Variations (Base Branch Series Book 9)

by Megan Mitcham

  Talking? It’d be difficult.

  “How’d, uh, you get in here? Security has always been stout. Now, it’s on high-dose steroids.”

  “Cara.” She offered a token smile but bit her lip before the nicety fell away.

  He scraped a hand over his beard and remembered how he looked, a hot damn mess in day-old clothes. “Want to sit?” Seriously, he couldn’t come up with anything better to say?

  “I’m fine.”

  Yes, she was. The woman was an earthbound angel in sandals, white slacks, and a soft pink blouse.

  “So you and Cara have made amends? She’s wanted to.” Tyler had gone on about it at length since their hug-it-out the other day.

  “We’re surprisingly good. Sometimes, it just takes one hard conversation.” A genuine smile lit her eyes and warmed Oliver from the inside out for the barest of moments.

  “And others?” He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep the damn things from shaking.

  Marina shrugged. “I don’t know what it takes.” Her gaze lifted to the monitors on the wall behind him. Busted.

  “Is it true? Tor’s dead?”

  “Yes.” Oliver relived the kill shot. Tor hadn’t begged. He hadn’t given him the chance. The hollowness of the triumph echoed in his bones. “He won’t ever hurt you again.” It was the only solace he took from the endeavor.

  “We’ll see.” Marina twisted her index finger into the silken hem of her shirt.

  “What do you mean?” If someone attacked or tormented her, it’d be the worst and last mistake they ever made.

  “Maybe the damage is done.”

  He couldn’t deny that, but he’d hoped for her sake that she’d find peace after the dust settled. One glance over his shoulder told him dust still choked them both. “I hope that’s not true.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. Hers had dropped. The fingers she’d wound into the lower half of her shirt unraveled the fabric. Marina cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “I need to tell you something.”

  Heat radiated from his skin, baking him inside his jeans and wrinkled T-shirt. She wasn’t the only one with confessions. He knew what his would be if he opened his big mouth, so his teeth clamped onto the inside of his lips. This could go so many ways, and all the choices terrified him. He didn’t nod so much as rock back and forth on his heels, self-soothing.

  “After you caught me with the phone and before we…” Her lips pressed together, and a bright flush pinked her cheeks.

  “Yeah,” he choked.

  “Hunter pulled me aside.”

  Oliver remembered he threatened to level Hunter for the offense. His stomach hit the spin cycle.

  “I’m not telling you this for me.”

  “You haven't told me anything,” he snapped.

  Her chest rose, pressing her pert nipples against the thin bra and shirt combo. Christ, he was a dick.

  “He wanted to assure me that he wasn’t mad at you and that everything was cool between you two.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “That’s what I said.” She chewed the side of her mouth. “He said he was pushing you, goading you on purpose.”

  “What?” Hunter always picked fights with him, but usually, he was in the know. Usually, they played a game like boyfriends-in-front-of-a-skinhead-bar. “Why? Why?”

  “He said he was pushing you to me. He said you acted differently with me. He thought I could make you happy.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. She swatted it away so quickly he might have imagined it.

  Oliver’s jaw hung on a broken hinge.

  That motherfucking son of a bitch. He would make their last hours on Earth ones of pure contention to prove a point.

  “He loved you,” she breathed.

  “Better than I deserved.”

  “I know the feeling. Thanks to you.”

  Her smile broke his aching heart.

  “You deserve so much more.” More than a broken man like him could give her.

  “I hope you find the happiness Hunter wanted for you.” She gave a weak smile and turned to the door.

  Everything inside him panicked. If he let her go, he might never see her again.

  “Marina?”

  Those tiny hands stilled on the pull. She slid him a glance.

  “Thank you.”

  Those pretty lips parted on a silent gasp. “For what?”

  “Telling me…”

  She nodded and opened the door, using her body weight as leverage.

  His heart rate jumped into the clouds. He had blurted the words before he thought too much about it. “…and the other night.”

  Red rose in her cheeks again. “I think we both needed it. Closure.”

  Closure? Well, fuck. He hadn’t categorized it at all. If he had, he’d have heaped it in the unfinished, wide-open column.

  After one last look, she rushed through the door and out of his life.

  19

  “Hello?” Marina crushed the phone to her face and mumbled her greeting.

  “You’re on the couch again?” How dare Elin think her so lazy?

  “Yes,” she huffed. “The halfway house required at least a two-year degree.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to train with me? With all the stuff Cara taught you, you’d be ahead of the curve.”

  “Damn sure, crazy woman. No more bullets or bonds for me.”

  “But you want to help people?”

  “Elin!” Marina screamed her sister’s name, and it felt good to bicker. She hadn’t done anything since her rejection from the halfway house and Waffle House on the same day. Not much before that, either. Her talk with Oliver yesterday left her drained.

  “Meet me at the Stronghold Estate.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I know something you’ll be amazing at.”

  “I’m not scrubbing toilets. I’ll flash my cleavage at dirty old men as a cocktail waitress before I clean all the thrones in that place.”

  “You won’t do either. Trust me to take care of you like you took care of me when we were kids.”

  “If it’s another party, I might find another sister.”

  “Get off the couch and get your ass here.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Bossy butt,” she added the last part in Mandarin.

  “I caught that.”

  “Meant you to.” Marina ended the call and contemplated her wardrobe. If there was truly no party—and no one had a party on a Wednesday morning—her jeans and T-shirt should do.

  She changed into black slacks, sandals, and a white blouse. The Stronghold Estate was fancy. She found her sister’s keys on the shelf where Elin had left them since she’d scored a ride with Riley.

  Marina grabbed them and prayed she remembered the way to the place and that traffic was light. She’d only been twice, neither of which time she’d driven. Maneuvering her sister’s sleek wheels through rush-hour madness hyped her nerves. A few turns and more miles later, she pulled down the long drive, gawked at the massive trees, and eased into the large circular drive.

  Traffic proved to be the least of her worries.

  Riley, Rip, and Elin met her at the door.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” She glared at each of them in turn, undeterred by the masses of muscles.

  “We need your help.” Rip stepped forward and offered his arm.

  “Since when do you guys need help from little ol’ me?” Her feet held firm, unmoved by his beautiful brawn and coffee brown eyes.

  “Since you’ve had the unpleasant experience of captivity and the caring heart to help others who’ve suffered the same fate.” Riley stepped forward.

  “You’re holding people captive.” Marina’s heart sank. What kind of people were they?

  “No.” Ripken Strong hooked his arm around Marina’s. “If you’ll recall, we rescue.”

  “I do recall,” she conceded.

  “I remember too.” Elin grabbed her other arm. Both Stronghold robots ushered he
r down a long hallway to an intricately scrawled woodcarving. The oak tree stretched from floor to ceiling and archway to archway.

  “We can trust you, right?” Riley stepped between her and the piece of art.

  “You know you can. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.” Marina studied the women.

  “Smarty pants,” Rip jibed.

  Riley pressed her palm to the third solid branch stretching from the trunk. She held it in place for five seconds. The sculpture split along a seam she hadn’t noticed. Two sides receded, revealing an elevator.

  “Holy shit.” Marina gulped her amazement.

  “I know.” Elin squealed and rushed her aboard. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “And she won’t.” Riley stepped aboard and coded something into the panel. “Not today, anyway. Containment quarters only.”

  “Containment?” Marina’s palms slicked with sweat. The elevator lowered one level and stopped, while her stomach continued to drop. “I’m not going any further until someone starts talking. What do you contain? What is going on? Who is it you want me to talk to, and what exactly am I supposed to say to them?” Her voice trilled higher and her blood pressure pitched with each inquiry. Panic seeped into her words.

  “Containment is what we call the first level.” Riley spoke in a calm, businesslike tone. The total opposite of Marina. “Sometimes, we house prisoners and other informants. On occasion, there’s collateral damage, the unexpected.”

  “What do you mean by the unexpected?” Her gaze shot from Riley to Rip and then back again.

  “We infiltrated an Al-Qaeda cell in the outskirts of Sudan, making a play for Egyptian rule. Intel reported a small but coordinated contingent of men, only men.” Riley sighed. “Well, men are assholes.”

  “Hey,” Rip interjected, “not all men are assholes.”

  “All men are assholes with variations in severity.” Riley grinned. “There were really, really bad assholes who did some really asshole things to a girl younger than Elin.”

  Acid sloshed its way into Marina’s throat. She looked at her sister—young and vibrant and untouched by evil. Elin blew her a kiss. It helped a little.

  “The girl is scared and doesn’t understand what’s happening,” Riley continued.

  Marina connected the few dots she’d been given. Anger ratcheted its way up her spine, blessedly replacing the quaking fear. “And you want me to find out what she knows.”

  “I want you to comfort and reassure her first.” Riley’s blue eyes widened and lips pursed as though she was offended.

  “But really, it’s about information.” Thoughts of her own rescue shook loose neurons in her head like ghosts.

  Riley stepped in front of her. “Information we get from this girl will save lives. The information will stop the next girl from being taken, raped, and put to work as a slave for men’s pleasure.”

  “Not all men,” Rip reminded.

  “Marina, I understand what I’m asking you to do is difficult. I’m asking you to dive into your past and lay it out there in front of someone you don’t know, but you’re the only one among us who truly understands what she’s experienced. You can sympathize with her emotions and gain her trust. More than that, you can comfort her and help her move beyond her past so she can one day have a life of her own with maybe a real family.” Riley’s throat worked on a large gulp. “We need you. She needs you. And I think you need this.”

  Her cheeks puffed. The anger fled with the breath, and Riley’s words took root. She wanted to help, needed to help for her own sanity.

  “I don’t speak…Arabic.” Marina shrugged.

  “You don’t have to.” Riley beamed. “The room is equipped with translation technology. When you speak, it will automatically translate and output in your respective languages.”

  Marina snapped her gaze to Elin. “Then why the fuck am I learning Mandarin?”

  “Uh.” Her sister’s mouth hung open for a beat and then snapped shut. “Maybe because it’s the most spoken language on Earth.”

  The doors opened. They stepped into a hallway of steel reinforced everything. Rip moved from her side and entered a passcode into a panel beside a large door. After the code, he leaned in for a retina and palm scan. Riley and Elin followed. The mammoth door unlocked and receded into the wall.

  A hallway as cold and unfeeling as the conference room where she’d spoken to Oliver appeared.

  “She’s four doors down on the left,” Riley said.

  Each door looked similar to the one they’d just coded and scanned their way through. “No code here.” Marina balked and waved her hand.

  “I entered it already.” Elin hopped, actually hopped with the announcement. A grin stretched her mouth ear to ear. “Just lean in and do the scan.”

  “It will open for you,” Riley agreed.

  “How in the hell do you have my eye and palm scanned in your system?” Marina demanded.

  “Your party.” Elin bit the side of her cheek but still managed a grin.

  “How long have you been planning this?” She split a look between the trifling trio.

  “Um, a while,” Elin relented.

  “How long has the girl been locked in here?” Marina roared.

  “Not that long.” Riley peered at her watch. “Two days.”

  “So this happens often?” she whispered.

  “More often than we’d like, but it’s the world in which we live.” Riley shrugged.

  Marina shook head to toe. With each step, she wondered whether her ankles would carry her down the long hallway. They quaked so much she might collapse to the floor. At the fourth cell on the left, she pressed her hand to the scanner, and the door opened.

  The room surprised her with warm khaki tones on the wall and bright white crown molding on the high ceilings. A thick duvet spread over a full-size bed. In the far corner next to the small open closet, she guessed there was a small bathroom.

  This was the hardest thing she’d ever done, next to walking away from Oliver the other night.

  She drew a deep breath, stepped into the room, and closed it behind her. The girl huddled under a desk built into the wall near the closet. Her face hid behind thin arms. Marina sat on the floor next to the door, resolved to remain silent until the poor thing at least looked her way. Palms in her lap facing the sky and an easy smile on her face, Marina hoped the girl would see she wasn’t a threat.

  Fifteen minutes in, the young thing peered a quarter of one eye over her arm to study Marina. Thirty minutes in, she uncoiled from her cocoon. At forty-five minutes, a tiny crooked smile stretched one side of the girl’s mouth.

  Marina knew no matter how terrifying, how uncomfortable, or how gut wrenching this was, she was meant to do it.

  20

  “Who the fuck okayed this?” Oliver shoved the observatory room’s door off its hinges. He tried, at least. The thing smacked into the concrete wall and rebounded at him. He jumped out of the way and scanned the room.

  “I did.” Cara stood tall and proud at the control panel. Arms crossed and back rigid, she stared into the room where Marina sat with a known Wah Ching psychopath. The girl, no more than sixteen, looked innocent enough, but Oliver had read the case file. He knew the exact level of brutality that girl was capable of inflicting.

  She’d stabbed another girl to death with a wire hanger. What a fucking way to go.

  How was he supposed to keep his shit together when his woman sat as her prey?

  “Do you really hate her so much that you’d put her in with a known Wah Ching sympathizer?”

  “Look here, Knight.” She addressed him without taking her gaze from the room. “I may be fucking your best friend. I may also love him. I may even like your balls-to-the-wall way of getting things done. But if you ever speak to me that way again, I’ll make sure your next mission is at Tysons Galleria as a rent-a-cop. Marina and I’ve made our peace. This has nothing to do with us.”

  Tysons Galleria, here he came.

 
; “Is that Chang Si’s daughter?” Oliver demanded.

  “Relax,” she singsonged. “They’re not even talking.”

  “How long has she been in there?” His fingernails bit into his palms.

  “Hour and a half.”

  “And no one has said a word?” The muscles in his neck strained.

  “Not a peep.” Cara gave a disinterested shrug.

  Oliver’s blood boiled. “That girl isn’t going to turn on her father. He’ll kill everyone she ever loved without a thought.”

  “Which is exactly why she has to.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, shit doesn’t work the way it has to or is supposed to. You and I are perfect examples of that. Marina is too. We’re all fucked. We’re a conglomeration of humanity that’s been fucked. I don't know about you, but I didn’t gain a whole lot of pleasure from it.”

  Cara pulled a chair from the control panel but kept her eyes on the room. “If you’re going to stay, pull up a chair and shut your mouth.”

  He jerked the chair out farther, making certain its metal feet screeched across the floor, and gave Cara a smile. Not that she saw it.

  “Are you going to sit?” he asked.

  “Hell, no. I’m ready to taze the bitch the moment she moves toward Marina.” Cara lifted the Tazer gun at her side. “And I’ll happily hit you with it if you scrape that chair across the floor again.”

  In his frantic rage, he hadn’t noticed the weapon in her hand.

  “Thank fuck, you’re not as crazy as I thought.” Oliver sighed. “I mean you are in love with Tyler. So that and this were all I had to base it on.”

  Fifteen minutes elapsed in total silence in the observatory, as well as in the cell on the other side of the glass. From out of nowhere, Mandarin poured from Marina’s lips like it was her first language. It was sweet and caring, and it made him hate the days and hours he’d spent away from her, more than he already had.

  The girl answered back in a harsh, ugly tone.

  “You have translation on this thing?”

  “Yes, but I don’t need it.”