she listened to his heavy footsteps pound against the floor. Blunt fingertips gouged into her cheeks, bruising her face as he wrenched it his way.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he snarled. “Unless you’re wanting some extra attention in here, princess, I suggest you shut the fuck up.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Her chest burning with unspoken hatred and anger, Taylor attempted to wrench her face free. The man’s hold tightened and he leaned down until his entire body loomed over hers.

  “You got a real fire in you huh, kitten? Well I got news for you, honey. I ain’t Sebastian. You keep giving me shit and I’m going to beat the prettiness right out of that fucking face. You hear me?”

  He released her cheeks only to settle a hand over her breast. The other clamped over her nose and mouth, smothering her screams as his fingers bit down in a brutal squeeze. Laughing, he swung one leg out and straddled her, his heavy bulk pinning her to the floor. Realizing his intent, her terror mounted. Fury mingled with the disgust roaring through her veins.

  “On second thought, maybe I’ll just fuck you raw. Tear that sweet little pussy of yours to shreds.”

  Her muffled protests vibrated against his hand as the other pushed lower to ram between her legs. Panic set in. Taylor bucked violently beneath him, thrashing with her efforts to throw him off balance and unseat him. He teetered but the unstableness did nothing to thwart his attempts to pry her thighs apart. Triumphant, he grinned down at her while her head spun from a lack of oxygen and air.

  “What the hell is going on in here?”

  The cavernous boom of Marx’s voice froze them both. The reaction was fleeting. Releasing her face, the man scrambled off her and sprung to his feet. Taylor’s heart thudded furiously as she sucked in greedy, heaving gasps of air.

  “I asked you a question, Bradley,” the leader stated, his tone flat.

  “Nothing is going on, sir. The bitch was acting out, so I decided to have a little fun with her. That’s all.”

  Marx nodded, his dark gaze flickering in her direction. The generous swell of his mouth curved in amusement as he regarded her. She wanted to, but her anger wouldn’t let her look away. Instead, she fought to catch the remainder of her breath and held his stare until he swung it back to her assailant.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Bradley, but you won’t be putting your dick inside her.”

  “What? Why not?” the man shot back. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about giving her back to Sebastian.”

  The humor on Marx’s face vanished. In the blink of an eye, his brow lowered, his jaw hitched, and he charged toward the man, his features contorting into a livid mask. He barreled Bradley into a corner and jabbed a hard forefinger into the man’s chest.

  “I already lost one man to that toxic cunt. I’m not going to risk that poisonous twat of hers infecting someone again. You can rape her with whatever goddamn object you please. I don’t give a damn what you do to her, but if I even suspect your cock is getting close, I will cut the fucking thing off. Is that clear?” Marx snarled, pushing the man back even harder with a forceful shove to his shoulders.

  Any relief Taylor felt died upon hearing the commander’s words and seeing the cruel gleam ignite in the other man’s eyes. He fully intended to make the best of the freedom he was given. That much was painfully clear. Trying to mask her disappoint
ment and fear, she turned her attention to the ground. Sebastian would find her. She took comfort from that thought and knowing when he did, he was going to take great pleasure in making the demented bastards pay.

  ~*~*~*~

  The guards at the front doors struggled to fight Sebastian back and keep him at bay. The loud ratchet of Rupert’s rifle clicked behind him, lending them both pause. He could feel the fury and hatred blazing in his eyes as he propelled one of the men backward with a hard shove. The guard bounced off the door, his expression stunned while his counterpart scrambled to step between them and make peace.

  “You have two seconds to get the fuck out of my way before we start shooting,” Sebastian warned, his voice coming in a hostile rasp. “That blowup across town the other day killed my fiancée and nearly cost my life. Until Marx decides to pull his head out of his ass and assign me some security of my own, the asshole behind me stays.”

  “Th-that’s not the problem, sir.”

  “No?” he asked, cocking his head and pressing closer. “Do you want to tell me what is?”

  “Marx said you were a little unstable after everything that happened. He said you needed to take a few days to pull yourself together, Agent Baas.” He swallowed and quickly covered his tracks. “Those were his words, sir. Not mine.”

  The fear rolling off the man deepened as Sebastian forced a cold smile. The guard’s knees shook slightly, making his pant legs shimmy.

  Reaching up, he patted the man’s cheek. “I am going in now, Roger. If you want to, you can try to stop me. Otherwise, I suggest you and your partner stand out here and enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Getting no response, he pushed through the doors with Rupert hot on his trail. He wound his way through the dismal corridors, listening for any signs of Taylor and ignoring the bewildered stares of his men. He looked like shit. He knew that. He hadn’t eaten or slept in two days. His every waking minute was spent searching for Taylor or rocking himself through the immense spells of grief her absence inflicted. He’d showered, but he hadn’t shaved and his hair stood out on his head in wild disarray. He looked every bit the deranged madman Marx claimed him to be and, at the moment, he was every bit as dangerous.