Enslave Me Sweetly (Alien Huntress #2)(13)
Author: Gena Showalter

There was no one waiting for us at the door. Instead, guards and agents abounded inside, a few watching our every move as we passed the rickety-looking threshold. Since we would never have made it to the porch without clearance, we didn’t have to endure retinal scans or fingerprint IDs. Besides, we were expected. And since Michael Black controlled this little building as well as everything and everyone inside it—and he wasn’t here—I guess that made me the boss for now.

My shoulders straightened at the thought.

The chipped front door closed automatically. My hands remained close to the knives strapped to my thighs. A habit, really. Immediately, I took stock of my new surroundings. Eleven men manned the first room. Two were stationed at the computer terminal in back; three were seated on the only couch, cleaning and testing weapons. The rest of the men were relaxing and talking over coffee.

Cool air welcomed me in an open embrace. Relieved, I tugged off my cap, and my hair tumbled down my back. I hated wearing hats because they retained heat, but I also didn’t like hair in my face. The gold locks restricted my vision—and a good assassin needed to see everything around her. I should have cut it off long ago, but it reminded me of my mother—the only reminder I had, really—so I never had. I reached up and tugged my hair into a ponytail.

“Take Lucius to the prisoner,” I said to no one in particular.

A short, stocky bull of a human immediately stepped up to my—growl—partner. “This way,” he said, not meeting Lucius’s eyes.

Lucius made to follow him, but I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He paused, leveling an expressionless glance at me. “Leave your weapons with me,” I said quietly.

He laughed. Actually laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. But when he spoke, his voice was as quiet as mine had been. “Not a chance.”

“Did you hear what happened to that A.I.R. agent Dallas Gutierrez when another agent took a weapon into an interrogation?”

His smile remained, softening the harsh planes of his features. “I can handle myself. Besides, I wouldn’t do you the favor of getting myself killed before I claim my prize.” With that, he shook off my hold and strode away. At least he hadn’t called me “cookie” in front of the men.

I turned to Ren, who had followed us inside. “Where can I observe?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he replied helpfully, “I’ll show you.”

He ushered me down a well-lit, narrow hallway that slanted down, taking us underground. With every step, the temperature became damper, cooler. The walls were plain, a little dirty, but there were no visible cameras or sensors. Still, both were there, I knew, watching our every move. I knew how Michael operated, and the man left nothing to chance. Even though security cameras were illegal without a proper license—which Michael didn’t have because he didn’t want anyone knowing his business—I knew they were here.

“What’s with you and Adaire?” Ren asked, breaking the silence.

I didn’t spare him a glance. “What business is it of yours?”

“Lucius Adaire is a killer.”

I had to smile at that one. “So am I. So are you, for that matter.”

“No, I mean a vicious killer. He’ll kill anything. Women. Children. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

I didn’t allow myself to react to his words. “Well, you aren’t me.” I still wore my sunglasses, so I looked over them and leveled him with a pointed stare. “Besides that, I always watch my back—even while I’m with you.”

The hallway finally ended. We stood in front of what looked like an average wall. Ren laid his hand against a corner section, and two panels opened. A disposable, computer-operated needle pricked his index finger, and a small sample of blood was taken.

When the computer recognized his DNA, the wall—consisting of two steel plates—split down the middle, admitting us. I didn’t know if Ren had spoken the truth about Lucius. The two men weren’t friends, so there was a very real possibility Ren had embellished his story. However, I didn’t like to think of Lucius as a killer of innocents—the very innocents I strove so hard to protect.

“Come on,” Ren grumbled, unhappy with the lack of reaction he’d gotten from me. He led me into a small room. One entire wall boasted a holoscreen that played out the happenings in the other room. I saw the small, plain blue room, the two wooden chairs. I sank into Observation’s only chair, a padded stool, forcing Ren to stand beside me.

I watched as Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at a pale, trembling Sahara Rose—who wasn’t speaking. She did whimper, though, but that didn’t count. Her blue eyes were wide and watery, and she kept tugging on her light-colored hair.

Grinning, I glanced at the clock beside me.

Ten minutes, then I was going in.

Chapter 5

Five minutes down. Five minutes to go.

I almost hated for the ten minutes to end. Lucius was simply too entertaining. Screaming at Sahara Rose failed, so he tried cajoling. Intimidation through silence failed, so he switched to I’m-a-nice-man-and-you-can-tell-me-anything mode. Whenever he approached her, her trembling and sobbing increased, but she never spoke a word.

When at long last she began screaming hysterically, he turned his back to me. He reached up with one hand, looking as if he wanted to scratch his head. He flipped me off.

I laughed. Desperation clung to him, growing darker in his features, becoming heavier on his shoulders. The best thing, I had to admit, was that his antics kept my mind off EenLi and my own failure.

Another three minutes passed with no results.

Lucius tried to hide it, but I caught several panicked glances at his wristwatch. I had to choke back another round of laughter. I’d never been one to enjoy another’s pain, butplease . Watching this hard-assed man flounder ranked right up there with consuming an entire bowl of sugar-covered peaches—my biggest weakness.

I glanced at the digital clock next to the screen. Only one minute to go. Lucius began to pace frantically, begging—actually begging—Sahara Rose to utter a single word. His eyebrow ring glinted in the light.

“Please,” he said, the word hard against his lips. “Please, just say your name. Curse at me. Anything. I’ll pay you. However much you want.”

She continued to tremble in her corner, lips pressed together, tears in her eyes. At least she’d stopped screaming.

“I’m begging you. Tell me your name. That’s all you have to do. I’ll leave, then. You’ll never have to see me again.”