“No need. I’m right outside.”
“What?” Kadir left the kitchen to go look out the living room window. “What are you driving?”
“Blue Mustang. You see me?” Ghost stuck his hand out of the window and waved.
“Yeah. I see you.”
“Good. Now hurry up. Vampires aren’t supposed to walk around in daylight.”
* * *
Cargill Parker climbed into the waiting Bentley while a horde of protesters and a few reporters screamed obscenities in his wake. He had ignored their ugly signs and threats of violence with his head held high. His ears rang after he shut the door and settled into the backseat. The five-man bodyguard team formed a protective line before his door while Lautner climbed in from the other side. The rabid protesters pounded and rocked the back of the car before the driver pulled away from the curb.
“Well, that was exciting,” Lautner joked with his stone-faced client. “Aren’t you happy? I made the deadline.”
“You doing your job is expected, it’s not the source of my happiness.” He sighed. “Especially when my pockets are more than a billion dollars lighter.”
“Understood, sir. But you said that you didn’t care how much it cost. Turns out an appellate court commands top dollar.”
Cargill grumbled, aware that this was only the first flock of crows that he would have to deal with. They always came in waves once they thought a body was lying dead in the street. But he was a master of this game, and he would show them all how it’s played, including the ones who were cloaked with Secret Service and had brought about his downfall. He’d spent two weeks developing a plan. Now it was time to put it into action.
The hour drive to Bluemont, Virginia, passed by in a blur, but he was shocked to see there was another horde of protesters in front of his gated estate.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled.
Lautner shrugged. “Sorry, but you’re a big fish in small pond out here.”
“Have they been out here the whole time?”
“Nah. I’m sure that once word about you making the billion-dollar bail hit social media, it activated the activists.”
The Bentley stopped before the gates. Protesters attacked, pounding and rocking the car like wild animals.
Cargill looked outside of his window and saw one demented woman raising holy hell and didn’t waste a beat in giving her the middle finger. He regretted it after he noted the several camera-phones pointed in his direction. “The cameraphone generation and their fucking need to have every minute of their lives documented.”
Lautner laughed. “A generation of narcissists. What can go wrong?”
Cargill counted to ten while the estate gate crept open and allowed the Bentley to pull through. He expected the crowd to pour through the gate behind them and follow all the way to the front door. Once on private property, he could shoot them and get away with it.
The car rolled to a stop in the circular driveway. Cargill climbed out of the backseat. The protesters’ chants carried clear into the house.
“Cargill,” Marion said, blinking and staring at him like she was seeing a ghost. “You’re out.”
He grinned. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No. No. I guess that explains the crowd. I was about to call the police.”
“Call them anyway,” Cargill said and glanced around. “Where is James?”
“I, uhm, gave him the day off. I’m sorry. We weren’t expecting you today.” She glanced to Lautner.
“My apologies,” Lautner said. “The fault is all mine. I should have called and given you a heads-up.”
Marion recovered from her shock and pushed up a smile. “Well. Welcome home.” She moved forward and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I’ll fix you a drink.”
“Later,” Cargill said. “First. I’d like to take a long, hot shower and then I’ll take my paper.”
“Of course. I’ll get the water started for you right now.” She gave him another peck and shared a flat smile with Lautner before scrambling off up the stairs.
Lautner watched her go with a growing smile. “Now that’s a well-trained woman.”
Cargill harrumphed. “Should there be any other kind?”
* * *
Abrianna had returned to the bedroom to grab a few things before jumping in the shower when her cell phone rang on the nightstand. She dove across the bed and answered it on the last ring.
“Hello.”
“My God, Bree,” Shawn complained. “Why is it every time you get a new man, you ditch your friends?”
“What? That’s not true.” It is kind of true.
“Uh-huh. Well, while you’re out there being all brand new, have you seen the damn papers or the news?”
Abrianna’s stomach dropped. “Oh God. What is it now?”
Kadir entered the room already dressed. “Uh, I have to make a run,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Ghost is outside, waiting.”
“Wait. What?” She was confused and put Shawn on hold. “What do you mean Ghost is outside? When did he get here?”
“I shouldn’t be gone too long,” he said, already backing out of the door.
She couldn’t stop him, but he was certainly acting weird. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Nah. I’ll be back soon.”
Abrianna stiffened.
He crossed the room and planted a kiss on her cheek and then raced right back out.
She stood there, wondering what in the hell just happened. Belatedly, she remembered that Shawn was still on the phone. “Okay. I’m back. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that Daddy Dearest posted bail and your reporter friend has written another exclusive.”
She sighed. “Tomi interviewed Cargill?”
“No. Marion. And the article is about Samuel,” Shawn said.
“What?”
“I’m looking at the headline on the Washington Post right now. It reads and I quote: ‘Whatever happened to Samuel Parker?’”
44
The Parker Estate
“You gave an interview?” Cargill Parker said, tossing his morning paper across the desk toward Marion. “Who the fuck gave you permission to open your big fucking mouth to the press?”
Marion stood ramrod straight with her hands folded in front of her and her gaze locked over Cargill’s left shoulder. She’d learned a long time ago never to look Cargill in the eye, never to assume that she was in any way on his level.
“Maybe you thought that you’d gotten rid of me for good. Is that it?” he asked, cocking his head.
When she didn’t respond, Cargill climbed out his chair and strolled slowly around the desk.
Her heart hammered but she didn’t move, not until his backhand lifted her out of her Jimmy Choos and sent her crashing onto the hardwood floor and thumping her head off the corner of the fireplace. Marion had no idea how long she’d been knocked out, but like so many times before, pain surrounded her when she woke in the middle of her husband raping her. Disgust coiled in her soul as his pasty skin dripped rivulets of sweat over her ripped clothes and exposed body. He grunted like a pathetic animal who could barely keep it up. She knew why. She wasn’t a child anymore. Her hips curved, her breasts had nursed a child. He was disgusted with her as much as she was with him. But while they were locked together in their golden palace with angry protesters surrounding the gates, he couldn’t hunt for who he really wanted in his bed: some child that reminded him of his first Abrianna.
Growling and convulsing, Cargill flushed a bright scarlet color as he emptied his seed into her wombless body and then plopped over to lie next to her.
Silent and motionless, Marion listened as Cargill panted until his breathing found a normal rhythm.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he ordered.
On command, Marion sat up. She ignored the dizziness as she made it to her feet. Calmly, she picked up her shoes and then left her husband’s study as quiet as
a mouse.
45
Offices of the Washington Post
Tomi didn’t come into the office until late in the afternoon, but her butt wasn’t in the chair a full minute before she answered her phone and had an angry Abrianna blasting into her ear.
“What the fuck is this shit in the paper?”
“Oh. So you do know how to return phone calls. That’s good to know.”
“Cut the shit. Why are you doing an exposé with my mother and putting shit that doesn’t have anything to do with Walker all on the front page?”
“First of all, Ms. Parker, I am a reporter. I go where the story takes me. Or the story that walks through the front door. Your mother came to the paper and reached out to me. You would know this if you’d pick up the phone every once in a while.”
“I changed the number.”
“And I’m supposed to know that how? Look, I’m not your personal assistant. I’m fielding as many phone calls and emails for interviews requests for you as I do for shit pertaining to my actual job. Speaking of which, your mother would like for you to call her.”
“Yeah. Well, she can hold her breath for that phone call.”
“Bree, I tried to give you a heads-up for two days. It’s not my fault that you have this ridiculous thing about cell phones. If you want to tell your side of this story, we can sit down for another interview.”
“Fuck,” Abrianna swore. “I’m tired of slitting my wrist in front of the world to gawk while I bleed out. Samuel is off limits.”
“And why is that? What happened to him? Why can’t I find any record of him? If it wasn’t for the one picture in your parents’ house, no one could ever prove that he ever existed. I can’t find a birth certificate or a death certificate. Was he adopted?”
“No. He wasn’t adopted.”
“What about you?”
“What do you mean, what about me? I told you that I was adopted.”
“You still have a birth certificate filed somewhere, right? Was it an intercountry adoption or—”
“That is none of your or anyone’s business. Let it go!”
“How the hell can I let it go when your father is being accused of running a child sex-trafficking ring? When you’ve already hinted to the world what happened to you in that house?”
“Shit,” Abrianna mumbled.
“Tell me about Samuel. What happened to him?”
“He died, all right? That’s all that you need to know.”
“Fine. I’ll let it go.”
“Good.”
“For now.” Tomi glanced around her cubicle and then lowered her voice. “And while I have you on the phone, my article isn’t the only reason why I’ve been trying to call you. I’ve discovered some more information about your friend Charlie.”
Silence.
“Bree? Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” She sighed loudly over the line. “What about Charlie?”
“No. We can’t talk about this over the phone. We need to meet.”
“Are you kidding me? I want to punch you right now. This shit about my brother is across the line. He has nothing to do with anything.”
“Oh? Not even your father?”
There was a brief pause. “What did Marion tell you?”
“About Samuel? Not much. But . . . she seems quite broken up about you, though.”
“Ha. I highly doubt that. No doubt Cargill sent her to try and snoop me out.”
Abrianna’s bitterness was as sharp as a knife. Tomi felt sorry for her.
“Look. I promised your mother that I would pass her private cell phone number to you, so let me give it—”
“I’m not interested in anything Marion or Cargill has to say about anything. They’re dead to me.”
“Are you sure? It certainly doesn’t sound like it. Anyone who controls your emotions controls you.”
“Spare me the pseudopsychology.”
“Take the number. I made a promise.”
Abrianna sighed. “All right. Hold on.” She disappeared off of the line and returned a minute later. “What’s the number?”
Tomi quickly gave her Marion’s number, fulfilling her end of the bargain. “Now. We still really need to talk about Charlie.”
“Why?”
“Because you were right. He did work with Craig Avery.” She made another paranoid look around before lowering her voice. “They both worked for a company called T4S. Ever heard of it?”
Silence.
“Bree?”
“Damn. You really are dropping one bomb after another today.”
“So you have heard of it?”
“Yeah . . . but it’s a long story.”
“Well, so is mine. That’s why we have to talk. You’re not going to believe the shit that I’ve uncovered. I hired Castillo to do some more digging.”
“Castillo?”
“Don’t worry. She’s cool. I’d already told her about some of the things that I can do. I figure that she could dig a little deeper since I do actually have a day job. So when can we meet?” When she sensed that Abrianna was still on the fence, she added, “Trust me, Bree. You want to hear this.”
* * *
Dr. Zacher couldn’t stop the nosebleeds and had a hard time convincing himself not to panic. After all, he knew the risks when he started using the new experimental drugs. He was positive that he’d reverse-engineered a good hunk of Avery’s work after studying Shalisa’s bloodwork while she stayed in St. Elizabeth’s. He knew that he was on the right track when his health improved in recent years. It didn’t go unnoticed around the department how he seemed to have grown younger and stronger.
He had.
Now something was wrong. He had felt it for a long time. The constant headaches and nosebleeds were obvious indicators. He ignored them for as long as he could because, in the end, doctors made horrible patients. He drew and processed his own bloodwork; several times, in fact. He couldn’t accept the first three results or the CT scans. But he couldn’t remain in denial either. He had multiple myeloma, a blood cancer, and the shit was spreading fast.
There was a quick rap on his door. By the time he looked up, Ned was already poking his head into his office.
“They have a read on both Lehane and Parker,” Ned alerted his boss, excited.
Dr. Z jumped to his feet and came around his desk almost in the same motion. “Do we have a team en route?”
“A three-man crew,” Ned said, struggling to keep up with his boss’s long strives. Low-key and undercover, like you requested.”
“Good.”
“Also, I got word from IT,” Ned added once they reached the elevator bay. “Someone ran a criminal history check on your name.”
“What?”
Ned nodded. “Someone from a police department.”
The elevator arrived, and when they stepped inside, Dr. Z had to double-check. “The police?”
Ned nodded.
Dr. Zacher was stumped. How in the hell had he flashed on anyone’s radar? His thoughts flew back to the car accident with Abrianna. Had he screwed up?
* * *
Shawn picked up Abrianna from Kadir’s place and drove her to the Agency in an unfamiliar side of town. Entering the office, Castillo pulled out of the arms of someone they did recognize: the chief of police.
“Oh, hey.” Castillo blushed while the cop grinned.
“Ms. Parker,” Holder said. “You probably don’t remember me. But I was one of the officers who helped aid Gigi in your rescue in the Craig Avery case.”
“Gigi?” Abrianna glanced at Castillo again. She didn’t look like a Gigi.
“It’s short for Gizella,” Castillo informed them.
“Ah. Well. Thanks for your help,” Abrianna said, shaking Holder’s hand.
The office door was pulled open again, and Tomi rushed inside. “Sorry I’m late. I had a devil of a time getting out of the office.” She stopped and noticed Holder. “Hey.”
Holder picked up h
is hat. “Looks like you have a full house. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He leaned over and delivered a peck on Castillo’s cheek. “Have a good meeting,” he told everyone and headed out.
All eyes followed his confident stride out the door. Once it closed, four sets of eyes zoomed back to an embarrassed Castillo.
“What?” She shrugged, cheeks darkening as she took her seat behind the desk.
“All right. You got me here,” Abrianna said. “What is so important you had to see me today?”
Tomi and Castillo glanced at each other.
“Am I not going to like this?” Abrianna asked, narrowing her gaze. “If it’s Shawn, it’s okay. He’s my best friend. He knows everything about me.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“All right.” Tomi dug through her bag and pulled out a huge stack of paper. “You should sit down.”
Castillo nodded. “You’re going to need to.”
46
The Bunker
Kadir reviewed the T4S stolen documents for hours, trying to wrap his brain around what he was reading. Shock, horror, disgust, and anger whirled like a hurricane inside of him. It was more than the fact that an arms race for developing a science-fictional super soldier existed; it was the realization of the lengths these people went to to develop this madness. What happened to morality? Where were people’s consciences?
Dr. Craig Avery, under the tutelage of this guy Dr. Zacher, somehow was able to murder more than a hundred people, whom they coldly referred to as test subjects, before the higher-ups pulled the plug on the experiment. Veterans, many suffering from PTSD from the country’s endless wars in the Middle East, had volunteered for these experiments. Hot tears pooled in Kadir’s eyes while reading the long, detailed descriptions of those veterans’ painful deaths. There were descriptions of men clawing their skin off, organs liquidating, calcified bones, brittle bones, accelerated cancers, toxic brain disease, or sudden death. Nothing, it seems, deterred these bioengineers or made them stop what they were doing for years.
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