Absolute Doubt (Fallen Agents of T-FLAC Book 1)

by Cherry Adair

  "Nice gesture." Sullivan held out his arms, preppy casual in his fucking pressed chinos and open-necked golf shirt, every pale hair on his head in place. Not even sweating, even though his leg was still blood-soaked. He had to be in pain, but you’d never know it. "Give me one last hug. This is where we part ways and they lock me up and throw away the key."

  He gave his sister a wry smile as Daklin's men, still flanking him, held him back. "Go to hell, Oliver."

  Sullivan gave his sister a pleading look. "River. Please."

  Daklin's intuition went nova. He leapt forward to intersect as Sullivan lunged for her, his arms outstretched. "No!"

  As her brother grabbed her from behind, his forearm across her throat, she staggered back under the weight of the blast suit and the helmet in her hand crashed to the floor.

  #

  River gagged as Oliver jerked her flush against his chest, pressing his surprisingly muscular arm across her windpipe to yank her off her feet. Her hands automatically curled around his arm, trying to pull free. Her eyes met Ash's, her vision narrowing on him, as if he was at the end of a long tunnel.

  Blood drained from her head as her vision filled with black snow. "Oliver, what the hell?" Her voice came out as a wobbly croak.

  "I’m staying right here until I take T-FLAC to hell with me."

  The confirmation of how dangerously disturbed her brother was terrified her. But it didn't come as a surprise, all things considered. His Asperger's had always masked a more serious diagnosis: psychopath. Her parents had been told that years ago, but they hadn't wanted to believe it. Their mother had always hoped that Oliver would even out with therapy. God. He was a galaxy away from ever 'evening out'

  River closed her eyes for a moment. Thank God her parents weren't here to see this. They'd be devastated to know how Oliver was using his genius. When she opened them again, she felt as though she was underwater. Everything around her was a blur. Sounds were muted. "What are you talking about?"

  "Where are the stones I gave you?"

  Prickles of unease made her skin tingle all over, and her heartbeat ratcheted up to manic. Dry mouthed, she had to lick her lips to answer him. "In my back pocket."

  River felt the expansion of her brother's chest against her back as he took a deep, satisfied breath. In her peripheral vision, she saw people closing in as if in slow motion. Her gaze fixed on Ash. The pale blue of his eyes gleamed like the hottest part of a flame as he looked down the barrel of his gun.

  "Let's see how well this blast suit contains the explosion when it comes from the inside," Oliver said.

  "The emeralds are your new delivery system." Ash motioned his men to move. He stood with his booted feet spread, the gun a natural extension of his arm. He didn't look scared, or pissed. He looked focused and determined. Solid. Competent.

  There wasn't a damn thing any of them could do with Oliver using her, in her bomb suit, as a shield. Her skin felt both hot and cold. Her heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud in her ears.

  Her brother's breath ruffled her hair at her temple as he spoke over her left shoulder. "Ingenious, right? Who the hell isn’t going to be greedy enough to claim a handful?"

  "You'll die, too," River told him as she tried to wrench herself free, though that was impossible to do when he was holding her so that her feet were off the damned floor. It didn't stop her from fighting him for all she was worth, however. But the heavy suit hampered her movements. She just hoped her weight, coupled with the bulk and weight of the blast suit would break his hold. All her struggles did was cut off more air to her lungs. Gagging and choking, she kept fighting.

  Oliver grabbed her hair, jerking her head back against his shoulder, then tightened his arm across her throat, pulling her more tightly against him. "I died three years ago when these fuckers killed the love of my life.”

  “All you were to her was a dick with a brain. For all the smarts you have, Catherine led you by the balls, Doctor.” Ash lifted the barrel of his gun a little higher. “She was as psycho as you are, as fucking psycho as her father, and a hell of a lot more devious and manipulative than Xavier could ever have been. I assure you, Seymour was incapable of love, affection, or human kindness. She played you, and your ego fell right into her baited trap.”

  "She loved me."

  "She used you. She made sure the sex was explosive and mind-bending, didn't she? Yeah, that's exactly how she manipulated you. The only love Seymour had was for herself. The label of deviant sexual predator was the kindest thing a panel of shrinks could come up with."

  "Oliver," River begged, "Don't do this. None of these people had anything to do with Catherine's death. I didn't even know her. I went to Los Santos to help you. Let me go. I'll come with you wherever you like." Brave damned words, but they came out a breathless croak. "We'll start a new life.”

  He pulled her even further backwards with a vicious tug of her hair. As he tightened his arm across her throat, black snow obliterated her vision. "Shut the fuck up, you stupid cunt."

  Bile rose in the back of her throat as she met Ash's eyes across the expanse of the open lobby.

  I love you. It didn't sound so improbable and illogical now. She mouthed the words. "I love you," but his focus was locked over her head, as he watched Oliver’s every move.

  Something burnt a searing path across the side of her neck, shocking the rest of the breath from her lungs.

  Without a sound, Oliver's restraining arm fell away. Fighting the weight of the suit with leaden limbs, she struggled to roll over and get to her feet. Since her arms and legs were so weighted and uncoordinated, she lay still. Something hot and wet trickled down her neck, soaking into the fabric of her thickly padded garment.

  She dropped like a stone, falling hard on her back with no time to brace for the fall. Faces rushed at her, but blurred in a dizzying swirl. Features were reduced to a kaleidoscope of muted color.

  The thumpthumpthump of her heartbeat faded in and out as if she were deep underwater.

  "Hurry the fuck up." Ash's rough voice sounded distant, then he said more calmly, "Lie still, sweetheart." His face swam into view. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig."

  Rough hands unclasped fasteners with rapid-fire clicks, and cool air bathed her chest as the suit was opened.

  How could something so freaking rude sound so nice? "Hardly compl-complimentary. Ow, shit, my neck hurts."

  "It hurts because you've been shot." His voice was grim as he used a gentle finger to push her hair out of her eyes, his hand pressing against the fire in her neck, his blue eyes dark with concern.

  "You shot me?"

  "I shot a terrorist. He had a detonation device on him or in him. It was the only thing that made sense. You happened to be in the way."

  She turned her head. Several operatives knelt on the floor near her fallen brother. "Oliver?"

  Ram looked up from his crouched position beside her brother. "Dead," he informed Ash. "There’s no device. No," he addressed someone out of sight. "Rip that sucker’s fucking clothes off. Tear his body apart. And make damn sure."

  River closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry."

  "Jesus," Daklin cupped her cheek. His hand felt hot against her shocky, clammy, cold skin. She wanted to rub her face into his palm. "You're sorry?"

  "Sorry that you had to kill my brother. He was evil. You didn't have any c-choice." The light dimmed and she kept her attention on Ash's beloved face, but even so, darkness was starting to encroach on the edges of her vision. "I feel really weird, Ash."

  "Where the fuck is that doctor?"

  She smiled, wanting to touch him, but unable to move. "Are you allowed to say fuck on your comm?"

  Ram dropped down on the other side of her. "Do something!" Ash ordered. "Yes, I can say all manner of things on the comm. Hold still, let Ram take a look. Get her out of this suit."

  "You have to let her go then," Ram said.

  “I take the pressure off, she’s gone. Get me a fucking medic now.”

 
"I am a physician, Daklin. Hey, pretty girl, look at my finger right here. Nope, don't close those beautiful eyes."

  There were suddenly hands all over her. It seemed as though a dozen people were stripping her down to her underwear. "Hey!" Cool air dried the sweat on her skin and she broke into shivering chills before someone finally wrapped her in a t-shirt that smelled like Asher.

  Ash cradled her head against his chest, his fingers gentle on her hair as Ram poked and prodded, putting something cold and solid against her neck.

  "Stitches," Ram said over her head. "Blood loss. Get her to the Med bay, downstairs. Yeah, well, you have to let her go so we can take her."

  "Don't let me go," River pleaded, annoyed when her voice sounded thin and weak.

  "Never." Daklin rose with her in his arms.

  "Oh, God." River buried her face against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as he strode across the lobby. Intense nausea overwhelmed her.

  "Puke or pass out?" he asked as he stepped into the elevator.

  "Both."

  She did neither, thank God. One moment they were in the elevator, the next a corridor, the next in a brightly lit room. "We’re in the hospital," he told her as he gently rested her on an exam table. "Where the hell is the medical team?" He turned as two men walked in a few seconds behind them, both slightly out of breath.

  They wasted no time washing their hands and donning blue surgical gloves as other personnel tended to River and yet another brought in a wheeled tray of surgical instruments, lining it up beside the table.

  Ash took River's hand, and she clung to it like a lifeline. She didn't like needles, and the ones she saw on the tray didn't instill her with confidence. Ash squeezed her fingers. "I'm hand delivering a VIP patient."

  "So I see," the one doctor said. Then he turned to River. "Sorry you had to visit HQ under these circumstances. You've had an exciting few days, haven’t you? I'm Dr. Wayne, and this is my sidekick Robin. That was a dramatic finish upstairs just now. Nothing wrong with your aim, Daklin. Nothing at all. Shit, sorry. That was insensitive of me."

  River didn't want to talk about what had just happened. Not until she'd had time to process it herself. She let Robin help her sit upright, her legs dangling off the exam table, and took the glass of orange juice he handed her. Her head spun. Ash wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her, and braced the bottom of the glass on his finger so she could drink. "Batman and Robin?"

  Dr. Wayne's white teeth flashed. "Never gets old. Let's see what we’ve got here. Daklin, move your arm. Yeah, Thanks. Any nausea?"

  "She felt nauseous and faint right after I shot her."

  Glancing up, she gave him a soft smile "You know I'm capable of answering for myself, right?" He was so dear, so concerned, so freaking sweet and attentive. The shadowy guilt in his eyes hurt her heart. Lifting her hand, she wove her fingers with his where they cupped her shoulder.

  Robin wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her other arm, and River rested her head on Ash's chest as her temperature and vitals were taken.

  Dr. Wayne looked at Ash. "Just a crease."

  "To us," Ash responded, his voice rough and grim. "To her it's a fucking gun shot."

  "Need a sedative?" Robin asked, his eyes twinkling.

  "No, I-"

  "I was speaking to Daklin."

  "Just do your damned job, and make sure she's not in pain. Are you in pain?"

  Of course she was in pain. "I'm fine. Let them do their jobs and I'll be even better."

  "A little lightheaded?" Dr. Wayne asked, probably because her eyes were rolling, and a film of sweat covered her skin. "Here, lie down again. Close your eyes. We'll be done in a jiffy. Then you can take a nice long nap."

  The wound was cleaned and examined as Ash watched with steely eyes and a grim expression. He kept her hand in his the entire time.

  "Clean exit wound. Nicked a small vein but missed the critical carotids," the doctor told her after a thorough exam and stitches. Her neck stung and felt raw, but Ash's aim had been extraordinary.

  According to the conversation the men were having as if she wasn't even there, the bullet had creased the side of her throat just above the blast suit, to travel directly to Oliver's heart. He'd died instantly.

  "How soon can she fly?"

  The doctor snapped off his gloves. "I'd like to keep her in overnight for observation." He turned away to wash his hands again. "This has been a traumatic day." He smiled as Robin held a wheelchair for her. "For all of us. Robin has your chariot; he'll take you to a room and get you settled. I guarantee you'll feel a lot better after a good night’s sleep."

  Sleep wasn't going to cure what ailed her.

  "Can I have a minute with her?" Asher asked.

  "We'll be right outside. Don't take too long. A decent night's sleep without drama will be the best medicine."

  Ash waited for the men to leave.

  "You're going to be okay." Lifting her with ease, he placed her gently in the waiting wheelchair. "You're in excellent hands. They're the best. They've treated more gunshot wounds than they can count."

  "I figured as much. Ash?" She didn't know where to go from there.

  Crouching in front of her, he placed his hands on the arms of the chair, caging her between his arms. "I'm sorry about your brother, River. Sorry that I was the one to pull the trigger. I couldn't let him hurt you, you understand that, right? Forget everything else he did, that was the clincher. Seeing your face when he told you the bombs were on you, and he'd fucking given them to you, I couldn’t."

  "Don't. I lost my brother years ago. I didn't know the Oliver you knew. The man you killed was a terrorist. Prepared to kill thousands of people." Touching his hand, she felt the coldness of his skin and the tension in his hands as he held onto the wheelchair with a death grip.

  She really, really needed to lie down. Head spinning, the nausea from earlier came back with a vengeance. "I don't blame you. If you hadn't taken that shot, he would’ve strangled me or blown me up make his point. He didn't care. He wasn’t capable of caring." River lifted a hand to touch his face.

  Closing his eyes, he brushed her palm with his lips. The action made her chest hurt with longing. Instead of the kiss she longed for, he removed her hand, and put it in her lap.

  "I don't blame you for doing your job, Ash. Honest to God. I don't. Now, will you please?" Kiss me.

  "Robin's waiting to take you to a room." Ash got to his feet, towering over her as he straightened. "Barring complications, Ram will accompany you to Portland tomorrow. He’ll get you settled, make sure you're okay."

  She wasn’t okay now. But a kiss and a conversation would fix that. "I'd rather you came with me."

  He limped to the door, his body stiff. Hand on the doorknob, he turned. His eyes were just as brilliant a blue, but now they gleamed cold as ice as he looked at her. "I'm the wrong man for you, River. You'll realize that when you go back to your normal life."

  "I'll never go back to my 'normal' life, Ash." She waved her hand. "All this has irreparably changed me."

  "You don’t want a broken man. You need someone who can make you whole. A hero. And honey, a hero I'm not."

  "You shot a terrorist. You saved the world. You saved me. That makes you a hero in my book. When are you going to forgive yourself enough to stop running away, Ash? When is it ever going to be enough? What about the life you want? Don’t you deserve that?”

  “I’ve not good at sticking around. I’m doing the right thing here, giving you the chance at a normal life.”

  “Why don't you ask me what I want? Maybe all I want is a life with you, just as you are?”

  His pupils dilated and the pulse in his jaw throbbed faster. “Don’t let the drugs talk you into saying something you don’t mean.”

  “Damn it, Asher Daklin, I know exactly what I mean. Are you going to shut up and kiss me or, not?”

  "I'm walking out this door, River, and won’t look back. Have a good life. Be happy."

  Twenty-Five


  86 days later

  Portland, Oregon

  From the glass elevator rising to the penthouse, Daklin noticed that River's luxury condo building had a spectacular view of the Willamette River. Not that he was calm enough to admire the fall colors of the trees lining the banks.

  He'd considered wearing a suit, then decided against the formality. He’d tried on a dress shirt and dress slacks. They’d been uncomfortable as hell. He’d ended up wearing his favorite jeans and a gray T-shirt because every goddamned day for the last 86 days, he’d thought of River's eyes whenever he’d seen that color. He had no idea how much of his limited wardrobe was that exact hue.

  He'd defused bombs with less trepidation than he felt knocking on her glossy red door, clutching a cellophane-wrapped bunch of flowers.

  Jesus. He'd never brought a woman flowers in his life.

  Asher's defense physiology kicked into high gear. His pulse slowed and his focus became pinpoint as he rapped a little harder than necessary.

  The door snapped open. A tall woman with a riot of black curly hair, wearing an oversized purple sweater and green framed glasses, shot him a curious look. "You're not the pizza guy."

  "Ah. No. Is this River's place?" Crap. Was his intel right? Had she moved?

  The woman stared at him, unblinking, from behind her glasses. "Yes." The way she blocked the door to hold it ajar prevented him seeing beyond her.

  In two seconds, he was going to pick her up, move her out of his way, and storm inside. "She here?" Without removing the arm barring him entry, the brunette turned her head. "River? Are you here for tall, dark, and cranky? He brought flowers."

  "Carnations?"

  Hearing River's voice caused his heart to double tap.