Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (43 page)

The Fed

The two men entered the cell, wheeling a gurney. One of them had a syringe concealed in his left chest pocket. He’d been practicing how to hide it, how to avoid the camera that constantly pointed at certain angles in the room. He knew the blind spots. He hoped he wouldn’t fuck this up.

He lost track of what he was doing for a moment and the gurney bumped the man in front of him.

“What the fuck, man?” The other man’s voice was angry. “That was my dick. Jesus.”

“The fuck it was. Not unless your dick is about a foot long.”

The second man gave him a lopsided grin. “You jealous?”

“Oh, fuck you, Jones,” the first man said, his voice low. “Stop being a goddamn comedian. And keep it down. I don’t think those cameras are on but try not to make yourself so obvious.”

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Saint Gabriel. Let’s do this.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? It’s your name.”

“I’m no saint. And neither are you.”

“We are tonight.” Jones caught a glimpse of the woman hanging from the ceiling. “Fucking Christ. What in the ever loving fuck?”

A gruesome scene, to be sure. “Just leave that gurney here and come help me. You know what kind of shit goes down in this place. You’ve been here long enough. Don’t act so surprised.”

“She’s a woman, man. A good one too. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. Jesus.”

“Be quiet,” Gabe whispered. “Help me.”

The two men stood on either side of the woman. “Ma’am,” Gabe said. “Can you hear me?” He put two fingers to her neck, turning to Jones. “Her pulse is slow but she’s still alive.”

“Holy fuck, really? Look at all that blood. Christ.”

“For God’s sake, Jonesie. I know you’re focusing on your giant dick but you really need to learn to expand your vocabulary.”

The woman let out a soft moan, and Gabe leaned in closer. “Ma’am, can you hear me? We’re here to help you.”

She opened her eyes. They were glassy. Her eyelids started to droop until they were barely open. He had no idea if she could really see him, and tried to make himself look as unintimidating as possible. Gabe put his hand on her shoulder, one of the few spots on her upper body that wasn’t drenched in blood, and felt her flinch ever so slightly.

“We’re here to help you,” he whispered. “I’m going to need you to hold very still. I’m going to give you something to lower your heart rate so we can get you out of here. Understand? Blink once if you do.”

She very slowly blinked her eyes.

“Okay, good,” he said softly. “I need you to trust me, alright?”

Jones was on her other side. “What do you need me to do?”

“Move over by me. Try to put yourself between her and the camera, just in case. Start cutting her down. Do it, but don’t cut it all the way yet.”

Jones grumbled, pulling out a small pocketknife. He was still surprised his employers let him take a weapon to work with him. But since they all had guns and other unpleasant implements of destruction, he assumed they thought his three inch blade was pretty benign. And he did have to use it every once in a while. For less than pleasant things. Working in the morgue was a bitch.

Once Jones was in place, Gabe removed the syringe from his chest pocket and injected it into her neck. “I hope this works,” he whispered.

“If it doesn’t, she’s gonna die anyway, whether that does it or something else. She’s gonna bleed to death if we don’t get her out of here soon. Look at that cut across her stomach. Can Crunch fix that?”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

“Anyway, no matter what happens you don’t have to feel all that guilty.”

“Just shut up and cut her down.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, man. I don’t want her to die either.”

Gabe held the woman steady as Jones cut the ropes. Her eyes were now shut, her head lolling to the side. Gabe wanted to take off his shirt to cover her up but didn’t want anyone to suspect anything. Political prisoners were shit, and they had to be treated that way whether they were alive or not. There was no dignity for the dead.

Gabe and Jones laid her on the gurney inside the black bag. Gabe brought his fingers to her neck again, feeling a very weak pulse, almost unnoticeable. But if the drugs had done their job, the untrained monkeys he and Jonesie worked with in the morgue wouldn’t be able to detect it. He might have pushed her over the edge, taking her last moments of life with the drugs, but he hoped not. Merely a low dose of Propofol, enough to keep her from regaining consciousness as they wheeled her down the hall.

Gabe looked down at the woman’s face. He remembered what she used to look like. She’d been cute. Not drop dead gorgeous, but attractive nonetheless.  Whenever he’d seen her on television or in pictures she wore a huge smile. It was hard for him to see what she looked like now.

“They fucked her up pretty good, didn’t they?” Jones said, helping him zip up the bag.

Gabe tried to contain the fury he felt. “They sure fucking did.” He hoped she didn’t realize what was happening. “Come on, let’s get her down to the morgue. Crunch should be waiting.”

Jones repositioned himself behind the gurney. “If we don’t pull this off, it’s been nice knowing ya.”

Gabe thought their plan was crazy enough to work, but he appreciated the sentiment. There was still a strong possibility that shit would go down. “You too, Jonesie.”

They started wheeling the gurney out the door and down the hall, hoping that it wasn’t going to be the last thing they ever did. It was going to be a long night.

My apologies, as some of these thank yous will be repeated at the end of every novel. What can I say? I’m a gusher.

I must first extend my profound thanks and deepest appreciation for the many bloggers who took a chance on
Dissident
and have praised it and pimped it out because of their devotion to Caroline and Jack. Some of them are listed below. I hope I haven’t left anyone out. If I did, it is not an intentional oversight. Please give these bloggers some love. They deserve it.

             
Obsessed with Myshelf

              Genre Queen

              Beauty and the Beastly Books

              Tome Tender

              Slut Sistas

              Chick Lit Plus

              StarAngels Reviews

#TheBookNerdLife

Wicked Women Book Blog

Book Banshee

              Beverages and Books/Rakes of Romance

Also, thank you to the other bloggers and readers who have shared links, granted reviews and promo posts, and helped a new author make her way and adjust into the world of romance. I am so grateful to you and am glad you are continuing on this journey with me.

I’d like to thank all of my beta readers, though some of them do not wish to be named. To Deanna and Heather, thank you for being my confidants. I know I can run things by you and you won’t laugh. Or, if you do laugh, you’ll stop after several minutes. And if you don’t stop, then you at least feel guilty about it afterward.

Carol, Kim, Tesrin, and Elizabeth…thank you for being part of my tiny little “hey, maybe you should have a street team!” posse. I heart you all so hard.

To Terri Thomas, reviewer extraordinaire at Goodreads and My Book Boyfriend, thank you for your blunt honesty and wonderful feedback. I keep giving you titles – beta reader, Goodreads librarian, marketing advisor. Maybe after a few more books I can throw some more at you.

To Mandi Rei Serra, also known as the Snarky Wench from Snarky Wench Book Reviews, thank you for your insight. And for that great promo video. And for coining the phrase #ElevatorGate. Let’s get that trending on Twitter, all right?

To Melissa Brown, Lola Darling, Lila Monroe, and Roxy Sloane, thanks for your encouragement and support. Now get back to writing your own stuff!

I must also extend my warmest personal regards to author Scarlett Parrish, who educated me on the proper use of the words
douchecock
and
twatfucker
. I am in your debt. Please teach me more naughty words to add to my vernacular.

And to you, the readers and fans. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. You may not always get the answers you want to the questions you have, but I promise it will be worth it in the end. I am humbled by your very existence.