Scarlet (25 page)

Red waited for her gun to reappear. It didn't. After a moment, she turned to her other escort. "Where is my laser pistol?" she asked.

"No civilians are allowed to be armed inside headquarters. You'll get it back when you leave."

Her heart sank. Of course, she'd forgotten once again that she was considered a civilian here. Red nodded to the man and proceeded forward. Steel desks filled the area, along with compunits. A few officers looked up when she neared, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her presence.

She didn't see Bannon—thank goodness. Red wasn't in the mood for a confrontation. The last thing she needed was to be charged with assault
again.
She followed her two escorts toward the back of the room, where a long hallway led to her grandfather's office. Red slowed when she found her-self hurrying. She couldn't wait to see him. It had been too long.

The men stopped outside the wooden door that marked the commander's office. Red stepped forward and ran her hand over the smooth surface, while a camera popped out of the door and scanned one of her escort's eyes. The door clicked a second later, indicating that the lock had been disengaged.

"Come in," Robert Santiago said, his voice strong and commanding.

One of the men opened the door, while the other held her back. "Sir, you have a visitor," he said.

Red could see the bookshelves that held rare volumes made of paper and bindings. From here, she could even smell the tomes. Holographic pictures of extinct animals hung on the walls in an explosion of color and life. A knot formed in her throat at the sight. She loved this room. Loved the way it made her feel. Loved that it represented her grandfather's Old World charm.

"Who is it?" the commander asked.

"It's me, Commander," Red said.

"Gina?"

She looked down at the hand that had held her back and raised an eyebrow. The man stepped aside and allowed her to enter. Her grandfather had risen from behind his desk. His own eyes sparkled as he smiled. Red waited for her two escorts to leave and the door to close before she rushed past the burgundy monstrosity of a chair and into her grandfather's open arms.

"I've missed you so much," she said, fighting back tears that flowed despite her valiant effort.

"Here now." Robert Santiago said, patting her on the back. "Everything will be all right."

Red sniffled, wiping at her face. "No it won't, Grandpa. I'm in big trouble and I don't know how I'm going to get out of it."

chapter seventeen

Morgan kept the list of employees who were supposed to be working in 47F. So far he'd been unable to locate a single scientist. He'd systematically gone through the list, searching in the computers and in the facility for the individuals tied to the project. Every name he'd investigated didn't appear to exist. He was down to the last name on the list, a Dr. Finley. If Morgan couldn't locate this researcher, then that would end his search. He'd know for sure that none of the people were here at the lab. And never had been. His wolf shifted restlessly, sensing danger.

But why create a fake project and assign false names to front it? Morgan pinched the bridge of his nose and winced as his second headache in as many days took up residence behind his eyes. He'd risked so much coming here. The thought of failing was unthinkable. But if the project didn't exist and the workers weren't real, then why advertise the two new clones? What was he missing?

Morgan felt like the truth was staring him in the face and he just couldn't see past the images of Sarah and Joshua. He could hear their laughter like it was yesterday. Unfortunately, he could also hear their cries of terror. No, he hadn't been there when the bomb hit his home, but he'd been in enough similar circumstances to have witnessed the aftereffects.

He glanced down at his watch. His break was nearly over. Morgan had one more place he planned to check, then he'd turn in his resignation and head back to Nuria. Back to Gina. He'd seen metal crates being unloaded in bay 32. They were probably nothing, but it wouldn't hurt to check. Afterward, he'd head over to the Eye of God and ask about Dr. Finley. Someone had to know him.

Morgan picked up the pace, his booted feet slapping the concrete floor as a strange urgency gripped him. He was fifteen feet from the door that led into bay 32, when he smelled something. Something familiar. Before he could place the odor, a blast blew him into the air and down the hall. Morgan's head and back smacked the floor at the same time and he saw stars floating in front of his eyes.

A wave of scorching heat followed the blast. Morgan tried to put his hands up to protect his head, but he was having trouble moving. The cacophonous sound came next, thundering in his cranium, rattling his spinal column.

He looked up in time to see two people running out the door. They were on fire, their skin melting in waxy drips onto the floor. They were screaming. At least he thought they were screaming. The blood rushing through his veins was deafening, and the sound of the blast had taken care of the rest of his hearing. It would be an hour at least before he'd hear properly.

Morgan forced himself to sit up. It took a lot of effort. His arms didn't want to cooperate. He scooted, using one leg to get over to the wall, then used it for leverage to stand. It hurt to breathe. Black smoke billowed out of the gaping hole where the door to bay 32 once stood. Morgan limped to the opening and tried to see inside. It was impossible. The thick angry cloud swallowed everything around it. If anyone was left inside, they were as good as dead.

A commotion started behind him. Sensing it, Morgan turned, expecting to see the sweepers. Instead, he saw Roark Montgomery pointing directly at him.

"Arrest that man," he shouted over the chaos.

Pete and another man he'd passed during rounds stepped forward and grabbed him.

"What's going on?" Morgan said, struggling to break out of their grip.

Pete refused to meet his eyes, and his young face remained downcast and flushed. "Don't make this any harder than it already is," he whispered.

They slipped restraints on Morgan's wrists and brought him forward to face Roark. The man was smiling. Morgan had the sudden urge to kick his teeth down his throat.

"What am I being arrested for?"

Roark smirked. "Why, sabotage, of course."

"Sabotage?" Morgan snorted. "You're out of your mind. I didn't sabotage anything. I was walking toward the room when a bomb went off."

"That's for the Republic of New Mexico to decide. Put him in the transport."

Morgan was half dragged and half carried outside before being shoved into Roark's awaiting transport. He grunted as he hit the floor. "This isn't right, Pete, and you know it. I didn't blow anything up."

Pete looked around to make sure Roark wasn't near enough to hear. "Then what were you doing over there?"

"Looking for Dr. Finley."

"Who's that?" Pete asked.

"Someone who's supposed to be part of the cloning operation, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't exist. And now I know why." Morgan let his head fall back against the hard transport floor. He'd been so stupid. The whole thing had been staged. Sarah and Joshua had never been up for cloning. It was a ruse. A ruse to get him to leave Nuria. To leave Gina. And it had worked. Pain blossomed in his chest as he realized how vulnerable she was all alone. If anything happened to her, he'd never forgive himself.

Roark came walking up with the man who'd interviewed Morgan upon his arrival. From the familiar way they were talking, leaving no doubt they'd known each other for a while. Pete glanced at both men, then focused on the gates of the complex and frowned. "Shouldn't we call the authorities?" he asked, looking like the wide-eyed innocent he was.

"Leave that to me," Roark said.

"But it's procedure when anything happens here at the lab." He pulled out a small screen and pressed a button. "See." Pete held the screen up to their faces. "It's under section fifteen."

Morgan saw the look exchanged between Roark and the man he'd been talking to when he walked up. Fear shook him. If Pete didn't stop this line of questioning his life would be in danger. Maybe it was already too late.

"Roark's planning to take me straight to the detention center in Taos. Isn't that right, Montgomery?" Morgan glared at the politician.

"Of course. Where else would I be taking you?" he said, eyeing the young guard contemptuously.

Pete looked back at Morgan as if he wasn't sure whom to believe. Morgan gave him a brisk nod. "Thanks for everything, Pete. It was nice working with you. Please tell the Eye of God it was fun while it lasted."

"You sure?" Pete asked, clearly torn.

"Yeah, you better get back inside where Coleman can
see
you."

Pete's eyes widened as the warning Morgan sent him finally sank in. "Right." He nodded. "Good luck," he said, then sprinted back to the building before the man with Roark could stop him.

"You were so easy," Roark said. "I'm really surprised you came running when you saw those old vid-clips of your dead wife and child. Did you really think they were going to be cloned?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be here." Morgan rolled until he could sit up. "I do have one question for you."

"What's that?"

"What did you hope to gain?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Roark asked.

Morgan shook his head. "No, it's not." He'd thought of many possible outcomes, but none seemed worth the trouble Roark had gone to this time.

Roark smiled and the act chilled Morgan to the bone. It was the first time he nearly broke eye contact with another man. "The destruction of the two people who've caused me more trouble than either of you is worth."

"What have you done to Gina?"

Roark laughed. "Nothing.
Yet."

"What in the hell does that mean?" Morgan nearly choked on his anger.

"Let's just say I've been keeping her busy while I chip away at her impending career. I daresay she probably won't be accepted by the Nurian sheriff's department or the new tactical team. Unless of course, you make a habit of hiring murderers."

Morgan flinched. What had Roark been doing to Gina while he'd been here chasing the past? He could only imagine what she'd had to endure. Yet she'd said nothing. And he'd only made it harder by leaving her.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, wondering if Roark would give him a straight answer.

"Someplace that will have you begging for death before I'm through." Roark turned to the man who'd escorted him out. "Give me," he glanced at his watch, "a two-hour head start, then make the announcement."

The man nodded and smirked at Morgan. "I'll be here if you need any help," he said with unbridled glee.

Roark turned back to Morgan. "Settle in. We have a long ride ahead of us," he said, then shut the door in Morgan's face.

*    *    *

Red sat in the burgundy velvet chair that was so big she could swing her legs beneath her. It had taken an hour, but she'd finally stopped crying. Her grandfather's shirt was wrinkled where she'd been gripping it, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd ordered a new pair of boots to be brought to her and now sat back behind his desk, worry clearly written on his weathered face.

"Now tell me what has you so upset?" he asked.

"You haven't heard?" Red looked up in surprise.

"Heard what?" he said, then leaned forward.

This was worse than she thought. Red hated to be the one to break the bad news to her grandfather. "I don't know where to begin."

He smiled. "I've always found the beginning to be a nice place to start." Robert Santiago winked at her.

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry about everything. I tried. I tried so hard to fit into Nuria. But my best was never good enough."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think," he said softly.

Red's gaze met his. "No, it's worse. You already know about the complaint filed against me for brutality."

Her grandfather sobered. "Yes, that's a very serious charge." His vidcom beeped. He pressed a button. "Hold all my calls," he said.

She waited for him to disconnect, then continued. "I didn't do it. I know I'm being set up."

"Roark?" The name came out like a curse.

"Yes, who else? He's had it out for me ever since I shot him

He grimaced. "Have you found any proof since we last spoke?" He pushed synth-papers around, straightening already neat piles.

Red knew he needed something to do with his hands. She gripped the arms of the chair and pushed herself up, tucking a leg beneath her. "None. It's just a gut feeling. The whole situation smells like a professional job."