Deadly Silence

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Ryker nodded. Zara and Greg were now beyond lost. “Heath?”

  Heath nodded. “Good idea. Try to track the trap we set on safe house three to see how Dr. Madison traced us.” He paused. “I guess I shouldn’t assume Madison is the one who has Greg and Zara?”

  “It has to be her,” Ryker said, his gaze going back to the snow blowing through the broken windows. He spied Zara’s purse by the door with the contents all spilled out. He charged over and lifted it up, quickly rifling through everything.

  “What?” Denver asked.

  “Her cell phone isn’t here.” He turned and looked at the window.

  Grams coughed. “She said ‘phone.’ Before she jumped, she pushed something down her nightgown and said ‘phone’ to me.”

  “We can GPS track it,” Heath hissed.

  “Yes,” Ryker said. Smart woman. “She would’ve known. If she shoved it in her nightgown, she might’ve thought it was the only way to track Greg.” Though it had been fucking crazy.

  Heath’s eyes lit with determination. “They’ll search her pockets.”

  Hopefully it didn’t just fall out in the helicopter. Ryker looked again at the gaping window, somehow wishing to get one more look at her.

  “I’m on it.” Denver turned and ran for the stairs.

  Ryker hurried over and assisted Grams up. “How about I get you to one of the other apartments that have windows keeping the storm out? You need to rest after that fight.”

  Grams shook her head. “I want to help.” Her voice shook as much as her hands.

  Ryker took her gently by the arms, failure making his hands shake too. “I promise I’ll get your granddaughter back, and when she gets here, she’ll kick my butt for not taking care of you. Please go rest, and then we’ll figure out what to do.”

  Grams nodded and headed toward her bedroom. Ryker waited until she’d shut the door. “We have image and GPS satellite tracking going. Something will break,” he said.

  Heath frowned. “How are you so calm?”

  It was taking everything Ryker had not to rip his apartment apart even more than it already was. “I’m not calm, not really.” Heat seared him from within, turning quickly to ice. “If I give in to the panic or the rage, then I can’t think. Right now I have to think, and so do you. We have to be smarter than they are, and we have to believe we’ll get Zara and Greg home. Any other reality is unacceptable.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Heath said.

  At the words, Ryker’s breath heated. Fury clenched his hands. He turned and punched the wall as hard as he could. Then again.

  Heath grabbed him from behind and yanked him away, struggling hard until Ryker subsided. “There it is. Okay. You let it out, and now you’re okay. Now you’re in control, and now you can think.” His voice remained low and soothing.

  Ryker breathed out several times, and his vision cleared. He relaxed, and Heath released him. “Shit. I lost it.”

  “It’s okay to freak out a little.” Heath frowned at the battered wall. “Again, not your fault.”

  “Yeah, it is. Zara and Greg are mine to protect.”

  Heath leveled him with a look. “They’re family, which means they’re ours to protect.”

  Ryker nodded, his throat closing. God, they had to be all right. “We have to find them.”

  Chapter

  34

  Dr. Isobel Madison crossed her legs and continued typing on the new computer, though all she wanted to do was pace the small office and peer outside like a child awaiting the tooth fairy. But she had work to do, and she’d keep her senses about her. After all this time, Greg really was alive. Her soldiers had discovered him after tracking the men trying to find her.

  Truth be told, she’d forgotten all about the preteen. What a marvelous job she’d done with him. And to think that he’d somehow found the Lost boys for her.

  She bit back a giggle. Life was very often on her side.

  Her work would continue, but the procedure was bogging her down. While she had two men—Todd and Elton—doing her bidding, neither had the connections or drive she required to rebuild the program. The men she’d created and trained would help her. Maybe Elton would be a good partner in that. He was certainly driven.

  The incentive for the creations from her past should arrive any moment…in the form of young Greg.

  Her door opened, and Sheriff Elton Cobb strode in. “Is the dickhead back yet?” he asked.

  Isobel forced a smile. “Not yet, and I’ve asked you to remain civil. We need Todd and his men a little longer.” Then the entire Protect group could fry in a volcano for all she cared.

  “Do we?” Elton asked, obviously unimpressed with the self-taught soldiers. “Your four soldiers piloted the helicopters and took the boy. You didn’t need the extra Protect morons.”

  “This time,” she said smoothly. “Think of Todd’s men as foot soldiers. We need them for strength and numbers right now, but when we restart my program, we may not need them. Or, more likely, we’ll just weed out Todd and his big believers, and use the rest as soldiers and guards.” That was an admirable plan.

  “That’s fine, but I need to get back home and to work soon. I’m here because you required help, but at some point you’re coming to me,” Elton said.

  She nodded. “That has always been my plan. After I no longer need Todd or his Protect soldiers.”

  “If he gets any idea you intend to continue your work, he’ll try to kill you,” Elton said, his muscular hands planting on the desk.

  She stood and moved around the desk to lean against him. “Then I expect you to defend me.”

  “You know I will,” he said, his blue eyes darkening.

  “Of course.”

  “I hope you’ll remain with me this time,” he said slowly.

  She nodded. He did have sadistic qualities she quite enjoyed. She stretched up onto her toes and pressed her mouth against his.

  He bit her.

  Pain lanced along her lips, but she allowed it. “You’re becoming predicable,” she murmured.

  Wrong thing to say.

  He clamped his hands on her arms and yanked her over the desk, turning her and shoving her facedown. A rough hand ripped up her skirt, and after a quick unzipping of his pants, he shoved inside her. “You’re lucky you’re not wearing underwear,” he breathed against her ear.

  Pain filled her. She hadn’t been anywhere near ready for him. He gripped her shoulders with bruising fingers and hammered inside her, grunting into her neck. Her face rubbed against her stapler, and she tried to push it away with her chin.

  He laughed and grabbed the stapler.

  Her body seized.

  “What in the world could we do with this?” he asked, embedded in her, not moving.

  She shivered but knew not to speak.

  He ran the cool metal down her back and over her butt. “Ever been stapled?”

  She trembled.

  He chuckled and slid it around her hip and over her clit. “You’re gonna come either now or with staples in you.” He pushed the device against her.

  She pushed back, twisted, and exploded in an orgasm so hard, tears filled her eyes.

  He dropped the stapler, grabbed her hips, and stroked inside her three times, shuddering as he came. Then he pulled out and flipped her around. “You are one sick fuck, you know that?” He leaned down and kissed her lips.

  She kissed him back and pulled her clothes back into place. “Look who’s talking.” Then she leaned back, quite satisfied. The darkness in him drew her, and she should probably spend some time studying that fact. When she had time, of course.

  He nipped her lip. “I like that you think you’re going to win this.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. Sometimes she forgot he wasn’t just a country sheriff. While he certainly lacked her intelligence, sometimes evil held a brilliance of its own. She’d be a fool to underestimate him. “I was hoping we’d win together.”

  “Hmm.” He leaned do
wn and retrieved the stapler, opening it and sliding the slightly exposed staple along her knuckles and hand. She curled her fingers around the edge of the desk and tried to ignore the scratches. “Every once in a while, I feel like you’re playing me,” he said.

  Of course she was. “Never. Everyone but you.” She held perfectly still.

  He flattened his palm over the stapler.

  She kept his gaze. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Why not?” he whispered. “You love a good bite.”

  “That’s a staple,” she said, her voice clipped. “It would leave a mark, and you like me unmarked.”

  Then he lifted her hand and kissed her unblemished skin “You’re perfect, and you know it.” He grabbed her waist and lifted her onto the desk, shoving her onto her back. Tugging up her skirt, he dropped, his face right between her legs, beginning to use his mouth against her clit.

  As her thighs began to tremble and pleasure filled her, she recalculated her plans. Sheriff Cobb was still useful, and the wild part of him, the side she couldn’t quite control, intrigued her enough to make her want to keep him. For a while, anyway.

  * * *

  Zara slowly came to, noticing her head ached and her butt was cold. She gasped and opened her eyelids, her body flashing awake.

  “You’re all right,” Greg said, sitting about three yards away across a cold room. “Maybe a concussion.”

  Nausea ballooned in her belly, and she took several deep breaths, looking around. Grungy white cinder blocks made up the walls except where there was a steel door, dirt covered the floor, and one lone light bulb swung from a frayed wire dangling from the ceiling. Both she and Greg sat on dirt, and her housecoat was gone, leaving her in her burgundy nightgown. Although it was formfitting, at least it was long. “Where are we?”

  “Dunno.” He rubbed his face. “Whatever they gave me knocked me out until just a few minutes ago.”

  “Have you tried the door?” She pushed to her feet, and her legs wobbled. Slowly, she breathed out. Okay. She shifted her weight. Man, the phone was pressed under her right breast before the gown tightened at the waist. Apparently they hadn’t searched her that closely.

  “Yep. Locked.” Greg eyed her. “Probably well guarded by guys with guns. Maybe sit back down? You look like—”

  Dizziness assailed her, and she dropped.

  Greg lunged and slid between her head and the wall. Her temple glanced off his chest, and she kept sliding down. He grabbed her by the armpits and settled her gently, pressing her back against the bricks. “Sit for a few minutes,” he murmured, crouching next to her. “We really can’t do anything at the moment.”

  Zara looked around the dismal room and repeated, “Where are we?”

  Greg shook his head. “I have no idea.” His brown eyes sobered. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

  She forced a grin and gave up when the bruised tissue in her face protested. “I jumped into the helicopter on my own.” Thank God they hadn’t just shoved her right back out.

  Greg patted her arm. “That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. Why in the world would you jump?”

  She blinked. “I couldn’t let them take you.”

  He leaned back, his face losing expression. “You jumped just to save me? I mean, me?” His voice cracked at the end.

  She reached out to touch his arm. “Of course. I’d do anything to protect you, sweetie.”

  His eyes filled. “Okay. Um. All right.”

  Her heart broke in two, right then and there. “We’ll be okay.” She leaned over to whisper, just in case. “I have my phone.”

  He shook his head. “Where?”

  “Solar plexus region.” In fact, the plastic was rubbing against her skin. “Ryker will be able to track us.”

  For the first time since she’d awakened, hope filled Greg’s eyes. “You’re brilliant.”

  She coughed out a laugh.

  A scrape sounded, and the door shoved inward. A man in green camo gestured her out with a long black gun. Tall and broad, he was bald with deep blue eyes—maybe around fifty years old.

  She stood in her bare feet and kept Greg behind her. “Who are you?”

  “Shut up and move.” He gestured with the gun. “I have no problem shooting either one of you.”

  Fear coated her throat. She swallowed and walked outside. They had been in an outbuilding. Icy trees surrounded them, and snow covered the ground. The wind chilled her right through, and she rubbed her arms. Snow covered her feet and she shivered. Another soldier, the one who’d hit her in the face in the apartment, stood nearby. “Move it,” he said.

  She glanced down at a boot-stomped trail and headed toward the soldier. “Where are we?” she asked over her shoulder to the bald guy.

  “Doesn’t matter.” He prodded Greg in the back with the gun.

  Greg moved silently, keeping close to her. “Just go, Zara. It’s too cold out here to make a move.”

  She slipped in the snow but kept on moving, trying to keep her feet from freezing off. As she rounded a bend, she paused at seeing a sprawling western-style log lodge against the mountains. The word PROTECT was burned into the wood above a door in an intricate and bold pattern.

  In the far distance, maybe about a mile down a snowy road, stood what looked like a huge barn. Men milled around, some shoveling snow, some practicing target shooting.

  Greg nudged her toward the lodge, so she continued on, following the guy who’d hit her up some stairs and into a large gathering room with a homey stone fireplace that lay empty and waiting. Greg reached her side and looked around. Closed doors were in the far wall, and wide staircases led both up and down.

  Her feet hurt from the icy snow.

  The soldier started down the stairs, so Zara followed, allowing the heat from the place to sink into her bones. Her aching feet slid on the wood, and Greg caught her arm to steady her. He was so calm, she had to wonder about his upbringing. Not by one breath had he given away the anger and fear he must be feeling. Maybe the drugs were still in his system.

  They reached a landing that opened up into a small conference room. A long hallway, lined with black-and-white photos of different landscapes, headed down another way. Zara followed the soldier down it to a nice wooden door, and he shoved it open.

  Tension suddenly spiraled around them, and she knew without looking that Greg had gone on full alert.

  A woman sat behind a desk, her black hair in a bun, her blue eyes sizzling. “Greg. It’s so good to see you alive, boy. I have to say, I’m having a rather proud moment.”

  Greg sucked in air, his fear palpable.

  Zara slid to the side to stand in front of him, instinctively shielding him.

  “Inside,” the bald soldier ordered from behind her.

  She moved into the room and waited for Greg to do the same. The bald soldier followed them and shut the door, leaning back against it. Two guest chairs, both of a smooth log design, sat before the glass-topped desk. A wide window took up one wall, and diplomas—tons and tons of them—decorated the rest of the walls.

  “Sit,” the woman said, her lascivious gaze aimed over Zara’s shoulder at Greg.

  Bile rose in Zara’s throat, but she took a chair, careful to walk normally even though she probably had frost bite on her toes. The phone couldn’t be seen in her nightgown, probably. She sat and put her hands in her lap.

  Greg sat, no expression on his hard face. “Dr. Madison.”

  Oh no. Zara gaped. “You’re the doctor who’s done so much damage?”

  “No—” Dr. Madison began and then caught the eye of the soldier behind Zara. She cleared her throat. “Yes, but I’m trying to rectify my wrongs. We made mistakes in messing with science, and I’m fixing that. Right, Todd?”

  “Yes,” the soldier said. “We’re destroying all the aberrations, and then your soul will be clean.”

  “Destroying?” Zara whispered.

  Dr. Madison nodded. “I’m afraid we’ll have to start with you, Greg.”
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  Chapter

  35

  Ryker hacked into Sheriff Cobb’s files at work without a qualm, while Denver tried to track Zara’s cell phone and Heath worked on satellite imagery through the storm. They’d moved their computers into the central room to all work around the same table and coordinate their efforts.

  “What about the Copper Killer case?” Ryker asked, his shoulder still aching. “Heath, you can go. We’ll cover this.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Heath’s head jerked up. “Zara and Greg are family…my first priority. I’ll help the FBI out after we’re all safe.”

  Ryker’s throat closed, and he nodded. Family. Yeah. He held on to that fact to keep himself from panicking and blowing up the entire building. He’d sent Grams to stay with a friend far away from the offices, just in case another attack was coming. “Dr. Madison won’t kill Zara. She won’t.” He kept the words going in his head like a mantra.

  Heath set his tablet down. “Madison won’t kill Zara because she’ll want to study her and get into her head, figure out what kind of woman you would love. Plus, if Madison’s main goal is to recapture all of us, either for herself or for Sheriff Cobb, she must know Zara is great bait for you. Logic dictates that Zara is fine for the time being.”

  Some of the heat in Ryker’s chest cooled. He’d gotten worked up and lost his temper more in the last week than he had in years, and that had to stop. “She wants to study Greg, so he’s safe. If he doesn’t do something stupid.”

  Heath rubbed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “The kid is trained, but he might try to spring Zara, and she isn’t trained.” Greg could get shot.

  Heath nodded. “She would’ve told Greg about the phone, so he knows we’re tracking them. Greg will hold tight.”

  Ryker tried to calm his racing heart. He’d done a shitty job of protecting them, and he hoped to hell he’d be able to apologize.