Vows of Vengeance

by Rita Herron

  It took Luke another half an hour to arrange a fishing boat at the marina, then he rowed his way toward the island, careful to follow Black’s instructions so he wouldn’t be spotted in his approach. Stella’s image kept popping into his head during the trek, the tension mounting within him. He had never felt this way about a woman before.

  Never saw a possible traitor as a victim. Never considered his own partner might betray him, or that Stella’s deception had cut so deep.

  Never wanted so hard to deny the obvious truth.

  Luke scrubbed his hand over his neck in frustration, fighting the urge to justify Stella’s actions, to clear her.

  The waves rocked the boat back and forth, the force of the tide trying to sweep him in the opposite direction. He had to focus to stay on track. Saltwater stung his face, the misty spray cooling his sweating body. Finally he maneuvered the boat into the cove, tied it to a rock jutting from the bank, and began the hike to the Nighthawk Island facility.

  STELLA STARED at the empty bed where she and Luke had made love, a desolate feeling overwhelming her. Would her life always be like this? Her mind scattered with terrible, sporadic memories? Her nights filled with wanting and yearning for Luke, yet knowing that one day he’d desert her in the end just as he had this morning?

  With her unable to confess her feelings for him, that she loved him?

  Her heart swelled as emotions crowded in, fighting for space with the tumultuous feelings pouring through her. Feelings of abandonment. Of being used and abused. Of being thrown away by her mother, then sheltered by a monster who claimed to be her father?

  Luke deserved so much better. He was a man of his word. A man who fought for justice. A man who had jeopardized his career for her.

  How could she repay him?

  “I don’t want you to pay me back,” he had muttered.

  But she knew no other way to show him how she felt than to do just that.

  Killing Sutton was one way. Finding out the details of his organization so she could pass them on to Luke and shut down Sutton’s operations, another.

  Determined, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt she found in the closet, although she had to roll up the pants slightly. Then she phoned the cab service she’d used the day before. On the off chance, Sutton or his security guards would see the cab and discover the location of the safe house, she instructed the driver to drop her a couple of blocks from Sutton’s estate. She walked the rest of the way, this time buzzing the security at the gate, and entering with the hopes of convincing Sutton she had willingly converted to his side.

  That she was using Luke.

  The butler escorted her in and ushered her to Sutton’s study. He appeared a moment later, a smug look on his face. “So, you’ve decided to accept my deal?”

  “I don’t really have a choice, do I? You’ve always had control.”

  He smiled as if he’d accepted her acquiescence, which only angered her more.

  “What exactly do you want from me, Drake?”

  “What kind of information does Devlin have about me? Who does he have on the inside at Nighthawk Island?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that.”

  “Come on, Stella. No pillow talk last night?”

  Not the way he’d meant. “No. He doesn’t exactly trust me now.”

  “And you trust him, darling?” He unwrapped a cigar and sniffed it. “You don’t think he’s romancing you to get information on us?”

  A sliver of doubt wormed its way into Stella. Of course, that was possible.

  But the memory of Luke making love to her returned, the husky way he’d murmured that he wanted her completely. He had meant that statement, hadn’t he?

  Or was she so starved for love that she’d fallen for a lie?

  It didn’t matter. Even if she had no place to turn when she finished, she wanted away from Sutton and the life he’d created for her.

  “I don’t trust anyone,” Stella said. “And I want to review information on all of my assignments.”

  Sutton studied her for a long moment, then nodded and buzzed his office downstairs. “Kat, Stella’s on her way down. Give her complete access to the data on her missions.”

  Stella thanked him, then headed to the basement office to face her old life.

  LUKE DUCKED between the tall trees, grateful he had studied the layout of the island beforehand, and hoping that the security system hadn’t been expanded since Detective Black’s last analysis. Twice he thought he might have detected motion sensors, but decided the sunshine slanting through the layers of leaves had sparked his attention. He half wished he’d waited until night so the darkness could camouflage his appearance, but forged ahead, deciding a daytime visit would trigger less suspicion than a nighttime one.

  The sound of a bird squawking made him pause, reminding him of the unique nighthawk that inhabited the island. The unusual bird of prey had been known to attack man as well as animal.

  Had the bird been the result of some kind of cross-breeding experiment, or genetic engineering?

  Or maybe the scientists tortured animals as part of their research in prelude to trial studies on people.

  A half hour later, he located the lab coat Quinn had left for him in a pile of brush, slipped it on, then veered around to the side door where Quinn was supposed to meet him. Luke had seen a photo of the facility from Black’s files, and heard sinister stories about the place, although from the outside, it resembled any other research hospital facility. Cold. Sterile. A place where modern science could work miracles through new technology. A place where some strove to save lives, constantly upgrade medical treatments and cure diseases.

  A place where ethics were also challenged. Where some died or were murdered to protect the secrets inside.

  Quinn must have been watching through a window, because he met Luke at the door and ushered him in. They walked down the hall, through a secured area where Quinn used his security card to gain entrance, then Luke followed Quinn to a small office. He closed the door as soon as they were inside.

  “I’ve reset the security cameras, so you have approximately thirty minutes to get in and out without detection. All of the old files, any research conducted through CIRP and the prior facility and hospital here, can be located in this database.” He punched in his access code, then turned the system over to Luke.

  “Thanks, Quinn. Now get out of here.”

  Quinn gave him a worried look. “Are you sure? If someone finds you here—”

  “I won’t jeopardize your cover, not after what happened to J.T. If I get caught, I’ll handle it.” Luke hardened his voice. “Understood? No racing in to save me. Your role here is more important. Besides, Spencer knows I’m here. If anything happens, he’ll cover me.”

  Quinn hesitated, but nodded, then left Luke to study the files. Luke’s anger over the project involving Stella intensified as he read the data.

  The project originated during the Cold War, and had been called SHIP—an acronym signifying the creation of the perfect secret agent, one who possessed superhuman intelligence and power, but who possessed no emotion. A group of children, who were genetically enhanced as babies were either raised in total isolation or in small groups, and trained at an early age through brainwashing techniques. The genetic therapy supposedly focused on increasing their physical strength, cognitive abilities, fine motor skills and agility and attempted to decrease, and if possible, completely eradicate emotional responses.

  Another group was used as a comparative study. These were normal children who’d been orphaned.

  His chest tightened. Stella had been one of those.

  So her memories were very real.

  He read further, notes on the experiments and torture techniques sickening him. He’d seen depraved acts committed against children before, but still didn’t understand how someone could do such awful things to them, especially in such a coldhearted manner. The children hadn’t been treated as humans at all, but as su
bjects.

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed in disgust, but forced himself to continue.

  An explosion in the facility had set the building on fire. Sutton had rushed in to save the kids, and rescued Stella. Most of the others had died, and Sutton had taken Stella to live with him. The project had been deemed a failure because the orphans’ emotional responses couldn’t be erased. Also, the more often the first group was placed in social situations, the more they developed a human side—a side with a conscience that rendered them imperfect. Definitely not the success the experimental team had hoped for.

  The explosion and subsequent fire at the center garnered government attention and bad publicity. That, coupled with the lack of funding, the need for more extensive genetic work and the end of the Cold War, forced the scientists to disband the project.

  Luke grimaced. Sutton had obviously not given up. He’d kept Stella isolated and bound to him, and continued the project on his own. Kat and Jaycee had also been subjects. He’d brainwashed the girls into believing he was their savior, yet he’d destroyed their lives and free will instead.

  Luke folded his hands into fists, his anger mounting. He wanted to rip off Sutton’s head and tear his body apart, limb by limb. Torture him the way Sutton had Stella and those other children.

  But Sutton wasn’t working alone. And Luke had to find his partner in crime.

  Even then, could he forget that Stella had been with J.T.? And what would he tell J.T.’s wife?

  Voices sounded outside, and he rushed to copy the file, but suddenly the door opened and two guards stormed in, their weapons drawn.

  Luke slid one hand down to reach for his gun, but the men aimed automatics his way. One guard pointed his weapon at Luke’s head while the other targeted his hand, following Luke’s movement.

  A second later, the sound of a man’s deep voice filled the room. “Put down your weapon, Agent Devlin. There is no escape.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stella read the files, flashes of memories resurfacing that she didn’t want to face. She’d stolen notes on biological warfare experiments and given them to a man named Iska Milaski, a known terrorist who only a few weeks ago had been connected to a rash of suicides in Savannah. The suicides had eventually turned out to be murders via a deadly virus the victims had contracted through Milaski’s doing. The man was supposed to be dead, but his body hadn’t been recovered.

  Another agent, Mark Steele, had helped Luke solve the case. Before that, Luke had lost a partner, a man named J.T. Osborne. For some reason, the name teased her memory banks, but Stella couldn’t pinpoint why. The FBI suspected Osborne’s death was related to Nighthawk Island but, as yet, had no proof.

  She froze momentarily, fear knifing through her. Snippets of conversations echoed through her head. The day she’d met Luke, he’d mentioned that he’d recently lost a partner.

  But she’d already known that.

  Her chest clenched. She had met Osborne. She saw his face in her mind. Heard his voice in her head.

  Dear God. She hadn’t killed Luke’s partner, had she?

  Shaken by the thought, she read further. Two years ago, she’d seduced a scientist in Germany into her confidence and had robbed him of confidential information regarding a new treatment for brain tumors. Another case that disturbed her even more went back five years—apparently she’d worked with Kat and Jaycee on the assassination of a U.S. government official who had discovered that Sutton’s original project from the Cold War was still alive.

  The original project had centered around her, Kat and Jaycee.

  “Is the past coming back to you now?” Kat asked.

  Stella stared into the woman’s insidious eyes, and nodded. “Bits and pieces.”

  She turned to address Jaycee along with Kat. “Did you know that we were all part of a research experiment? That Sutton and his people brainwashed us to be agents and killers when we were children?”

  Kat shrugged. “We are what we are.”

  “You question things too much,” Jaycee agreed. “Sutton is our family. We owe him.”

  Did they?

  If he’d cared about them, why would he have used them for vile purposes?

  “Are there other survivors, kids programed like us to be agents?” Stella asked.

  Kat shook her head. “Not that we’re aware of. I think the rest of them died in the fire.”

  Nadine’s and Bianca’s small faces flashed into Stella’s mind, making her chest ache.

  But warning bells clanged in her head. Betraying Sutton meant sudden death for her. She faintly remembered having that discussion with Raul, but he’d assured her he would help her escape.

  She gripped the counter, realizing that she’d just discovered another piece of the puzzle. Raul had been trying to help her leave Sutton, not threatening to expose her.

  So why would she have killed him?

  “If you don’t cooperate with Sutton now, he’ll eliminate Devlin himself,” Kat said.

  Stella jerked back to the reality of her situation. The only way for Luke to survive was for her to keep her bargain with Sutton. To use Luke.

  But how would she ever be able to pull it off? How could she betray him again or forget him? She couldn’t. Her heart burned just thinking about never seeing Luke again. Of never lying in his arms or making love to him.

  The only way to rid herself of wanting Luke was to let Sutton erase her memories of Luke.

  But that would mean truly relinquishing her control again and submitting totally to Sutton’s commands…

  LUKE LOST CONSCIOUSNESS for the half-dozenth time. So far, the guards had locked him in a small, dark room, beaten him senseless, and threatened his life—all because they wanted him to disclose the name of the federal agent on the inside at Nighthawk Island.

  Luke hadn’t been able to save J.T. He sure as hell wouldn’t reveal Quinn’s identity. He’d rather die himself.

  A six-foot-five man made of steel they called the Tank gave the orders. His voice had echoed over the intercom in the lab, and he had continued to watch as the guards had beaten Luke. Luke’s head throbbed, his left arm had been twisted so hard it had nearly been wrenched from the socket, and he’d coughed up blood for half an hour. Pain rippled through his chest as if he’d sustained several broken ribs.

  One of the guards jammed a gun against his temple. “We want answers, Devlin.”

  “I told you, we don’t have anyone undercover here at the moment. If we did, don’t you think they’d be here now, trying to help me escape?”

  The other guard rammed his fist into Luke’s stomach, then laughed as Luke nearly choked on the blood. “Then how the hell did you get into that secured area?”

  “I’m a whiz kid at breaking codes.” Luke shot him an icy glare. “That’s why they brought me into the FBI.”

  “Right,” the man muttered sarcastically. Another fist in his belly, and Luke had to inhale to prevent himself from passing out.

  “Now, tell me,” he said, angling his head toward Tank, “why you’re determined to hide a project that was conducted over twenty years ago?”

  The man laughed. “You know the answer to that, Devlin.”

  “Because the project never died?” His stomach heaved at the thought that there might be another set of children being tortured.

  The Tank shrugged. “Genetic enhancement is the wave of the future. Wouldn’t you rather raise and train a special elite group of isolated subjects as soldiers than draft innocent young men and women with families to do the nasty work for us?”

  “Torturing children is not the answer.”

  “We don’t care what you think. You are dispensable.”

  “Then why not just shoot me and get it over with?”

  “Because we want a name.” He shrugged nonchalantly, dark hair falling over one eye. “I’m growing tired of your lack of response. You have exactly ten minutes to think it through.”

  “I won’t change my mind.”

>   “You won’t have to. We’re preparing a dose of our truth serum.” He ground his face into Luke’s, sinister eyes meeting his with a calculating look that only a cold-blooded killer could possess. “Like it or not, you will tell us the truth before you die. And it won’t be an easy death.” He ran the tip of his gun over Luke’s torso. “You see, our truth serum has its own unique blend. It paralyzes the limbs and muscles, even the eyelids, while the rest of the body implodes on itself.” He chuckled. “There is so much pain, yet you can barely even make your vocal chords work to scream.”

  Both the guards and the Tank left the room at the same time, filing out like soldiers. Luke gritted his teeth, glanced around for an escape route, then began to unravel the ropes that held his hands tied behind his back.

  His ribs felt as if knives pierced his chest as he twisted and worked at the knots. A dizzy spell engulfed him, blood trickling from his jaw and lip. He blinked to focus and stay conscious, struggling to hurry. Finally he loosened the knot. Seconds later, he forced himself from the chair, reaching for the wall as he swayed. He had to escape. If they drugged him, and he confessed about Quinn, they’d both end up dead.

  He jiggled the locked door, then searched for something to pry it open. Nothing in the room would help. The small table and chair were wooden but rickety and would never be strong enough to break the door.

  Racking his brain, he rushed back to the chair, flipped it over and noticed a nail that had come loose. Summoning all his strength, he pried it out, then ran to the door and jimmied it open.

  One of the guards stepped to the door, his weapon drawn. Luke took him by surprise with a karate maneuver, slammed the man’s head against the wall until he passed out, then grabbed his gun. He glanced up and down the corridor, heard the sound of men’s voices from the south end, and took off in the other direction. Three hallways down, he noticed a window and crashed through it. An alarm suddenly rent the air. The sound of men’s bootsteps rushed toward him, guards’ shouts echoing down the hall.