Scarlet (35 page)

Red glanced at the location with her peripheral vision. She recognized Roark's building from the files she'd seen at headquarters. He tossed a cloak over her head, hiding her face. Roark walked with his hand at her back, making it look like they were out for a casual stroll. No one would guess he was escorting a prisoner.

She wondered where Michael was. She'd never seen Roark without his assistant. Raphael had said he'd sensed something was wrong. "Where's your assistant, Travers?" she asked, as a couple of people passed them. They were dressed in suits and didn't pay attention to her or Roark. "I thought he always did your dirty work for you."

He leaned close to her ear. "If you're expecting help from him, you can forget about it. I know what he is. I've made sure he won't cause me any more problems."

Red stumbled and he jerked her upright. She debated whether or not to lie. but decided against it. She needed to find out what had happened to Michael for Raphael's sake.

"What have you done to him?" she asked.

"Nothing the filthy animal didn't deserve."

Red flinched. She had seen Michael's power. He'd frightened her more than any creature she'd encountered thus far. What could Roark have done to him—short of killing him—that could keep him down?

"He's been with you for a long time," she said. "Always doing your bidding and cleaning up your messes."

"You mean he's been spying on me for years," Roark ground out between clenched teeth.

"He's been loyal to you. More loyal than you deserve."

Roark snorted, then picked up his pace. Red trotted to keep up. "You don't know a thing about loyalty. Your mind is muddled from spending so much time around the creatures." So he didn't know about her yet. He thought she was a pureblood. Red tucked the information away. "You want to know the truth about Michael Travers? Well I'll tell you," he said, not waiting for her to answer. "He drinks people's blood. I saw it with my own eyes. It was disgusting. Inhuman. Vile. The man's a monster and I would've had him killed
long ago had I known."

"He's not the monster," Red said. "You are."

Roark's
elbow shot out, catching her just below the ribs. Red's breath rushed out in a whoosh as she doubled over. He jerked her upright as she gasped for air.

"Come on, my dear. You don't want to keep Morgan waiting." Roark pulled her through a side door that didn't seem to be in use. He walked her down a hall, then made an abrupt right-hand turn into a stairwell she hadn't seen. The stairs were dark and the air stank from disuse. He led her down at least four flights. Red kept count. The sound of their breathing muted suddenly.

Red wished she could knock on the walls to test their solidity. The stairs stopped abruptly. It was darker here, but Red had little trouble seeing. The hall was filled with discarded office items, some dating from the twenty-first century.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around. Few doors dotted the area and the ones that did appeared rusted shut.

“Your new home," he said cheerfully, yanking the cloak off her.

Red tried to break free, struggling in his grasp. He was stronger than he appeared. Roark tightened his grip until pain shot through her arm.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

"Harder for whom? I'm surprised you're willing to get your hands dirty," she said, trying to get him angry so he'd slip up.

"I made a mistake. I trusted an animal to do a man's job. If you want something done right, as the saying goes."

They reached the end of the hall and Roark raised his palm to the door. The panel didn't look like any Red had seen before, which meant it had probably been custom made for him. That would make using it later impossible. She'd have to break it when she made her escape.

The door opened, revealing a tiny room with a single cell against the far wall. Shadows crept in from all sides swallowing the contents. Red squinted. Then she saw the outline of a man. He groaned and her eyes widened. "Morgan?"

His head rose with effort and he stared at her, his amber eyes glowing in the dim light from the hallway. "Gina? Is it really you?"

"Yes, I'm here." Red tried to rush forward, but Roark held her back. The second she stepped over the threshold, the smell hit her and she gagged.

"Not so fast," he said. "You'll be joining him soon enough."

She spun to face Roark. "I can't believe you've had him all along. What have you done to him?"

"You'll see. While the world searches for the elusive fugitives, I'll know they're safe and sound in my prison." Roark walked her over to the cell and opened the door. It creaked on its hinges. He leaned down and grabbed an ankle shackle, clamping it on her. He undid her wrist bindings and quickly backed away before she could strike. "Enjoy your reunion. It shall be short-lived." Roark locked the cell and left the room without a backward glance.

Red turned to Morgan. His face was bruised and swollen, gaunt from lack of food and water. How long had it been since Roark had fed him? His clothes were soiled. She could see sores on his wrists. She tried to reach for him, but her fingers could only brush the tips of his.

"You shouldn't have come here," he said, through chapped, split lips.

Red glanced at the closed door. "I wasn't given much of a choice. He came after me in Nuria and brought the tactical team
with him."

"Your grandfather?"

"No, my grandfather wasn't allowed to come because of the conflict of interest. They'd posted my picture all over the viewers, claiming I was an accomplice and wanted for questioning
in your escape."

Morgan shook his head. "As you can see. I didn't get very far,"
he said, giving a painful laugh. "Not that I tried."

“Why didn't you shift? You could've at least healed your wounds so you could escape."

"He has the place under electronic surveillance. He vowed to broadcast the vid-clip if I shifted. It would play right into his plans to expose the Others. I couldn't do that. The whole is worth more than a single individual."

Red swallowed hard as the full import of their situation hit her. "Not to me." she whispered.

"Is Nuria okay?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her.

"It's safe for now. My grandfather had Rita broadcast my apprehension, so Roark couldn't massacre the town like he'd planned." Red choked on the name of her navcom.

Morgan's gaze sharpened, despite the pain he was in. "What happened?"

Red
shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm just being silly."

"Gina. tell me."

"Roark destroyed Rita. Stomped the life right out of her. I couldn't do anything but watch." She laughed to hide her sob.

His features softened. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know how much she meant to you. I'm sorry for everything."

"It's not your fault," she said quietly.

"Yes, it is. If I hadn't gone off after my family, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Roark was determined to get us one way or another. If this ploy hadn't worked, then he would've used another. I should've killed him when I had the chance." Something squished under her toes and she grimaced.

"We both should have," he said.

"Where's Michael?" she asked, hoping that he might still be around, despite Roark's claims.

Morgan shook his head and groaned. "I don't know exactly what's been done to him. I heard screams. It sounded like he was being tortured. Roark is carrying around some kind of device in his pocket that messes with an A.I. chip he's implanted in Michael's head."

"Oh, God, that must have been what Raphael sensed."

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to face her.

"Raphael came to me and said something was wrong with his brother. He was concerned, but there were more pressing things to take care of. He must have felt Michael's pain when Roark implanted the chip. I should've told him to go find out.'"

"It wouldn't have done any good. If anything, it would've gotten Raphael killed." He shifted and the chains holding him squeaked.

"Why?" she asked. "I don't think Michael would kill his own brother. Not after so many years apart."

"Roark claims he can control Michael's actions. If that's true, he wouldn't have a choice."

Red's eyes widened. "Pray that he's wrong." She tried to imagine Michael's power turned into a weapon. Red trembled at the thought.

"It could all be a lie. Like everything else," Morgan said.

"Or it could be the truth. In which case, Roark now controls the ultimate weapon."

chapter twenty-three

Raphael left the dissecting lab with the Catherine in tow. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do with her. It wasn't as if he could keep her here for long. Part of him knew he should kill her and be done with it, but he couldn't ignore the pull he felt toward her. He also couldn't ignore the fact that the woman had been drugged.

She might continue to be drugged if she returned to IPTT headquarters. Roark had gotten to her once, he could get to her again. He had no doubt Roark was behind the drugging. He was the only one ballsy enough to use a drug that had been outlawed. Raphael looked at Catherine. She was small, but far from defenseless. Yet even she wouldn't be able to resist the effects of influ-gas for long.

She's been lucky that he'd been able to detect it in her bloodstream. Had he not, he would have killed her instantly for what she'd done to Red. Even now, Raphael didn't know how deep she was into this conspiracy. But he would find out, no matter how many days it took to get her to
remember.

Raphael led her to the share space after collecting her weapon. He kept a firm grip on her because he didn't trust her to go quietly.

"Who are you? Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Back to the scene of the crime," he said, daring her to deny his claims. "You may call me Raphael."

He pushed against the back door and waited for it to open. Raphael stepped inside and listened. Other than the drone of the water pump, he couldn't hear anything.

"Come," he said, pulling her inside. He walked her up the stairs past Red's room to a door at the end of the hall. He hadn't stayed here in over a month. Hadn't wanted to once Red moved in. He pressed his palm to the scanner. A second later the door slid open, revealing a heavily shaded burgundy-colored room with a cleansing unit attached.

It felt good to get out of the sun. The salve he'd put on earlier was starting to wear off. He could already feel the blisters rising on his skin.

Raphael shoved Catherine onto the rest pad. "Stay," he said, shutting the door behind him. He blocked her view and quickly keyed in a code that would lock the door and prevent her from opening it. He turned back and crossed the room to the lone chair that sat against a small desk. Raphael pulled it out and slammed it onto the floor in the middle of the room. "Sit," he said.

"I'm not your synth-pet," she growled.

"I said sit!"

Catherine rose slowly from the rest pad, her eyes wary as she made her way to the chair. "What are you going to do?"

"Torture you." Raphael purposely let her think of the worst possible scenario. But there were many types of torture. Not all required pain. What he had in mind might hurt her pride but it wouldn't bruise her body. He reached into a drawer and pulled out several scarves he used when the mood struck him and the bed sport turned kinky. "I'm going to get answers. It would help if you cooperated, but it's not entirely necessary."