Never Say Spy (The Never Say Spy Series Book 1)

by Diane Henders

  My feet slipped in gore, and I dropped the gun and collapsed to my hands and knees to crawl away, whimpering and gagging. A few yards away, I curled into a shivering ball, holding down the sobs that tried to escape.

  When I regained a measure of control, I dragged myself shakily to my hands and knees again, then crept to my feet and tottered toward the portal for what I hoped and prayed would be the last time.

  Pain. A hand on my shoulder. A bolt of agony shot through my head as somebody slapped my face. I opened blurred eyes to see Kane looming over me, his hand raised to hit me again. I screamed and jerked away from him, throwing up my arms to protect myself.

  I toppled off the chair and sprawled on the floor, rolling and scrambling away when he came after me. My back fetched up against the wall with a thump, and I was cornered. Scuffling my feet under me, I launched myself at him with all my strength.

  He reacted almost too late to deflect the punch I’d aimed at his throat. Pain tore my knuckles when my fist connected with his chin instead. He staggered back, and I shoved past him toward the door.

  Germain lunged to his feet from beside Sandler’s crumpled body, his eyes widening as I charged. He made a grab for me, and I ducked to slam a shoulder into his unprotected rib cage. Rebounding off his hard bulk, I used the vector to propel myself into a desperate dash out the door.

  Kane caught me two steps into the hallway, his huge hand clamping around my bruised wrist like a vise. I shrieked and swung on him, tearing savagely at his hand and kicking at his crotch. An instant later, he locked my arm in a painful submission hold. I fell to my knees, still screaming and thrashing as he yelled.

  “Wheeler! Trank! Shoot her, dammit, shoot her!”

  Wheeler whipped out a small gun and fired from point-blank range.

  Chapter 39

  I floated in warm soft semi-darkness, wavering between muddled wakefulness and drifting sleep. I couldn’t seem to open my eyes. My limbs were too heavy to move.

  At last full awareness returned, and I realized with a flood of terror that I was lying in the bunkroom in Kane’s secret hideout.

  I dragged myself into sitting position and hurriedly explored my body by touch in the dimness. I was clothed. That was good. I found no injuries other than those I’d had earlier. That was also good. Absorbed in my examination, I yelped and recoiled into the far corner of the bed when I realized the opposite bunk was occupied.

  Kane leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out on the bed. He spoke quietly, his deep voice soothing. “Aydan, you’re safe. Don’t be afraid.”

  “What kind of mind-fuck is this?” I tried to growl, but my voice was thin, trembling with the rapid pounding of my heart. “What do you want from me?”

  “We need to know what happened in the network. Sandler is dead. You came out completely hysterical. You were so out of control we had to tranquilize you. What happened?” He leaned forward, and I strained away from him against the wall, my fists bunching.

  “You hit me. You grabbed me. You shot me. And now I’m trapped in your secret bunker and nobody knows where I am.” My voice was rising despite my best effort at control. “I trusted you.”

  He leaned back against the wall, raising his hands. “I won’t hurt you. Nobody will hurt you. You’re not trapped here. You can leave whenever you want.” He reached toward me beseechingly, and I flinched away from the gesture before I could stop myself.

  “That’s what you were screaming when you came out of the network,” he said. “You kept saying ‘I trusted you’. What happened?”

  “I’m not a prisoner here?” I asked, my breath fast and shallow.

  “No.”

  “Good, then I’m leaving.” I dragged myself out of the bed, staggering against the wall before I regained my balance. Kane stood quickly, his hand darting toward my elbow. I jerked away, my fingers stiffening into claws. “Don’t you dare touch me,” I hissed.

  When I forged through the meeting room, Spider, Germain, and Wheeler twisted in their seats at the table to stare. Spider started to rise, his mouth framing a question, but I was already through the door and struggling up the stairs. Kane followed, but he made no attempt to stop me.

  I reached the main level of the house and headed straight for the door. When I whipped around to face Kane, he halted instantly, swinging out a restraining arm to stop the others. They stood behind him in a knot, looking puzzled and worried.

  “Can I have my jacket, or do I forfeit it as terms of my release?” I snarled.

  Kane’s eyes widened. “It’s minus ten outside. For heaven’s sake, take your jacket.” He picked it up from the chair beside him. “And here’s your waist pouch.”

  He started toward me, but I backed away. “Throw them to me.”

  He frowned and lobbed me the pouch. I strapped it on stiffly and caught the jacket when he tossed it.

  “Don’t follow me.” I stepped out the door and ran until my strength and breath failed me. At the edge of the neighbourhood, I hunched over with my hands braced on my knees, gasping and trembling. The icy air abraded my throat, but it felt clean and fresh, scrubbing away the last remnants of the filtered underground air. I gulped it greedily, ignoring the pain.

  When my breathing steadied at last, I hauled myself upright and forced my shaking legs into a slow walk in the direction of the farm.

  Sandler was dead. He’d told his bosses I was dead. I was as safe as I was likely to get in the foreseeable future, unless Kane decided to recapture me and beat some information out of me.

  The crisp air cleared the last of the cobwebs from my brain. I shook my head vigorously, trying to drive off the traumatic memories and view the situation objectively. As I did, my peripheral vision caught a vehicle moving slowly behind me. Without looking at it, I took a hard right and stepped up my pace. The vehicle turned the corner and followed me.

  I whirled to stride over to the Forester, stiffening my legs and squaring my shoulders to hide my tremors. Hellhound grinned at me from behind the wheel.

  “Hey, darlin’. Wanna ride?”

  “No. Kane called you, didn’t he?”

  He shrugged. “He’s worried about ya.”

  I scowled. “Sucks to be him.”

  Hellhound met my eyes. “I’m worried about ya.”

  “Sucks to be you, too, then.” I turned and walked away.

  I heard the SUV’s door open and close. A few seconds later, I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I jerked away, spinning to face him. “Keep your hands off me.”

  He took a slow step back, surveying my face with a troubled gaze. “Coupla days ago, ya trusted me enough to come home with me an’ fall asleep on my couch,” he said quietly. “Few hours ago, ya still trusted me enough to be jokin’ around. What changed?”

  Remorse flooded me, and I couldn’t meet his eyes. I wrapped my arms around my body and studied the Forester instead. “I’m sorry. I... can’t talk about it.”

  “Can’t talk about it at all, or can’t talk about it to me?”

  “Both. I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I just need to think.”

  “Come sit in the truck an’ think,” he invited.

  “No. I need to walk.” I turned away.

  He matched my pace, strolling by my side without crowding me. “Who’d ya hit this time?” He indicated the fresh damage on my knuckles.

  “Kane.” I kept my eyes on the sidewalk.

  “Oh.” I ignored the implied question, and after a few moments, he added, “You’re hell on the good guys, darlin’.” He walked with me in silence for a few more paces. “Where ya walkin’ to?”

  I sighed. “The farm.”

  “Where’s the farm?”

  “About ten miles from here. You’d better think twice about walking with me unless you’re starting a serious fitness plan.”

  Hellhound stopped. “Aydan, ya can’t walk ten miles. You’re shakin’ like a leaf. Come sit in the truck, an’ I’ll take ya wherever ya wanna go.”

  I rounded on hi
m, fists clenched. “I can do whatever I have to,” I snarled. “I don’t need you or anybody else to babysit me. I can take care of myself. I always have. I always will.”

  His face softened. “Aw, darlin’. Whatever happened this afternoon, it musta been bad.”

  I spun away, swiping angrily at my eyes. “Don’t give me sympathy!”

  He came to stand in front of me and reached slowly to fold me into his arms. I held myself rigid, fighting tears with all my strength while he stroked my hair. He murmured nonsense, his soft rasp crumbling my defences, and at last I lost the battle and buried my face in his shoulder.

  Wrapped in the safety of his embrace, I drew a few ragged breaths before pushing him away and turning my back so I could wipe my eyes.

  I held my chin up when I turned back to face him, but my smile trembled despite my best efforts. “I told you not to give me sympathy. All that does is get you a wet shoulder.”

  He regarded me searchingly, his ugly face worried. “Aydan, ya don’t always hafta be strong. It’s okay to lean on a friend.”

  “Yes, I do have to be strong. Now stop with the mushy stuff. I mean it.” I planted my fists on my hips and gave him my best glare.

  He chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, darlin’, whatever ya say.”

  I reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thanks.” I turned away. “I really have to walk now.”

  “Okay. I’ll pick ya up when ya fall down.” A few seconds later, I heard the slam of the SUV’s door and the engine turned over. I wandered down the sidewalk, reassured by the vehicle idling slowly behind me and by the presence of a friend I hadn’t even known a week ago.

  I gave myself over to deep thought, letting my feet take me where they wanted. I trusted Hellhound to watch my back, and as that thought occurred to me, I slowed to a stop.

  Trust. Always the hardest thing for me.

  I started walking again, separating myself from the events of the day and turning over the pieces in my mind. I tried to put away the nightmare memory of the constructs’ soulless faces. That wasn’t Kane or Germain or Spider. That was Sandler. They were all Sandler.

  Other than the slap in the face this afternoon, Kane had done nothing to betray me. I’d been around him long enough to believe he wouldn’t hit me without a reason. And he’d pretty much been forced to tranquilize me. I’d been ready to rip my own arm off to escape.

  And he had let me run away, carrying highly classified information in my head. He was taking a huge chance.

  Trusting me.

  I sighed.

  Turning back to Hellhound’s cruising Forester, I shot him a smile and stuck out my thumb.

  Chapter 40

  When we pulled up in front of Kane’s office, Hellhound reached for my hand and held it gently. “D’ya want me to come in with ya?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks for rescuing me. Again. That’s getting to be a bad habit.”

  He gave me a cheerful leer. “Darlin’, your debt’s pilin’ up. Ya better start thinkin’ about payin’ me back in sin pretty soon, or you’re gonna hafta marry me.”

  I laughed. “A fate worse than death.”

  He laughed, too. “Amen.”

  I got out of the SUV and went up the walk. When I closed the door behind me, the Forester was still idling at the curb. Still watching my back.

  I took a deep breath and faced Kane’s worried expression. “I’m sorry about running off. I was messed up. I’m better now. We need to talk.”

  He smiled, his shoulders easing. “I’m glad you’re back. Do you mind going downstairs?”

  “Can we do it up here?”

  His expression answered the question before he even spoke. “Aydan...”

  I squared my shoulders and gathered every shred of courage I had left. Suck it up. Avoiding the source of fear only gives it more power. “Okay, let’s go.”

  I did my best to hide my white-knuckled grip on the handrail in the stairwell, but I knew Kane’s perceptive eyes didn’t miss the trembling of my knees. I held my mind and my breathing under iron control. Ocean waves. Not trapped.

  When we entered the subterranean meeting room, Spider, Germain, and Wheeler looked up from three corners of the table. One corner left for Kane. The table top for me. A shudder ripped through me, and I forced the thought from my mind. That wasn’t real. That was Sandler, not these men.

  “Aydan?” Germain’s normally humorous eyes were worried. “Are you okay?”

  I kept my voice light. “I’m fine. Are you okay? I’m told I’m hell on the good guys.”

  He laughed, relaxing. “I’m fine. But I haven’t taken a hit like that since college football. There’s a great career out there for you if you get tired of bookkeeping.”

  Spider snorted. “She went easy on you. She tossed me about six feet in the air.”

  “Hell of an uppercut, too,” Kane teased, rubbing his chin.

  I flexed the split skin across my knuckles, wincing as I turned to Wheeler. “See, you’re lucky you haven’t had to spend any time with me. You’re the only one I haven’t taken a swing at.”

  He frowned. “And I’m the one who deserves to have you take a swing at me.”

  “Oh, for cr...” I regarded him helplessly. “We had this conversation. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

  “Agreed,” Kane said firmly. “Now punch him so he can get over it, and let’s get on with this briefing.”

  I attempted a laugh and gently socked Wheeler on the shoulder left-handed. “All better now?”

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “Okay. I’ll drop it.”

  We sat down, and I frowned in silence for a moment, wondering how to start. Start with the good news. “I guess I’m clear of Fuzzy Bunny. Sandler told them I was dead.”

  There was a short, shocked silence before chaos erupted as four men asked questions at once.

  I couldn’t decipher any of them, so I waved them to silence. “Sorry, that was a bad place to start. I’m trying to get my thoughts organized.”

  I rubbed the frown lines out of my forehead with trembling fingers, trying not to let the tension in my audience feed my own discomfort. “Okay. Point one. Sandler was not a good guy.”

  Spider snorted. “He was an ass.”

  “No, I mean he was one of the bad guys. I’m pretty sure he was working for Fuzzy Bunny.”

  Kane jerked forward. “How do you know?”

  “He was involved in the creation of the warehouse network. They were developing it as an interrogation tool.”

  I shuddered, nausea climbing the back of my throat again. “It’s a perfect setup. Create a network environment that exactly matches the room where you’re holding your prisoner. Bring your victim into the network. He or she doesn’t realize they’re not still in the holding cell. Torture them, as much and as long as you want. If they get too close to death, pop them out of the network. Their physical bodies are well fed and well treated. Only the memory remains.”

  My throat closed, and I wrapped my arms around myself, staring at the table. “And then do it again. Over and over. Whenever you want. As long as you want.” My voice came out in a harsh whisper, and I cleared my throat. “No physical evidence at all. They could be tortured for days, weeks, years even. It would break anybody.”

  Silence blanketed the table. “How do you know this?” Kane asked quietly, his voice vibrating with restrained tension.

  I didn’t look up. “Sandler confirmed it after I figured it out. I was his field test.”

  “But.” Spider’s voice trembled, and he swallowed audibly before continuing. “He replicated the meeting room exactly? But didn’t you notice we weren’t there?”

  “You were there,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could. “Constructs of you. He made you do,” I paused, searching for words. “Uncharacteristic things. That was how I figured it out.”

  Kane’s voice was so harsh I started in my chair. “Exactly what uncharacter
istic things?”

  I met his eyes. “I don’t think it’s productive to discuss that.”

  Kane’s shoulders bunched as he leaned across the table. “If wrong was done in my name... no, in my image, then I deserve to know.”

  I looked around the table, stalling. Spider’s face was chalk-white, faint freckles visible. I’d never noticed he had freckles.

  I did my best casual shrug. “It was no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

  A glance at Kane’s face proved to be a mistake. I quickly averted my eyes and added, “It was just a sim. I knew it wasn’t real almost right away.”

  Germain’s dark gaze burned into me. “We need to know what we did,” he said with quiet intensity.

  “You didn’t do anything. You weren’t even there. It was just Sandler’s constructs. It was all him. Let it go.”

  Spider spoke almost inaudibly. “Aydan. Please. I have to know. Imagination is worse.”

  I dropped my head into my hands with a long sigh and spoke to the tabletop. “Fine. Five men. One woman. You do the math.” Then I realized how it sounded and hurriedly added, “But none of you did anything bad. You just held me down.”

  Apparently that didn’t help. Kane slammed his fist on the table with such force we all jumped. He surged up from his chair, turning away. His T-shirt strained across the knotted muscles of his back as he locked his arms across his chest.

  Spider sprang up, too, and dashed in the direction of the bathroom. Germain sat as if carved from stone. His only movement was the flexing of his fist, the knuckles glowing as white as marble.

  I didn’t know how to make it better. “But, guys, it wasn’t you,” I pleaded. “You couldn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t have done anything. You were sitting in the meeting room, watching the two of us staring off into space. And anyway, I got away in the end. It’s no big deal.”

  Kane turned back to the table, his face rigid.

  “What exactly happened?” His voice sounded like steel cables parting.

  I hesitated. “Well, I should have realized what was going on right away, but you...”