Page 19 of The Savior

CHAPTER SEVEN

After one long-ass drive with the two men from the Department of Homeland Security in the armored SUV, Liam and his silent companions parked at what had to be a DHS black site, though neither man would confirm where they’d taken him.

They’d moved him like a prisoner with the added bonus of covering his eyes and ears and binding his hands with plastic zip-tie restraints. Restraining and hooding civilians was a step beyond anything that he’d seen stateside in the military or while contracting.

It wasn’t until their journey took them to a freight elevator in a cold building that Liam believed they might have come to their final destination. The elevator descended many floors until his escorts led him out. They paused for locks and doors, but still blindfolded, Liam had only vague guesses to rely on until one of the men removed his restraints and unwrapped his head.

White lights blinded him. Liam blinked and held out his hands until his equilibrium balanced.Where are we?The holding room—or maybe a better description would be a cage—had glass walls. The metal ceiling gleamed with razor wire curled in tight circles.

A three-stories-tall fence, threaded with razor-wire ribbons and with high-voltage signs posted, enclosed the glass cage.

“They’re not messing around.” Whoevertheywere. Liam rubbed his wrists and stepped up to a metal table. Four chairs waited, one on each side. He took a seat to face the door and continued to study the peculiar holding cell.

The two men who’d brought him there disappeared through a glass door that didn’t have handles. Hinges and a rectangle outline were the only visible sign the glass had an opening.

A cold, sterile-scented draft pushed through the wire ceiling, and though he was alone, he felt as if he were under a microscope.

“If this is how you treat your friends…” He scooted his chair in, noting the lack of vibrations as he slid across the glass-like material. “I’d hate to be your—”

An alarm beeped like the sound of a delivery truck in reverse, and the metal-and-glass doors opened noiselessly. Two different men entered the outer perimeter then stepped into the glass room. Their tactical pants and dark shirts differed from suits of the men who’d knocked on the Nymans’ door, but they were still the same type of person—large and commanding.

Splitting apart to take their seats, they revealed a much smaller, much older woman in a bloodred skirt suit. Liam thought she was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place the beady dark eyes or her lipsticked scowl. Her high heels gave her added height, but even as Liam stood to greet them all, he towered over her.

The men had a look that Liam appreciated—assholes with a side of get-the-job-done. He respected that. But the lady… she distinctly did not give off a military vibe, though she seemed as though she’d seen the worst the world had to give.

Liam extended his hand to her, unsure if that made her an ally or a problem. “Ma’am.”

Her firm grip belied her petite stature, and Liam then greeted the men who flanked her, standing like two columns of security.

The woman nodded, and they moved to the table. She pulled out a chair and took a seat. “I’m glad you’ve arrived.”

Her voice tickled a memory, but he still couldn’t place her—not that remembering names and faces was his strong suit. “Arrived where?”

“You’re not at liberty to know.” Brushing her well-sprayed hair behind an ear and folding her hands on the table, she said, “But here you are, nonetheless.”

“It wasn’t an invitation I would say no to.” The man at the Nymans’ door had announced himself as an agent from the Department of Homeland Security, produced a DHS badge, referenced the manila envelope, and asked him to go for a drive. Liam couldn’t have dressed faster than he had.

The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Liam Adrian Brosnan. Army reconnaissance captain, retired. Currently freelance contracting.”

“Correct.” He pursed his lips. “Forgive me, but I’m not sure who you are.”

She held his eyes for a second longer than was comfortable. “Senator Samantha Sorenson.”

Shit!She chaired the Senate Intelligence Committee. “Ma’am, forgive me—”

She waved his apology away with a toss of her hand that made her gold bracelets clink against her slender watch. “While time had gone by, first, on behalf the president and my Senate colleagues, please accept my condolences.”

Apprehension and anticipation of whatever wassecondfelt like heavy, wet cement in his chest. “Thank you.”

“I trust you’ve reviewed the package we had delivered,” she said.

He had to concentrate to keep a sudden restlessness from bouncing in his feet. “I did.”

“Good. Because that leads to our second point of discussion.”

Every question and conspiracy theory he’d twisted in his mind overnight again spread through his thoughts like an unchecked wildfire. The anxiety mixed with the guilt and loss that Julia’s remembrance event had conjured. Liam swallowed hard, vowing to remain unaffected by whatever came next.

“It’s our conclusion that Julia Nyman’s death was premeditated and expertly planned.”

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