Ordinary (Anything But) (7 page)

Gone was the hopelessness, the despair, the fear. She should have known. Why was she surprised? He was a despicable person, who did despicable things.
Nothing
should have the power to shock her where he was concerned.
He
was one of the bad guys. Honor bolted for the door, her fingers flicking the cold lock. She wrenched the door open, knowing it would be his face she saw first and still thinking she was mistaken somehow. But no, it was him, looking his polished self, unconcerned, amused even.

Ryder smiled. “Hello, Honor.”

She
stared at his handsome face, hating it, hating him. His face should be ugly, just like everything inside him. “You’re involved in this?” she said in a voice that shook with rage. Honor’s entire being trembled with it. Her only thought was that she wanted to hurt him. Honor wanted to punish him for making her think, for even one second, that maybe he wasn’t so bad. She wanted to hit him for making her doubt herself, rethink his intentions, and even find him slightly likeable.

“We’re all involved in this, Honor.”

“I hate you.”

Something indescribable flickered in the shadows of his eyes. “I know you do.” Then he smiled with his lips
, but not his eyes—never his eyes.

She
hated
that smile. She never wanted to see it again; she wanted to make it disappear. Whatever they’d done to Christian, whatever was going to happen to her, Ryder was part of it. She would never forgive him,
never
. Christian might die, she might die, and there Ryder stood, smiling that cynical smile of his. It was too much. With an animalistic cry Honor swung her fist into his pretty face, satisfaction going through her at the sound of something crunching.

Ryder grabbed his nose and fell back, hitting the wall with his shoulder and sliding to his butt. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped
down to his expensive shirt. Good. Honor went for him again. She had a handful of his shirt when someone grabbed her and hauled her off, vise-like arms holding her immobile.

She tried to get away from the strong hold, but it was like stone.
“You’re part of this! I should have known.
You’re scum, Ryder! You hear me? Scum
I hate you!
I hate you!
”

A small figure knelt beside Ryder and he waved her away. It was Natasha. Honor screamed in fury, feeling like she could explode with it.
Natasha too? She wanted to make them pay, make all of them pay. She kicked and clawed at whoever held her. Honor’s hair partially covered her face, strands of it in her mouth. She spit it out, wanting to scratch Natasha’s eyes out. “What did you do to him?
What did you do to Christian?
I’ll kill you for this. I’ll
kill
you!” She was dragged down the hall. “You’re dead! You’re all
dead
.”

The arms tightened and Honor’s voice cut off. She wheezed in a breath, not able to get enough air through her lungs.
“You need to calm down,” Nealon said into her ear. “We didn’t do anything to your friend but put him on that table. And only because he’s a danger to himself and others.” He gave her another painful squeeze and kicked the door shut that led to the hallway. She was hefted up and an arm hooked under her legs.

“Put me down,” she said in a voice that shook.

“I don’t think so.”

The strength seeped from her and Honor went limp, her body trembling. Her eyelids drooped. She
was so tired. Her throat hurt and the hunger that had been gnawing at her insides was gone. She just wanted to sleep.

“Adrenaline is wearing off. Good. You need to rest.”

Honor let her eyes close as she was carried away. She couldn’t fight it anymore, that numbing sleep that called to her. She longed for the blackness that would take all thoughts and feelings away, at least for a little while. In that dreamlike realm, she wouldn’t be scared, she wouldn’t worry.

“Where are you taking me?” Her words sounded mumbled and slurred.
A door opened. She was carefully set down on a bed. A blanket was pulled over her shoulders. The door clicked shut. A key turned in the lock.

Sleep took over.

***

Something tickled her nose and Honor rubbed
at it, wanting to sink back into an unconscious state. Then reality hit her. Her eyes snapped open and she jolted upright, pushing away the blanket. Everything from the past twenty-four hours came rushing back, and along with it fear and anger. It would choke her; debilitate her, if she let it. She couldn’t. Honor had to find a way out, had to keep fighting. She had to somehow get Christian and escape from the church that wasn’t really a church. Honor felt queasy when she thought of all the possibilities the place really was.

She was in a small room with white walls and a bed. Honor noticed the antiseptic smell she associated with hospitals, nursing homes, and funeral parlors. It turned her stomach and though Honor was starving, she was almost glad it was empty. She went still, sensing another presence in the room. She felt the heat of eyes on her and looked up
. A lone chair sat in a corner and Ryder occupied it. His nose was swollen and a white bandage covered the middle of it. There were purple bruises under his eyes, which amplified the greenness of them.

His arms were crossed over his chest and he didn’t look happy. Regardless of his face, his hair was styled and he wore a red Diesel shirt and fashionably faded jeans. Some things never changed. Honor was sorry for hitting Ryder for about a second until she reminded herself where she was, what had happened the day before, and that Ryder was somehow involved.

“Why are you in here?”

“Because I can be.”

“So you just sit in random girls’ rooms while they sleep? Talk about creepy.”

“I guess we already discussed this, didn’t we? Disturbingly creepy, that’s me.” He leaned forward in the chair. “I can be wherever the hell I want to be. Just so you know.”

Face on fire, she snapped, “You shouldn’t be in here. You shouldn’t be anywhere near me. If you were smart, you wouldn’t be.”

“Save it, Rochester. You
almost broke my nose.”

“Does it hurt?”

He lifted a hand toward his face and dropped it. “You could say that.”

“Good.”

He nudged a tray on the floor with his boot. It had oatmeal, toast, and orange juice on it. “Hungry?”

Honor’s stomach growled. “No.”

Ryder’s lips turned up in a fleeting, sadistic smile. He kicked the tray across the room. It hit the wall and overturned. “Good.”

Honor’s mouth dropped open. She was so used to his attempts at charm that she was stunned by his current behavior. Apparently he was no longer trying to
pursue her, if he ever had been. She supposed her almost breaking his nose might have something to do with that. Honor absently flexed her swollen and sore fingers.

“I’ve been watching you the last two years, Honor, and I have to say, you’ve become a disappointment to me. I don’t even really feel like trying to impress you anymore. I am so over it, so over you.”

“I care.” The jolt in her stomach said she did care, at least a little bit. “And watching me for two years? Not stalker-ish, at all.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it.”
He knocked on the door and it opened. Ryder gave her a half-smile over his shoulder. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m going to make you regret that little stunt you pulled last night.” Through the door Honor heard him say, “She threw her tray. Guess she’s not hungry.”

Honor’s face burned and she ground her teeth together. Had she briefly, even for one millisecond, found something likeable about Ryder? Clearly she had been out of her
freaking mind.
Everything about Ryder Delagrave was a
lie
—a big, fat, untruthful, faithless, mythical—lie.

Nealon strode into the room. His brown hair was
short and neat, and she hadn’t paid attention last night, being kidnapped and all, but a goatee covered his chin. His eyes were brown and intelligence shone in them. The supposed agent was attractive, for an old guy. Nealon had to be in his thirties or close to thirty. He wore tan slacks and a dark blue dress shirt, gun and holster clearly visible. He folded his hands before him and looked at her. He didn’t repulse her like Burns did, but he didn’t exactly give her a warm, fuzzy feeling either. He was dangerous, that much was obvious.
Remember that.

Honor fidgeted with the blanket. When she could take the heat of his eyes no more, she blurted out, “What are you going to do to me?”

“That depends.”

She swallowed.
“On what?”

He tilted his head. “Are you feeling cooperative today?”

“As opposed to…yesterday?”

He nodded.
“As opposed to yesterday.”

Honor shrugged.

“Ryder says you threw your tray against the wall.”

She kept her eyes trained on his brown shoes. Honor itched to reveal the liar Ryder was, but what would be the point? That would only make things worse for her and she wasn’t a tattletale. She would handle Ryder’s
behavior in her own way, minus others’ interventions. She’d always stood up for herself in the past, always fought her own battles, and that wouldn’t be stopping now.

“Come on.” He gestured with his fingers. “Let’s go.”

Honor stayed where she was. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone. Who knew what they planned on doing to her? They could act like they meant her no harm and turn around and shoot her. Or worse, stick needles in her arms and screws in her brain. Slice and dice her, fillet her. Amputate some limbs. Her stomach lurched and Honor pressed her arm against it. They wouldn’t
really
do those things…would they? Unfortunately she didn’t know.

“I want to go home. I want to see my mom.” Honor lifted her chin when her voice wobbled.

What was her mom thinking, and Scarlet? They had to be worried sick. She couldn’t stand the thought of them wondering and distressing about her. She couldn’t stand the thought of bringing them pain. They’d been through enough already, with her dad dying and all. Honor didn’t want to be the cause of anymore sadness for them. Her eyes burned and she lowered her face from Nealon’s probing gaze. She did not want him to witness her sorrow. Honor would have given anything to go home, to let her family know she was okay—for the moment anyway. She’d never been so homesick in all her years, not from the week spent at summer camp when she was twelve, not from the class trip she went on last year to New York,
never
.

“I’ve talked to your mother.”

Honor laughed. “Oh, really? And what did you tell her? That you kidnapped me, have me locked up, and are going to do who knows what to me? How did she take the news?” She turned her head and took a deep breath, trying to gain control that was starting to slip away.

“She was very understanding.”

He must have thought her really naïve, or really stupid. Honor raised her head and glared at him. She spoke through gritted teeth, “Bull shit. You’re lying. If you really did talk to her, which I doubt, then you lied to her. Because she would
not
be understanding about all of this. You’re
lying
to me.”

Nealon straightened. “There is much you don’t know. First of all, I hardly ever lie.”

“I don’t know anything because
no one is telling me anything
.”

He crossed the room and leaned down, his face inches from hers. Nealon smelled like toothpaste and cologne. Honor reared back. “Because every chance you get,
you run
,” he said slowly. Nealon stared at her a long minute, and then stepped away.

Honor released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She raised a shaking hand to her matted hair,
and then dropped it. “So if I…if I…
cooperate
…you’ll tell me what’s going on?” The words burned her throat. Honor tried to swallow and couldn’t. She didn’t want to cooperate. She wanted to
leave
.

“That’s been the plan all along.”

“I want to see Christian.”

“You may. Later.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall. “But I’ll tell you this: if I’d meant you harm, I could have easily done something at any point Thursday, yesterday, and now. I haven’t.” Nealon’s eyes went up and down the length of her. “You need a shower. You’re filthy and you stink.”

She couldn’t even get offended by that. It was true. She
longed
for a shower. She felt disgusting, smelled worse, and her mouth tasted like mothballs. Honor got to her feet. Her shoes were stiff with dried mud. It was caked on her legs and shorts. Her shirt was torn in a few spots.

She
crossed her arms, unable to give in that easily. She just wasn’t programmed that way. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. What is this place and what is being done to people here?”