Choices (6 page)

“I don’t know.”

She knew retaliation would be fast and probably painful. Darwin didn’t disappoint.

He grabbed her and yanked her out of the chair, slammed her into the wall with the weight of his body.

“Where is he?” Maura ignored the heavy, frantic beat of her heart, said nothing. When Darwin tangled his fingers in her hair, she waited for the pain. Instead he leaned in, whispered against her cheek. “By the time I’m done with you I’ll know who the traitors are, where they’re hiding. Start talking now and I won’t hurt you. Much.”

She looked at him, knew he meant every word. Swallowing, she sealed her own fate.

“I have nothing to say.”

With a furious shout he slapped her—so hard she rebounded off the wall. Fear slicked through her. Real, helpless fear, along with the certainty that she wasn’t getting out of this in one piece. Darwin closed his hand into a fist and she braced herself for more pain.

“Captain.”

He pushed off her, left her clutching the wall to stay upright. Every inch felt battered. She took in a shaky breath, terrified by the understanding that he was only just getting started. She didn’t know if she could endure much more. Studying her, fury like heat lightning in the icy eyes, Darwin smoothed his hair, stepped back and turned on the offending voice.

“What part of ‘don’t bother me’ did you miss?”

To his credit, the officer hardly flinched.

“We searched the Lieutenant’s quarters as you requested, sir. And found something, sir.”

He produced her battered leather bag, quickly followed by her research notebook.

Darwin swung around before she could even move, leading with his fist. The blow spun her, knocked her into the wall. She fought for breath as fingers dug into her arm and jerked her around.

“Wolf’ll come after you―I’ll make sure of it.” Darwin gripped her chin, forced her to meet his eyes. She shuddered under the arctic glare. “And when he does, you’re both gonna die.”

* * *

M
aura wasted what was left of her strength trying to stay upright as Darwin dragged her through wide halls, down endless stairs, stopping finally at the tiny, icebox cell. He shoved her inside, waited for her to fall before he slammed the door. His round face appeared in the observation window.

“Enjoy your stay.”

He slid the metal plate across the window and left her in darkness.

She crawled forward, flinching in anticipation of impact. Cold steel caught her outstretched hand. After confirming it was a bed of some sort, she inched her way up, using the frame to support her, and lowered herself to the thin mattress. Icy-damp air burned her lacerated cheek, the ache bone deep. She hauled her throbbing leg up to the bed, hunched over it as the aftershock of Darwin’s interrogation smacked her into sudden, trembling exhaustion. His words dragged at her heart, tortured her.

She had no way to warn John.

And this time she wouldn’t survive the blame if he died because of her.

* * *

M
ore footsteps yanked Maura out of pain-chased sleep. She bolted upright, heart leaping into fast forward. Darwin had returned several times over the last countless hours―after the first go-round, he left the sliding plate in her cell door open, so she could hear the approach, wait with dread for his appearance.

Damn him to hell, it worked. The stocky man’s switch and bait kept her in perpetual confusion, not knowing if the raised hand would slap or caress. His escalating anger pummeled her courage into a small lump of helplessness.

She still refused to tell him anything.

After his last session drove her to the edge of her strength, left her terrified by his brutality, she promised herself she would find a way out. And she made a desperate plan.

Darwin had confiscated her watch, but she knew she’d already missed her second window by the time he dragged her here. Only instinct told her that she had one chance left. If she didn’t do this now, she would be trapped here. And John would die, along with anyone else who helped her.

Once more she dragged herself to her feet, makeshift weapon in her left hand, pressed against her leg, its mate in her pocket.

The door swung inward, revealed one of the young AO rookies Darwin used to hold her during his questioning. Maura didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

“Miss, I need you to come with me.”

“Where―” Hours in the cold cell had scraped her throat raw. She swallowed, tried again. “Where are you taking me?”

“Above. The Captain is waiting on us.”

Darwin was going to try and trap John—using her as bait. He threatened her with it several times during his interrogations. Anger strengthened her resolve.

I owe John my life. I won’t let them have him.

“Please, miss.”

“If you could help me―my leg hurts so much―” She tried to make her voice as pathetic as possible.

Pity spread across the young man’s face. He walked forward, one hand outstretched. “Please allow me.”

Maura faked a stumble, caught his arm with her right hand—and drove the flat heel of her shoe against the back of his head.

He dropped to his hands and knees, stunned. She moved in, left arm raised.

“I’m really sorry.”

The second blow knocked him to the floor. Maura bent over him, checked for a pulse. It beat under her fingers, slow but steady. Relief eased her guilt.

Step one.

She peered around the door. The wide corridor was empty.

Weapon still in hand, she limped away from the stairs. Somewhere, she knew, there was another exit. She’d heard the others mention it. When she reached the intersection she hugged the wall, listened for any movement. Hearing nothing, she slipped around the corner, the stone paving cold on her bare feet. Another wide, endless corridor greeted her.

She could have cried.

Come on, you made it this far.

And if Darwin finds you first you’re dead.

She stayed close to the wall, needing the support it offered. Her right leg burned, punished her with every step. Dread shot through her when she realized she wouldn’t be able to run from any potential captor.

Just keep going―

Voices echoed behind her, footsteps like the sharp, eager bark of hunting hounds. Maura stepped up her pace. Her leg screamed at her.

She fell, managed to get to her feet. Blood soaked through her pants, smeared the wall, marked her passage. She kept moving.

Another corridor approached. She turned the corner, met blank, endless walls. Kept moving.

The footsteps were closer, sniffing at her heels.

She needed to rest. Just for a minute . . .

NO!

The mental shout smacked her. Maura found herself halfway to the floor. With a wrenching sob she jerked herself up, crabbed along the wall.

Swift footsteps echoed, right behind her. She spun, weapon still in her hand, aiming up toward her attacker’s face―

Scarred fingers caught her wrist.

“Maura.”

“John―oh, God, what are you doing here―they’ll kill you―”

He kissed her. Maura twisted shaking fingers into the front of his uniform, terrified and relieved.

“Keeping my promise.” Exhaustion shadowed his eyes. He scanned every inch of her face; rage flared through the exhaustion when he saw her left cheek. “That son of a bitch. How is your leg?”

“Screaming.”

He eased the warped shoe out of her grip. “You used this on the cadet in your cell?”

Guilt clutched her stomach. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

“You must have surprised the hell out of him.”

“John—”

“He was already coming around when I reached your cell.” He slipped the shoe into the pocket of his leather trench, then lifted her and strode back down the corridor. “Which is why I need to get you out of here—”

“What the hell do you mean you can’t find him?” Darwin’s harsh voice bounced off the walls, just ahead of them. He sounded furious.

John spun around and ducked into a nearly invisible niche, followed the narrow spiral to its end. A single light hung from the ceiling, pale and flickering. Gently, he lowered her to the floor, wrapped her in the warmth of his coat, whispered against her hair.

“Stay still.”

She nodded. His arm tightened around her.

“No more sorry excuses, do you hear me?” The too-familiar, grating voice slapped her, so close that if she didn’t know different she’d swear he stood right behind her. Curving like the delicate shell of the ear, the passage captured every sound, every breath, carried it to them. “I want Wolf dead―do you understand? I want that lying, scheming bastard to join the traitors who tried to cover his back. Now go find him.”

God, no—

John stilled against her. After an endless moment he carefully, deliberately settled her against the wall and retreated, out of reach. She flinched at the indifference that shuttered his face.

When the voices faded, she stepped to him, relieved as he met her searching gaze. The light that had always shone in the depths of his eyes, cast them vivid, was gone.

The emptiness that replaced it scared the hell out of her.

Without a word he picked her up, walked out of the spiral and turned into a narrow, unlit corridor with an equally narrow door at its end. Setting her next to the cement wall, he pulled his weapon free, reached for the steel latch and yanked the door open.

Only rain waited on the other side, the same grey, cold downpour, lashed by an ugly wind. He stood in the doorway, motionless. Maura pushed through her dread, touched the scarred hand.

“John, I’m―”

Before she could finish he grabbed her, his weight pressing her against the icy cement.

“No more.” His gaze trapped her, cold, lifeless, more frightening than his flashfire temper. “They believed, trusted—and now they are dead because of that trust. Because of me―”

He cut himself off. The indifference cracked for a moment, revealed a black abyss of grief behind the mask. That glimpse gave Maura the courage to speak.

“They believe in you, John, because you are a good man.”

“I am a murderer, Maura.” Rage cut through his voice, scored her with every word. It took all the control she had not to recoil. “Never delude yourself into thinking I am anything less.” He stared at her, stared through her. “Stop it.”

“What?” She could barely squeeze the word out of her throat.

“Stop looking at me as if I am deserving of your care.”

“John―”

“Not another word.” He raised his arm; she flinched. For the first time a smile broke across his face. A grim, ugly smile. He leaned in, showed her the digital readout on his wrist. “You are running out of time.”

It was 12:30.

* * *

“
W
hat is that?” Maura yelled above the keening wind. John ignored her question as he fought through what felt like a hurricane level storm. His arms trapped her in the folds of the leather trench he’d wrapped around her, his embrace a flesh and bone vise that dug into bruised, aching limbs. “John―”

He turned his gaze on her, impatience flaring in the cold eyes.

“A mover.”

People scurried past them, crowding the narrow entrance to a glass tunnel that snaked over the surface of the Bay.
It might as well have DEATHTRAP across the top in flashing neon.

“We can’t go in there.”

“It is the only access from this part of the Bay.”

Shit.

“They’ll trap us―”

A brief, scathing glance shut her up. She focused her eyes beyond him, tried not to let this new anger wound her.

Rain stopped beating at her, and she realized they had reached the overhang sheltering the threshold of the mover. Maura spotted the digital clock just above the entrance. Grey numbers marched across the white background.

12:50.

There’s enough time―we have enough time.
If she hadn’t been out for more than a few minutes. If Dr. Lang’s machine actually worked.

John stepped on to the moving sidewalk. Soaked, miserable people hemmed them in, normally blank faces animated by the storm. The curving tunnel of glass cut off any escape. Looking up at John, she was no longer certain he w
ould
run. Given his current frame of mind he may set her aside and walk quietly to his execution.

He thought he deserved it.

How the hell am I supposed to convince him otherwise when I can’t talk to him?

Anxiety crawled over her skin like dancing spiders. She waited, heart pounding, for the inevitable.

The inevitable announced their presence with a herald of pained cries.

John’s head snapped around. Before Maura could get even a glimpse he tightened his grip on her and muscled forward through the human blockade. She twisted in his arms, tried to glance over his shoulder.

“Keep your head down. They will have a death warrant out on you by now.” Shock froze her. “Now, Maura.”

His sharp voice brought her head around. Movement caught her eye; behind them, black uniforms gouged a painful, ragged path through the wedged-in bodies.

“John—they’re coming―”

“Hold tight.”

She closed her eyes in relief. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet, anyway.

He fought the terrified crowd, reached the guardrail and slid Maura under it, into the shallow well between glass wall and sidewalk.

“Ouch—damn it―” She untangled herself from the trench, slipped on the polished metal, nearly slamming her wounded leg into a narrow pole. “Damn it―”

She threw hair out of her eyes with a practiced flip—and found John, hanging by his left hand from a hook in the ceiling, facing their pursuers. The sleek pistol was an extension of his arm, outstretched and lined up to his dodging targets.

“What are you doing―”

“Go, Maura.”

His gaze followed the men sent after them. Bodies bumped his legs, forcing him to constantly readjust his aim.

“Are you out of your mind? Do you think they need target practice?”