Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) (22 page)

“Tell me,” Caro urged. “Tell me about the footage. Please.”

Bea pressed her lips together for a second. “I haven’t talked about it to anyone.”

“You mentioned video footage yesterday evening, before Todd interrupted us,” Caro said. “Tell me more about that.”

Bea rubbed her mouth and took a moment to gather her thoughts. She looked like she was struggling to concentrate. “Luke was doing security in Chicago,” she said in a low voice. “His boss had a meeting that got changed to a new hotel at the last minute. I remember Luke bitching about that over breakfast, saying it wasn’t safe. He brought a wireless camera to record the meeting, like he always did. He’d given me a fresh password that would give me access to his remote server if anything happened to him.”

She let out a bitter laugh. Caro tried to stay calm.

“I remember thinking how silly and paranoid that was,” Bea went on. “He changed the password every day, and I was supposed to give the latest one to his brother if anything happened to him. Then he disappeared, and they found his boss’s body with a bullet in his head. So I retrieved the video.”

“Did you watch it?”

“Yes.” Bea pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her nose, her gaze still darting around. She was clearly reluctant to go on. “I never believed in supernatural bullshit in my life,” she said under her breath. “Thought it was total crap. But I saw that guy say a few words and freeze Luke. As if it were a spell. He couldn’t move.”

Caro pondered that. “Could he have been drugged?”

Bea shook her head. “I know what I saw. This guy shot Luke’s boss right in front of his face. Taunted him. Some guys came in, put Luke in a box and carried him off. Luke knew every kind of martial art there is, and he couldn’t even move.”

“You never gave that last password to his brother?”

“No. I didn’t have the nerve. His brother might have given it to the cops.” Bea’s tone was defensive. “That would be like begging for that guy to catch me and kill me. He has to be watching Luke’s family.”

“But this video proves that Luke is innocent and Mark is guilty, right? Why the hell not take it to the police? Let them stop him.”

Bea shook her head. “I’m telling you. It would be suicide. My apartment was robbed a few days after, and my electronics were taken, so I know he’s looking for that video. I just happened to have the flash drive in my purse that day because I was afraid to leave it.” She stared around the room again. “I’ve been hiding ever since. But if you can find me, he can, too. Maybe you led him right to me.”

Caro ignored that. No need to feed the woman’s paranoia. “Can I copy what’s on it?”

“I don’t carry it around with me,” Bea snapped. “I sent it to the lake.”

“The lake? What lake?” Frustration put an edge in Caro’s voice.

Bea shook her head. “I can’t help you. I’m having a hard enough time as it is.”

“We could work together,” Caro urged. “He killed my friends. I want justice for them. I need help. So do you. Let’s help each other.”

Bea rubbed her mouth. “You don’t understand. There’s something, I don’t know, almost supernatural about that guy. Prison can’t hold him. We would never be safe.”

“Maybe not.” Caro hesitated for a long moment. “So let’s kill him.”

Bea’s fidgeting suddenly stilled. She was dead silent for a long moment.

“Seriously?” she whispered. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Nope,” Caro said. “Just tired of being afraid. I want him gone. If this is the only way . . .” She shrugged. “Do we really have that much to lose?”

The other woman edged back in her chair. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” Caro said. “I don’t much care, at this point. Are you in?”

Bea’s shadowed eyes were full of fear and reluctant longing. “I think you’re fucking nuts, and you’re going to get me killed.”

“We’ve both survived this long,” Caro said. “Give yourself credit.”

“Do you have a plan?” Bea demanded.

“Not yet,” she admitted.

“Oh. Well, that’s inspiring,” Bea snapped. She craned her neck to scan the coffee shop and the street outside again. “Oh fuck. We’re being watched.”

Carol looked around. A young mother was feeding chunks of poppyseed muffin to a toddler in a stroller. A chubby guy in a goatee was tapping into a laptop. Two lovers were forehead to forehead over their lattes, giggling. An old man read a paper.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Tell me more about this lake.”

“Not here. We can’t stay here.” Bea leaped up. “Meet me outside. I’ll head east.”

Caro cursed under her breath and hurried out after her, catching up with Bea halfway down the block. “What lake, Bea?” she panted. “Just tell me.”

Bea spun around. “Do not say that name,” she hissed. “I am
Marika.
”

“OK, fine. Marika. Just tell me what you mean by lake.”

“Shut up
.
” Bea looked over Caro’s shoulder. “Those guys are following us.”

Caro started to turn, but Bea swatted her arm. “Don’t look now, you stupid cow! You were followed! Oh fuck, oh fuck . . .”

Bea took off like a gazelle. Caro glanced back over her shoulder, looking for Ponytail. He was nowhere around, but she saw two guys about twenty yards away. They wore earpieces, and both moved toward her, a stony, purposeful look in their eyes.

She took off running as fast as she could. Bea was already some distance ahead, veering into a busy intersection—

Brakes
and tires squealed. There was a horrible
thud.

Bea’s body rose high above an SUV, turning in a somersault, suspended in air for several moments.

Caro skidded to a stop when she heard the windshield shatter. Bea’s tumbling body hit the ground a second before another car braked. Not fast enough. The SUV got slammed forward. More broken glass. Shouts, screams. Horns blared.

A crowd began to gather. Caro ran faster, shoving, weaving around stalled cars, until she could see Bea, sprawled on the street, arms wide, staring at nothing. The hair on the side of her head was a dark mass of blood.

Caro fought to get closer, a scream of denial shredding her throat—

An arm caught her around the waist. She flailed, scratching and twisting—

“It’s me. Calm down.” Noah’s voice. Noah’s arm, Noah’s big, powerful body.

She went limp, utterly confused. “What? You? Why? What are you doing—”

“Not now. Not with those two after us.” He set her on her feet. “Run!”

“But what about Bea?”

“She’s dead, Caro.” He scanned the crowd as they wove through it, dragging her alongside him. As soon as they were clear, he gave her a hard push. “Go!”

His command worked like the crack of a starting gun. Caro dashed in a frenzied sprint on a zig-zag course through streets, alleys, parking lots. He herded her behind one of the bigger buildings under renovation. Scaffolding was still up. It was a mess. Dumpsters heaped with trash, piles of bricks and rebar.

Noah stopped short, and shoved her back into a narrow space between two parked trucks until her back hit rough brick. He cupped her face in his hands and gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Stay here. Right here.”

She gasped for breath. “But what are you going to—”

“Shhhh. Not a word. Don’t move.” He pressed her back against the bricks, and darted back the way they had come.

She was locked into place for a confused moment. Then she heard the slap of running feet getting closer. She scrambled behind the trucks and eased her way forward along the wall so she could see what was happening.

She heard a heavy thud, a startled yell. Gasps, grunts. Cursing, punctuated by slapping sounds. A harsh, chopped-off shout. The guy had attacked Noah.

She crouched down and saw a second guy’s feet flash by. Still more pounding footsteps were getting closer.

Three to one? Fuck that. She had to help him.
Now.

Various lengths of rusty rebar were scattered on the ground. Some lay across the path between the trucks and the dumpsters. She grabbed the end of the longest piece of rebar she could see with one hand, and a brick with the other. Just as the running footsteps and panting breaths got louder, she jerked the rebar up—

Yes.
The guy tripped. Went flying with a shout and hit the ground hard.

Caro pounced on him, screaming as she swung the brick she held downward.

Her opponent twisted, blocked her blow so that the brick glanced off the side of his head, but he still roared in pain. Caro whipped back to avoid his punch—

A rush of air moving, a blur of rapid motion. She was lifted. Tossed to the side.

Noah kicked the guy’s face. The whipping sound, air moving, flashes of color. His moves were too fast for her eyes to register. He yanked the guy’s arm, wrenched his knee sideways, slammed a fist down on his chest.

The guy lay still, his face a mask of blood below the nose. Arm and leg bent at impossible angles. Out cold.

Caro stared up. Noah didn’t even look rumpled. A glance behind her revealed that the other two attackers lay on the ground, in the same condition.

Noah grabbed her wrist and lifted her up to her feet. “You were supposed to stay put,” he said with disapproval.

“I haven’t survived these past few months by doing what I was told,” she said.

She barely caught his appreciative grin just before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a stumbling run. “Let’s move.”

“Yeah,” she coughed out.

They spotted a back door that opened onto a loading bay and ran inside. An exit sign pointed them toward a stairwell, which led down into a basement corridor with a low ceiling hidden by insulated pipes.

Caro barely kept pace with his long, purposeful strides, held up by the arm around her waist. It was like being swept along by a powerful storm wind. One which knew exactly where it was going.

They came to the battered doors of a freight elevator. Noah jabbed the button and dragged her into his arms while they waited, hugging her fiercely. His heart thundered against her ear. He threw off so much heat. It was life-giving.

She tried not to see it, but now that they weren’t in frantic motion, the loop in her head started to play. Bea, catapulted into the air. Bea crumpled, bleeding and silent. She pressed her face to his chest.

His arms tightened. “You OK?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said fiercely against his jacket.

He grunted, unconvinced, but the doors were sliding open. Into the elevator. Up another level. She followed where he led and tried not to stumble. At some point, they were outside again, running through an icy drizzle that gave her goosebumps.

He came to an abrupt halt, and she heard the
thunk
of the car locks opening. He opened the Porsche’s door and helped her in
.
“Seat belt,” he directed.

She fumbled with it clumsily as he got into the drivers’ side.

He clicked his own seatbelt into place as he he started the motor. She noticed the dark wet splatter on his jacket sleeve as the car surged into the street. “Noah, you’re bleeding!”

“Not my blood,” he assured her.

She sagged back, relieved. “How the hell did you
do
that?”

His elusive smile showed. “No big deal. There were only three of them.”

“Only three . . . ?” Her voice cracked, failed her. Only three, her ass.

After a moment, she tried again. “So, were you some kind of commando once? Is that where you got the scars?”

“You don’t get to ask questions right now. I’m taking you home. And you’re coming clean with me.”

“I don’t think so.” Caro’s voice gained strength. “Slow down. I’m getting out of the car now.”

“Not at this speed. I want to know who’s messing with you, and why.”

She sat there, too exhausted to protest. Astonished, too. She’d been mooning helplessly at this guy nonstop since the moment he’d entered her field of vision, but she’d realized in a sudden, spine-tingling rush, that she’d never really seen him at all.

Not until now.

* * *

“Escaped?” Mark snarled into the phone. “How in the fuck did she do that?”

Carrerra hemmed and hawed. “I sent in my three best operatives. But the guy with her had serious combat skills. He took them by surprise.”

“But you didn’t go.”

“No.”

“Three trained, armed professionals, and she got away. Again.” Mark’s AVP was starting its nasty buzzing drum roll inside him. “Where are you now?”

“The hospital,” Carrerra admitted. “Two of my team have broken knees. Ripped ligaments. All three have broken jaws. They’re being checked for brain bleed—”

“As if I gave a shit. As if they had any brains. Why aren’t you out looking for her right now?”

“I’m about to—”

“To leave the fucking hospital? Good move.” Mark bit the words out with lethal softness. “Do it. This minute. Find Caroline Bishop.”

“I’m on it.”

“Don’t fuck up a second time.” Mark slid the phone into his pocket.

It took a few minutes of concentrating just to drag his raging AVP under control and remember what he was doing. Product testing.

He’d found the perfect place for it. The abandoned gravel pit off the highway was protected on three sides like an amphitheater. No people for miles around. He’d checked for thermals, listened with his augmented hearing for approaching cars. He was eager to get to Seattle and collect Caroline, but he had to be realistic. When he activated the rest of the slave soldiers, they would outnumber him twelve hundred to one.

He had to develop his control technique very quickly.

Marc wrenched open the nailed crate and lifted out the multi-mode slave soldier control unit. Lydia Bachmann had babbled on about the amazing new special weapons back when she was still hoping that she might survive the encounter.

Hadn’t taken long for her to realize that she was so fucking finished.

The equipment wasn’t elegant in its design. Just a large, clunky helmet. The freq wad was inserted into a larger amplifying console. Commands synched wirelessly with implants inside the slave soldier’s brains and could be sent to multiple subjects at once.

Plus, there were many modes. Verbal commands relied on the slave soldiers’ programming and brain stim, but wireless commands from the console went straight to their cerebral implants. There was also an FMC mod, fine motor control, that gave the controller complete command over the slave soldier’s nervous system, but that required more equipment and was more complicated to learn. Later for that. There would be time.