She held the sharp piece of plastic in one hand and the snips in the other, keeping the table between them. He reached out to grab for her, and she dodged backward.
“I’m going to spend the rest of the night skinning you alive,” he said. “And then I’m going to fuck you while you die.”
She scanned the room, spotting the door behind him. There were no windows or other avenues of escape. He was stronger, bigger, and smarter. But she would damn well use her substandard genes to keep fighting with everything she had.
She moved to the left, drawing him in her direction. She let him inch closer. Blood oozed between the fingers of the hand clamped tightly over his eye. He was every bit as dangerous as any wounded beast.
She waited until he was almost within striking distance and darted to her right as he lunged for her. Damn he was fast. MMA fighting had honed his reflexes to a razor’s edge. She had misjudged him. If his depth perception hadn’t been compromised by the loss of vision in one eye, he would have caught her arm. Instead, his hand closed on the air where she had just been.
He roared in frustration, hurling more expletives at her. She ignored his words and concentrated on his body movements. Every ripple of his taut muscles telegraphed his next move, allowing her the split-second advantage that made the difference between life and death. She kept edging around one side of the table, then rushing around to the other when he reached for her. Gradually, she ended up with the door behind her.
“It’s locked,” he said. “Don’t even try it.”
Her heart sank. She had worked so hard to get into position. All for nothing. How long could she keep up this dance? She flicked her eyes to the table. Now she was close enough to reach more tools. She eyed the one she thought would do her the most good.
“That body art doesn’t hide those cigarette burns on your back, Falk. Did Daddy give you those? Was his genetically engineered son a disappointment?”
With a howling battle cry, Falk launched his body over the table. She snatched the chisel and held it upright, angling it toward him. His momentum kept his body coming down as he impaled his chest on the chisel’s sharp edge.
They crashed to the ground, his bulk landing on her in a heavy thud. A guttural groan escaped his lips as the air left his body.
Clutched in her hand, the chisel’s plastic handle jabbed into her. The rest of it had penetrated his upper torso just beneath the joint of his rib cage. She was having trouble breathing with Falk’s tremendous bulk pressing on her. She couldn’t fill her lungs.
She let go of the handle and tried to push him off. He didn’t budge. Holy shit, she had managed to survive only to have him kill her by suffocation after he was dead.
No. Fucking. Way.
She pushed again. Nothing. The blood oozing from his chest formed a slick between their bodies. Maybe she could slide out from under him. She wriggled to smear the blood around and began inching sideways. She managed a few inches. She used her legs to gain leverage and pushed again. Slowly, her body slid out from under his.
She lay on the floor, sucking in great gulps of air.
Without warning, his brawny arm crashed down on her chest. He dragged her toward him.
“You . . . are . . . mine.” The words came out as a guttural rasp.
She curled her legs up, planting the soles of her feet against his hip. “Never.” She pushed herself away.
He rolled over and belly-crawled toward her. She scrambled backward, hands and feet slipping on the blood-soaked floor. He reached out, grabbing at her. She bent her knee, took careful aim, and directed her heel straight at his nose. With every remaining ounce of strength she possessed, she shot her foot toward its target. A loud crunch split the air as she connected, driving the bones of his septum into his brain.
The momentum of the blow drove his head back, and his body followed, slumping on the ground. He twitched, then he lay still.
She flopped on her back, gasping.
The door burst open and a column of black-clad HRT operators swarmed inside shouting commands. The cacophony of thundering boots and booming voices shattered the stillness that had filled the air only moments before. Fanning out, the tactical team secured the space in a matter of seconds.
One of the men aimed a rifle at Falk’s head, while another kneeled beside him to check his vitals. Nina knew they would find no sign of life. If Falk had any breath in him, he would have made sure he killed her before he succumbed.
An operator crouched beside her. “Where are you injured, Agent Guerrera?”
She realized how she must look. “It’s Falk’s blood.”
As she answered, a second man sank to his knees on her other side. “Nina,” he said, voice thick with emotion.
She turned to see Kent surveying her, an expression she couldn’t place pulling the hard lines of his rugged face taut.
“I’m okay, really.” It was a lie, but she reveled in the pain.
It meant she was alive.
Chapter 50
Two days later
J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, DC
Nina sat at the gleaming round table in the far corner of the FBI Director’s spacious office. She laced her fingers in her lap to avoid twisting them. She had only met Director Thomas Franklin once before, when she graduated from the academy in Quantico.
His expression was grave. Then again, he wasn’t known for laughing. The rumor around the Bureau was that the man was total business. Even his pajamas were starched.
He leaned back in his black leather chair, a tinge of weariness hooding his eyes. “That was the longest news conference I’ve ever held.” He shook his silvery head. “There were reporters from around the world. Seems everyone on the planet has been following this story.”
She had no idea what to say, so she held her tongue. She had obviously cost him a lot of sleep and no small amount of resources.
“They were most interested in how we managed to track down the Cipher,” he continued. “I was pleased at how quickly the team adapted when his house turned out to be empty.”
The team had met with her after her medical exam to fill her in. After coming up empty at Falk’s residence, they had decided to check on the house where he grew up. Satellite photos showed a shed on the far end of the property surrounded by trees.
“First and foremost, I am deeply impressed with your performance throughout this investigation. You had to deal with things no one should have to face, and you did it with the world watching you in real time.”
She squirmed uncomfortably at the reminder. She still hadn’t gotten used to people eyeing her when they thought she wasn’t looking or having all conversation cease when she entered a room.
“You showed exemplary valor in facing Halberd Falk, especially considering what he had done to you in the past,” Franklin continued.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Your courage deserves special recognition,” Franklin said. “I will be presenting you with the Shield of Bravery at an official ceremony next week.”
She was stunned. Director Franklin had submitted her for one of the FBI’s highest honors. The Shield of Bravery was awarded for courageous acts in the line of duty involving a task force, undercover operation, grave situation, or crisis confrontation associated with the Bureau’s highest-priority cases. This case probably fit every part of that description.
Still, she didn’t feel worthy. “Sir, I did what was necessary to survive. Any other agent would have done the same.”
“You did more than survive,” he said. “You overcame great personal trauma under extreme duress and used your training and your wits to stop a killer who would have continued to take lives.” Concern wrinkled his brow. “No, Agent Guerrera, no other agent could have solved this case. It had to be you.”
A hot flush stole up her neck as she smoothed the crease in her slacks, giving herself an excuse to look away from his piercing gaze.
“There’s another reason I wanted to speak to you,” h
e said, mercifully changing the subject. “Supervisory Special Agent Buxton has requested an extension to your temp assignment in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
Her head came back up. “How could I help the BAU, sir?”
“There have been a series of abductions in the DC metro area for a number of months. The Washington field office has the lead. I believe you are familiar with the particulars?”
She was intimately familiar with them. “My team is running point on the investigation.”
“There hasn’t been much headway,” Franklin said. “SSA Buxton believes the four of you could look at it with fresh eyes, applying some of the same techniques you did in the Falk case.”
“The four of us?”
“You, Kent, Wade, and Breck.” He steepled his fingers. “If things go well, the team might even become permanent.”
The possibility intrigued her. Supervisory Special Agent Conner, her current boss at the Washington field office, was not a fan of her unorthodox methods of investigation. Buxton, on the other hand, seemed to take her previous law enforcement and life experience into account rather than viewing her as merely the most junior member of the team.
Franklin interrupted her musing. “I didn’t want to mention this in front of anyone within your chain of command because of what you have recently endured. Given everything that has happened, I could also transfer you to something less . . . stressful instead. Something that would keep you out of the public eye.”
“You think I need to come out of the field?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I’m offering you a choice.”
She could assist with the abduction investigation out of Quantico, return to her previous assignment at the WFO, or request a transfer to a desk job. Yeah, right.
She straightened. “Please let SSA Buxton know I’ll report to Quantico first thing in the morning.”
Franklin regarded her for a long moment. He gave her a slight nod before the corners of his mouth quirked up.
Maybe the rumors weren’t true after all. That looked like an actual smile.
“I have one final order of business,” he said, growing serious again. “The task force collected a tremendous amount of data about your background. Once we knew Falk was aware of the circumstances of your birth, Buxton sent teams down every possible investigative avenue. Task force members obtained statements from the trash collector who found you as an infant, the social worker who named you, each of your living foster family members, most of your teachers, and every ER doc who treated you each time you went to the hospital throughout your childhood.”
She sat, transfixed, imagining scores of her fellow agents fanning out all over Fairfax County, tracking down everyone who had impacted her life. “Sounds like they were very thorough.”
“Some of this information was not included in any official reports,” Franklin said. “I suspect much of it is completely unknown to you.” He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. “I believe that it is your right to see what we gathered. It is, after all, the story of your life until the date of your emancipation at seventeen.”
The story of her life. Not exactly the kind you would read to kids at bedtime.
“Here is a copy of the entire file,” Franklin said, pushing the thick manila folder that had been on the table next to him over to her. “It’s for you to keep.”
“Thank you, sir.” She picked up the dense file, clutching it to her chest.
“Good luck, Agent Guerrera.”
She stood, understanding herself to be dismissed, and headed out the door. The administrative assistant gave her a curt nod as she passed by the outer waiting area.
She walked down the wide corridor, footsteps echoing on the tile floor. The area was uncharacteristically deserted, giving her the opportunity to consider what the Director had told her about the file. The manila folder felt enormously heavy. Its contents weighed on her mind as well as her arms.
Inside were the details of her childhood. Every bit of pain, humiliation, and abuse carefully documented in plain clinical text. The reports inside followed her trajectory from throwaway to Warrior Girl. She’d traversed a dark path to reach the light. She could walk that same path now from the perspective of her adult self, learning new things about the people who had previously controlled her life. What had been their motives, their hidden agendas, their secrets? Why had they tormented her? Answers she had longed for as a child were contained in the trove of documents now in her possession.
She strode past the copying room and paused. She took a few steps back and went inside, finding what she was looking for next to the copying machine. Nobody was around.
She hesitated a long moment. Coming to a decision, she crossed the room and turned her back to the copying machine. She laid the manila folder on the small table to her left. Opening it, she picked up the first few sheets of paper and straightened them. This would take a while.
Drawing in a deep breath, she began to feed the pages into the shredder, finally putting her past where it belonged.
Chapter 51
The Yellow Brick Road
FBI Academy, Quantico
The morning after her meeting with the Director, Nina’s feet pounded the uneven earth along the winding trail. Early-morning sun dappled the ground through the tall Virginia trees. She should have waited. Should have given her body a chance to recover from the trauma Falk had inflicted. But this journey was not for her body. It was for her soul. This time, she would complete her journey along the Yellow Brick Road.
She had come early to be sure there was enough time to finish the course, shower off in the locker room, and report to Buxton for her first briefing. A couple of miles in, however, she’d begun to have second thoughts. Covered in bruises, her body ached with every step.
She arrived at the next obstacle and paused. The trench was about twenty-five feet long and six feet wide. Just to keep it interesting, the instructors always kept it filled with muddy water. A series of logs braced against each other formed a low overhead barrier designed to force runners to crawl through. In order to go forward, she had to be willing to sink down into the muck.
“Ladies first.”
She lifted her gaze to see Wade jogging toward her from the opposite direction.
“What are you doing here?”
“Heard from one of the instructors that you were out here this morning. Figured we never got a chance to complete the course last time, so I decided to join you.”
He had run from the finish line like he had before, skipping the obstacles, to meet up with her.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“We’re going to be partners,” he said. “Partners have each other’s backs.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Giving her head a small shake, she stepped into the trench, the chilly water shocking her system. The slimy bottom sucked at her feet as she picked them up to move forward. She took another step, then lowered herself down onto her hands and knees. Body half-submerged in sludge, she low-crawled.
Wade splashed down beside her, the filthy water sloshing up onto his face and dribbling into his mouth. He spat it out and kept going.
Her body trembled with chill and fatigue as they made it to the other side and climbed out. He grinned down at her, teeth stark white against the mud on his face.
She had emerged from the muck but had not come out unscathed. She was sullied, tainted, but not alone. Wade had gone through it with her.
She gathered herself and forced her legs to run, determined to keep going. After the ordeal, a shower would be her reward. She would scrub her body from head to toe. And maybe she would feel clean again.
And then she saw the wall ahead, blocking her path.
The wall was her biggest challenge on the course. She was short, barely five feet tall. Nina had been the smallest one in her police recruit class as well as the FBI trainee class. Her size had always been a burden
until she had learned to fight and compensate in other ways.
Despite all her training, all her skill, Falk had nearly butchered her. She could not have overpowered him. Only quick thinking had saved her.
She considered the obstacle before her.
“Are you going to stand there and stare at it all morning?”
She whipped around to see Kent several yards behind her, catching up to them at a full run. With Kent’s background in Special Forces, she figured he could run the course twice in the amount of time it took her to complete it once.
She spun back to confront Wade. “Did you invite the whole damn unit?”
He didn’t look remotely apologetic. “I might have sent a text or two.”
She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the wall without answering Kent. Putting the two men out of her mind, she jumped up. Her fingers clutched the top of the barrier. Then slid off. She fell straight down, landing right on her ass in the dirt.
“You’ve got this,” Kent said, smiling down at her. “Next time back up and get a running start, plant your foot on the wall, and launch your body up. Let me show you.” He loped toward the barrier and leaped up, planting a foot on the side to propel his body upward. His hands clasped the top, and he flexed his powerful arms as he pulled his upper body over. His legs followed, and in one fluid motion, he disappeared to the other side.
He walked around and gestured toward the towering barrier. “It’s all about technique.”
“Being six-foot-four doesn’t hurt,” she said.
“Come on, Guerrera,” Kent said. “Show me what you’ve got.”
It was going to be ugly. She sprinted toward the wall, planted her foot, and managed to get a good grip on the top this time. She heaved her body upward and flung an arm over, struggling to keep from falling back.
She felt the barrier shake, and suddenly Kent was hanging beside her, holding himself in a pull-up position so he could coach her from a few inches away. “Use your feet.”
She kicked at the wall with her sneakers until the rubber tips got enough purchase to propel her higher. Muscles burning, she managed to heave herself up just enough to get her upper body over. After that, she used gravity to finish the job.
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