Copyright © 2014 by J. A. Dennam
Cover design by Julie Rice
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To my dear friend, Debie, who dares to dream
big and share it with the world.
Submission. Something Crystal thought was beyond her had suddenly become general practice within the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Her meek and mousy years were over, ever since the men in black hoods abducted her from her college dorm three years ago.
I’m not Elsa anymore. I’m Crystal, a field agent for IGP, one of the most successful private security firms in the country. I now wear a black hood, which means I am capable of many unusual things. I can take down a man three times my size. I can disappear in the blink of an eye. I can change my appearance with paper clips and duck tape.
She yanked on her wrists only to feel the resistant tug on her bound ankles.
So, why the fuck am I still here?
At least the caged feeling was subsiding now that she’d finally been given her pill. The shadows were no longer moving, her sweat-soaked skin was beginning to cool, and the pins and needles were finally gone, taking with it the irrational urge to claw the muscles from her body.
Though the noise of her anxiety lessened, the hollowed dankness of her surroundings only amplified the haunting sounds she could not explain. Tortured moans. The creek of ropes that were not her own. Distant footsteps reverberating through the aged wooden planks overhead.
There were ghosts in this old house, all right. And she was one of them.
Not the ethereal kind that went bump in the night, but an IGP “ghost” agent who wouldn’t do something so sloppy. Unfortunately, those ghosts were being exterminated, and she was once again a prisoner, forced to pledge allegiance to he who flexed the bigger muscle.
She should have known it was only a matter of time before IGP was taken down. They didn’t exactly operate on the right side of the law, but that’s what made them so effective. Dangerous. Her conscience suffered on occasion, but not enough to start killing her brethren and rendering their headquarters useless with a strategically placed clump of C-4.
Throughout her experience, if she were to predict which ghost would go rogue, it was Derek Bennett. There had to be a reason their handler, Rafferty, had kept him in a locked cell at night, and fixed him with a tracking device despite the chemical ties that kept them all close. Only a fool would leave, since without their enhancement drug—which she’d just learned was called Nexifen—they’d suffer the worst withdrawals imaginable…and imminent death.
Now Derek controlled the drugs. Flexed the biggest muscle. Now Rafferty was the one imprisoned, suffering through his withdrawals in the open room next to hers. The only reason her suffering had ended was because she’d just agreed to help kill the ghosts who’d survived last night’s explosion.
Sweat trickled alongside her brow. Crystal managed to lift a shoulder enough to wipe it away. Rafferty’s moans were growing louder, grating against her frazzled nerves. She moistened dry lips with her tongue and dared something new.
“Shut the hell up, Rafferty!”
God that felt good.
A scuffle outside her doorway indicated one of her captors had never left. She flicked unruly bangs from her eyes, squinted toward the sound.
“Derek?”
But the shadow looming just beyond reach belonged to someone taller, broader than her fellow ghost.
“Feeling better?”
The question, spoken in a low rumble, lacked the barest hint of compassion. Crystal squeezed her lids over frost-colored eyes that had yet to fully clear. “You’re the Mack truck who knocked me out last night.” And killed her partner. And carried her away from IGP’s basement so she could watch it explode. “What’s your name, again?” she asked.
“Mac.”
Yeah, sure. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just trying to be friendly.”
“You can make nice after you prove yourself. Until then, you’re still the spook who kidnapped and drugged an innocent child.”
Anger warmed the cold that came with the black hooded uniform she wore. “Look. Rafferty is the one who wanted that baby dead. I didn’t even know Derek had a kid until I found that out. And I saved him, remember?”
“Which is the only reason you’re alive. But you should have returned him to his mother.”
That again! “I did,” she griped, feeling the guilt. “After I removed his tracking device, which I couldn’t do without sedative.”
“As long as you know,” his dark shape shifted as he turned to leave, “one false move and you’ll be cut off from your drugs for good. Nothing I can do about that.”
“Wait!” He stopped. Crystal moistened her lips again. “You’ve been with me down here the whole time, haven’t you?”
“So?”
Though he acted as more of a guard, his presence had been strangely calming through the worst of her withdrawals. “Please, don’t leave,” she murmured, head low. “Not yet. Not until I’m right again.”
The man narrowed his eyes, and with a sharp exhale, resumed his position against the doorframe. Now that the drug was working its magic, her night vision was improving. Colors began to appear in the dark. The red of his shirt stood out in particular, long sleeves pushed up past the elbows, worn jeans and clunky work boots that boasted large feet. He wore baldness like one of those action movie stars, and it even came complete with a scuffed battle wound. She could do without the coarse, earthen-colored mustache, though. It covered way too much of his face.
“Have you ever had a woman take a razor to that lip?” she purred, her throat raw and raspy from screaming.
He came closer, reached upward and switched on the overhead bulb. Her eyes instantly adjusted without so much as a flinch.
“Just so you know,” he said pointedly, “anxiety makes me cautious, not stupid. So don’t try and psyche me out with words or that frosty look of yours. It won’t work.”
Her mouth parted as it formed a reluctant smile. “Duly noted.”
“You find that funny?”
It was a miracle she could find amusement in anything at the moment. “Refreshing, actually.” When his silence commanded an answer, she said, “Men usually use the color of my eyes as some sort of pick-up line.”
“I wouldn’t be lookin’ for one of those from me.”
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that,” she shot back just as quickly. “What’s the matter, you not into girls with short hair?”
“I’m not into girls, period.”
Crystal blinked, snapped her mouth closed. “Oh. Well… I didn’t see that coming.”
His shoulders slumped in exasperation. “I meant you’re a bit on the young side.”
Ah, a common error made by most. Even though she was twenty-five, her face still boasted the slender angles of a teenager… which made her the perfect decoy in any IGP operation.
“I’m only three years younger than Rena,” she provided. That bit of info should explain it all. Her half-sister was well known by these
folks.
Crystal could see him do the math behind those guarded eyes of his. He probably found it hard to believe she was even related to Rena, who was tall, gorgeous, endowed with all the physical assets that turned men into drooling idiots… despite being an escaped inmate from the Valley State maximum-security psych ward.
Crystal rolled her head, closed her eyes, and sifted through Derek’s words one more time.
“You’ve already begun to turn against IGP, Crystal. Rena’s our only chance at severing the cord. She can help us, but only if you get your head out of your ass.” He walked toward her, held out her dose. “You need to want to reclaim your life. Don’t let Sophie or IGP take it from you. Work with us on this.”
She stretched, thrusting her chest outward. Wrists and ankles screamed beneath the coarse ropes. Now that her senses were fully restored she could hear what sounded like acid rock bleeding from the room next door.
“Rafferty hates that shit,” she observed when the pieces fell into place. “No wonder he’s been whining like a snot-nosed kid.”
Mack Truck crossed his ankles and adjusted his position against the doorframe. “Your former handler is a cagey bastard, so I’m playing it safe.”
“By blasting his eardrums with grunge?” She inhaled, slowly collecting the healthy vibes of sanity. “Why not just kill him like the others?”
“We may need him as bait to draw out the remaining ghosts.”
Crystal’s eyes slid open. “And River? I’ve heard his voice in there. You need him, too?”
The fact they hadn’t killed IGP’s youngest ghost puzzled her. Was it his youthful façade that made them hesitate even though the compassionless little turd had nearly killed them all, including that sweet little baby?
“He’s proving useful,” the man answered with a sideways smile. “Gave us a lead on where we can find the basement chemist who makes your drugs. In return, we gave him half a dose. Just enough to keep him sane.”
She nodded, hoping the movement disguised the careful working of her wrists. “Okay. So… after I do my part, what next?”
“Depends on how well you do your part.”
Crystal pushed air through her lips. “Trust is obviously in short supply on both sides of the fence. Derek’s been killing us one by one. How do I know he won’t do the same to me?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but paused. Crystal also noticed that the room next door had become suspiciously quiet, the nasally connotations of Rafferty’s moans ceasing to permeate the basement.
When Mack Truck left her doorway to investigate, she didn’t hesitate. After two deep breaths, keeping her eyes trained on the aged brick before her, Crystal cleanly dislocated her shoulder. She swallowed back the pain and cleared the few inches between her fingertips and the knot at her ankles. Just a few… more… seconds…
____
Mac pulled the cord and the light bulb overhead illuminated the two trussed up forms before him.
Shit. No wonder the old fart had gone silent. Rafferty was passed out, his normally tanned pallor a pretty shade of blue-aster. Mac ripped off the tape covering his mouth. The man jolted awake, took in deep gulps of air as he tried to see through the blindfold.
“If you’d quit your crying, your nose wouldn’t fill up with snot.” Mac held the earphones away and repeated himself over the obnoxious music.
Rafferty swallowed hard, his chest heaving beneath the dirty hospital gown he’d worn since his capture. “You… you’re going to pay for this—”
Mac inspected the bandage over the man’s fresh wound. “Derek wouldn’t have taken your eye if you’d left his woman alone.”
Normally, something so grotesque would garner an ounce of sympathy, but Mac had none for the man who’d kidnapped and nearly raped Melanie. When that attempt to force Derek’s cooperation failed, he’d moved on to the couple’s son, an innocent fifteen-month-old boy.
Melanie and baby DJ were not Mac’s family, but when Derek was believed to have died two years ago, Melanie was left with a broken heart, a low-paying job and a baby on the way. So, Mac had agreed to share rent, which made him an instant uncle figure to the tyke he’d helped raise. Now that Derek was back…
Wow. Derek was back. But Mac couldn’t think about the changes that miracle alone would bring on. This wasn’t about him. It was about protecting the people he loved from the ghosts that had accompanied Derek’s resurrection.
He moved to the other billiard table where their other prisoner lay tied to each corner in X fashion. He removed blindfold, tape and earphones. “What about you, kid? Comfortable?”
The acne-faced assassin blinked wildly beneath winged eyebrows. “Please,” River groaned. “I did you a solid, man. I told you about Lana. She’s the one who knows the guy you’re looking for.”
“We need to confirm it’s not all bullshit before we let you go.” Which would never happen. Just like all IGP ghosts, River was legally dead, highly trained, and too dangerous to turn back out into society.
“But I can’t listen to this shit anymore,” River whined.
Mac delivered a hearty pat to the cheek. “You're breaking my heart, kid.” And everything was put back into place.
He addressed Rafferty again. “I’ll let you catch your breath. But if I hear one sound come out of that mouth, I’ll tape it shut again. Got it?”
The man nodded his understanding. Satisfied, Mac headed back to Crystal’s room. At least she was easier on the eyes despite the fact her heavy black makeup was now streaked down her face from desperate tears.
Derek told them he’d contemplated suicide both times he’d been forced to withdraw from their drug. If he hadn’t been restrained, he would have. Not only was it used to heighten their senses, accelerate the healing process, and improve cognitive skills—which made them nearly superhuman—it also acted as a chemical leash to keep them close and in line. Derek was the only one with enough outside incentive to attempt a defection.
Love: the most powerful drug of all.
When Mac entered Crystal’s room it was to find a vacant chair with loose ropes coiled on the floor.
Before that feeling of dread could descend, his neck hairs prickled with her presence. He whirled around and pinned her to the wall with his forearm.
The air left Crystal’s lungs with a whoosh. It wasn’t until she released an exaggerated cough that he realized she’d let him catch her.
With a curse, he let her go. “Dammit, Crystal!”
She made a show of relocating her shoulder. Pain didn’t seem to be much of a factor, though Mac had to battle a wave of nausea. He’d done that once or twice. It was no smiling matter.
“I told Derek I was in,” she said with an air of detachment. “It was my way of showing you since you weren’t going to let me go on your own.”
Mac rubbed a hand over his head, eyed her with doubt as he thumbed in numbers on his cell phone.
Melanie answered. “What’s up?”
“Get your boyfriend down here. Crystal’s loose.”
She repeated the orders, though he could hear her following Derek through the house.
“Don’t even think of coming down here, Mel,” he barked, pissed off since Derek hadn’t thought to tell her that himself.
Meanwhile, Crystal had ambled into the main room of the basement. Noise exploded from the billiard tables when Rafferty caught sight of his only female recruit. “Kill him, Crystal! Now!”
Shit. Mac’s guts wrenched as he realized he’d forgotten to replace the blindfold. If Crystal decided to follow her handler’s orders, she could do it. The hammer he’d used to bash in one skull already was close enough to grab in a hurry, so he just watched as she approached Rafferty. Waited for her next move.
Without a word, Crystal took the roll of duck tape in her delicate hand, tore off a piece and flattened it beneath his fuming nostrils. Her look was sad.
“I’m not one of you anymore,” she stated with a small frown. “I’m reclaiming my life. And if I
die, at least it won’t be under your command.”
Mac’s breath caught. Something about her made him want to believe what she said. Then again, he was far too soft when it came to the gentler sex.
Footsteps moved in an awkward rhythm toward the door above the stairs. Crystal replaced Rafferty’s blindfold and hopped onto the pool table where she sat with legs swinging while he wiggled in his bonds behind her. When Derek made it into the light, she met his dark look with wary caution.
The man hid his fatigue well behind the light layer of scruff he’d always worn. His black hooded uniform had been discarded in favor of an old concert T-shirt and jeans. At least now he looked normal. Not so ominous.
Unsure of where the tense silence was heading, Mac said, “She had a chance to run and didn’t take it.”
“I forgot she can dislocate her shoulders,” Derek answered, absolving Mac of blame. “Why didn’t you do that before?” he asked her.
Crystal shrugged, moved her arm back and forth to loosen the joint. “Maybe you were right when you said I’d already made my choices.” Her impish smile was for the blond beauty who’d followed Derek down the stairs. “By the way, he was in my bed last night when we had that heart-to-heart.”
The words were designed to rankle. Derek reacted before Melanie could. “I was tied up and half-dead, remember.”
Mac rolled his eyes while Melanie’s delicate nostrils flared. “Not helping, Bennett.”
Despite maintaining that overall angelic appearance, Mel’s heather-blue eyes had developed a cautious edge. She was no delicate flower. The past few days had changed her; taken her through an endless string of impossible challenges that had toughened her soul.
Sensing she was about to unleash some anger, Mac cupped her shoulders from behind in an effort to quell the urge. The act unleashed a whole host of lethal vibes from Derek, who didn’t appreciate Mac’s role in his family’s life.
Too fucking bad. Mac had a right to stake his small claim in Mel and DJ’s lives, not that romance had ever come into play. The sooner Derek learned that, the better.
Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP Page 1
