by Tara Quan
A few of them spared her a glance. It gave her the motivation to continue. “You’re by her side every day. You’ve witnessed her cruelty. You’ve seen her madness. Now that the Prophet is dead, all she wants to do is follow Mother Gothel to the grave and take us all with her. You know what I’m saying is true.”
A few stances shifted. She heard indrawn breaths. They were too well trained for her to expect a stronger reaction. Inching toward her grandmother, Scarlet forged on. “She was a great leader once. The Prophet was a great leader once. But what was left of her judgment is long gone. She’s cruel without reason. She kills without reason. By following her, you are guilty of the same insanity.”
Eleanor was the one who spoke. “What you call madness, I call loyalty.” Her grandmother leveled an assessing gaze at those trained to protect her. Scarlet’s heart sank. Many of these women had been by their leader’s side for decades. A few words weren’t likely to change their minds.
With a smug smile, Eleanor ordered, “Point those weapons at the traitors. If my idiot daughter had the guts to kill me, she wouldn’t have waited this long.”
The guards obeyed their leader. When Scarlet’s gaze darted to her mother’s paling face, she knew Eleanor’s prediction was on the mark. Some bonds were impossible to break. Mary wasn’t going to carry out her threat.
This rebellion would end in a bloodbath.
Without warning, loud cracks of sound echoed around them. Grenades hit the platform, expelling clouds of white smoke. Flashes of light blinded Scarlet a moment before she fell to her knees. Soon after she inhaled the sweet-smelling gas, the world descended into a gray fog.
Chapter 13
Scarlet’s head felt heavy. The air smelled odd—clean and acrid at the same time. Something thin, smooth, and cold rested over her skin. Dull pain emanated from the crook of her left elbow. A steady chime pulsed in her ears, creating a pressure akin to a sharp object being held in front of her eyes.
She caught a whiff of a flowery scent. Sensuous and alluring, it signaled another’s passage toward her. Survival instincts kicked in. She fought to lift her eyelids only to find her vision blurred and blotched by patches of light and dark. She widened her eyes; she squinted. Neither act allowed her to focus on the black-garbed visitor within arm’s reach. The person’s features blended into undefined shapes. All she could make out was golden hair, pasty skin, and pale blue eyes.
A spark of relief flared. For a moment she thought it could be Marcus. But a female voice shattered her hopes.
“How do you feel, Ms. Ryding?”
She frowned. Her grandmother’s last name was Ryding. Scarlet had never answered to it. “Who—”
“Who I am isn’t important.” No emotion underlay those words. “I’m the one who will be asking questions. Let me repeat—how do you feel?”
Scarlet tried to wiggle her fingers but couldn’t. The experience reminded her of the night Marcus saved her life. “I can’t move.”
The foggy shape shifted downward. Scarlet guessed the woman had just sat. “The doctors injected you with concentrated doses of URV. Paralysis is a temporary side effect. It will pass.”
Something about the statement sounded wrong. Scarlet tried to lift her arm. All she managed to do was cause beads of sweat to gather on her forehead. Aside from her face, her body was frozen. “Why would they—”
“As I said, Ms. Ryding. I need you to answer questions, not ask them. Now, I want to discuss Agent Woodsman.”
She was about to say she had no idea who this Woodsman person was. But then she remembered Marcus’ last name. “Where is he?”
“You are failing to grasp the concept of an interrogation.” A hint of amusement laced the feminine voice. But her visitor’s next words refuted the observation. “Let me make your situation clear. It is within my power to have you locked away forever. I can make sure neither your mother nor your friends ever see the light of day again. Please confirm you understand.”
Terror knotted Scarlet’s stomach. After all she’d been through, her ordeal wasn’t over. “Yes.” When the silence stretched, she added, “I understand.”
“Good. When did you meet Agent Woodsman?”
Her answer couldn’t harm him. “Less than two months ago.”
“I see. What is the nature of your relationship?”
Scarlet frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her deflection was also the truth.
“I will rephrase.” Her interrogator paused. “Help me understand the agent’s actions. He broke protocol. He didn’t send you back to the city for questioning. He allowed you to dictate the WOLF’s method of infiltration. He switched out live ammunition for tranquilization darts. During the operation, he assaulted another agent in order to acquire smoke grenades. He then entered the fray before his team was in position. There were no casualties, but he took multiple unnecessary risks. Do you have an explanation for his erratic behavior?”
Scarlet licked her lips. Even though she couldn’t see clearly, her mind was in working condition. She sensed a trap. “You want to use me to get Marcus in trouble. I won’t help you.”
“In a manner of speaking, your conclusion is correct.” The woman’s tone suggested satisfaction, not disappointment. “Agent Woodsman is under investigation. His allegiances have been questioned. If the information you give me assists my case against him, I’ll let you go. If you refuse to cooperate, I’ll lock you up and throw away the key. Your choice is simple, Ms. Ryding. Now, what can you tell me about him?”
Scarlet was furious at fate. No matter what she did, she seemed to fall into one bad situation after the other. “Do you even care if it’s true?”
The response was immediate. “Not in the slightest.”
Her interrogator was right. Scarlet’s choice was as simple as breathing. “I have nothing to tell you.”
The shadow shifted up. Scarlet heard soft knocks on the ground. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider? The consequence of your refusal is incarceration, perhaps even death. For others as well as you.”
Scarlet didn’t bother keeping her eyes open. “Please leave me alone.”
She heard a low laugh as cold fingers touched her cheek. “No wonder Marcus is so wound up. You can rest easy. When we meet again, it’ll be under much more pleasant circumstances.”
It took a moment before Scarlet realized whose loyalty had been in question. By then, her mysterious visitor was gone.
* * * *
“Where the hell did you send her?” Marcus roared as he stormed through the sliding glass doors.
The FMA’s Covert Affairs Director smoothed her perfectly coiffed blonde hair. Though over sixty, Marguerite still possessed a disarming combination of beauty and ruthlessness. Her glacial stare was enough to make even the most seasoned intelligence operatives quake at the knees. Even though he had faced this silent reprimand countless times, Marcus was far from immune.
But in this moment, anger obliterated its effect.
“I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific.” Marguerite’s tone was laced with amusement.
He glared at her. “Release Scarlet Ryding into my custody.”
“Last I checked, you report to me.” With a swipe of her fingers, the tempered glass desk’s backlights turned off. The clear material turned opaque, making the device appear as a nondescript piece of furniture. “What will you do if I refuse? Throw a temper tantrum?”
“Try me.” He pounded his fists onto the desk. The impact didn’t leave a mark.
“Sit. It’s past time we chatted.” Marguerite gestured toward the heavy chair at his side. It might look like a piece of leather on wheels, but the seat measured vital signs. While not a foolproof polygraph machine, it had its uses.
But she didn’t need fancy equipment to figure out what he was feeling. His face burned. His heart raced. Sweat dampened his palms. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt less in control. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”
She shrugged. “I don’
t care, and you don’t have a choice. It’s your fault I had to resort to this.”
He should have kept his voice low and measured. He knew negotiation stratagems better than anyone. Nonetheless, his next words came out as a low growl. “Tell me where you’ve taken her.”
Marguerite rolled her bright blue eyes. “The girl is fine. Judging from her medical report, I’ve taken much better care of her than you. Really, Marcus—you found someone who can turn you into an impulsive idiot, and you let her get stabbed? Your father is outraged.”
Marcus counted backward from ten. When it failed to have an effect, he started over at fifty. “What are the chances you’ll stay out of this?”
She snorted. “None. I checked in on her a few hours ago. The doctors are almost done with the tissue regeneration. I went ahead and asked them to take care of all those pesky scars as well. You can consider it an early wedding present.” Her expression turned feline. “And if you want to see her, I suggest you show the manners I painstakingly taught you. Take a seat.”
“I haven’t asked her to marry me.” Adding “yet” as a qualifier would put him at a disadvantage. He sank into the plush leather. “Why won’t anyone tell me where she is?”
Marguerite’s returning smile sent a chill down his spine. “Because we need to discuss terms. I finally have something you want—quite desperately, it seems. Now, I can drag out Ms. Ryding’s case for weeks or even months. As the subject of a pending investigation, I can prohibit any and all contact with her. Or I can consider your commendable services to the FMA, along with Ms. Ryding’s contribution to the WOLF’s success, and have someone take you to her after this meeting. It’s your choice.”
He took a deep breath. Whatever Marguerite wanted, it was hers. He could only hope she didn’t know how far he would sink to keep Red safe. “Let’s skip the theatrics. What the hell are you angling at?”
She cast him a look of genuine affront. “For starters, I’d like you to mind your language. It reflects poorly on me.”
When Marcus said nothing, she tossed over a clear palm-sized badge. He instinctively caught the heavy piece of plastic. Once he realized what it was, he was tempted to aim it at the wall behind her.
Her smile was a smug baring of teeth. “I upped your security clearance. Congratulations. You now have access to a wealth of information—including the location of Ms. Ryding. Of course, you need to formally accept the position before this privilege takes effect.” Judging from her tone, she had no doubt how this conversation would end. “The badge matches any outfit. Trust me, I wear one every day.”
With a sinking feeling, he looked down at the status symbol in his hand. The moment his gaze fell on the badge, backlights turned on. The plastic was designed to draw and magnify electrical currents from the human body.
The device had been coded to his retinal signature. After the quick scan was initiated, the dimly lit surface flashed his picture, name, clearance level, and new title. “I turned this job down two years ago.”
“It’s past time you had a change of heart.” Her tone turned serious. “You’ve roamed the wastelands long enough. I’ve indulged your little rebellion, but I need you to grow up.”
Marcus narrowly resisted the urge to stand up and run. The cage door was closing. A part of him still wanted to be free. “I don’t have the stomach for climbing the FMA’s ladder. Jockeying for position and kissing ass isn’t my style.”
“Someone has to do it.” Her dismissive tone was beginning to grate. “I’m sick and tired of these complaints. Agents like you and Dane Prince whine about perceived mistakes. The fact that humanity is still on the brink of extinction doesn’t seem to sink into your thick caveman skulls. All you boys want to do is run around the wastelands killing undead. What you need to worry about are the people within these walls. If you think the city is so damn flawed, do something about it. You can’t change a bureaucracy by throwing stones.”
Stunned, Marcus scrutinized Marguerite’s face. While she was a major pain in the rear, this woman was one of the few people he respected. It took a rare combination of intelligence and charisma to rise to the top of the deadliest division in the Federal Military Agency. “Why didn’t you just say you needed my help? I would have come home sooner.”
Her returning scowl put him back in his place. “Because I don’t need your help yet. How shortsighted do you think I am? There’s trouble on the horizon. When all the mistakes of the past three decades coalesce into a PR nightmare, I need people on hand to clean up the mess. You’ve just been recruited.”
His attention narrowed in on the most pertinent information. “What trouble is on the horizon?”
Marguerite sighed. “I don’t know exactly. The old cadre is dying. With their deaths, certain…decisions…are being revealed. I’ve discovered bits and pieces, but the picture is far from complete. I need you to find out more so we can get ahead of it.”
Being cryptic was a Covert Affairs trademark. “Do you know who kidnapped those girls?”
“No, but I have a few theories on why it happened.” She made a dismissive motion with her hand. “The case has been assigned.”
Marcus raised his eyebrows. “To whom?”
She leveled a stare at him. “You’ll find out when the person contacts you. Until then, keep your distance. You’re too close to the problem as it is.”
Marcus didn’t bother asking for further details. Marguerite had a valid point, and arguing wouldn’t change her decision. He had more important things to take care of.
He tapped his new security badge on the desk before unfolding from his seat. “Aren’t you concerned you’ll be accused of nepotism? Deputy Director of Covert Affairs is a position every intelligence operative vies for. I doubt I’m the most qualified.”
Marguerite rose to her feet and extended her hand. “Unfortunately for us all, you happen to fit the bill to perfection. Besides, you’re my son. Everyone who matters expects you to follow in my footsteps.”
* * * *
The sparse apartment felt alien. He could count on a single hand the number of times he’d slept here this past year. The furniture arrangement was the same as the day he moved in. There were no personal items or keepsakes. This was a place to spend the night—nothing more.
But reality shifted as Red followed him inside. He didn’t know how anyone could look sexy in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, but she seemed to accomplish it without effort. Her presence changed everything. The room was no longer his. It was theirs.
The possessions he never before paid any attention to acquired meaning. He could imagine her curled up on the boxlike and extremely uncomfortable couch. He could envision her watching the sunset through the dusty floor-to-ceiling windows. A furniture upgrade as well as a thorough cleaning materialized at the top of his to-do list.
For the first time in memory, these sterile white walls didn’t feel like a cage. They gleamed with potential.
When she turned to face him, her expression was a medley of bewilderment and confusion. “What did they do to me?”
He reached for her. She stepped back. Her shaking hands fell to her stomach. “I don’t have a scratch. Every single wound—every single scar—they’re all gone.”
He was torn between aggravation and relief. “You just made me take you to visit your mother and sister. Then you forced me to discover Belle’s whereabouts. Isn’t it a bit late to have a panic attack because of your lack of wounds?”
Red’s hands fisted. Her eyebrows drew together. A flash of temper seemed to supersede fear. “I’m glad one of us finds this situation amusing.”
He smirked. “You should be thankful for my sense of humor. It’s distracting me from being pissed.”
Her eyes narrowed. She marched forward but tripped over her oversize hospital slippers. Making a frustrated sound, she kicked them off. Her bare feet made her seem far less menacing when they stood toe to toe. “You have no right to be angry with me.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “Yo
u took all my friends prisoner. You interfered with my operation. You broke your promise.”
Marcus caught her wrist. “Dane was the one who went back on his word. If you weren’t busy ignoring everything I had to say, you would recall I didn’t agree to a single detail of your idiotic plan.” The memory of her staring down the barrels of several pistols still chilled him to the bone. He would be incensed if he weren’t so damn relieved. “Besides, you must have subconsciously wanted me to back you up, or you wouldn’t have disabled the traps in that tunnel. It was a good thing you did. Your band of rebels didn’t exactly have the place locked down. The situation was spinning out of control. Admit it—my interference saved your pretty little neck.”
Without warning, she stomped on his foot. Since she wasn’t wearing any shoes, his boots provided more than adequate protection. He didn’t feel a thing. Red, on the other hand, was probably hurting. Not that she’d own up to it.
He closed his fingers over her shoulders and held her in place. Her irate scowl did a poor job masking her unease.
After the hell she had put him through, she deserved to squirm for a while longer. But her apparent fear felt like a blow to his gut. He couldn’t stand to see her terrified. “Don’t worry about your wounds.” With a sigh, he brushed his lips against her temple. “Our medics have learned to manipulate URV to hasten cellular regeneration. A combination of the vaccine and immunoglobulin has become a panacea of sorts.” Marcus lowered one hand from her shoulder and flattened it over her belly. “It saved your life.”
She tugged the collar of her hoodie. Her hand trembled. “There’s always more than one side. What else does this vaccine do?”
He caught her fluttering fingers. “Don’t be afraid. The biological impact is well documented. Less children are born. It’s lethal when given to anyone under the age of seven. A small minority suffers from other side effects, but they manifest immediately. Most of us live longer and show fewer signs of aging. That’s about it.”
She gave him a look of astonishment. “What other side effects? Why would you give this vaccine to everyone when you know so little about it? You have walls to keep the undead out.”