Denver entered the room and leaned against the door frame, his gaze thoughtful. “There have to be records from before you went to the depot.”
“Nope. Not even birth certificates,” Greg said.
Ryker frowned and tried to click facts into place. The kid seemed to be telling the truth but definitely not all of it. “Let me get this straight. You and your brothers were put into a training and research facility because you have high IQs, and this Isobel Madison studied you, and for some reason she had your histories wiped.”
“Yes.” Greg seemed to be barely breathing. It was costing the kid to be honest. What did he fear so badly? What he was saying was beyond belief.
“Did they hurt you?” Ryker asked, anger beginning to take hold for the lost boy.
“No.” Greg didn’t move. His eyes hardened.
Lie. That was definitely a lie. Ryker let it go, not wanting to flay the kid open any more than he already was. “Where are your parents?”
“Dead.”
Ryker tried to concentrate on the kid’s emotions, but they were so jumbled he couldn’t get a grasp. “When did they die?”
“When I was too young to know the difference.” Now the tone turned matter-of-fact.
Lie or truth, Ryker couldn’t tell. “All right. So Madison somehow found you and your brothers and took you to some weird depot in Utah.”
“Pretty much.” Greg kept his gaze level.
Lie? Yeah. That was a lie. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.” Ryker eyed the burning metal on his screen.
“Sure you can. I’ve told you plenty,” Greg said, his voice low.
“Who’s the commander?” Ryker had been holding that one close and he almost hated to spring it on Greg.
Greg swallowed and looked younger for just a moment. “He’s the guy who ran the depot and dated Madison. Well, I don’t know if they dated, but they were together, if you know what I mean.”
Ryker nodded and bit back a wince. Hopefully Greg hadn’t seen the same stuff Ryker had with Madison and Cobb. Seemed to be her MO, considering she’d screwed Sheriff Cobb. “What exactly did the commander train you to do?”
Greg’s lids lowered. “Hand-to-hand, weaponry, hacking skills. You know, your basic military school shit.”
Something told Ryker it was a hell of a lot more than that, and his chest ached for Greg. “If Madison tested Heath, Denver, and me…all at a boys home, that’s weird, right?”
“Not really,” Greg said. “I’d bet anything she had a hand in you guys all three ending up at the same boys home. No way is that some sort of weird coincidence, you know? She loved her experiments.”
Nausea swirled in his gut. Were they all experiments? Ryker clenched his jaw and tried to find a controlled place inside him. Had Madison messed with his life like that? Had she maneuvered his entire existence into where it was right now? Bile rose in his throat, but he kept his face stoic and decided to underplay for the kid’s sake. “This is getting beyond odd.”
“Saying all this is true, how did you get free?” Heath asked.
“I didn’t. I went on a mission, failed, and Madison left me on my own overseas. Said I could get back myself or just die.” Greg hunched into himself. “I made it back, but the place was already destroyed. I have to find my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?” Heath asked, kicking back in his chair when his vibe was anything but relaxed.
“Three.” Greg’s voice cracked.
Are your brothers also looking for you?” Ryker asked. If they’d set up searches on the Internet, he may be able to create a trap for them to find and then he could backtrack and locate them.
“No.” Greg swallowed.
“Why not?” Heath asked softly.
The kid breathed out. “They think I’m dead.”
Chapter
17
Dr. Isobel Madison leaned over the desk, her perfectly manicured nails clicking rhythmically across the keyboard. She had more traps set on the Internet than Lewis and Clark could’ve dreamed about, but her prey, unfortunately, was as brilliant as she’d made her traps. So far, she’d been unable to find the men she sought.
But they wouldn’t be able to hide from her forever.
They were hers and hers only. Oh, she’d shared other creations with her one true love, the commander, and he’d trained them, but the Lost boys from the home were all hers. She missed them, truth be told.
The air-conditioning kicked on in her small office, and she stopped typing. “I thought you had that fixed,” she said, turning away from the computer.
Todd Polk looked up from the stack of papers in his hands. At about fifty years old, the survivalist was getting a little soft around the middle and would soon outgrow his usefulness. Isobel had convinced him to shave his buzz cut a month previous, and now he looked more the part of a soldier, at least. His jaw was square, and his eyes were blue and rather blank. But he had a fighting force, and that she needed.
She smiled at the man who’d get her what she wanted, and then she’d throw him away. “It’s November, darling. We live in Colorado, and it’s snowing outside.” For the love of all that was holy. “The A/C?”
He nodded, his gaze dropping to her chest. “I’ll take care of it.”
Good. “You do take such good care of me.” She allowed her voice to lower to a purr even as her mind went elsewhere.
His eyes flared. “My soldiers are getting restless. We need to make a strike or conduct a mission soon.”
A mission. How silly. The home-trained militia wouldn’t know a true mission if it rode in on prized ponies and whinnied a bit while spitting caviar.
For the moment, she needed the survivalist, and it was almost too easy to manipulate him. “There’s a lab in Denver conducting experiments dealing with stem cell research. If your men would like to blow up the facility, that would make a statement.” Not that his cause interested her in the slightest.
Todd rubbed his smoothly shaven jaw. “How did you find that out?”
“I hacked their systems,” she said smoothly. It had taken less than five minutes, actually. While Todd’s pseudo-military group had a nice cache of weapons, they lacked computer resources. For now, she needed their might, not their brains. “Our Protect group must continue the mission and purify this land, right?”
“Of course.” He studied her. As the leader of the Protect group, he felt it his duty to end all scientific genetic experimentation and purify the world, especially the men she’d created in test tubes to be…more. “Though that’s not your only mission, is it?”
Sometimes he seemed smarter than he looked. “You know I want to find the anomalies I helped to create and set things right.” Her life’s work had been to create supersoldiers, super beings, in labs and see how they functioned in the world.
“By ending them?”
“Of course,” she lied. Only a couple of the men she’d created in test tubes and helped train through the years needed to die. The rest could go back to working for her and being studied by her. It was time for the next generation to be born and trained. She might not be God, but she was damn close, and she needed their genetic material to keep her experiments going. “As soon as I find the men we made, you can take them all out.” She wondered if she’d have to kill him. While she’d ordered deaths, she’d never actually killed anybody personally.
“What about the three boys you told me about? The murderers?” Todd asked.
She glanced back at her computer. “I’ve been trying to find them for years, as has the sheriff from that town. At some point they’ll make a mistake.”
“You’ll let me kill them?”
She forced a smile. “Of course. I’m with you to atone for my mistakes, as you know. I believe in your mission, Todd.” The second she no longer needed his forces, she’d forget he ever existed. After she found her boys and got back to work. The boys from the home had been created with different genetic material, mostly, than her other
experiments. Maybe they could have children, and she needed their genetic material to find out.
It was time for the next generation to be tested. Someday she’d have the perfect soldier.
Todd stood and overwhelmed the small office in the mountain compound. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Of course.” She leaned over so he could look down her shirt. “We will get rid of all genetic experimentation and test subjects. Life must be pure.”
* * *
Zara eyed the men happily eating around the living room, all on the floor with their backs to walls, none of them talking. Way too busy chewing.
She’d found paper plates in one cupboard as well as some plastic forks. If Ryker was staying in town, he needed supplies and furniture. They were all well on their way through seconds, and if she didn’t miss her guess, Greg was about to head to the counter for thirds.
“So, Greg. Where are you staying?” she asked, dishing more cheesy eggs onto his plate when he approached.
“Here and there.” He nodded when she pointed to more bacon.
When was the last time the kid had eaten? She dropped a bagel onto his plate as well. “Will you be in town long?”
He shrugged, his gaze on the food. “It’s starting to seem like it, but I’m hoping your man gets me my info soon.”
“I have a spare room at my house,” she murmured.
Ryker’s head snapped up from across the room. “Not a good idea.”
Greg turned to retake his place by the door. “Unfortunately, I agree. It’s better if I stay away.” He slid down, his gaze remaining happily on his eggs. “I’m fine where I am.”
“No.” Zara slipped the spatula back into the eggs. “If Ryker is helping you, then he will find your information, but you can’t just wander around town underage. Where’s your family?”
Greg paused with his plastic fork almost to his mouth. “No parents, and Ryker’s supposed to be finding my brothers.”
Eesh. Another orphan. She knew how he felt, and her heart turned over for him. But the good news was that the kid had family. Hopefully he had one brother over the age of eighteen who could be a guardian and protect him. “Then I insist you stay with me until your brothers are located.” She waited a beat. “Meals come with the extra room.”
Greg shoveled eggs into his mouth and chewed as if he hadn’t eaten in days, temptation in his eyes. He glanced toward Ryker.
Ryker studied him and then gave a short nod. His gaze shifted into something warm. “It’s a nice place to stay, and I’ll be there, too.”
Zara opened her mouth and then shut it.
“But if I discover you’re in any danger, you’re staying here, not at Zara’s place,” Ryker finished.
Greg wiped his hand down his jeans. “Nobody knows about me, so I’m not in danger as long as you don’t screw up the search. If you get found out and they discover I’m, ah, around, then all bets are off. Danger doesn’t come close to describing the situation.”
“We won’t screw up the search.” Heath leaned forward and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. “But you might need to be more forthcoming with information.”
“You know all you need to know,” Greg mumbled, reaching for his bacon.
What kind of danger stalked the poor kid? Oh, she’d get her answers once she had him safely at her house and eating regularly. There had to be something she could do with her legal background to help Greg. It sucked being without parents in the world.
The wind whistled loudly outside, and Zara gasped as white powder cascaded down outside the window. “It’s snowing.”
Dawn was barely breaking over the horizon, and ice speckled the window.
Greg set his plate down. “Before I decide, how did you get the bruise on your face?” His chest puffed out just enough to show aggression.
Geez. Feed the kid once, and he wanted to protect her. Her heart warmed. “Not from Ryker.”
Greg eyed Ryker. “Didn’t think so.”
“Why not?” Ryker asked softly.
Greg lifted a shoulder. “If you hit her, you’d do a shitload more damage.”
Ryker gave a short nod. “I don’t hurt women.”
“Good to know. Is the guy who hit her still standing?” Greg asked.
“Barely,” Ryker said. “Well, maybe by now he’s standing again.” He shared a manly grin with Greg, who returned to his food.
Zara dropped her plate on the counter. Her arms went weak. “What did you do? Ryker? Seriously. What did you do?”
He glanced up from the lone piece of bacon still on his plate. “I told you I was gonna have a talk with the guy who hit you. We had a talk, and he’ll never do it again. You’re safe.”
Zara shook her head. “He’s a client of the firm,” she hissed. “I can’t have him coming after you.”
“He won’t.” Ryker bit into the bacon with a hum of appreciation. “Trust me.”
Heat prickled along the back of her neck, and she ground her teeth together. “I told you I had it handled.” What if Jay let her firm know she was working with Julie? Or at least that she’d helped Julie? She’d be fired.
“Now it’s really handled,” Ryker said, his tone firm.
Denver and Heath watched the exchange with different degrees of amusement.
Zara breathed out, trying not to hurl the spatula at Ryker’s stubborn head. “You threatened the mayor. Seriously. You threatened the mayor of the town.” Her voice rose on the last.
Greg snorted. “The mayor? Nice.”
Ryker nodded and shared another smile with the boy.
Zara shook her head. “That is so wrong. Did anybody see you?”
“Not really. I mean, I locked his door and everything, but if anybody sees him nude in the near future, they’re gonna see bruises,” Ryker drawled.
Denver chuckled. “The mayor’s a dickhead. Wish I could’ve watched.”
“Me too,” Heath said, patting his belly. “The guy was at the courthouse when I got sworn in. Definite asshole.”
Zara bit her lip. The whole man-code thing was getting really old fast. She should’ve put a laxative in the eggs. She also didn’t like them ganging up on her, damn it. “You’re all crazy, you know that?”
Ryker cut her a look before focusing on Heath. “How’s the Copper Killer situation?”
Heath stopped chewing. “The FBI decoy is in place, and they’re hoping the guy makes a move on her. If he doesn’t…”
“Then somebody else will be taken,” Ryker said, shaking his head. “I hate waiting around like this.”
“We have searches going on the computers for possible victims, but it’s slow, and there are too many to narrow down,” Heath said, frustration crossing his face.
Zara opened her mouth to ask about the case just as her phone buzzed from the counter. She frowned. It was barely dawn on a Sunday morning.
“Who’s calling so early?” Ryker asked, pushing to his feet.
Zara read the screen. “It’s Brock.”
Tension swelled through the room, heated and wild, and definitely from Ryker.
Greg snorted. “I like Brock. A lawyer like him is a better choice for you.” His lips tipped into a smile. Was he teasing Ryker? Maybe the kid was finally relaxing.
“Shut up,” Ryker said without much heat.
Zara lifted the phone to her ear. “It’s really early, Brock.”
“We have a problem. How soon can you meet me at Jay Pentley’s house?” Brock said, the sound of tires on asphalt echoing through the line.
Zara coughed. “Um, why?” Shit. Jay had turned Ryker in.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, honey, but Julie Pentley was found dead in a motel outside of town just before dinnertime yesterday.” Brock swore. “Idiots don’t know how to drive.”
Zara gasped. Panic swelled through her. “Dead? How?” God. Not Julie.
“Multiple stab wounds. Somebody wanted her dead and bad.”
Chapter
18
Red and blue lights swirled around from the police car in front of Jay Pentley’s stately home. Well ensconced in a perfectly manicured subdivision behind secured gates, Pentley’s brick house was surrounded by groomed bushes barely being dusted with snow. Streaks of light cut through the heavy clouds, showing the morning had finally arrived.
Ryker parked his truck against the high curb, leaving the cobblestone driveway clear.
Zara pushed her door open. “I’ll have Brock bring me home.”
“I don’t think so.” Ryker didn’t like the itch between his shoulder blades one bit. He exited the truck and shut his door. “Your firm is about to hire me on this whether they like it or not.” Even if Brock refused to hire Lost Bastards, Ryker was going to figure out what the hell was going on…especially since Zara was now in the thick of it.
He took her arm and led her up the driveway and to the front door. Protecting her was becoming a full-time job. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
She stumbled, and he righted her. “You shouldn’t be here, considering you hit Jay yesterday,” she hissed under her breath.
It did complicate things. “If Jay wants to out me, then he will out you, and we’ll go forward with wife-beating allegations.” Pentley was the most likely suspect in his wife’s murder anyway. Ryker rapped on the door.
Footsteps sounded, and Brock Hurst yanked the extra-tall wooden door open. He wore dark jeans, a polo shirt, and a dusting of whiskers along his chin. He paused. “Ryker.”
Ryker nodded. “You need me on this case. I’m making an exception to our caseload to take it.”
Brock frowned and scrubbed a hand through his already ruffled hair. “We’ll ask the client, but I have to admit, I would like a private investigator on the inquiry. The police detective doesn’t seem to like Jay much.”
“That’s because Jay’s an asshole,” Ryker said evenly. “But I’ll find out the truth about what happened.”
Brock seemed to consider the situation, his gaze sharp. “I’ll need Jay’s okay on it, but I really don’t think he killed her. So we’ll end up hiring you.”
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