by Nancy Gideon
“Don’t speak. Everything here is monitored. Let me do the talking.” Her curt tone didn’t betray how the sound of Jacques’s voice shattered through her like an earthquake.
She’d expected to see Nica with him. Charlotte was a surprise. Though her features were pale as ice, the detective’s tight jaw said she was fully in control. She’d come for her man. Heaven help anyone who got in her way.
Susanna was determined that none would.
Section C was a closed-off portion of the clinic, kept strictly off-limits because it supposedly housed the dangerously unstable. Susanna knew better. It held political prisoners who were being interrogated or broken. Or both. No one in her area knew anything about what went on there because no one who went in ever came out.
Until now, if things went as planned.
They bluffed their way through another security checkpoint. When asked what their business was, Susanna told the man with an icy disdain that his clearance wasn’t high enough to ask that question. They were allowed to pass.
“You make a convincing bitch,” Jacques murmured.
“I thought you were already convinced of that.”
He said nothing more.
C-7.
Susanna put her hand on Charlotte’s arm, surprised to feel her trembling slightly. “Don’t react to anything you see. He may not even know you.”
Charlotte’s expression never flickered. “We’re wasting time.”
The room was small, stark, and glaringly sterile. One wall was mirrored for observation. An attractive woman slipped from it without a glance or a word as they entered.
Max was stretched out on a tilted table. Heavy cuffs secured him at six-inch intervals. He wore loose hospital scrubs that were soaked through with sweat. Wires ran from electrodes stuck to his chest, temples, and various pulse points, feeding information into a monitoring system humming busily off to one side. IVs pierced the backs of his hands. Under the searing lights, his skin glistened. Even though he appeared calm and unaware, raw abrasions where he was restrained showed evidence of fierce struggles.
Susanna gripped Charlotte’s wrist in a precautionary warning as she spoke to the mirrored surface.
“I need to speak to someone right now. Cameras and recordings off, please. Official business.”
A pinched-faced tech bustled in looking flustered. “I wasn’t told of an inspection.”
“I wasn’t aware,” Susanna leaned in close to the nervous young man to study his badge, “Mr. Bryon, that I had to clear my visit through you.”
“That’s not what I meant, doctor. You have our complete cooperation. If we’d known—”
“We like surprises,” Jacques growled, making the poor fellow tremble. “We wouldn’t catch anyone in any monkeyshines if we gave out a warning, would we?”
“I can assure you, sir, there are no . . . monkeyshines going on here.”
“Then perhaps you can tell us exactly what the hell is going on here.” The cold fury vibrating through Charlotte’s voice drained him of all color.
“We’re just measuring brain waves, sir, ma’am, and his vitals. Don’t get too close, ma’am.”
Charlotte turned that black-lensed stare upon him. “If all you’re doing is taking his temperature, why should I be worried? What are you pumping into him?”
“Fluids to keep him hydrated.”
“And?” she prompted menacingly.
“Something to keep him manageable.”
“Get out,” Susanna snapped. “I need a gurney with a portable IV hookup. And I want copies of all your readouts.”
“I can’t do that, doctor.”
“Can you look for another job in the morning?” She reached into her huge bag and produced an official-looking document. “This says I can.”
“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”
After the tech bolted, Charlotte moved to Max’s side, curling her fingers about his to squeeze firmly, whispering, “I’m here for you, baby.”
His hand suddenly clenched tight and his eyes opened. “Charlotte?” A hoarse moan.
Before Susanna could warn her not to, she had her arms about him, her damp cheek pressed to his rough one as she told him, “We’re here to take you home.” She leaned back just far enough to devour the sight of him.
“Charlotte . . .” He swallowed hard, with obvious difficulty. She bent close so that his lips moved against her ear. So she could barely hear him whisper, softly, firmly, “Don’t trust me.”
“What?” She leaned back, touching his face gently, confused by his words. But his eyes had rolled back and slid shut.
The tech reentered the room. Susanna snatched the charts from him as he mused, “I’ve never seen anyone pull out of it before. Once they go under—”
“There’s nothing on this chart about a second IV. What’s in that bag?” Susanna demanded.
“I—I don’t know. Another doctor was just in here. She must have hung it.”
“Take it out.”
“I can’t do that without—”
Susanna reached past him to ease the needle free. As she kept pressure on the vein, she leaned over to check the label on the medication and the amount dripping through. Her features tensed.
“Unhook him. All of it. Charges of misconduct are going to be made. If you don’t want to be included, do as you’re told.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As soon as all the wires and restraints were removed, Susanna snapped, “Get that gurney in here now. If we’re lucky this man won’t be a complete vegetable.”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte hissed at her when they were alone. “What were they doing?”
“Something I’m sure they weren’t supposed to do. They started the imprinting process. I don’t know how far it’s gone.”
“Imprinting?” Charlotte shook her head, losing even more color.
“Memory erase and reprogramming,” Jacques told her, then his hard stare went to Susanna. “Is that what they were doing?”
“But I don’t know why. I’d think they’d be after what he had inside his head, not in a hurry to empty it. It doesn’t make sense.”
The tech returned with a gurney and helped Jacques shift Max onto it. He stepped out of the way so they could get through the door. And then they were moving swiftly down the hall.
“I’ll go with you as far as the elevators,” Susanna was saying, walking purposefully ahead of Jacques so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Then you’re on your own. I have to get back before I’m missed.”
“Hey!” The tech shouted after them, but they didn’t pause. “Hey, stop. There’s something wrong here. Your clearance didn’t go through. Wait!”
Jacques turned and fired a quick blast from the stun gun, dropping the tech into a twitching heap. “Enough small talk. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
But as they cleared the double doors leaving the unit, it was apparent leaving wasn’t going to be a simple matter.
The security guards weren’t at their posts. They were tucked out of sight at the doors, waiting to spring upon their unidentified visitors. Jacques zapped one of them and Charlotte took the other out with a brutal chop to the throat. They started trotting toward the elevator, but more security guards began to arrive, this time armed and ready.
Jacques’s move took Susanna by surprise. He hooked one arm about her chest to hold her and pressed the stun gun to her carotid artery.
“Stand down,” he bellowed at the uniformed guards. “At this range and velocity, a jolt will kill her.”
The officers exchanged uncertain looks, not sure if they were dealing with a ruse or a hostage situation.
Jacques plucked the identification badge from her jacket and threw it toward the desk. “Her name is Dr. Susanna Duchamps. She’s not acting of her own free will. She’ll be released unharmed once we’re clear of the building. Her partner, Damien Frost, is on the board of this facility. You don’t want to screw this up.”
The name was well-known
and their aggressive stance eased.
As they raced for the elevator, Charlotte grabbed one of the guards to relieve him of his sidearm, trotting backward to cover their retreat.
The elevator doors parted and they rolled the gurney in. Jacques pushed for the garage level and the doors closed.
Susanna collapsed back against the hard wall of Jacques’s chest. He caught her arm to support her.
“You did a real good job of acting scared,” he told her gruffly, his breath warm and vital in her ear.
“I wasn’t acting. You have to let me go, Jacques. You can’t take me with you.”
On the other side of the gurney, Charlotte wobbled, grabbing the rail for balance. Now she didn’t look pale. She was a sickly green.
“Charlotte? Are you okay?”
She waved off Jacques’s concern and tried to straighten. “Just a little woozy.”
“Since when?” he demanded.
“Yesterday,” she admitted. “Must have been the breakfast burrito.”
Susanna pushed free of him to circle around to her side. She had her wrist, tapping into her pulse. “Light-headed? Sick to your stomach? Weak?”
“All of the above,” she confessed, then drew an anxious breath. “The baby—”
“Just relax and breathe.”
“What’s wrong?” Jacques demanded, concern roughening his voice. “Is it the baby? Dammit, do something!”
Susanna ignored him. “Trouble keeping food down? No? It could be something as simple as low blood sugar. I don’t have anything with me.” She had her arm about Charlotte’s waist, supporting her as she took slow, calming breaths.
“I’m better now,” Charlotte murmured. Then she glanced at Susanna for confirmation. “Right?”
The doctor smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just too much stress and too little of everything else you need. And breakfast burritos should probably be off the menu for a while.”
The doors opened and Charlotte pushed away from her, gun in hand to assume an aggressive pose. “Next you’ll be telling me to give up coffee.”
The garage level was empty. Jacques ran to the nearest panel van and used his elbow to break the glass in the driver’s door. Popping the locks, he loaded an unresponsive Max onto the rear seat and helped Charlotte climb in after him.
When he pulled Susanna toward the passenger door, she dug in her heels.
“Please, let me go. I can’t go with you.”
“I can’t let you go until we’re safe, until I’m sure they’re safe. Sorry. I know the last place you want to be is with me.” He yanked open the passenger door and shoved her in, aware that the rough move would look good on security video.
As he walked around the back of the vehicle, bullets thunked into the rear doors. Calmly, he turned and aimed the pistol he’d taken from Charlotte, putting rounds in the gun arms of both guards to end their threat. Then he took a minute to hot-wire the vehicle and drove them from the structure as if in no hurry, even stopping to extend the parking stub to the bored elderly man in the exit booth along with the required amount due.
Susanna was buckling on her seat belt.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he told her as he made a quick U-turn on the street to cut in front of an incoming ambulance, forcing it up over the curb. “Get out.”
He joined her on her side of the van and took her arm, hauling her toward the rear ambulance doors. The sight of his weapon quelled any resistance from the medic and youthful beat cop inside. They quickly locked their hands behind their heads.
Jacques boosted Susanna up inside with instructions to get whatever supplies she might need while he waited and watched for pursuit.
The young man strapped on the gurney, his forehead and shirtfront bloody and his breath stinking of alcohol, gushed, “Hey, can you help a brother out?” He lifted his hand to the limit of the cuff locking him in place.
“Sorry. I don’t think we’re related.” Jacques reached up to help Susanna hop down with her armload of supplies, then he shut the doors.
They drove north in a big looping circle, Susanna sitting quietly while Jacques kept his eye on the rearview. He stopped the van under a busy overpass where a black SUV with Indiana plates was pulled off to the side. Giles St. Clair got out, asking no questions as he moved Max onto the rear bench seat and tucked a pale and somber Charlotte into one of the middle captain’s chairs. He blinked at Susanna but had no comment when she climbed in next to Charlotte.
Jacques got into the front and as Giles slid behind the wheel, said simply, “Drive.”
They’d gone several miles down the interstate with Giles glancing worriedly in the mirror at the detective before he asked, “She get hurt?”
“No.”
“The doc decide to come along?”
“No.”
“All righty then. I’ll just be driving.”
Susanna leaned up between the seats, the scent of her hair enough to make Jacques dizzy.
“We need to stop someplace. I can’t assess their situation in the back of a moving vehicle.”
“Once we’re in Indiana we’ll get a motel.”
She turned toward him, face so close he sucked in a quick breath. “Indiana?”
“Over, then down. Figure they’d be looking for us on the straight shot. It’s out of our way but a helluva lot safer. Unless you think there’s any immediate danger to either of them. Is there?”
“I don’t think so, but sooner rather than later, okay?”
“You’re the doctor.”
She continued to stare into his eyes, then nodded. As she backed away, she glanced curiously toward their driver. “Did you kidnap him, too?”
Giles grinned at her. “Just along for the ride and minding my own business.” He passed her an orange that was rolling about in the console. “Here. Didn’t get the chance to finish my lunch. This’ll give her some energy.” Then he sobered. “Max okay?”
“I don’t know yet.” That was the best answer she had.
It was dark by the time they pulled into a past-its-prime motor lodge off the highway. Giles left the engine running while he went in to get two adjoining rooms in the back, paying cash. He backed the vehicle in close to the walk to hide a plate number that wouldn’t match the one he gave to the desk clerk.
While Susanna checked on Charlotte, Giles stood outside the room in the bracing cold smoking a cigarette as Jacques walked across the parking lot to the fast-food place next door to buy them something quick and filling. The wind cut through the leather coat he wore over the security uniform. He’d forgotten how damned cold it was in the North, then was surprised by that recollection. He wondered if he’d lived in the changeable clime all his life or just the part of it he’d spent with Susanna. Did she know that little detail of his history? Would she tell him if he asked?
What else wasn’t she telling him?
His mood was as frigid as the air by the time he got back to the rooms. Giles met him at the door, letting him know that Charlotte was resting easy and that Max had been sedated. He offered to keep watch from their room and disappeared inside with half the food and coffee.
Warily, Jacques entered the second unit.
The bathroom door was shut and the shower was running. After setting down the food, he went back to the vehicle to bring in the bag he’d hurriedly packed for the trip. Carefully, he opened the bathroom door and hung a clean T-shirt on the knob inside before shutting it again.
There were two double beds. She’d put her large shoulder bag on one so he took the other, stretching out on top of the bedspread without removing coat or boots. He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew the sound of her rummaging through the takeout bags woke him.
“Chicken or burger?” she asked without looking up.
“Burger, unless you want it.”
She set the carton on the edge of the nightstand. “Fries or onion rings?”
“Onion rings.”
“What if I want them?”
; “Too bad.” He sat up, enjoying the sight of her slight smile. Enjoying the sight of her in his T-shirt with her legs bare and her hair towel-dried and fluffy. She smelled delicious. And she had yet to make eye contact with him.
They ate in silence, each sitting on the edge of their own bed, knees nearly touching, making quick work of the food. After she’d sucked up the last of her drink, Susanna asked, “Can I make a call?”
“No. Sorry. Not while we’re on the road.”
She nodded but didn’t look up.
“How’s Charlotte?” he asked.
“She shouldn’t have any trouble making the trip. Probably just a hormonal thing.”
“And Max?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze flickered up and away. “It depends on how much they gave him. We won’t know until he wakes up, and it might be best if that didn’t happen until we get where we’re going.”
“Agreed.” He was silent for a moment and then it just burst out like a crack of lightning and boom of thunder. “Dammit! How could you do that? How the fuck could you do that to me?”
When he surged to his feet, she flinched back, startled. He quickly put some distance between them, pacing the length of the room in fierce, stalking strides as long-smoldering anger caught flame.
“You stole my memories,” he accused in a low rumble as she watched him through the fringe of her lashes. “You stole my life. How could you do that do me?”
“I had no choice,” she whispered.
“No choice.” He considered that, getting angrier because he believed her. “What about that mark you wear? No choice there, either? Did that mean anything to you? Ever?” She shrank beneath the force of his roar. “Tell me, because I sure as hell don’t know.”
There was a tap at the door. He jerked it open to see Giles standing there, stoic and formidable.
“Thin walls. Everything okay in here?” He glanced around Jacques to where Susanna was huddled on the bed, his eyes narrowing.
“Just clearing the air,” she told him with a wan smile. “Rather loudly.”
“Mind your own business,” Jacques snarled at the other man.
“As long as you mind your manners,” Giles countered. There was no mistaking the threat.