Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) (26 page)

More footsteps, but a glance behind him showed that it was only Sierra, following his orders. She hadn’t changed her clothes or put on her winter coat. She was still in her waitress uniform, displaying an attractive nipple hard-on in the frigid wind.

Which meant he would have to dress her himself. Fucking great. Details. Multiply them by twelve hundred, and his head was going to explode.

“Mommy? Is that a mean guy?” the kid quavered.

The pink-haired girl edged away. “Let’s just go, baby.” Her voice was high and thin.

The girl took off running, dragging the kid behind her. In a moment, she picked him up and continued onward through the empty parking lot in a heavy, awkward lope.

Mark turned to Sierra. He couldn’t have devised a more perfect maiden voyage for her if he’d planned it to the last detail. “Kill them,” he ordered.

Sierra’s eyes were bleak as she looked at the pink-haired girl with the kid on her hip, who lurched onward, casting panicked looks back over her shoulder. She was calling for help, screeching like a bird, but there was no one in earshot to hear her.

Mark pointed the freq wand at her. “I said to kill them, you dumb bitch.”

Sierra gasped at the pain. She let out a sharp, desperate sound and took off.

The pink-haired girl had gotten a good lead by now, but Sierra ran faster than any professional sprinter. She soon overtook the girl’s clumsy trot.

But just before she made contact, she veered off to the left. She ran incredibly fast, her feet in the white waitressing kicks a blur of movement. Right past the pink haired girl . . . and onward . . . and then she curved back around the way she came.

She couldn’t run away. She was resisting her programming to the absolute limit, but it was dragging her back to him in a big parabolic loop.

But she’d let the pink-haired girl and her kid go free. They were now scrambling into a battered pickup which peeled away, tires shrieking. Off to tell her crazy story to whatever meth-head pal of hers would listen, the trashy slut. His secrets were safe. But still.

He’d been disobeyed.

Sierra was almost back, but her pace was faltering. She staggered, stumbled.

About thirty feet away, she fell to her knees. She tried to get up. Fell again.

She began to crawl toward him.

Mark walked out to meet her. She was bleeding from her nose and ears. The auto-destruct was punishing her. Cheating him of the pleasure. She gasped for each gurgling breath. Blood flecked her lips. Her lungs were probably full of blood by now.

He turned to Raquel. “Bring one of those big sheets of plastic from the truck,” he ordered her. “And duct tape. She’s leaking. I don’t want a mess out here.”

Raquel did as he asked, and stood there, looking down at Sierra. Tears streamed down Raquel’s face.

The tears irritated him. Raquel had no business feeling emotions. She was just a tool, a doll, a fucktoy.
“Wrap her up in plastic,” he snarled.

Raquel knelt, spread out the plastic and did as he’d directed, but the manner in which she did it annoyed him. So careful. Wrapping Sierra like she was swaddling a goddamn baby. Just another subordinate cunt getting in his face. Enough of this shit.

He shoved her roughly to the side and finished wrapping Sierra himself, jerking the flap down over her face. Duct taping her until she looked like some sort of strange, oversized larva. The less bodily fluids that stained the asphalt, the better.

When she was fully contained and sealed into the plastic, he started kicking her.

Sierra was tough. It took a long time, which suited him fine. He kept at it, viciously, until every last sign of her sig was snuffed out. Then for some time beyond that, just for good measure.

When he stopped, the plastic-wrapped form looked like a bag of blood.

The other slave soldiers had ranged themselves around him. Fists clenched. Eerily silent. Raquel’s face was still wet. She sniffled loudly with each breath.

He slapped her so hard, she hit the ground rolling.

“Load that garbage into the truck,” he told them. “We have to find a place to dump it. Defective piece of
shit.
” He wrenched open the back of the truck. There was just enough space among the crates of weapons for the five of them to huddle. “Get in!”

They all hesitated. He lifted the wand, and gave Brenner a long, rattling buzz of agony. That shocked them all into obedience.

They hoisted in Sierra’s limp body and clambered over it, huddling down into the truckbed among the towering stacks of boxes.

Five pairs of burning eyes stared back at him over the plastic-swathed corpse.

Mark slammed the door on them, closing them into pitch darkness.

Chapter 20

The drive back was excruciating. Noah had no one to blame but himself.

What the fuck was he thinking, calling Zade right in front of her? As if she were one of his group. As if she knew their secret history.

Noah was used to having people angry at him. He was a leader and it came with the territory. But with Caro, it made him feel like shit. And now she was going to watch them all watch the footage. Which was a brand new clusterfuck in the making.

He concentrated on the road, trying to ignore the furious silence and the angry colors that filled the dark car. She was pissed off, confused, scared. With good reason.

She spoke up as they got off the highway and sped through a strip mall business district. “You can let me out right now,” she said. “Anywhere around here is fine.”

He did an instant dive to counteract the surge of the combat program that flickered furiously to life on his inner screen. “We’re almost home,” he said.

“Noah.” Caro’s voice vibrated with fury. “I don’t know those men you called. Whatever’s on that flash drive is my business, not theirs. You’re being an asshole.”

He focused hard on the blue glow of the ice cave in his inner vision, keeping his breathing deep and slow, while trying to think of a way to explain himself that wouldn’t freak her out still more. There wasn’t one.

“You said you trusted me,” he said, finally.

“I did, before you started pushing me around.”

“Those men are brothers to me,” he said. “I trust them with my life.”

“Your life,” she said. “Not mine.”

“Too late, anyway,” he said. “They’re waiting for us there. It’s a done deal.”

Her angry colors surged and pulsed. “So this is Noah Gallagher, being on top,” she said. “Calling all the shots. Making all the hard decisions.”

The car sped up on the wet road. “I will take care of you, Caro.”

“I didn’t ask you to. And even if I had, you’re jerking me around. It’s not the same thing.”

There was no short answer to that, so he pretended not to hear as he braked in front of his gate and buzzed it open. “Time to meet my people,” he said he drove the car through. “Brace yourself.”

Two cars were parked at haphazard angles in front of his house. Noah cursed under his breath, and parked in the driveway. “Can’t believe I taught those lazy bastards to drive,” he grumbled.

He wanted to take her hand when she got out of the car, but she kept a haughty distance, staying a few steps ahead of him as they entered the house.

Sisko was the first person they saw, his long body sprawled all over one of his couches. “Caro, this is Sisko,” he said.

“I remember you,” Caro said to Sisko. “I saw you at Angel Enterprises.”

“Yeah, I was there.” Sisko stood up to greet her. His face was calm and his body appeared outwardly relaxed, but Noah was bare-eyed and could see the jagged spikes of emotion in Sisko’s sig. A complicated blend of excitement and dread.

“Where’s Zade?” Noah asked.

“Coffeeing up,” came a deep voice from behind them.

Caro turned, and gasped when she saw him.

“He’s one of mine,” Noah said swiftly. “It’s OK. This is Zade.”

“But . . . but I saw . . .” she faltered. “He was—”

“Sorry if I scared you,” Zade said. “Believe me, I’m harmless. To you, at least.”

“Why were you following me?” she demanded. “You were tailing me even before I even got the call from Noah’s sister! What the hell is going on?”

Zade’s eyes flicked to Noah in silent question. Noah shook his head slightly.

“I’ll explain,” Zade said. “Let’s see that footage, first.”

“Hell, no.” Caro looked wildly from one man to the other. “Not until I understand what’s going on.”

“Later,” Noah said.

“I need an explanation right now. Why the
fuck
was that guy following me?”

“We’ll get to that.” Noah kept his voice carefully even. “Calm down, Caro.”

“Noah, do you have to be such a colossal dickhead all the time? Seriously, don’t let him get away with it.” An amused feminine voice sounded from behind them.

Noah looked around, dismayed to see Hannah in jeans and a sweatshirt, her curly red hair twisted in a thick braid. She held a big white pastry box.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Who told you about this?”

“Sisko was at my place when he got Zade’s call.” She set the pastry box down. “Have a cruller,” she said to Noah. “Emergency fuel. And there’s a sandwich platter on the coffee table if you want protein.”

Noah ran his eyes over the pile of sandwiches and the pastry box. He’d been running AVP off and on the whole day, and the combat program beast was screaming to be fuele
d. But he
just couldn’t do it. Not while contemplating what could be on that flash drive. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Maybe later. You weren’t invited, Hannah.”

“I so totally do not give a fuck,” Hannah said. “You need to start including me. Especially if it’s something I’m interested in. Or working on. Or would just like to know about, goddamnit.”

“Excuse me. Why would my personal business be of any interest to you?” Caro demanded.

Hannah smiled at her. “What I mean is, no way would I miss a chance to check out my brother’s new girlfriend,” she said, gesturing toward the pastry box. “Care for a sugar hit?”

Caro shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Take off your coat, at least.” Hannah lifted Caro’s coat off and draped it over the back of a chair before sliding her arm through Caro’s and towing her gently across the room. “Come sit by me,” she urged. “All this testosterone creates static interference. Makes it hard to think.”

Sisko wandered over, grabbed a cinnamon pecan roll out of the box and ate it in a few purposeful bites, watching Hannah guide Caro to a couch and sit down next to her. His sister’s cheerful friendliness got a wan smile or two from Caro, but the smiles faded quickly.

While Caro was occupied with talking, Zade sidled over towards Noah.

“Dude,” he hissed under his breath. “What the fuck is she doing here? We can’t watch this thing with her. It’ll scare the living shit out of her. At best.”

Noah shrugged. “We have to,” he said simply. “She was the one who found it.”

“What are you planning to tell her about us?” Sisko said.

“Don’t know yet,” Noah said. “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

Sisko and Zade exchanged a startled glance.

Zade gulped the last of his coffee and wiped his mouth. “So play the goddamned thing already,” he said roughly. “I can’t stand waiting any more.”

Noah plugged the flash drive into a laptop connected to the flatscreen TV. A download box appeared on the blue screen. Noah selected it, and hesitated, looking at Caro.

Hannah had pressed a coffee cup into her hands, but when Caro met his eyes, she set the cup down on the lamp table and clasped her hands.

“Don’t look at me for permission,” she said. “You’ll do whatever the fuck you want anyway.”

He picked up a remote and hit Play.

* * *

Caro regretted the sweet, strong coffee that she’d sipped at Hannah’s insistence. It was making her stomach churn.

This scene felt wrong. Everyone in the room exuded a buzz of controlled excitement that made no sense. There was no reason for them to be here, or to care about this. If they were here only as a favor to Noah, their vibe would be more flat.

The video had begun. She’d worry about Noah’s people, as he called them, and their hidden agenda afterwards.

The video began. The concealed camera that took it had a fisheye lens which distorted the features of the man who peered into it. But it was clear that he was handsome. Buzzed dark hair, a strong nose and jaw, and keen eyes that looked intently into the lens as he adjusted the angle. She recognized him from the pictures that Tim had dug up of Luke Ryan. Behind him, another man, fortyish, talked loudly on a cell phone. He was heavyset and bearded.

A knock sounded. Luke’s hand reached back to touch a gun in a holster inside his coat. The bearded guy yelled, “Who is it?”

A muffled voice answered. Caro couldn’t make out the words.

“I’ll get the door,” Luke said. “Stay back.”

He opened the door to someone wearing a sweatshirt with a hood that shadowed his face. “Calliope banner ibex,” the man at the door said.

Some sort of code? Except that Luke didn’t react to it. The man at the door pushed back his hood.

It was Mark Olund

Grinning, he chucked Luke under the chin, then shoved him as if to test if he’d hold still. Luke Ryan remained motionless.

The bearded guy ended his call, belatedly alarmed. “What’s going on? Who the hell are you?”

Mark grabbed Luke, heaved him into the room and shut the door. At this angle, Caro could see Ryan’s tense face. He was struggling to breathe.

“Hey, Lukie,” Mark said. “Remember me?”

Caro didn’t understand what she saw but it was awful and sure to get worse.

The bearded guy’s voice was edged with panic. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Luke? Are you having a goddamn seizure? Who’s this guy? Do you know him?”

Luke’s eyes blazed with helpless fury. He seemed frozen. He dragged in tight breaths, fighting for air, but he was still on his feet.

Mark pushed him against a wall. He stayed there.

Then Mark lifted a gun from Luke’s holster with a latex gloved hand, and deftly screwed on a silencer.

The bearded guy’s eyes went wide with terror. He lunged for the door—