Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  One article spelled out the basic known ways infrasound could harm humans in simple terms.

  Lower than twenty hertz in frequency—the limit of human hearing—means humans perceive infrasound as pressure rather than noise. This pressure will cause the human body to vibrate, with specific frequencies having known effects on certain organs. Fluids and gases in the body will stretch when subjected to the frequency, but organs have limits on how much pressure-induced stretching and contracting they can accommodate. Infrasound is low in hertz, but can still have a high decibel level. It is at these high decibel levels that the human body reacts to the inaudible sound waves.

  At 130 decibels, the human ear will experience direct pressure distortion that can affect the ability to hear and understand speech. At 150 decibels, people experience nausea and whole-body vibrations. Above 165, vibration of the lungs triggers breathing problems. The critical point is felt around 175 decibels, when, if the hertz level is between .5 to 8, an artificial, abnormal breathing rhythm can be induced.

  Isabel wasn’t entirely certain she understood the difference between hertz and decibels, but figured the gist was that even though infrasound wasn’t audible, it still could be loud. The louder it was, the stronger the vibration, and the worse the effects on the human body.

  And someone—the CEO of Apex, Simon Barstow?—had figured out a way to make a directional silent weapon that subjected the body to the harmful low-hertz, high-decibel sound waves.

  How far away did the person need to be to use the weapon? Had she been hit when she reached the middle of the river simply because it was the deepest, and therefore most dangerous point, or was that when she’d stepped into the weapon’s range?

  There were any number of hiding places on either bank. Anyone who was familiar with the search for Vin could have guessed Alec would take her to the river where he crossed. No need to follow them all morning. Just wait by the river—possibly in the same place they’d hidden when they shot Vin with the same infrasound weapon.

  She was certain Vin had been subjected to infrasound in the river. It explained why he finished the crossing, even though it was the wrong direction—heading away from shelter.

  Was Vin targeted because they’d tested the weapon on him in the cave? Was the torture he’d experienced infrasound? It would explain the lack of marks on his body, and the brief jolt of it she’d felt in the river had hurt like hell. She could easily understand why prolonged or repeated exposure would feel like cruel and unusual punishment.

  She typed in Apex and Simon Barstow in the search engine but found nothing that indicated Apex was experimenting with infrasound. Given their development of Airwave, it made sense that they might be working with infrasound as well.

  She read article after article about Barstow and Apex but couldn’t figure out why he’d test his weapons on Vin when he had a legitimate laboratory for weapons development. Granted, human testing wasn’t an option, but he wouldn’t be able to use the data gathered from illegal human testing to get his weapons approved anyway.

  A knock on the suite door reminded her of the time. Research hour was over; her babysitter had arrived.

  The indoor firing range was located in the lowest level of the compound, a partially underground basement—the only subterranean construction possible in the subarctic due to the hazards of building on permafrost. The floor lacked traditional corridors that could trap heat. Instead, the basement had occasional short sections of wall punctuated by thick metal posts in the otherwise vast, open space. The posts, Isabel knew, were necessary to hold the heat and pressure of the four-story structure above the permafrost, to prevent the soil from thawing, which would cause the building to buckle.

  Glancing upward at the massive building, she shuddered at the thought of the structure collapsing on top of her.

  “You get used to it,” Ethan said. “It’s better inside the range, because it isn’t under the building—it’s adjacent. For safety, the firing range is a big underground cavern with reinforced but natural walls. Stray bullets can hit the dirt without causing damage to the building.”

  She shot him a speculative glance. “I had no idea the compound had this big a footprint. A lot of earth was moved to build this place. Too bad no one did an archaeological survey first.”

  Ethan shrugged, too even-tempered to rise to the bait. A regular at the roadhouse, he’d joined her for drinks several times in the last few months, and she liked him. “Not my problem. The facility was built before I was hired.”

  True, as Ethan had joined Raptor sometime after Alec purchased the company, and, if she remembered correctly, he was from Pennsylvania, or some other eastern state. “How did you end up here?” she asked.

  “Rav begged me. Made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “You knew him before?”

  “Yeah. I taught him how to shoot when he was fresh out of diapers.”

  Isabel laughed. “Before he joined the Army?”

  “No. Right after. He joined up, then realized he couldn’t shoot worth a damn. He was terrible. A menace. He was going to kill someone, and it wasn’t the enemy. But Richie Rich doesn’t know how to be bad at something. It offends him. So during his first furlough from boot camp, he showed up at my door and offered me an obscene amount of money to teach him how to shoot. Over a weekend.”

  “And did he learn in two days?”

  “Hell, no. But he came back during his next furlough. And the next one. The man didn’t take a decent break for a year. But at the end of that year, he qualified for sniper training.”

  “He was a sniper?”

  “Nah. The Rangers had other uses for him.”

  “Do you like Alec? Personally, I mean?” It was a forward question, and she didn’t really expect an honest answer if he didn’t, but she’d gotten to know Ethan well enough over the last several months to think he might tell her the truth, and she was curious, especially because he’d known Alec for more than a decade.

  “I do, actually. He was intense at twenty-two. So determined to prove himself. Prove that he earned his place in the world, that nothing was given to him because of his family’s money. He’s mellowed over the years. I think being a Ranger knocked that chip off his shoulder—like he’d proved it and was done. I think he’s less embarrassed by the wealth now.”

  “And yet he wasn’t afraid to use it back then—to hire you to teach him how to shoot.”

  “He’s too smart not to use the money to his advantage. And he still had to do the learning. Money can’t make you a crack shot. Only practice will do that.”

  At last they reached a thick steel door cut into the foundation wall. Ethan typed a code into the keypad, and the door opened, revealing another vast chamber separated into six long lanes, like a bowling alley, but these lanes were about four times longer. Ethan made a beeline for a large safe situated on this side of a counter that defined the firing line.

  His fingers danced over the safe’s keypad, and a buzzer sounded. A moment later, the door released.

  “What’s with the buzzer?”

  “It means security has been alerted that the gun safe has been opened.” He pointed to the dome mounted to the ceiling in front of the safe. “Security monitors this room. If they see an unauthorized person accessing the gun safe—even if the person uses a correct code—they can lock down the safe.”

  “That’s pretty high tech.”

  He nodded. “Rav takes safety and security seriously.”

  She didn’t miss the pointed comment. She had argued the compound lacked proper safety measures. Everything she’d seen since stepping inside indicated she’d been dead wrong.

  Ethan handed her a pair of headphones, then grabbed a pistol from the safe.

  “Is that one for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s a girly gun.”

  “Rav said to start you out with the Sig Mosquito.”

  She felt like Will Smith in Men in Black. “I want something…mean-loo
king.”

  “It’s not the size of the weapon that matters.”

  She frowned. “No, it’s the caliber of the bullet. I want to shoot a forty-five.”

  “You’re starting with a twenty-two or my ass is fired.”

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  Ethan was a good sport, putting up with her petulance with nary a ripple in his easygoing manner. Here, he was in his element. He was a good teacher, all business, but knowledgeable and friendly. He quickly assessed her skills and reminded her to zero in on the finer details, like how breathing rate could affect accuracy.

  Once she’d hit the bull’s-eye at twenty-five yards, he moved her up to a bigger gun, but still, sadly, not a forty-five. Finally, after two hours, she could fire the heavier gun with reasonable accuracy, but her arms shook with exhaustion as she held the weapon in a two-handed grip.

  “You’re done,” Ethan said, his voice reaching her through speakers in the protective headphones. “Take the shot, then I’ll show you how to clean the gun.”

  She squeezed the trigger, so glad to be done she ignored everything he’d taught her about stance, aim, and breath. The bullet went high, missing the target completely.

  “Christ, Ethan, I thought you were supposed to be a good teacher.” Alec’s voice had a tinny quality through the speaker, and she turned—keeping the barrel of the gun pointed down the firing lane—to see he’d entered the range and donned the protective headgear with built-in microphone.

  She carefully set the gun on the counter before planting her hands on her hips. “That was the first shot that didn’t hit the target in an hour. I made confetti of the last sheet.” She waved toward the shredded paper. “So don’t mess with me.” She twisted and picked up the gun again, and this time took careful aim, determined to impress him with her newfound marksmanship.

  Her shot went low. She frowned as she heard a soft, throaty chuckle in her ear.

  “Her arms are tired, boss.”

  She ignored the dialogue and tried again. But her arms were visibly shaking. Exhaustion had caught up with her. Her ribs ached. The bullet hit the paper but not the human outline. Arms slid along hers, and she startled. Ethan had been careful with his touches to correct her stance, always giving verbal warning, and never touching more than the joint or muscle required for her to adjust her grip, stance, or position. This was a slow, sensual caress that had less to do with teaching and was more about seduction.

  Alec’s hand supported her elbow as his chest pressed against her back. “Deep breath. Slow. Align the front sight with the rear sight. Watch for two or three breaths when they bounce over the center of the target. Try to anticipate the bounce. Squeeze right before the crosshairs cross over the center.”

  She did as he said, and fired with her fourth breath. It wasn’t a bull, but she hit well within the rings.

  Lips caressed her neck. “Ethan’s gone,” he murmured.

  She set the gun on the counter and leaned against Alec. He pulled off her headphones and nibbled on her ear. “God, that was hot. I had no idea I could get so turned on watching you with a gun.”

  She arched her neck, giving him better access, even as she rolled her eyes and said, “Men.”

  He chuckled. “We’re simple creatures.” His hand slid up her ribs and cupped her breast as he pressed his growing erection against her spine, underscoring his statement.

  She laughed and twisted in his arms until she faced him. His mouth met hers in a deep kiss that stole her breath. He cradled her ass and held her against him. Her fingers threaded through his short-cropped hair, while his tongue delved into her mouth and made her forget every unpleasant feeling she’d experienced in the last three days.

  The kiss had come about so naturally, a progression, she hadn’t really seen it coming. And didn’t want it to stop.

  She wanted him. Now. But this was wrong. When he wasn’t with her—and she could think clearly—she was plagued with all the reasons she shouldn’t want him. But with one kiss, logic evaporated, and guilt fled to the dark corners of her mind.

  His tongue stroked hers. Heat infused her while guilt took flight and lust gathered the reins. She reached for the buttons on his shirt and had two open before he stopped her. His breathing was ragged as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Not here. Cameras. There are two in this room.” He nodded to a dome mounted above the firing lane.

  Her hands froze. Shit. His men could be watching, right now. Correction. They were watching.

  He took a step backward, releasing her. He rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started that. Not here.”

  “My fault for taking it further.”

  He buttoned his shirt. “I wasn’t supposed to touch you at all. It’s still your move.”

  She frowned at that. To her conscience, his making a move and her accepting him was entirely different from her seeking him out. “You can’t leave it up to me. I want you to make the next move.”

  He shook his head, fixing her with his tigerlike stare. “I’m not going to make this easy for you, Isabel.” He stepped forward, backing her into the firing-line counter. “Make no mistake, I will make love to you, but you will initiate it.”

  His bold declaration scared her. “I…can’t.”

  His eyes lit with blue flame, and his mouth twisted in a confident half smile. “It’s not a matter of can or can’t. It’s only a matter of when.”

  His arms rested on the counter on either side of her, pinning her, yet no part of his body touched her. Mere millimeters separated them. Aroused, she sucked in a shallow breath, because a deep one would cause her nipples to skim his hard chest. She was completely turned on by his confidence and certainty.

  She’d been certain about many things in her life, but never like that, and never about a man.

  “I won’t touch you again, not until you touch me first. You’re going to come to me.” He stepped back, releasing her from his heat. “Shooting lessons are over. I’d like you to go back to my quarters.”

  “I—” Her voice creaked, and she cleared her dry throat. “I need to clean the gun. Ethan said he’d show me how.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You have work to do.”

  He shrugged, “Then I’ll have one of my minions do it.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. He was the only person she knew who could say that and actually mean it. She turned to the door. “You know, you don’t need to take me to Paris. I’m already impressed.” She slipped through the door before he could answer, and picked up her pace as she headed across the vast underground chamber. This space still gave her the creeps.

  Nearing the middle—or at least she thought it was the middle—she became disoriented. She’d thought the elevator was this way but instead found a maintenance room. She turned, scanning the space. Where the hell was the elevator shaft?

  Spotting the elevator a hundred yards away, she made a beeline for it. She rounded a thick support pole and landed smack into a man’s chest. She stumbled, reeling, her head spinning so it took a moment for her to recognize the brick wall who stood before her. Chase Johnston, the newbie on Falcon team who made her uncomfortable.

  His feral grin said he was far too happy to see her.

  19

  Alec sat on the bench and grabbed a towel and the gun oil. He should let an employee clean the weapon, but he needed to think, and he was used to strategizing while cleaning guns.

  He should be thinking about the training, his abduction, the campaign, or any of a dozen other things, but Isabel Dawson was first and foremost in his mind. Insane as it sounded, falling in love with her seemed like more than a possibility; he had a feeling it was inevitable. But damn if he was going to let her hide behind her reservations. She would break through them, and he’d be waiting on the other side.

  The door to the firing range opened, and Ethan stepped inside. “I’ll clean the guns, Rav.”

  Alec frowned at the pistol, then made eye contact with his emp
loyee, a man five years his senior whom he’d known since he was twenty-two and the worst shot at boot camp. “How’d she do?”

  “Really well. She’s methodical. Like you. With practice, she’ll be a crack shot.” Ethan paused. “Be careful, boss. She’s more fragile than she seems.”

  Alec had figured that out already but was curious to know why Ethan would warn him. “What do you mean?”

  “Isabel needs to be around people but holds herself back from them. She goes to the Tamarack Roadhouse every week, but more than once I’ve caught her hanging out front, trying to decide if she can step through the door. I figure she’s afraid of connecting to people. Afraid of caring.”

  Ethan wasn’t the first person to make that point, and yet Alec had seen little of that side of Isabel. When she was around him, she was all heat and energy.

  “I’ll clean the guns,” Ethan said again.

  Alec nodded. He really needed to meet Keith in God’s Eye, to give him a brief introduction to the control room. “I won’t hurt her,” he said, as he opened the door. The moment the thick steel portal opened, he heard a loud, piercing scream.

  Isabel stared in shock at Chase as the man dropped to his knees, his hands gripping his head. He sucked in a deep breath and let out another screeching wail. He whimpered and said, “I can’t! I can’t! I’m sorry! I can’t!”

  Was he being hit with infrasound? What was happening to him?

  “Isabel!” Alec’s shout echoed across the basement.

  Chase opened his eyes—bloodshot and watery—and met her gaze. “I’m sorry, boss!” he said through tears. “I can’t do it. I won’t!” Then his body convulsed three times, and he made a gurgling sound that ended abruptly as he teetered, then fell to the floor.

  Isabel drew in a deep breath and shouted, “We’re by the elevator!” She dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse. She couldn’t find one. She pushed him over until he lay flat on his back, her heart hammering as she tried to figure out what had happened and what she should do.