Death in Time

by Robyn Nyx

  Death in Time

  Landry Donovan’s ordered world has been turned inside out. Her best friend and fellow Pulsus employee, Jacqulyn Delaney, has gone rogue back in 2035. She’s intent on taking over Pulsus and changing the past to suit her future, and she’s proven she’ll even go through Landry to make it happen.

  Landry must go back to 2035 and finish their original mission to save the biophysicist, Muniz, from the vicious serial killer, Nelida Staton. She’s also been tasked with the secondary mission to put a stop to Delaney’s hostile takeover. Her help comes in the form of government agent, Brooke Jackson, who has an agenda of her own. Angry and betrayed, Landry still wonders if she can save Delaney, or if she’ll have to pay the ultimate price. And then there’s Jade, her beautiful, strong girlfriend. Can Landry really have it all, or is she putting Jade’s heart, and life, at risk?

  When the inevitable battle with Delaney finally comes around, will Landry act with her heart or her head?

  Death in Time

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  Death in Time

  © 2018 By Robyn Nyx. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13:978-1-63555-054-2

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: June 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Global Wordsmiths

  By the Author

  Never Enough

  Escape in Time

  Change in Time

  Death in Time

  Acknowledgments

  As always, a huge thanks to everyone at Bold Strokes Books for making this journey possible. I’m incredibly proud to be a part of Radclyffe’s lesbian legacy. A big thank you to Cindy Cresap, who didn’t bat an eyelid when she discovered my second book was going to be the start of this sci-fi trilogy, and whose detailed editing ensure my manuscripts are the best they could possibly be.

  Thank you to all those wonderful readers who make contact with their encouraging words and kind reviews. Writing can be hard, but it’s made worthwhile when you know you’ve connected with a reader and they enjoy your books.

  Thank you to my mum and dad, whose love and support have made me the woman I am today. You always say that parenting is the hardest job in the world—you rocked it, and I’ll be forever grateful.

  And final thanks to my wife, Brey, who always reads my words first. You made this all possible, and I’m so glad we get to ride this wild stallion of authoryness together.

  Dedication

  To my wife, Brey.

  For all the hours we spend side by side on our sofa creating new worlds.

  For all the times you bring me back to the keyboard when I throw a tantrum.

  For all your belief in my words.

  You are my happy ending and every new beginning.

  Chapter One

  July 4, 2055—Chicago

  Brooke squeezed Donovan’s blood from the towel and dipped it in the lukewarm water again. She returned to Delaney’s suspended captive and tried to avoid eye contact with her. She suspected Donovan was somewhat confused by Brooke’s tenderness. Delaney had instructed Brooke to clean her up, but she hadn’t said do it quite so gently. If what Delaney said about Donovan was true, she was used to far worse than this, but probably hadn’t been ministered to so sympathetically by others who’d imprisoned her. But then, she’d probably never been tortured in the presence of an undercover FBI agent either.

  Brooke felt Delaney move up behind her. She’d shown a different side to Brooke on their reconnaissance trip to locate Muniz. She was clearly harboring a deep love for Donovan that stood at odds with her current actions. Brooke hadn’t managed to get her to reveal what was really driving her, but the spiel about missions and money simply didn’t fit.

  “We’re going to get Muniz. I need you to stay here and guard Donovan. I’ll keep you up to date by phone.”

  “I think I’m old enough to be left without a babysitter.”

  Donovan was deadpan, but Delaney laughed anyway. “Oh, no doubt. But I’d expect to come back to an empty hook and my prize catch long gone.” She patted Brooke on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to a word that comes out of her mouth. The best thing you can do is plug in, keep your distance, and just make sure she doesn’t escape.”

  Brooke pulled at the rope holding Donovan and tested its strength. It wasn’t budging. Not without my help. “She’d have to be a damn fine escapologist to get out of these bindings.”

  “You’d be surprised at the situations I’ve seen Donovan extricate herself from.” Delaney turned to leave with Simson and her fellow mercs following behind. She called back as she exited, “Seriously, Sledge. Be careful.”

  Brooke snatched a quick glance at Donovan before she walked away and took her station back on the bench, as far away from her as possible without leaving the room. She needed a moment to think, and being close to Donovan wouldn’t help. She had the kind of eyes that could bore into your soul, snare your deepest thoughts, and expose them.

  There was so much pressure for this operation to yield results that would put Frankie Calvin and her gang out of business. Brooke knew that freeing Donovan would compromise the whole thing, and with that would come the loss of her position in the field. Someone always had to take the fall, and she’d be the obvious choice. She’d be demoted to riding a desk and eventually be forced out of the agency in search of something more challenging than profiling killers from a distance and never getting involved where the action was, where she wanted and needed to be.

  The other option was to stand by and watch Simson tear Donovan apart in search of the location of time travel tech that may or may not exist. Brooke was almost sure Delaney wouldn’t let Simson kill Donovan, but she wasn’t certain Simson was fully under Delaney’s control. It wouldn’t be a stretch to see her, Walker, and Miller rebel and take control, citing Delaney’s love for Donovan as destructive to their end game. Simson had already murdered one of her colleagues, and it was clear she wanted to destroy Donovan. Brooke figured Simson was jealous of Donovan’s hold over Delaney, but there was more to it. She was the darkness lurking in the college changing room always ready to put a beating on the football team captain. There was a sadism in her that seemed insatiable.

  Brooke considered her position. FBI agents were known for doing whatever was necessary to discharge their duties “against all enemies, foreign and domestic,” but where did time travelers fit into that oath? Was her responsibility to the American people of 2055 or those in 2076? If she believed Delaney and Donovan, they’d been affecting the lives of millions of people worldwide, not just Americans. Wasn’t that more important than stopping the Cagle Gang?

  She thought about the money and her current six-figure salary. Delaney had promised riches beyond what she could imagine, and Brooke had to admit that a certain lifestyle was important to her. Having dragged herself away from a working-class family with no spare money beyond the essentials, she was determined never to be in t
hat situation again. And she liked nice things, nice clothes, nice cars.

  Brooke shook that train of thought out of her mind. A woman’s life was at stake here. Fuck the greater good. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stand back and watch Donovan be dismantled and tortured. And if she really is from 2076, maybe I can go with her…

  Brooke heard the building’s shutters come down and the van engine struggle to life. By the time Delaney negotiated for transport, she had little money left, and Frankie hadn’t been particularly generous with her fleet of vehicles. They’d left with the oldest, least reliable van on her lot. Brooke wondered if it would even make it back to the silo again. She jumped down from the bench and walked to the window to make sure the van disappeared. It would be at least two and a half hours before they returned with Muniz, if all went according to Delaney’s plan. She picked up one of Simson’s knives and came back around to face Donovan.

  “Feel like you missed out on the fun earlier?” Donovan nodded at her weapon.

  Brooke shook her head and smiled. “No. I’m going to use it to get you out of here, not fuck you up.” She knelt down and began to saw through the thick rope encasing Donovan’s ankles.

  “I could use an explanation…”

  Brooke stopped for a second and looked up. Donovan’s expression was understandably quizzical, and it reminded her of the looks her older sister, Emily, would give her when she found Brooke burying “treasure” in the soil with her hands, or making a den from disused wood at the bottom of their yard. I miss you. She pulled herself from her unexpected melancholy and replied, “My name’s Brooke Jackson, and I’m an undercover FBI agent.”

  Donovan laughed. “In that case, I think I would’ve liked it better if you’d have stepped up earlier…before they played like Blue Man drummers on my body.”

  Brooke frowned and continued her work on the hitches Simson had secured. That crazy bitch must’ve been in the Navy to tie knots this tough.

  “Before your time,” Donovan muttered quietly.

  Brooke sighed as she cut through the final strand. “You could just say thank you.”

  Donovan rotated her ankles, and Brooke flinched a little when they cracked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you for letting them beat the shit out of me for three hours and then releasing me.”

  Brooke cut the bindings from Donovan’s cold wrists and stepped back. “You’re being a real asshole considering I’m saving your life.”

  Donovan dropped her arms slowly to her side and began to clench and unclench her hands. Brooke could feel from the temperature of Donovan’s wrists and the marks around them that the ropes had been deliberately tied just a tad too tightly. Simson was a real piece of work. She wondered what Donovan might do to her if she got hold of her.

  “You’re blowing your cover for me?”

  Brooke ignored the suspicion in Donovan’s voice. It was understandable; this could easily be a ruse to get her to give up the PRU’s location. “Looks like it. Are you going to be okay to walk?”

  Donovan nodded. “Who are you after?”

  “Frankie Calvin. No matter what the law gets on her, she wriggles out of it. Uncle Sam is sick of it, so I was sent in to dismantle the gang from the inside.”

  Donovan scanned the room. “Do you know where they put my stuff?”

  “Sure.” Brooke left Donovan alone and came back with the luggage Delaney had retrieved from the car Donovan had totaled when the serial killer snatched Muniz. She placed the bags on the table and sat back on her bench, giving Donovan some space to consider her position.

  She watched Donovan open a bag and pull out a fresh T-shirt. She peeled out of her bloodied tank, and Brooke couldn’t help but admire her physique. Donovan was in amazing shape. Brooke had always wanted bumpy, mountainous abs like that, but no matter how many hours she put in at the gym, all she got was a flat stomach and baby rips. Simson and the others had enjoyed themselves carving a Pollock abstract of blood using her skin as their canvas though, and the wounds Brooke hadn’t yet treated looked raw. Donovan was clearly uncomfortable when her cotton T-shirt came into contact with the open sores.

  “We’ve got some ointment you can put on those. I didn’t get around to finishing you up. Thought you might like to get off the hook first.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Tell me more about how you were bringing Frankie down by working with Delaney?”

  Brooke tried to look nonchalant at Donovan’s dismissal of her injuries. Maybe it was machismo, or maybe she was just that hardened. Whatever it was, Brooke wanted to emulate it. Donovan didn’t seem scared of anything, including death. She was the kind of woman Brooke had long aspired to be. “I need evidence to show how Frankie is distributing her people to help others commit crimes. And I’d been seeing the same old things in that bar for the past nine months. I wanted a change, so I volunteered. I thought I’d be able to gather more usable intel.”

  Donovan sorted her possessions into one bag, put her phone in her pocket, and left the rest on the table. She slipped her leather jacket on, and Brooke saw her wince slightly as the heavy fabric made contact with the open wounds on her torso. Brooke raised her eyebrows and tried hard to look unimpressed when really, she found Donovan’s self-control awe-inspiring.

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I already know you’re a badass.” And I want you to teach me how to be one. Brooke felt her cheeks flush at her sudden hero-worship and tried to regain some decorum. “Letting me put some medication on your injuries wouldn’t lessen that.”

  “I’ll get fixed up when I get home. Thanks for releasing me. I’ll get going.”

  Brooke put her hand on Donovan’s chest to stop her from walking out. “That’s it? I can’t stay here, can I? When they get back, and you’re gone, who do you think cops for that?” Donovan looked down at Brooke’s hand, and she quickly removed it for fear of Donovan breaking all of its twenty-seven bones in one swift, undefendable move. How do I convince her to take me with her?

  “What do you want me to do? Stay here and explain you had a change of heart about being a hired gun?” Donovan slung her bag over her shoulder, maneuvered around Brooke, and headed for the door.

  Fuck. Don’t just let her walk away. She jogged up alongside Donovan. “Delaney was selling all kinds of crazy talk about the future, missions to save people, and money beyond our imagination. You kind of corroborated that when you didn’t balk at her wanting this PRU thing from you. What’s the deal? Are you time travelers or just crazy bastards?”

  Brooke wanted it to be true. Her parents had raised her on a diet of action and sci-fi movies. Donovan personified each of the good guys in every one of those movies, but she was better than all of them because she was a woman. If time travel really was possible, Brooke was becoming more convinced she wanted in on it. Nothing was holding her in Chicago. There was nothing for her in 2055, period.

  Donovan was ignoring her though, and Brooke decided not to push it until they got beyond the room where Simson had dumped Donovan’s slaughtered partner. The smell of putrefying flesh was building, and unless Donovan had lost her sense of smell from too many punches on the nose, she was sure to say something shortly.

  “What the hell is that stench?”

  Busted. Brooke shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”

  Donovan stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “Yes, I do. Where is he?”

  Brooke pointed to a room on the right farther along the corridor. “It’s probably not a pretty sight.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it to be.”

  Donovan entered the room and flicked on a light. Perry had been carelessly cast against the wall, and Simson hadn’t even bothered to close his eyes. One of the hollow-tipped bullets Frankie was famous for peddling had done its worst, and half his head was missing. Brooke had been the one who’d had to mop up what his skull had spilled. It was a job she never wanted to repeat.

  Donovan crouched down and paused as if she were silently saying good-by
e. Brooke knew soldiers didn’t like to leave their dead behind. Donovan sighed deeply as she stood and walked back toward the doorway Brooke was blocking.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Donovan pushed her out of the way. “Why didn’t you blow your cover for him?”

  Sledge continued to walk beside her. “The small matter of a gun and four against one.”

  “It wouldn’t have stopped me.”

  “You didn’t stop it either.” Brooke wanted to pull the words back before they were audible, but it was too late. Donovan had spun around and slammed her forearm across Brooke’s neck before she drew her next breath. She saw death, rage, and chaos in Donovan’s eyes, and she held up her hands in apology. Brooke couldn’t imagine what Donovan was going through, being betrayed by her best friend. She said nothing, but dropped Brooke from against the wall and stalked away again.

  “Asshole.”

  Way to get an invite into the future, fuckball. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. You’re obviously protecting something much bigger than one person. You were prepared to die for it. Are you crazy, or are you really from the future?”

  Donovan pushed open the workshop doors and paused as if she was taking in the sky. Maybe she’d resigned herself to dying and figured she’d never see it again.

  “I have to go.” Donovan looked at the map on her phone and began to walk toward the nearest main street.

  “Are you going back to the future? Is home 2076?”

  “Shouldn’t you report back when you’ve been made?”

  Brooke shook her head. With the Cagle operation blown, there was no future for her at the FBI. This was the kind of fuckup they simply wouldn’t tolerate. “I want to delay that shit storm as long as possible. What about your mission and the scientist?”