Hot for His Hostage (41 page)

“How about, ‘my name is Buffy; please punch me in
both
eyes, Miss Helena Troy?’”

Caspar’s answering snicker resounded through her head. It took a moment to identify
the sound, since they’d had to embed her comm piece into one of her teeth like a filling.
She told Caspar it made him sound like God. Right now, it was more like God eating
a cracker.

“Breathe,” came the agent’s quiet reinforcement. “You’re doing well.”

“Which means I
can
hit her in both eyes?”

“Zoe.” God was back to his no-bullshit self.

“If she does conceive Shay’s kid, somebody better hope the angels pick from the right
box when it comes to locking in the brains.”

“You need to chill, goddamnit. Focus on the plan. You know if we get the right opportunity,
this will all go down before Buffy ever does.”

“
That’s
encouraging. Thanks.”

Caspar didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she’d hear him over the thunder of her heart,
anyway. They’d arrived. If Homer’s all-stop didn’t inform her of that fact, the retinal
scan next to the door certainly did. Buffy bounced a little on her bright pink strappy
sandals, which perfectly matched her skimpy mini dress. Fleetingly, Zoe wondered if
she’d just come off a shift with some businessman at the Bellagio. And wrestled back
her hundredth desire to punch the woman.

Buffy didn’t help her cause by leaning over and whispering in a just-us-girls tone,
“Isn’t this exciting? We’re making scientific history!”

Zoe forced a smile past her careening senses and churning stomach. Thank God she hadn’t
eaten much for lunch.

Homer swung the door in.

Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it.

She commanded her feet to move. And her eyes to lift. And her hands to stay where
they were, instead of going for the throats of the two men who already waited in the
room for them with proud grins on their faces—next to the bed containing the nearly
naked, completely unconscious form of the man she loved. 

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Caspar had tried to prepare her, but all he’d rattled off were the facts. The next-to-catatonic
stillness. The shallow breaths. The skin that nearly matched his sheets for color.
Well, his
sheet
. There was only one, draped across the middle of his body, though the cover accomplished
very little at actually hiding the body part there. Even the cotton candy in Buffy’s
brain didn’t miss it. Her stunned sigh was obvious in the room’s tense air.

Tense? That only began to describe this chamber. Zoe peered around, certain she couldn’t
be the only one aware of it. The aura of despair. The stench of hopelessness. The
palpability of brokenness.

She thought back to Tait’s vow at the Vdara, to put a dagger into Cameron Stock’s
neck. She’d wondered how the man could talk of the act with such glee in his eyes—but
wasn’t so confused anymore. A blade in her hand, driven into Adler’s carotid, suddenly
became a very nice fantasy.

The bastard guided Buffy across the room. “Miss Buffy Walsh, I’d like you to meet
the men who’ve made this research possible—Mr. Cameron Stock and General Kirk Newport.
Gentlemen, I am pleased to present Miss Walsh, who has enthusiastically accepted our
offer to be the program’s first surrogate.”

Buffy curtsied and giggled. “Well, what’s not to accept about fifty thousand dollars?”

Stock took Buffy’s hand and leaned over it. “A pleasure, Miss Walsh.”

Newport only nodded like the corrupt asshole he was. “You’re doing your country a
great service, my dear. A great service.”

“Oh. Gosh.” Buffy brushed down the front of her dress. “Ask not all the stuff your
country does for you but how you can give back…right?”

“Sure.” Stock smiled indulgently. “That’s—uh—just fine, Buffy. Just fine.”

“Miss Troy?”

Homer’s prompting was sharp, as if it weren’t the first time he’d issued it.

“Huh?” she stammered.

“Zoe.” Caspar’s voice was a boom in her head. “Snap out of it!”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she spluttered. “I was—uhhh—assessing the—uhhh—”

Dear God, what
was
Shay? Not their damn “test subject.” Rats in labs were treated better than this.
The bed was nothing but a wide plastic mattress on a dark oak frame, and he was tethered
to it by chains connected to metal shackles, his arms raised over his head and his
legs stretched out toward the corners. He sure as hell wasn’t their patient, either.
The fresh stitches and incision points proved that, as well as the pallor of his skin
and the pronounced loss of his muscle tone. She couldn’t bear wondering about the
last time he’d seen the sun or been allowed to even take a walk up the hall…

If she called him their stud horse, that came a little closer, though thoroughbreds
weren’t shot up with so many sedatives that their arms rivalled a junkie’s for needle
tracks. Circus animal seemed too kind, as well.

Today, he’d become nothing more than their whore.

And she swore that every breath she took and move she made in this room would be with
one purpose in mind.

To free him from their filthy clutches.

“Yes, yes,” the general declared, seeming relieved that “Ms. Troy” returned the atmosphere
to a businesslike tone. “Excellent thinking, Ms. Troy. Feel free to check everything
out and—mmm—carry on, as they say. The men will be keeping the leather warm in the
waiting room.”

Zoe forced a cordial nod to the man. Hypocritical
cabrón
. He liked the idea of reaping the financial benefits from selling Shay’s sperm but
not the mess required for it. It was frightening to contemplate the man and his ego
ever leading men into real battle.

Stock followed in Newport’s steps, leaving Homer behind with Zoe and Buffy, as well
as the nurse who monitored Shay’s vitals in masked silence. Zoe eyed him expectantly
but Buffy sidled up to him with a seductive sashay, pulling suggestively at both his
elbows. “Homie,” she said in a whine to rival a four year-old, “can’t you stay?”

Zoe pretended to scribble data on her clipboard. Between fighting the need to throw
herself around Shay this second and the craving to knock Buffy out before she got
anywhere near the bed, keeping her composure was a big enough win on its own. She
didn’t need to go for the bonus round with “Homie’s” continued presence.

“I’m flattered, darling,” Homer crooned, “I truly am, but it’s not a good idea.”

Thank God.

“But why?

Maybe that client Buffikins had left behind had been into Daddy/daughter play.

“I’m not Shane’s favorite person in the building. It’s probably best for everyone
concerned if I wait with the other men. Besides, I think Newport brought a bottle
of his good brandy.”

“Mmmm. I love brandy.” She pouted at him. “Save some for me?”

“Uh-uh-uh.” He gave her nose a chiding tap. “None for you…Mommy.”

Her dagger. The man’s neck. It swirled into a better dream by the minute.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Buffy turned and beamed a bright grin
at Zoe. “So…whaddup, H?” She wiggled her shoulders rap girl style but the last thing
Zoe wanted was some lame white girl humor. More awkwardly now, Buffy murmured, “You’re
supposed to give me the all-systems-go, right? I mean, Homie told me that they’re
going to make him a little more…lively.” She glanced toward Shay. “I mean, the chains
are fine. I can be a kink bunny as much as the next girl. But I’m not into necrophilia,
you know?”

“Sure.” She pushed it out by sheer force of will. With her remaining strength, she
pushed down the ocean of nausea in her stomach.

Dios.
She really wasn’t any smarter than Buffy, was she? Just like the moment she’d first
entered the room, she thought she was ready for this moment. Had drilled over the
op plan a thousand times with Caspar, thinking that would anesthetize her to everything
when it really went down—but like her students at the university, she’d gone through
the motions as a lame simulation of the truth.

And now, with timing that sucked ass, Shay let out a long and painful moan.

“Hmmm.” Buffy’s eyes sparkled like she smelled fresh cookies. “Now
that
sounds promising.”

“Sure.” She was getting pretty good at this lying-through-her-teeth shit. Swallowing
back another surge of bile, she followed Buffy to the bed.

Shay jerked weakly at his wrist chains, grimacing when they didn’t give. He rolled
his head from side to side on the pillow. As sweat broke out on his neck, Zoe had
to clench the back of a chair to keep from grabbing a washcloth off his tray and soothing
him. Homer had been specific in his instructions to “Helena.” After the men departed
the room, Buffy was the only person in the room who touched Shay.

It was a good thing that Buffy at least knew her way around a man.

Or maybe not such a good thing.

Part of Zoe’s heart exhaled with relief when the woman automatically reached for the
washcloth. The other part railed with the wrath of Hera at watching Buffy stroke Shay
with it, slowly and carefully, murmuring words of comfort to him as she did.

Both sides froze into silence when he dipped his head toward her hand, his lips parting
on a wordless entreaty for more.

“That’s it,” Buffy whispered. “That’s good. You’re okay, tiger.”

Zoe whirled, pretending to write on her notepad again. Her scream of anguish began
in the pit of her gut, roared its way up her throat, and was barely kept in by her
clenching teeth. Nobody in the room heard it.

But Caspar, embedded in her filling, sure did. “Zoe,” he barked over the comm, “you
need to keep it together, girl.”

“We’ll handle it.” The new voice on the comm delivered a double punch. First, it was
another female, albeit with a rasp coming in somewhere between Courtney Love and Kirstie
Alley. Second, and most weirdly, Zoe heard her words in stereo. “Won’t we, darlings?”

Zoe breathed to school her features while she slammed her gaze over to the masked
nurse in the corner. One of the eyes above that mask, glistening with dark amber wickedness,
winked at her.

Tait.

For once, she was grateful as hell for the man’s intrepid side.

“Everything’s just fine.” Buffy said it, thinking the “nurse” had spoken to her. She
re-wet the washcloth and started wiping down Shay’s chest. “We’re going to take this
in easy steps, baby.”

“Slower is better, I’d say.” Tait flashed a stare that was filled with apology but
told her he had the bigger picture in mind.

Even though Zoe didn’t know how much bigger she could stand it.

Before Buffy even tugged the sheet away, she knew what the woman would find. Shay’s
erection was a mouth-watering sight even at half-strength. As the woman hummed her
approval and began to circle the firm bulb at the head of his cock, she screamed at
Shay with her eyes.
How far do we let this go
?

It wasn’t a fair question. She already knew the answer, anyway. They couldn’t unshackle
Shay and expect him to stumble anywhere now, let alone walk.

“On the other hand, I don’t know if our boy is on-board with that thinking,” Buffy
commented. “Whoa, tiger. You really want to roar, don’t you?”

“Mmmm. Fuck…yeah.”

Dios. No.

As the words tumbled out of Shay’s mouth, Zoe’s heart really did beg her for a bungee
jump out of her chest. She couldn’t do this anymore. No matter what kind of platitudes
her mind threw at her, that he had no idea what he was saying—that he barely knew
where he was let alone to whom he spoke—they were meaningless against the pain of
watching him struggle anew against his bonds, battling to reach for Buffy…as his sex
lurched higher beneath her fingers.

“That’s it,” the woman murmured, letting her hand slide over his whole stalk. “You’re
doing great. God, you’re magnificent.”

“Mang—mal--magificant,” Shay babbled back. “No. Not me. You. Bew-ba-ful. You.”

Zoe glared at Tait.
I can’t do this
.

“Hmmm,” he murmured, seeming to direct every word at Buffy. “Just a few more minutes,
I think.”

Buffy shot back a questioning stare. “Are you sure? I mean, look at him.”

“No.” Shay’s voice was clearer this time. The lunges of his head against the pillow
were sharper and stronger. His eyes started to twitch. “Just wanna look at you—”

“That’s it.” Zoe slammed the clipboard into the chair.

“Zoe.”

She already had her gaze locked with Tait’s. His eyes detonated with elated astonishment—the
same stuff coursing through every inch of her soul.

“Zoe.” It erupted from Shay in damn near a shout this time. “Don’t—go. Need—you. Zoe.
Zoe
.”

Buffy stretched out beside him, continuing to work her hand over him. “Sure, baby.
Call me Zoe, if that’s what you want. I’m going to take such good care of you and
your cock…”

The words were just as soothing as everything else the woman had said but Shay reacted
like she’d just told him she was a succubus. “No. Not right. This—this isn’t right.”