True Shot (38 page)

Flinn leaned over her, lips curving into a wide grin. “Samantha! It’s wonderful to see you.”

She closed her eyes and touched the tip of her tongue to the blood at the corner of her mouth. That asshole had split her lip. And it was the least of her problems. Ford planned to make her suffer. He made everyone who betrayed him, or disappointed him, suffer.

Then he’d take her baby.

Something deep in her belly coiled, and she had to fight down the grief that clawed its way into her throat. Amazing how quickly she’d grown attached to the idea of life growing inside her. She blamed Mac. If he hadn’t made her feel loved, protected . . . human, she’d still be able to shut down her emotions and do what had to be done.

Flinn’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Why don’t we get you up, Samantha? You’ll feel better.”

She didn’t resist as he helped her into a sitting position. The cold table under her puzzled her, but she let that go for now to take in the situation. She didn’t let her gaze linger on Marco, not wanting to alert him that she’d already slipped into soldier mode.

The surgical instruments next to the table looked ominous, but then she saw Mac, on his knees and facing her, hands behind his back and jaw smeared with the purple of new bruises.

Her heart jumped as their eyes met . . . and he smiled at her. Gentle and loving, his relief palpable.

Oh, God, he was going to die because of her.

She shifted her attention to Flinn as she slid off the table, nonchalant as could be, hoping to God her legs would hold her.

“What’s he doing here?” She tried to sound as derisive as she could.

Flinn chuckled as he took a step back, the gesture granting her permission to roam the room. “Don’t bother trying to mislead me, Samantha. I already know your Romeo and Juliet story. Star-crossed lovers indeed.”

“I used him. That’s what you trained me to do, remember? I needed some time to think, to figure out what I want. He was handy and surprisingly resourceful. But I’ve made my decision, and I’m here now. You can let him go.”

Flinn cocked his head. “Oh, Samantha, don’t you know me better than that?”

She let her gaze wander over Marco, a small smile playing at one corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down. His nostrils flared, eyes widening ever so slightly at what he interpreted as sexual interest rather than the weapons check it actually was. Some men were so dense.

She gave him a cute, maybe-later shrug as she turned her attention back to Flinn. “I didn’t have to come, Flinn. I could have taken out your last man, but I didn’t. I let him bring me to you.”

“Ah, but you
did
have to come. I determine the fate of this young man you’ve apparently grown quite fond of over the past few days. At least, he’s grown quite fond of you, judging by the daggers he’s shooting at me with his eyes. Of course you had to come.”

“I don’t want to play games. Just let him go, and we’ll get on with . . . whatever it is you want.”

He nodded as he hopped up onto the counter across from her and braced his hands on the edge. Like they were teenagers flirting in the kitchen. “You think it’s that easy, do you?”

She realized with a jolt that he was stalling. For what? She turned to take in the table that had, she now saw, leather restraints at the middle, for wrists, and on the stirrups, for ankles. The tray of surgical instruments held, among other items, a couple of scalpels, syringes and clamps.

She had to dig for strength before turning to face him. “I’m giving you what you want. I don’t understand what isn’t easy about it.”

“Ah, Samantha. After all these years, you don’t know me at all.” He paused to smile at her, all shiny white teeth. “I bear a grudge. Mr. Hunter shot one of my men. And he helped you evade me for several days.”

“He’s an honorable sort. He would have done it for anyone.” She felt Mac watching her with an intensity that threatened her composure. They were both dead, but maybe with her last act, she could save him.

“Look, I know you want the baby,” she said. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll bear the child and give him or her to you in exchange for letting Mac go.”

“Sam, no.” Mac struggled anew against his bonds.

Flinn’s benevolently dark expression didn’t falter. “You assume that you’re in a position to negotiate, Samantha.”

“You trained me to act like I have the upper hand, whether I have it or not.”

“Yes, I did.” He nodded with approval. “You’ve served me very well over the years. I regret that it’s come to this.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Are we the good guys or the bad guys?”

“We’ve always been the good guys, my dear Samantha. We’ve prevented wars and pandemics, terrorist attacks and presidential assassinations. We’ve gotten to the bottom of financial fraud before it could cost the taxpayers yet more billions of their hard-earned dollars. We’ve even stopped a mass suicide at a religious commune in Texas. You know all of this.”

“And what of people like Arthur Baldwin? What good came of the way you blackmailed him? Wasn’t that just a form of revenge on your part?”

“His brother, as you well know, was a serial rapist. You single-handedly put him away, Samantha.” He grinned at her arched brow. “Yes, I’ve known all along that you tipped off the Columbia police. You were the only one who could. Frankly, your honor wouldn’t have allowed you to do anything else.”

“And Arthur?”

“Arthur helped fund some research.”

“Unsanctioned research.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Very
important
research.”

“Involving impregnating female operatives against their will.”

Mac blew out a loud breath. “Son of a
bitch
.”

Marco drew back his gun, preparing to strike Mac for his outburst.

“Don’t,” Sam said quietly but with deadly authority.

Marco lowered the weapon, and the relief that spun through Sam’s head made her dizzy.

Flinn raised his chin a notch, looking downright haughty. “You would not have agreed to my experiment.”

“So naturally you took away my choice and did it anyway. Why? What’s the plan, Flinn?”

“Look at all the good work we’ve done over the years, Samantha. And with such a small team. Imagine the implications if N3 could grow into a troop of thousands—hundreds of thousands. It would change the way we wage war. No longer could rogue nations hide, or lie about, their weapons of mass destruction. No longer could killers get away with murder or pharmaceutical companies hide the fact that they release drugs they know can harm consumers. No longer could politicians lie to the American people. We’re talking about a new way of life, a life in which we all know the
truth
. We’re talking about a justice system that would work without fail. Always.”

Sam gave an unconvinced snort. “You’re trying to tell me that this is all about the greater good?”

“Of course.”

“And you would never dream of using such power to further your own agenda.”

He smiled gently at her, as though her naivete amused him to no end. “Do you have any idea how much the United States government would pay for a simple way to make its spies empathic, not to mention how much it would pay to keep that capability out of the hands of its enemies? The sky’s the limit. So, no, it isn’t all about the greater good. It’s mostly about money. I learned at a terribly young age that money can have a powerful impact on one’s life. The more you have of it, the more power you wield.”

She thought of the wrenching moments she’d spent in his past during one of his endless tests of her empathic limits. He’d watched his father kill his mother then himself over the despair of losing his job and reputation to the underhanded dealings of the wealthy Arthur Baldwin. She felt sorry for the child, but not the man. The man had made his choices.

She focused on getting as much information as she could until she figured out a way to disarm Marco and overpower Flinn—without getting Mac hurt further. “How do you plan to turn people who aren’t empathic into psychic spies?”

He jumped down from the counter and walked over to her, hands in his pockets. On a leisurely stroll. “The fetus that’s growing inside you is the key, Samantha.”

She refused to step back, to show her fear, yet she figured he could see the rapid beat of her pulse in her throat. At the same time, she registered his use of the word
“ fetus
.” Not baby. Not child. Not life.
It
was the key. To her, “it” was a baby.
Her
baby. And no way in hell was he getting anywhere near
her
baby. “How is my child the key?”

He moved his head back as though shocked. “
Your child?
”

“You used my body to create a life. That makes it
my
child.
Mine
. And I’m going to protect that child as any mother would. So answer the question: How is my child the key?”

“Stem cells.” His grin returned. “Toby will use them to develop a serum that can be administered by a simple injection that will alter the very DNA of our spies, rendering them psychic.”

“And you think this will actually work?”

“The gentleman you helped procure on your last assignment in San Francisco seems to think it will.”

“Wait. You told the team he was conducting stem-cell research on living people.”

“He was, for Biomedical Research Corp. Instead of going to prison, however, he’s helped Toby fill in the blanks in his own research so we can take our project to the next step. Dr. Ames and I are both eager to put our theory to the test.”

“People have died—you
killed
Zoe—and you don’t even know if such a serum will work?”

“We have to start somewhere, do we not?”

“You’re insane. This is insane. You can’t possibly think that you’ll get away with this.”

“My dear, foolish Samantha. Do you think I took on this project alone? N3 has satellite networks all over the world. There are dozens of us pursuing the same goal to ensure that the project
will
be successful.”

“None of them are my fellow psychic operatives, though, are they? Otherwise, you’d have them here to lend you a hand. So that means you know this is wrong. You
know
no one in the upper echelons of N3 or even my psychic peers would support what you’re doing.”

His features hardened, but before he could respond, the back door opened and Dr. Toby Ames walked in.

Flinn didn’t look away from her to acknowledge him. “You’re late, Toby.”

“Fucking beach traffic. I’m here now, so let’s get started.”

Flinn turned and nodded at Marco. “Secure her.”

 

Marco moved forward, grasped Sam’s arm and propelled her toward the surgical table.

Mac jerked desperately at his bonds. “No! Sam!”

“Let him go!” Sam shouted over her shoulder at Ford. “You’ve gotten what you want.”

He waved a dismissive hand at her. “I’m not done with him yet.”

Marco yanked on her arm, almost jerking her off her feet.

“Hey!” Mac yelled. “Take it easy!”

Ford moved to stand beside Mac, arms folded over his chest while Marco and Sam wrestled for dominance. When the huge man backhanded her, sending her sprawling against cabinets, Mac nearly dislocated his shoulder fighting his bonds. Sam needed him, and he was so fucking helpless.

“Knock it off!” Words were all he had. Just lame words.

Ford tsked beside him. “She’s fiery, isn’t she?” His tone spoke of deep admiration as well as regret. “She was always my favorite. Sharp as a razor blade. An incredibly fast learner. Committed and loyal.”

“She’s not a fucking dog.”

“No. She’s a consummate N3 operative who exceeded all of my expectations.” To Marco, who had Sam cornered, Flinn said, “Any day now, Marco. I’m getting impatient.”

Marco bore down on Sam, and Mac had to admire the way she held her own in the fight, no hint of fear in her stony gaze. If the hired gun hadn’t outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds—not to mention the mean streak—Mac wouldn’t have felt such insane terror for her, certain she could take the guy without breaking a sweat.

She leveled a spinning kick at the big man’s head, but he ducked and came up behind her only to pound her down onto the floor with a violent elbow to the kidneys. She lay there, gasping, trying to push herself up on arms that had no strength.

Marco hauled her up by one arm and gave her a rough shove toward the surgical table. She fell to her knees, grabbing onto the edge for support. Mac winced at the way her head fell back before she shook it, as though she had to fight to remain conscious.

When Marco approached, though, she whipped around with deadly force and slammed the heel of her hand under his chin. His head snapped back. But instead of falling, or even looking dazed, he grabbed her up in a bear hug, pinning her arms at her sides.

To Toby, Ford said, “Tranq her, but show some restraint. I need her conscious for a little while longer.”

Toby chose a syringe from the tray of surgical instruments.

“Sam!” Mac shouted in warning.

She kicked Marco in the knee, causing a wince-worthy crunch just before Toby nailed her in the arm with the needle.

Marco released her with a pained grunt, and Sam wobbled on legs that refused to cooperate. As she went down, she threw Mac a desperate look. Her lips formed his name before she sprawled onto the dirty floor. She lay on her back, unmoving, her head lolled to the side, dark hair obscuring her face.

“Sam!”

Ford walked over and stared down at her. “Such a shame.” He gestured at Marco. “Get her on the table. Strap her down tight.”

“She won’t be out for long,” Toby said.

“Good. Before you get started, I need to find out if she knows where Mikayla’s being hidden.”