She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window.
“Now you’re not speaking to me?” he asked.
“Not in my current state of mind.”
He faced forward, then shifted into DRIVE. He knew she was hurting on Bobby’s behalf, so he wasn’t about to start a fight over something that had happened before they’d hashed things out between them. “Fair enough. Vlad, please ask Mel if I need to pick up Bobby from the hospital.”
The Russian cleared his throat. “Vlad think Mel hear Cash.”
“Perfectly well, thank you. Vlad, you can tell Cash that Bobby is using the money I gave him to check back into the hotel. He wants to be alone. He also wants to move back home with Daddy.”
“Does that mean you will, too?” Cash asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she met his gaze. “My home is with you.”
Relieved, he let out the breath he was holding and drove them home. The moment he parked the truck in the driveway and killed the ignition, he hopped out, then quickly opened the back passenger door. When Mel went into his arms, he held her and kissed her head. “I’m sorry about Noah,” he said, as Lola parked behind him.
“I know this is bad, but I keep thinking that Bobby could be the one in the hospital morgue.” She hugged him tight. “Wednesday evening, I had Harrison checking death records and hospitals looking for him or a John Doe who fit his description. Today I spent a few hours around people who could’ve been put in the same position as Noah.” She pushed away and pulled her ponytail free, letting her blonde hair spill around her shoulders. “While we were sitting by the pool, joking about sex and goading Harrison and Vlad to continue on with their ridiculous fight, which—by the way—is absolutely stupid…” She wiped her cheeks and drew in a breath. “A twenty-five-year-old kid was dying. What makes it even worse? Bobby said Noah’s mother refused to come to the hospital and see her son. So you have a mother who doesn’t care, the police and hospital employees who believe Noah caused his own death, and—”
“Us.” Lola stepped forward. “I spoke with Ian while you and Harrison were at the shelter. He said the lab CORE uses is still running more tests on Noah’s blood. They haven’t been able to identify the exact drug Noah was given, but were able to come up with the molecular make-up.”
“And?” Cash asked, impressed with how quickly the agency had worked, but worried about what they’d found. Noah had been in a bad way, and he didn’t want to think about anyone else suffering the same fate.
“We have a poly-drug with molecular formulas of methylphenidate, methamphetamine, amphetamine and crack cocaine—all of which, taken alone—could cause psychosis. That’s what they’ve found so far. Like I said, they’re still running more tests.”
“Vlad know not this psychosis.”
“It’s when someone has a disconnect from reality.”
Disgust simmered deep in Cash’s chest as he wrapped an arm around Mel. “Did they say what kind of effect a combination like that would have on a person?”
Lola nodded. “Extreme violent behavior toward themselves and others.”
Chapter 12
The House of Archer, Bower, Georgia
Sunday, 6:28 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time
ADELINE FORKED A slice of roast beef, then dragged it through the lake of mashed potatoes and gravy on her plate. “How are our subjects?” she asked, breaking the silence that had hung between them since Rodney had taken her against the wall.
Rodney sipped his whiskey. “I’m concerned about Jim. His heart rate has been irregular throughout the day.”
“Too fast? Too slow?”
“Fast. Constantly.”
She dropped her fork, the clang against the ceramic plate forcing Rodney to finally look at her. “Now that I have your attention, do you mind telling me why you’re not sharing information with me about our subjects?”
“I just did.”
“Then tell me about the other subject.”
He drained his glass, then slammed it on the table. “No.”
She didn’t bother to hide a smile. “No?” Pushing her plate away, she tossed her napkin on the table and stood. “Then I’ll find out myself.”
“Don’t,” he warned.
“Because you’ll be forced to beat me?”
Rod looked away. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.”
Oh, but she’d wanted him to rough her up and show the backbone she knew he carried. He was her equal in everything, except he had a conscience. She lifted her plate, then smashed it against the edge of the table. The beef, gravy and potatoes erupted, splashing on the ceiling, the front of her clothes and Rodney’s shirt. “You’re so full of it,” she said, dropping what was left of the plate.
Rodney’s eyes darkened as he stared at her with loathing and hunger so acute, if she were anyone else but her, she might be frightened. Instead, he aroused her. Fascinated by the way she’d been able to manipulate him, she decided to push him further, harder.
“You have no right to ban me from our testing. Without me, you wouldn’t have the opportunity to even see if your drug would actually work.”
His chair fell back as he stood. Remnants of her dinner stained the front of his shirt and face. “You’re right,” he said, his calm tone belying the fierce storm brewing in his eyes, as he scraped his napkin across his chin. “We’re colleagues, scientists, and A-Line is your drug. But we’ll visit him together.”
“Now?”
“Why wait?”
She was beginning to think Rod was fucking with her. But her need to see the sexy subject outweighed common sense. Rodney had a jealous streak she hadn’t anticipated, which only stirred her excitement. Maybe, finally, he’d shove his stupid morals aside. If he did, when he did, life would actually mean something. Instead of dying a slow, torturous death as a prisoner in the House of Archer, they could leave this place. God, how she longed to rid herself of this decrepit home. The plantation house was suffocating and there had been days when she’d thought it would swallow her whole. Rodney had been the only reason she hadn’t run away. Her need for him had kept her shackled here. Soon enough, without even realizing it, he would break her free.
As she followed him up the stairs, a flood of anticipation filled her belly. Whatever she’d sensed about the sexy subject had been pure. Of that she was sure. Even if she hadn’t been able to pinpoint what that purity meant, or how it would work in her favor, she knew he was her ticket out of hell.
When they reached the closed door, Rodney stopped. “Remember. Don’t test me.” He opened the door. Her recorded voice floated into the hallway.
Ignoring the sound of her own voice, she entered the room. And there he was. Bulging eyes fixated on the TV, silver duct tape wrapped around his head, concealing his mouth. She glanced to the monitor and noted that his resting heart rate was fifty-six beats per minute. Excellent. This one was strong and fit. She brushed past Rodney and shut off the recording device.
“What’s his name?”
“Liam.”
“Tell me about him.”
Rodney placed a few saline drops into the man’s eyes, then tore the tape from his mouth. “Find out for yourself.”
Rod was definitely fucking with her. Since she did enjoy a good fucking…
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
His cheeks and lower lids twitched. He licked his lips. “Thirsty.”
Rodney picked up the water from the table near the monitor and held the straw to the man’s lips. But he clamped his mouth shut.
“Drink,” she said.
“I have to urinate. I’m so thirsty, but I don’t want to go.”
She cocked a brow at Rodney. “Are you telling me this man hasn’t peed since he’s been here?”
“He can piss himself for all I care.”
“That’s because you’re jealous.” She picked up the bedpan. “You’re a doctor. If you want the exper
iment to succeed, you need to act like one.” When she reached for Liam’s fly, Rodney gripped her wrist. She glared at him. “I’m not going to give him a hand job. I’m going to let the man relieve himself.”
“I’ll do it.” Rodney knocked her hand away, but Liam bucked his pelvis. “Don’t touch me. Let the woman.”
She chuckled. “He must be homophobic.”
“Not at all. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust you, either. But, I’ll take you over him.”
“Gee, Rod, you must’ve made a fantastic first impression,” she said, reaching for Liam’s fly again. She held Rodney’s gaze as she unbuttoned, then unzipped the man’s jeans. When her fingers connected with the velvety soft skin of the man’s penis, she fought against closing her eyes. Memories of tonguing him last night made her nipples hard, made her heart race. She held Liam in her hand as he urinated in the bedpan, but never broke eye contact with Rodney. Once the man had emptied his bladder, she handed Rod the bedpan, put Liam’s penis where it belonged—for now—then righted his jeans.
She gave Rodney a small smile. “Why don’t you get rid of that?”
“When I come back, we leave.” Rodney glanced to Liam, the abhorrence in his eyes shockingly fascinating. Rod, her do-gooder, her crusader, the man who would fix her, hated Liam, all because she’d suggested she might have sex with their subject. The power of persuasion at its finest.
Once he left the room, and knowing she had a minute at most, she bent her head toward Liam’s ears. “Do you enjoy the sound of my voice?”
“I hate it, and you.”
“Oh, pooh. I don’t believe you.” She ran her hand along his chest. “Have you thought about my tongue on your cock?”
“You disgust me. The only thing I’ve been able to think about is figuring out a way to close my eyes.”
“What if I can make that happen?” she whispered in his ear. “What if I gave you that power back? What would you do for me?”
His bulging gaze darted back and forth. The monitor showed an increase in his heart rate.
“Calm yourself, Liam. We can’t let Rod know.” The attic stairs creaked, signaling Rodney’s impending return. She looked to the monitor, grinned when it slowed again. “Very good. I promise to reward you.”
She stepped away from the man. “Would you like that drink now?”
“Please,” he begged.
As she held the straw to Liam’s mouth, Rodney entered the room, slamming the bedpan on the small table. He picked up a syringe of A-Line.
“A little soon for that, don’t you think?” she asked as she took the straw from Liam’s lips. With their last subjects, they’d doubled up the dosage the second day.
He tapped Liam’s arm and searched for a vein. “This is day two.”
“Yesterday didn’t count. We both agreed. The small dose we gave the subjects was to ensure there would be no allergic reactions.”
“He can handle it,” Rodney said, then sent the drug into the man’s veins. When he was finished, he tossed the syringe on the table. “Turn on the recording.”
She did, then left the room. Rodney quickly joined her in the hallway, slamming the door shut. “Happy?” he asked.
“Not at all. Why did you do that? Are you trying to kill him?” The man would die eventually, anyone they brought into the house would. But so soon? Liam was a fighter. She wanted to break his mind and spirit, see if she could mold him. Use him to stoke Rodney’s jealousy, push Rod to his limits. She didn’t want him to OD within twenty-four hours.
“Not at all,” he responded. “Ready to pay Jim a visit and relieve his bladder?”
“I can’t believe that you’d let insecurity and jealousy ruin your experiment. What happened to the man I love and trust? The doctor and scientist who was bound and determined to create a drug that would fix me, along with all the other psychopaths out there?” She turned away. She’d feed Rodney every line of bullshit she had to avoid touching skinny-Jimmy’s penis. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m disgusted by you.”
“Does this mean you don’t want me in your bed tonight?”
Of course she wanted him in her bed, but she didn’t want to come across as needy or predictable. She faced him. “I’m not sure. The last two times you bothered to touch me, you were either drunk, or threatened to beat me and kill a man. You also treated me like a whore.”
He stepped forward, bent until his nose nearly touched hers. His breath warmed her lips. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you touch him?”
“Had to be brutal.”
“Bitch.” His mouth curled into a snarl. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She grinned. “Aren’t you curious about how it felt for me?”
“Not at all,” he said, and turned away.
“Since he was flaccid, and I’m not overly experienced, it was hard to tell if he was as big as you.” When he stopped, and his back stiffened, she decided to test the waters. “I noticed his penis had a slight curve.” She hadn’t, but it sounded believable. “I wonder if something like that helps a woman have a better orgasm?”
“You’re pushing me on purpose. Knock it off.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She walked toward Liam’s door. “You don’t own me or my body. If I want to find out what another man is like, I’ll—”
Stars shot from behind her eyes as pain radiated through her skull. Her head bounced off the wood door and she dropped to the ground. She blinked several times until Rodney’s face came into focus. The hatred in his eyes fueled her desire to punish him. “Hit me again. Like father, like son. Put the woman in her place.”
Rod’s face knotted in shame. He dropped to his knees. Reached for her, then drew back. “I…I didn’t mean.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m nothing like him.”
Her head hurt. Yeah, she’d really pushed him too far. Now it was time to smooth things over. She still wanted to go to Tallahassee tomorrow to check on Noah’s whereabouts, and snag a couple more subjects before Rod completely nixed the project. She couldn’t do that if he beat the hell out of her, or drank himself into a guilty stupor.
Forcing her hand to tremble, she touched where her forehead had connected with the door, then pressed on the goose egg. Tears of pain immediately filled her eyes and she went with it. “I know you’re not,” she cried. “I did push you. The way you treated me today, after all the times I’ve begged you to come back to me and be the man you’d promised you would be…I wanted to hurt you.”
He cupped her face with shaky hands. “That’s no excuse. I’m so sorry. Let me take you to your room. I’ll get some ice for your head.”
“No,” she said, holding up a hand, warding him away from her. Funny how she’d always begged for his touch, but now that he was offering it freely, it empowered her to be the one to tell him no. “I can take care of myself. You take care of Jim. I need to be alone.”
The regret in Rodney’s eyes disappointed her. How long would it take to weaken the morals he clung to so desperately? “I understand.” He stood and took a jerky step back. “Whatever time you need. I’ll be here.”
She pushed herself up, fought a wave of dizziness, then pressed a hand to her head—this time avoiding the bump. “Good night, Rodney,” she said, and made her way toward the staircase.
“Adeline,” he called.
She stopped, but didn’t look at him. At this point, she just wanted to make it to her bed before she collapsed.
“I love you,” he said with so much pain and heartfelt devotion, she couldn’t resist looking at him.
I love the misery on your face. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, then gingerly walked down the steps, smiling when Rodney’s quiet sobs echoed throughout the stairwell. While she wasn’t a fan of a crying man, she’d milk this one, for sure. The moment Rod gave her a hard time about bringing a couple of new subjects home, she’d show him the knot on her head.
Then watch him crumble to his knees.
****
His dick stirred. That’s how he would have handled her.
The thought startled and frightened him. He would never hit a woman, and never had. His stomach soured. He’d been raised to respect women.
A shadow moved in the corner. He shifted his eyes, strained to catch a glimpse. Madeline’s voice recording droned in the background like white noise.
When his eye muscles began to ache, he looked back to the TV. The guerillas were still busy. Their machetes coated in blood. So much blood. Was it as sticky sweet as Madeline had claimed? Would she know? Would she like to know?
Would you?
“No,” he grunted. The sound of his voice startled him. He pressed his teeth into his numb lip, then opened his mouth wide and drew in a deep breath. Air might have no taste, but he sure as hell tasted freedom. A scrap of it.
His ears grew hot as the drug worked its way through his veins. He knew better than to mistake that scrap of freedom for hope. Hope didn’t belong in this place. After spending what seemed like days sitting in this bed, watching violent images, hearing Madeline’s voice as she soothingly suggested he act like a vicious barbarian, he wondered if there was such a thing as hope.
When he caught the shadow in his peripheral vision again, he didn’t bother to look. The drug created the shadows, along with thoughts he’d never in his life possessed. He wasn’t this man. He didn’t find gore entertaining. He certainly didn’t fantasize about snapping a woman’s neck.
The burn in his ears moved to his chest. The tips of his fingers tingled. He clenched his hands and tugged at the restraints around his wrists. Saw Madeline. The evil glint in her eyes. Her lush lips. His abdomen tightened. Her hand wrapped around his penis as he relieved himself.
Perfectly Toxic Page 20
