No Broken Beast Page 14

  I take a slow breath, staring out the window. “None of that shit matters. Won’t help us find your sis.”

  “It matters to me.” She takes a harsh breath too. When she speaks again, it’s calmer. “Fine. Whatever. If you won’t tell me what happened, at least explain this Nighthawks thing?”

  “They’re very fucking dangerous people, Rissa. That’s all you need to know.”

  And I’m one of them.

  I can’t tell her that part. She huffs a breath, probably ready to pull over and push me out of the car, if she could move me an inch.

  I shake my head, keeping one eye on the mirror, one on the landscape rolling by, all hills and cliffs and blazing orange trees. “Look, if anybody ever says that word to you, don’t start asking questions. Just run.”

  There’s a long silence. I glance over to see her with her lower lip caught between her teeth, expression worried, aching. It’s a fresh kind of hell, trying to save her from the shit I know.

  Clarissa takes the last turn for the inn. “So why was Deanna involved with it?”

  My jaw tightens. That’s the part I don’t have a quip ready for.

  “Sweetheart, you’ll have to tell me.”

  She’s quiet a little longer, then sighs, slowing as she eases onto the shady lane running alongside the inn. “Deanna wouldn’t let it go. She was convinced Galentron isn’t done with Heart’s Edge. After the things we saw when we were kids...mostly, she just wanted answers, I think. Answers she wasn’t going to get with Dad dead.”

  I wince, but bite my tongue. She shoots a guilty glance at me.

  “Sorry.”

  “I don’t think you’re the one who needs to apologize,” I grit through my teeth. “What else?”

  “She just kept digging. Looking through old things that got cleared out of the old house and tossed into storage when they turned it into a museum. Searching for clues in Papa’s belongings.”

  “Sniffing around the ruins of the Paradise Hotel,” I add.

  Her breath catches. “You saw her? What was she doing out there?”

  “A few days before she disappeared,” I tell her. “Your sis didn’t find anything. The facility is deep past the old mine’s entrance. There’s no access now with the elevators shut down and the ruins left to rot.”

  Rissa slams on the brakes, jolting the car to a halt and punching me back in the seat belt. “What facility?”

  She stares at me, her eyes cutting, demanding.

  Fuck. I wince again, closing my eyes, rubbing my temples.

  “Look, you know more than most about Galentron,” I say, “but you don’t know the truth of what happened at the hotel.” I push the door of the car open and step outside. “I’ll tell you later. This isn’t the time or the place.”

  She follows me, rising out of the car and slamming the door, frowning. “Later when?”

  “Tonight,” I promise. “After Zach’s asleep. Meet me by the fire.”

  * * *

  I must’ve been crowned king of terrible fucking ideas today.

  Kissing Clarissa back.

  Letting her see my face.

  Agreeing to tell her more than I should about the truth surrounding the hotel.

  And now, letting myself be alone with her, out here in the dark.

  I drop down on a stump to one side of the fire pit I dug, slowly turning the rabbit I’m roasting over the flames for my dinner. It’s been a long afternoon of thinking, planning, regretting.

  And I hate how thin my options are. I really fucking hate the fact that I may just need to talk to Fuchsia again.

  She’s here for a reason. Not just coincidence. Something to do with Deanna.

  My guess? Deanna’s snooping turned up something she wasn’t supposed to know; something that could be dangerous to Galentron interests if it ever leaks publicly.

  That shit would catch Fuchsia’s attention like a mouse draws an owl. Her whole agenda revolves around hurting her old employer by dumping as much confidential info as possible. Too bad fate keeps cockblocking her on that and undermining her best efforts.

  It must’ve tipped someone off at Galentron, too. And if they’ve sent someone out here to take care of their latest woes, no doubt it’s a Nighthawk.

  The question is whether or not neutralizing that problem just involves killing Deanna Bell, or do they think she knows more?

  It’s worth keeping her alive to find out, so they can destroy any and all evidence she might be keeping.

  I hope to hell that’s it.

  Because even if it means the unspeakable, torturing her to try to force her secrets out, it means they’ll keep her alive. It buys us time to find her.

  Dealing with another Nighthawk should bring more clues. They’d have the same training. The same experiments and modifications. They’d think the same way I do in a tactical situation.

  So I just have to ask myself what I’d do.

  Except...something’s already off.

  I sure as hell wouldn’t make such a heaping mess, smashing up Sweeter Things. That’s enough to draw attention and make a kidnapping obvious, rather than just let it look like Deanna disappeared into the ether for any old reason.

  If I were the one running this mission, I’d get in, get out, and leave without a trace. I wouldn’t come charging in like a bull in a china shop.

  It can’t be recklessness. The kidnapper must have an ulterior motive, to draw out either me or Fuchsia. Possibly both of us.

  We’re more loose ends for Galentron.

  Hell, I’ve avoided retaliation all these years by staying hidden. They can’t find me, and the fact that I’m basically a fugitive has made me a low-priority risk.

  Fuchsia’s a bit worse, though that woman’s as slippery as an eel. She’s probably enjoyed leading them on a wild fucking goose chase.

  Still, get us both here, together, hot on the trail of the same woman?

  I know a damn setup when I see it.

  They get us in the open, they can take us out in one coordinated swoop.

  Silence us and Deanna and maybe Clarissa too, all the last dregs of their epic clusterfuck in Heart’s Edge.

  They could even come after Gray. Though I’m not sure they’ve got the balls.

  One woman disappears and it’s just local news. But Deanna and Gray, simultaneously, that’d get people digging. Get them panicked.

  So they leave Gray alone, take me out when I’m a ghost and no one would miss me, and Fuchsia’s a stranger nobody would miss?

  I smile grimly. It’s almost fucking elegant, in its own twisted way.

  Better than their older methods, wiping an entire town clean off the map. Not the kind of thing you can do anymore in the age of instant social media backed by live video streams.

  So if that’s the plan...the next step is getting Deanna’s info. Considering she’s come back for brief visits from Spokane over the years, before moving here for Sweeter Things’ latest branch, any intel stashes she has would either be hidden around town or else uploaded somewhere safe and secure.

  If she’s smart, she’s got multiple digital copies, plus physical proof scattered around so there’s always backups on backups.

  So what would I do if I had a woman captive, holding onto info I wanted?

  I’d make her take me to the locations.

  I’d need a hostage to make her cooperate, someone she cares about. Obviously, I wouldn’t trust her to send me to the right place unless she was with me and I had a gun to her back.

  No leaving her alone. No falling into traps.

  But in a small town, you can’t hardly move to the next block without somebody noticing.

  Unless you’re moving at night...

  Shit.

  If I’m gonna track them, that’s where I need to start. Watching for signs of unusual movements at night, within the town radius.

  Now I just have to figure out how to do it without leaving Rissa and Zach unguarded.

  It’s like my thoughts summon her.
/>
  I hear the faint sound of Rissa’s heeled boots on dry leaves and twigs a second later. She’s moving hesitantly, shyly, between the thick trees.

  Goddamn, she’s vibrant in the firelight. Bright sparks shine in her eyes, making them burn green-gold. The glowing flames accent the chestnut highlights in her dark hair till she’s more like a phoenix than a woman.

  I smile at my own warped thoughts.

  Am I just drunk on this girl, or personifying the flame that tore me apart? Merging both wildfires that won’t stop upending my life?

  She pauses, watching me with haunted eyes, then ventures a faint smile. “Hey, Captain Broody.”

  I smile slightly. “I’m not brooding.”

  “Oh, okay. Sunshine and roses, then. We’ll have it your way tonight, Leo.”

  My palm twitches as I bite back a smile, remembering the times when that sass would buy her a crisp spanking later on.

  She picks her way through the clearing I’ve made for my camp and pulls over a metal trunk—my weapons cache—and sits down delicately on it, long legs folded. She watches me, then nods. “Is that really still necessary?”

  It takes me a second to realize she means my mask, my hood.

  I reach up, touching the edge of the cloth.

  “It’s practical this time of year,” I mutter. “Damn cold out here tonight.”

  “Well, you’re right about that.” She shivers, all bundled up in her fitted leather jacket. Her gaze flits to my bedroll and tent. “I wish you’d just sleep inside. What’s the harm?”

  “I wouldn’t be able to see or hear someone coming from inside.” My glance tells her I’m serious.

  “I mean...you can’t see or hear anybody lurking around if you’re frozen to death, either.”

  I chuckle. “It’s October, Rissa. Not January in the Arctic.”

  “I just worry.” She shrugs, self-deprecating, managing a little smile that makes my heart thump harder.

  It isn’t fair, the way she still worries about me, like we have any shot at a normal life. But her smile fades, and she lingers on me, eyes searching. “So, remember how you said you’d tell me about the facility?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “Guessing you don’t know everything about what your old man was working on with the company, do you?”

  She shakes her head, hesitates, then ventures, “No. I just know there were Galentron staff staying in the hotel, and they were working on bad stuff so close that it was a danger to the town. Weapons or something. And...and Papa cared more about money than the fact he was endangering everyone’s lives.”

  My brows furrow. “I’d say that’s a start, but it’s worse.”

  Fuck, I shouldn’t be telling her this, but I don’t know how she can think anything worse about her father after she lived with him. After he tried to kill her.

  Still, I’ve tried to protect her from the truth. Even knowing about Galentron’s top secret projects is dangerous. Trouble is, right now, ignorance could be fatal.

  “The hotel was just a front,” I say, starting slowly. “An old cozy place for the top brass to stay, and the specialists who’d need to come into town without being noticed. The real work happened underground in this place built in the old silver mine next to the hotel. Highly secure, access-controlled, multiple levels deep underground.”

  Her eyes widen, reflecting the light in green-gold discs. “Wow. I never knew.”

  “You were never meant to.”

  “How big was this place? How many people were down there?”

  “At any one time, maybe two or three hundred. After the place was built, I was stationed there on guard duty. They pulled me and the rest of my group home from overseas for this. Guarding the facility and the odd covert ops were most of my job during the...” I swallow. “During the time when I’d visit you.”

  She’s quiet a little longer, biting her lip, before she asks, “So the fire in the hotel spread to the facility, or what?”

  “Other way around.” I take a deep breath, every burned bit of my skin aching at the memory. “The fire started in the facility and caught the hotel. I started it, trying to stop a lethal virus from escaping. But the damn safety system flipped, worked too well, and then shorted. It started an inferno that killed almost everyone.”

  “And burned you,” she whispers, awareness dawning.

  I nod reluctantly, staring into the fire. I can’t look at her right now.

  “Gray—Doc Caldwell—he used to work at the facility, too. He was my friend, a researcher there. He tried to stop me from doing something reckless when I wasn’t in my right mind, after shit went down with your old man...he saved my life. I was trapped in the flames. If Gray hadn’t come for me, hadn’t waited, I’d have lost more than my career as an underwear model.”

  She gives me a shocked look and then manages a laugh like heaven. “Oh my God, don’t do that.”

  “What?” I cock my head, looking at her.

  “Be so...Leo.”

  I glance at her from under my hood, my smile fading. She’s staring into the fire like she can see the horror I tried to sweeten—the bursting flames reaching up, engulfing me, trying to kill everybody trapped down there.

  No question. Without Gray, we would’ve died, and the scars on his fingers are proof.

  Rissa rubs at her face. “God. I just...I knew Dad knew they were working with bad stuff, but viruses?”

  “I’m not done. Still not the whole story,” I growl, and she flinches.

  “How bad, Leo? Be honest. How twisted was my father, really?”

  “Considering what he got paid for...think he was an eleven on the grand scale of fuckery. He was ready to sell lives for a few million bucks and a guaranteed seat in Congress.” I take a deep breath. “If things went according to plan, you and Deanna and your old man would’ve been virtually the only survivors of Heart’s Edge.”

  She sucks in a breath, going pale. “Wait, wait, wait. You mean...they were going to release that stuff on purpose?”

  I nod like my head weighs a ton.

  Nod and wait, giving her time to hash the full horror.

  Her gaze flicks back and forth, and she actually wavers in her seat for a moment, before she braces hands on both her sides and clutches hard, taking several shallow breaths. I’m on the edge of my seat, ready to bolt across and save her if she goes into a full panic attack.

  “My dad...my fucking dad took money to let them kill everyone in town?” Her face goes violent red.

  It’s so soft, so shaky, so disbelieving, she almost sounds like the sheltered girl she was when I first met her.

  This is fucked.

  Everything in me aches to comfort her, but I can’t cross that distance. I can’t hurt her more than I’m doing now, driving the truth into her like a stake, even if she asked for it.

  Not when she’s probably still upset with how I thrust her away today.

  Not when I’m the bastard shaking her entire world apart, tearing open old wounds.

  “They called it a controlled test release,” I say quietly. “The virus was first developed by a rival overseas, but the CIA confiscated a sample and gave it to Galentron to reverse engineer to figure out how to fight it in the event of a bio-attack. They just weren’t specific about how that had to be done...and Galentron thought a small town was an acceptable loss to understand how the virus works in the wild, to chart disease vectors and survival rates. They expected single digits, Rissa. A handful of people out of hundreds.”

  “Jesus!” She presses her hand over her chest, swallowing tightly. “Deedee figured that out, didn’t she? And she...she wouldn’t let it go even after I ran away. She couldn’t.”

  “Right. That’s probably what got Galentron’s attention,” I say.

  “No.” She shakes her head sharply, clapping her hands over her mouth and nose, her eyes welling. “No, they couldn’t have—”

  Her voice goes thick with tears.

  Before I can stop myself, I’m up—rounding the fire
to her, sinking down to sit on the trunk next to her, even if my bulk nearly crowds her off it, resting a hand against her back.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “Hey. I’ve been thinking this through, and they’ve got to keep her alive. She’s going to be okay. She is.”

  “How do you know?” she chokes. “Why wouldn’t they just kill her?”

  “Because Deanna’s smart. She’d have kept whatever she found out, made backups—and for all they know, they’re with you. Deanna’s the only way to get to you. She’s no damn good as a hostage if she’s dead.”

  “But I don’t know anything!” Clarissa explodes. “This is all too much, Leo. I...”

  I know before she does that she’s going to break. Maybe it’s the scent of tears, but she curls forward, fighting her own gag reflex. I curse myself even as I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in tight.

  She comes willingly, burying herself against my side, hiding her face in my chest. Her shoulders are shaking, her breaths hitched, but she’s not crying.

  I rub her back slowly, my own throat tight with rage.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay if you need to cry.”

  “No,” she mumbles, muffled against my chest. “I won’t. I promised her. I promised Deanna. Crying’s for grieving, and I won’t grieve when she’s not dead. I want to believe you.”

  I can’t help but smile.

  It’s so like her, thinking this way.

  Determined. Fierce. Holding out hope against plane crash, lightning strike odds.

  It’s my job to make sure those odds even out.

  “Hey,” I say. “I won’t let them get near you. Just rest, think of anything you can about where Deanna might’ve hidden anything she had on Galentron.”

  “I don’t have a clue,” she says softly, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve been gone for so long...I haven’t lived here in ages.”

  “But you can still think like her. And I can think like them.” I touch a fingertip under her chin, lifting her face up gently to look down into glimmering eyes that still stubbornly refuse to break into full tears, even if her nose is pink and her lips are trembling. “So between us, we’ll mirror their movements. We’ll figure them out. We’ll find them, Rissa, and then we’ll bring Deanna home.”