Page 30 of Agent Zero
Badly.
He didn’t.If she was ambulatory, she needed food and fluids.Just because they were probably safe here for another twelve hours wasn’t a good reason to stay.
Oh, quit lying to yourself, Reese.You want her dependent on you, since she’s safest that way.And you’re a monster, because deep down you’re feeling a little grateful, aren’t you.Now that she doesn’t have any choice.
His nape itched, again.If he started going downhill she wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving.He had to hope the little invaders were still happy and comfortable swimming around inside him.
Reese turned on his heel, surveying the room.He’d have to clean up and get her out of here.
No matterwhatshe thought of him.
TWENTY
It felt like a hangover.At least washing the dried sweat and guck off helped steady her.The headache mostly receded, but her bones felt rickety.Like they’d turn to rubber at any moment and spill her onto an indifferently mopped tile floor.
It made her long for her own bathroom, clean and familiar.Unfortunately, the fog inside her head was clearing, and a few recent events standing out like rocks on a seashore.
Things like two twisted, dark lumps on her living room floor.Like Reese’s voice, calm and firm.You’re with me.You’re safe.Reese’s dark eyes hot and distant as he sliced open a long scar on the outside of his hip, digging out what looked like a little silver bullet.
And a woman’s voice.We either keep subject until she metabolizes, or we return her.We watch, and see if Six bites...I calculate ten percent odds he may.
And then that word,collateral.
As indamage.
The water never got very hot, but at least there was soap and the towels weren’t mildewed.The flyspecked mirror showed a pale, trembling woman with dark circles under her eyes, and even though her entire body ached she could tell that he hadn’t...
At least she hadn’t been molested.Not that it mattered, but it was nice to know.Her mouth tasted like the floor of a rancid subway car and she kept having to grab at the counter or wall to stay upright.
There, set neatly on the peeling yellow counter, was her toothbrush and a tiny minitube of Crest, the same flavor she had at home.And her comb—black plastic, wide-toothed, its chips and cracks familiar as her own hands.
She had a foggy memory of Reese packing a backpack while she sat on her futon and tried not to pass out.
You’re with me...you’re safe.
The image of him at his regular table, clutching a cup of cold coffee and staring at her, wouldn’t go away either.The thought that maybe he’d planned this, or—but how would he get all that information?
Just thinking about the “target file” made Holly feel sick.Lists of jobs she’d applied for, her last five places of employment, Phillip’s name and an address that might even be current, pictures of her—including her state ID photo.You couldn’t get that unless you were official.And the medical records, Dr.Gregory’s name and address, copies of scrawls that were his notes on her medical charts.Who would bother to go to this trouble?Sure, considering how he tipped, Reese was maybe rich.But still, why would go to these lengths and make a fake file onhimself, too?
On the other hand, she’d been drugged.Could she trust anything she remembered?
The last thing she recalled with any certainty was being bundled into that black van.And that was thought provoking, wasn’t it?Because she’d seen the vehicle twice before, walking to her so-called coffee date.Hadn’t paid attention, but she was sure it—or its twin—had been circling the block.
That was the trouble with black vans, they all looked the same.
The thing about working food service was, you saw a lot of people.You got a feel for them.After Phillip, she’d sworn never to be taken in again.Reese was a little weird but he’d seemed reasonably, well, nonthreatening.Even his asking her out to coffee had been shy, and awkward, and completely note-perfect.
The people I work for aren’t very nice.
I work security.
They tried to kill me.
She had nothing but the towel and the T-shirt to wear, so she wrapped herself tightly in damp terrycloth and closed her eyes, her hand curling around the doorknob.She thumbed the lock, and took a deep breath.
When I open my eyes, I’ll be in my own bedroom.I’ll be looking into the kitchen.The first thing I’m going to do is go to the kitchen sink and get that big green cup Ginny gave me for St.Patty’s, and I’m going to drink so much water I’ll have to go straight back to the bathroom.Then I’ll call Tony and tell him I can’t come in today because I’m busy having a nervous breakdown.I’ll go to the bodega, get a newspaper and start looking for a new job just in case.
A great plan, top-notch.Holly swept the door open and stepped out, her feet not finding hardwood but slightly oily shag carpet.When she opened her eyes, she saw a rundown, seedy motel room with horrible pineapple-colored curtains and a bed that looked as though it had been used as a trampoline.Her backpack was on the twisted-up comforter, and peeking out of its top was a familiar battered paperback.
