Текст книги "Hero"

Автор книги: Leighton Del Mia

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

31

The thicket of trees I’ve spent months longingly watching from my window looms ahead. I don’t look back. I don’t hesitate. My heart thuds at the same pace that my bare feet pound the manicured lawn.

If I can make it to the forest, I’ll be free. I’m still in New Rhone, and if my suspicions about my location are correct, the other side will put me within a couple miles of the city. Just on the other side there are people, cars, police, Hero. Everything that represents hope and life. The forest seems massive, but I’ll reach the end eventually. In this moment, I am free.

Once under the canopy of trees, I keep running. Energy and adrenaline feed my burning legs and lungs. My face is on fire, my breaths short and fast, but what circulates through my blood isn’t the mansion’s sour air, and that’s enough to drive me forward. The sash around my waist loosens, and my robe drapes off my shoulders. When it slips off, I don’t stop, too afraid to lose even seconds. I run until I’m jogging, and I jog until I’m speed walking. When I slow, panting, to a regular pace, the cuts on my soles announce themselves. The sun set soon after I left. My hands brush over my bare arms and tug at the hem of my nightgown. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone, but Calvin’s words won’t stop filtering through my mind.

“Fly until your wings fall off, until there's no more sky, but I will find you. I will always find you.”

I take it for what it is: an empty threat. Believing it helped me understand my situation, but I don’t need that any longer. Now I’m free. And in a forest this size, with the head start I have, he’ll never find me before I reach the end of it. Norman will take the brunt of Calvin’s anger, and as I walk, I pray quickly for his safety. But one thing has become painfully clear during my time in the mansion: only I can save myself. When I get home, I will never forget that.

I’m suddenly exhausted, but I walk until the soles of my feet burn and my legs give out. I find a shrub at the base of a large tree and curl into an unobtrusive ball behind it.

Above me, glowing white feathers shape themselves into an owl. Wide, yellow eyes disappear and reappear every few seconds. Tree branches stretch for me from their solid trunks, like they’re trying to snatch me. Dead leaves crunch and twigs snap under my body when I shift, the only noise aside from the curious owl’s hoots. I close my eyes.

Visions swirl around me as I float between sleep and wake: the blurry words of my favorite books, my reflection in Norman’s silver tray, Cal’s endlessly green eyes.

“Little Sparrow,” Calvin calls. “Don’t let me catch you. If you run, I will find you. I will always find you. Cataline. Cataline.”

I moan as my name rings in my ears. I’m shivering on the cold forest floor, and everything throbs, from my head to my throat to my legs and bare feet. I pretend Calvin’s warm fingers massage my numb arms instead of my own frozen ones.

I start and open my eyes when I realize someone is calling my name. It’s a man’s voice, but one I don’t recognize. Dread cuts through any remnants of sleep. If Calvin catches me, I know I’ll finally see what he’s capable of. I tell myself over and over that it’s impossible for him to find me, that the forest is too big. I’m terrified it might be him, but what shocks me is that I’m more terrified it won’t be.

Footsteps shuffle so close that I see glimpses of white tennis shoes through the shrubs. I close my eyes and silently recite a prayer for protection. As if that’s ever done me any good. My eyelids turn white under someone’s flashlight.

“Is she alive?”

“She fucking better be. Pretty sure dead won’t get us shit.”

“Touch her.”

A shoe nudges my ribs, and my eyes squeeze shut.

“She’s alive,” he says.

I blink my eyes open to a man squatting over me. “Am I dreaming?” I ask.

He laughs. “Are you Cataline?”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

He nods up at the other man and looks back at me. “Get up. You’re coming with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He grabs my arm and pulls. “Let go,” I yell.

“Come on, chiquita. Are you wearing a nightgown?” He shakes his head at the other man. “Beginning to see what the fuss is about.”

“What fuss?” I ask. I get to my feet because I have no other choice.

“Never mind. Apúrate. Walk.” As he speaks, his hand cups my backside and pushes me forward. He strides past me, glancing back. “I said walk.”

32
Calvin

I peel my gloves off and toss them in the passenger’s seat. Norman waits for me at the door where the house meets the garage. “How was your evening?” he asks as he follows me downstairs to the basement.

“Fairly uneventful. Cataline?”

“She was in the library last I saw, but she’s not been feeling well. I believe she went to bed.”

“Oh?” I step into the closet to undress. “What’s the problem?”

“The flu, perhaps. Not sure. Maybe even a fever.”

“Aren’t you monitoring her?”

“I took her temperature earlier and it was normal, but she felt warm.”

I leave my armor in a heap on the floor and pull on drawstring pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “When did you last see her?”

“Late this afternoon. Around six.”

“I’m going to check on her, and then we can debrief. Meet me in the study.”

“Very well.”

I stop by the kitchen for the wrapped sandwich waiting for me on the counter. I grab half and head for the library. Cataline isn’t there, so I turn to leave when I notice her slippers near the chair she usually sits in. I shove the rest of the sandwich in my mouth and jog up the stairs to her bedroom. The door is unlocked, so I step in and switch on the lights. When I see her empty bed untouched, my blood runs icy in my veins.

I call out for her. I enlist all of my senses, but her scent is faint, and the mansion is quiet. Norman comes running when I yell for him as I race through her room to check the bathroom and try her window. “Cataline’s not in here or the library. Where the fuck is she?”

Norman cocks his head and looks around the bedroom. “Don’t worry. She has to be somewhere.”

I scan his face a second and say, “She’s not here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” I say. “Where is she? Pull up the security footage.” Norman’s face is frozen in shock until I yell, “Now.” As he sprints away, I push the palms of both hands into my forehead. Think, think, think. Unfamiliar panic suffuses my system.

I enter the basement just as Norman is pulling up the video. “Here.” He points at the screen. “When Michael took out the trash, she fled through the back door.”

“What time was that?”

He looks up at me. “Right after I saw her.”

“It’s almost two in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rub my hands over my face and kick a steel cabinet. “Goddamn it. Goddamn it. How did this happen?”

“Master Parish, please. We’ll find her. She can’t have gotten that far on foot.”

“And if someone else finds her first?”

“You’re afraid she’ll give you up?”

My brain won’t register his question.

“If it’s the Cartel you’re worried about, how would they know where to find her?” he asks, shaking his head. “No, you’ll get to her first.”

“They’re looking for anything to use against me. Which direction did she go?” I ask.

He purses his lips. “The forest.”

33
Cataline

“Any idea why they want you?

“Who?” I ask.

“The Cartel.”

“The Cartel wants me?” I gulp through my chattering teeth but say, “I think you have the wrong person.”

“I sure as hell hope not. Doubt there are two girls running around the woods named Cataline. How’d you get out here?”

My brain works in overdrive, trying to connect the dots between Guy Fowler, Calvin, and the Riviera Cartel.

“Hey,” he says, “I asked you a question.”

I am oddly protective of my time at the mansion. Though part of me wants to spill every dark secret about the last few months, the thought of exposing Calvin and the truth to these guys keeps me quiet. “Leave me alone, asshole.”

He snorts and looks back at me. “Are your nipples that hard because you’re turned on?”

I instinctively cover my breasts. “No. It’s because I’m freezing. Maybe if you gave me your sweater, I’d believe you were trying to help me.”

“Then I’ll be cold.”

“Give it to her,” the other man says. “If she freezes to death . . .” He shrugs.

“Give her yours then.”

“No.”

I would shudder, but I’m already shaking, so I look at my swollen feet as they eat the forest floor. I’m trying to keep up, but the pain makes me limp. “I can’t walk anymore. Can we stop?”

“Sorry. The quicker we deliver you, the better.”

I frown. “I’m serious. I can’t walk another step.”

He sighs and stops because I do. Before I know what’s happening, he links an arm around my waist and hoists me to his side so I’m dangling by my stomach.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Said you couldn’t walk.”

He ignores my objections and continues on. I stop my squirming when I realize his body warmth is helping.

Any conversation the men have as we walk is in Spanish. My stomach is beginning to ache from the position I’m in when without warning, we come to an abrupt stop. I look up as best I can and see the lower half of a man’s body in front of us.

“Yeah?” someone asks. “What do you want?”

My heart stutters at Calvin’s voice. “You have something of mine.”

Images of what he’ll do to me for this flood my mind. “No,” I whisper.

“Put her down.”

I hit the ground hard and look up. Calvin is a black shadow, looming feet away in the moonlight. His gun is raised at the man who was holding me. There’s rage in every part of his body; it’s so extreme that it seems to radiate in waves of heat.

The man furthest from me gestures wildly. “Is this about the reward? ‘Cause we can make a deal for the girl—”

Calvin charges forward and shoves him to the ground. He puts the gun to the man’s head but looks at us when he asks, “Who sent you?”

“I-I don’t know, man.”

Calvin pulls the trigger. He charges for us next, and I’m screaming from the earsplitting gunshot but nothing is coming out. Even my vocal chords are frozen in fear. I cower, looking up at him from my hands and knees.

“See what you got yourself into?” Of all the anger he’s shown me, this rage is the hottest. “Do you have any idea what these guys want with you?”

My shoulders quake as sobs break from my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, bowing my forehead to the dead leaves underneath me.

“After they rape and torture you for fun, they’ll dump your half-dead body at the landfill. Is that what you want? Answer me, goddamn it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say brokenly, unable to lift my head.

The ground seems to vibrate with his bellowing voice. “Why the fuck am I out in the middle of the night saving you when I could be home in bed? When you don’t even want me here? I should let them have you.”

I’m bawling now, mashing my forehead into the dirt as saliva dribbles down my chin, mixing with salty tears.

“Man, we can split the money, no problem.”

Calvin raises his gun, and the guy’s hands fly up.

“Or you can have it all. Take her.”

“Who sent you?” Calvin asks.

“The Cartel.”

“Who specifically? Carlos Riviera?”

“I don’t know, swear to God. Some guy approached a group of us in the East Side a few hours ago. Said the girl’s in the woods, and there’s ten grand for whoever brings her back alive. Alls I know is he had Riv ink. Said just find her, then he’ll come to us.”

Calvin crouches next to me. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I choke out.

“I didn’t,” the guy says.

“I’m going to kill you either way. I’m just trying to decide if I should let her ass-fuck you with a tree branch first.”

“No,” I wail. “I don’t care. Just let me go. Leave me here. I promise, I won’t report either of you.”

Calvin scowls. “You’d freeze to death before you got anywhere.”

The cold click of a gun hammer registers somewhere in my fuzzy mind. I look up just as a shot rings through the air. I scream, my hands flying over my ears as Calvin jerks and falls next to me. It’s in slow motion that he looks down at the bullet in his shoulder and back at the man. Where relief should be in my heart is pure fear; not the fear Calvin inspires in me, but a base, guttural fear that he’s going to die. Another shot hits his chest, and the night is suddenly silent. Calvin’s cold eyes darken as he stands and brushes himself off. He advances without another moment’s hesitation.

Calvin catches the man by his shirt collar before he makes it two steps and slams him into the ground. I watch, broken screams trapped in my throat, as he hits him across the face. His blows come with sickening thuds, over and over. I’m too close; blood sprays into the air like fireworks each time Calvin’s fist smashes the man’s face. Eventually, his head falls back, and he goes limp. Calvin checks his pulse and after a moment, stands upright.

“No,” I whisper. Freedom dies before my eyes. I could taste it. I could feel it, but with each advancing step, Calvin slowly sucks it from me through the coldness in his glare. Blood covers the hand that reaches out for me. “No,” I shriek, crawling backward. “Don’t take me back there.”

Calvin’s hands grasp my hips to hoist me over his big shoulder. A delirious terror consumes me, and I fight him with everything I have as he walks us back the way I came. I beat his back with my fists, attempting to get to his chest, aiming for his bullet wounds, but he doesn’t slow. All I can do is hang from his body, screaming, kicking, and thrashing until eventually, everything mercifully fades to black.

* * *

I jolt back to life when a door slams. I’m weightless, supported by strong arms as the mansion forms around me. My cheek is against a bare shoulder, and Calvin’s smell invades my world. I’m swimming in a dark, long-sleeved shirt. Memories flood me faster than I can keep up as we cross the foyer.

My fight is gone. It’s better that way. It’s apparent now that I will lose. I will always lose. My tangible escape is dust in my hands.

Calvin is barking orders, and familiar Norman rushes around the corner to meet us. “Oh, you poor child,” he says.

“She’s been in a fucking nightgown for half the night.”

Even Calvin’s warmth hasn’t lessened my shivering, which comes with some numbness and a dull headache.

In my room, Calvin sets me on my feet next to the bed, and I instantly yelp, clinging to him to hold myself up.

“What is it?” He picks me up again and seats me on the bed’s edge. Crouching down, he takes my ankle to look at the sole of one foot. “Jesus Christ, Cataline. Running around in the woods with no shoes? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t care,” I say through chattering teeth. “I’m cold.”

“This needs to be tended to,” he says. He turns his head over his shoulder. “Don’t just stand there, Norman. Get your things.”

Norman jumps as though broken from a trance and disappears from the room. Being alone with him, a Calvin whose rage I cannot fathom, my lips automatically recite a breathy prayer. I’ve disobeyed in the worst way, and all I can think is that he’ll kill me for this.

“You need to calm down,” Calvin says as he studies my feet. I pull his shirt closer around me, watching his brows furrow.

When Norman reappears and I exhale with relief, Calvin glances up at me. He accepts a cotton ball from Norman and brushes it over my soles, all the while muttering to himself. Even though his grip on my ankle is strong, he cleans me carefully. With tweezers, he pinches at my skin, removing all the things embedded there. I grit my teeth against the stinging, holding the pain inside. His eyes flash up to mine when he’s finished, and he spreads gooey Neosporin over my skin. “Brave girl,” he says.

I open my mouth for Norman to take my temperature. They clean up, putting medical supplies back into what looks like a toolbox. Norman plucks the thermometer out and announces that my temperature is high.

“Give her something,” Calvin says, lifting me from the bedspread. After dragging back the covers, he inserts me between the sheets. I can only watch his face sharpen with determination as he tucks me in.

I take two pills from Norman and swallow them gratefully with a full glass of water. “Thank you, Norman,” I say.

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

“What?” I gasp. “No. Please.” I fix pleading eyes on him, ignoring Calvin’s glare. “You can’t leave us alone.”

Norman looks uneasily at Calvin.

“He’ll hurt me,” I whisper. “He’ll hurt me for running. You don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Calvin says. “Turn off the lights on your way out, Norman.”

“Master, she’s not well enough—”

“Out.”

With a comforting smile in my direction, Norman dims the lights. He exits the room, closing the door behind him. When I look back at Calvin, he’s standing next to the bed, untying the drawstring of his pants.

“Oh, God. No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “I c-c-can’t, Calvin, please, don’t make me.”

“Cataline—”

My face buries in my icy hands. “I’m so sorry I ran. I promise I won’t do it again. I’m so cold.”

“Sparrow, shut up and take off your shirt.”

I do as I’m told, inhaling erratically and pulling my arms through the sleeves slowly.

“Your nightgown too,” he says, followed by a deep sigh. As soon as I discard it on the floor, the sheets lift. Calvin’s naked body melds around mine from behind.

He hushes me as I pry at his arms in vain. “You’re still shivering. Let me warm you.” Distrust screams in my head, but my body sinks deeper into him.

“You killed them,” I say against the pillow. “And they shot you. You should be dead.”

“Quiet. Go to sleep.”

His embrace thaws me quickly. I stop fighting and let warmth replace the fear I should have of being wrapped in the arms of my enemy.

34
Calvin

Cataline continues to shake, even after she falls asleep. Or maybe I’m the one shaking. I’m holding her tightly. Too tightly. I force myself to loosen my grip.

A man’s eyes the moment before he dies—that’s true fear. Cataline had that look tonight, but it wasn’t for those men. It was for me. She thought I was going to hurt her for running and hurt her bad. Maybe kill her.

The security tape shows she never hesitated before fleeing. It was without a look back that she left the mansion. And me. While she’ll take any risk to get away from me, including freezing to death, I’m finding it more and more impossible to let her go.

I look down at the girl in my arms and wonder how, after these past few days, I can ever let her out of my sight. Her breathing has evened and her hair, unruly as ever, covers half her face. I brush it off her cheek and touch her forehead with the back of my hand. I ease away to give her space. Instantly she makes a noise and backs deeper into me.

“Fuck it,” I mutter under my breath and wrap her in my arms. Jasmine is the only thing on my mind as I inhale it from her hair and fall asleep.

* * *

Because of the dimmed lights, the room glows ethereal when I open my eyes again. Cataline’s still secure in my arms, her back sweaty and stuck to my front. Her ass moves against me in a soft, small gyration. It happens twice more, so I lift my head from the pillow. “Are you all right?”

She doesn’t respond, but opens her eyes and turns just her face to me. Her eyes are dark, sleepy blue as she looks at me almost longingly. Without thinking, I lean in until our mouths are an inch apart. When she doesn’t push me away, I press my lips to hers.

She sighs a contented, girlish moan that sends my hand up the smooth skin of her stomach. She backs even closer to me, opening her mouth to let me in. It’s warm and silky. Reminds me of how it feels to be buried inside her.

Her ass pushes into me again, more deliberate this time. I groan and deepen the kiss, taking her breast and squeezing it hard. My hand skates up to the base of her neck to pull her even closer.

I coax her shoulder so she falls onto her back, then roll on top of her without disconnecting. Her legs surrounded me instantly, and we grind against each other. She pushes her head back into the pillow, exposing a long neck that I’m unable to taste fast enough.

My dick slides under the elastic of her mesh panties, fucking between coarse fabric and the smooth hollow created by her hipbone. One hand tangles in her hair and pulls. I hover over her lips, pulsing against her lower stomach, pre-cum sticking to her skin and underwear. My kiss is aggressive, sucking need and want off her tongue before giving it right back to her. I find each of her hands with mine and lace our fingers, raising them above her head and pinning her to the mattress.

My cock is hungry, searching for her pussy with the same fiery urgency as my kiss. Her hands squeeze mine powerfully and her body writhes as I press into her wetness. “Relax,” I say.

“I can’t.”

“You can. Just let go.”

It takes a moment, but I’m patient as her thigh muscles relax, and her grip lessens. Her body slowly melts into the mattress.

“That’s it, baby,” I whisper. She gasps as I inch into her. “That’s good.”

“Calvin,” she says against my lips. “I like having you here, somewhere no one else has been.”

I grunt, my dick throbbing at her unexpectedly arousing words. I begin to slide in and out, willing myself to keep an even rhythm.

“You’re like a part of me now,” she sighs, her mouth still close to mine.

“Keep talking, Sparrow,” I say between thrusts.

Her voice is soft, barely audible. “What it’s like to have you inside, it-it’s—” She squeaks when I plunge deep. “You make me real. When you breathe into me, when you’re inside me, expanding, coming, you make me real.”

I run a thumb over her knuckles. “You make yourself real, Cataline.”

“No. I wasn’t real until I felt you inside me.”

Her words sink into me, dragging my heart down with them. I’m her own personal monster, but tonight, admitting it to myself for the first time, I want to be her hero. I want to plant myself inside her and expand like she said until we’re both real, until we’re both the same. Her moans become more insistent, threaded with tiny wisps of breath. I watch with fascination as she inhales sharply, sucking in her entire bottom lip with her teeth.

I release her hands, anchor her hips to me, and flip us over so she’s straddling me. She stills completely, a lost but endearing look on her face. When I thrust up into her, she cries out, arching her back so her long hair falls over her shoulders. It sways each time I bounce her, and her eyes fasten up on the ceiling, her breasts beckoning me. I reach up and wrap my hands easily around her slim throat, running my thumbs up the underside of her jaw. I pull her face down to mine, rake my hands into her hair, lick the sweat trickling down the side of her temple.

With her small body in my big hands, I hold her fate. I have complete control over her, the power to do anything I want. I keep fucking her, pushing up into her, making her mine, and fearing that life will never be the same after this moment.

She comes, her pussy gripping my cock over and over, her mouth right at my ear, telling me through her moans how it feels. I let go of her head and dig my fingers into her hips as she braces her hands against my pecs. I give it to her lightning fast and with everything I have, thrusting so hard I almost send her over the side of the bed. My hands secure her to me though, and when I erupt, it’s with a hoarse growl from my chest.

Everything is pulsing: my hips slowly up and down as I finish coming, our bodies with deep breaths, our silhouetted, connected shadow that low lights cast on the wall. She tucks her elbows into herself and curls up on my chest. My arms surround her, one fastening her head in the crook of my neck and the other around her waist. I drift, still deep inside her and holding her close.

* * *

I’m awoken by a burning in the left side of my body where the bullets are buried. Cataline is still wilted against me. Last night she looked up from her hands and knees with pure, authentic fear in her eyes, but hours ago, she gave herself to me.

She sighs deeply, blinking at me with confusion in the new morning. I search her eyes for that fear, but I get an enormous, blinding smile instead. It’s like a hammer to the chest. I’ve seen her from afar smiling that way for other people, but never for me.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Fine,” she rasps and touches her throat. “I’m a little sore, but that’s all. I guess there was no fever after all.”

I smile and run my palm over her hair. “Good.”

“You slept with me.”

“You were shivering.”

Her eyebrows rise slowly, and she giggles. “I warmed up quickly.”

“Yes, you did.”

Her laughter fades. “You’re hurt. They shot you.”

“I was wearing a bulletproof vest.”

“But—”

“See for yourself,” I say.

She draws back to examine my chest with a feather-light touch. There’s minimal bruising and marring where the wound is mostly closed. She lowers her cheek to my pec and rubs against it. “I guess I was a little delirious.”

“A little? Your screams cleared the forest of wildlife.”

“I thought I’d escaped,” she says after a moment of silence. “I have so many questions, Calvin . . .”

Tension tightens my muscles. She removes her cheek, but I quickly blink away before she can make eye contact. “Don’t mistake my lack of punishment for yesterday’s mess as letting it go. You defied me, and like I warned, almost got yourself killed. Once again, I was there, coming to your rescue.”

Fuck. Before I can cover my statement, her eyebrows meet in the middle. “Once again? When have you ever come to my—”

“Cataline,” I say, heavy with caution. “What have I told you about questions?”

“But, last night—”

“No,” I cut her off. “Our arrangement remains the same. You behave, and we can keep things civil. Where in that do you think you get to do as you please?”

She’s forced to peel herself from me as I rise off the bed. “I’ll send Norman up to check your temperature.”

“Where are you going?” she asks as I pull on my pants.

“Where do you think? Work. If you’re going to risk a question, at least make sure it’s worth it.”

I just catch her surprised expression before I leave the room.

The adrenaline current she’s inspired serves to dull the pain in my shoulder. Norman is waiting for me outside the office with his toolbox of medical supplies. “Master Parish, we must remove those bullets.”

“Why do you think I’m here? And get Carter.”

“Yes, sir.”

I focus on my anger as Norman makes the call and then as he prepares his supplies.

“How is she?”

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “Fine.”

“I trust she had a good night’s sleep? Rest is crucial for her full recovery.”

“You’ve made your concerns clear, Norman, but let me remind you of your place. You can help by checking on her when you’re finished here, and reporting her condition to me every few hours until I return tonight. That’s it.”

“Yes, sir. Anesthesia?”

“No. It only slows me down.” I recline against the back of the chair while he coats my shoulder with iodine.

“The reward for information has gone up. Police Chief Strong is once again calling for your surrender.”

“Over my dead body.”

“So you keep reminding me. Just please be careful. The reward is considerable, and these are desperate times. Perhaps consider lying low for a bit.”

“You know I can’t. Come in,” I call when there’s a knock at the door.

The only man in the house bigger than me enters and comes directly to the middle of the room. I’ve considered sharing my injections with Carter because together, we’d make a powerful duo. But I’ve never truly entertained the thought. “Carter,” I say with a nod. “What happened?”

“There’s no excuse.”

“You have one job. Secure the premises. Nobody comes, nobody goes, without my permission. How the fuck did the girl walk right off the property? And on top of that,” I glance up at Norman, “she’s gone for hours without anyone noticing?”

“This is a big property, sir. I could use a second pair of eyes.”

“I’ve told you before, there’s no one else. As it is, too many people know too much. Everyone on this staff is paid handsomely for their services and their discretion.” I pause, gritting my teeth as Norman makes his incision, slicing the scalpel deeply and quickly. “I can’t bring anyone else on board without knowing their allegiances are impenetrable.”

“You’re right. It won’t happen again.”

I push myself out of the chair with some effort.

“Sir, your wound—”

The burning in my shoulder is acute, but I ignore Norman and walk to meet Carter so we’re standing face to face. “When I hired you, you were at the top of your field. Is that no longer the case?”

“No, sir.”

“Because replacing you is a project I don’t have time to take on. And you know too much for me to just let you go. Understand?”

He swallows but holds my gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“If I can’t trust you, we have a problem.”

“You can, sir.”

“Don’t let this happen again. You’re dismissed.”

I turn my back to him and by the time I’m reseated, he’s gone. I grip the arms of the chair as Norman tears the skin open wider to extract the bullets.