Page 80 of Sloth
“Doesn’t matter. Forget it.” Tony shook his head.
Parker’s voice floated back into her void. “Barry, are you telling me you have absolutely no idea where they might have taken Max?” Parker moved in on him, and bent to meet his eyes. The intimidation factor worked well with Parker. Anyone would be afraid of a giant grizzly getting in their face. “What about the black site, would they go back?”
“They won’t take Max there.” Barry shook his head. “Not since you’ve seen it. They’ll most likely keep the projects running at the site, though. They think they’re untouchable.”
A spark ignited in Sloan’s memory and she jolted upright. “I can’t believe I forgot. The backdoor program I installed. I need to access it now. There might be something on it. Wait.” She bit her lip, turning to Parker. “You don’t think they know, do you?”
“Unlikely,” he responded. “They probably think we were there to rescue Barry but, just in case, be quick and start accessing now.”
“On it.” Sloan shuffled back onto her stool and accessed the terminal on her laptop. After a few directives, she plugged in the IP address of her target. “I got this.”
Twenty-Two
In the carthat had spirited him away, they’d put a hessian bag over Max’s head and tied his wrists together with a cable tie. The ride from Beatrix’s dormitory took a few hours, and the sounds of traffic, horns blaring and people talking had eventually filtered through. He guessed he was back in Cardinal City.
Sloan and the rest would be looking for him. Would they think to look in their own backyard?
Daisy had deposited him in a small, windowless, empty room. She’d attached chain manacles to his ankles and wrists and then left.
That was hours ago.
Running escape scenarios occupied his thoughts for a while. He then moved to basic training practices, drills, and techniques for handling capture by the enemy. He refused to lose control of his thoughts, afraid that if he did, he’d be haunted by memories.
When he ran out of mental training sessions, he shifted thoughts to Sloan. She’d always been his security blanket while he was on a mission. Thinking of her was a comforting routine. If he ever felt lonely, or desperate, he’d conjure the sight of her pretty face, rosy lips and lusty, larger-than-life laugh. Usually they were playing a game—that’s all they seemed to do when they’d first met. Her rusty voice in his ear. Her face on the screen in a small box, next to the bigger screen displaying the game play. He’d never admit this to her, but sometimes she’d beat him, or he’d screw up the game because he’d be looking at her face instead of the game. He’d loved watching how her eyes turned narrow and dark, and how a little pink flash of tongue would sit at the corner of her lips when she concentrated. The complete opposite of the face she made when he brought her to climax in the cave. A dark stain to her cheeks. Lips, all plump from being ravished. That sense of urgency, of need, in her expression.
A flood of warmth filled his body. That face was a new memory to add to his arsenal, and if he got out of this, he’d make it his mission to see that face in the light of day.
Sighing, Max leaned his head back on the cold wall and looked at the ceiling. It, too, was plain.
This waiting was a tactic. He’d used it himself against the enemy. Leave them with nothing but their own thoughts and doubts. Make them fragile.
But he wouldn’t reveal secrets, no matter what they did. He was special forces. Like Gale, he’d been trained hard and his resilience was implacable. The only way they’d get secrets from him would be to pry them from his cold, dead body… just like they’d done with his best friend. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of vile images—bloody pieces of his friend, still recognizable.
Clenching his jaw, he knew that was a possible outcome for his current situation, but he wouldn’t compromise Sloan’s safety. She was more precious than his own life.
She was all he had. Always had been.
His thoughts shifted to Gale. He’d been a good man. A father of two. A husband. Brother. Son. People missed him.
He should really call Gale’s parents. His avoidance was unconscionable. That was another thing to add to his list when he got out of here.
Seeing those people in agony at Gale’s funeral had broken something inside Max, made it all too real. It churned and twisted in his mind. Why Gale, who had everything to lose? Why not Max?
Max was the one who’d left the army, and when he went back, he was the one who’d messed up. That was a lot to accept. He scrubbed his hand down his face and groaned.
This was the kind of self-doubt the enemy wanted.
Instead of continuing down that path, he built a wall of Sloan-shaped memories around his heart. Conjured her smell—another tool for his arsenal—and immersed himself in love.
Twenty-Three
“Idon’tgot this!”Sloan shouted into the echoing void of her apartment. She slammed her laptop lid closed and rolled on her bed, letting loose a scream of frustration into her pillow.
It had been weeks since Max was taken. Thirteen days to be exact.
Still no sign of him but plenty of Daisy’s insufferably perfect face. Not even bothering to hide under her half-face bird mask, she’d been popping up on the camera feeds around the city, taunting Sloan, going as far as to stare into the lens with her disturbing violet eyes. At first Sloan had rushed to the location only to find no trace of the woman, or Max. The only thing she succeeded in was inadvertently sending a school bus of children to sleep. They had their windows down in the heat and in her haste to cut through traffic, she’d not contained her power as tightly as she’d hoped. Traffic had literally stopped, causing accidents all round as people nodded off behind the steering wheel. Only cars with their windows up were safe. All she remembered thinking was an offhand comment that everyone should slow down so she could pass. Somehow her brain subconsciously projected sleep.
Miraculously, no one had been injured.
