Page 17 of Redstone
“Shockingly, he doesn’t share everything with his charity hire,” Tamara snapped right back.
“Charity hire …”
“I’m a natural. And this is hardly the ideal environment for someone like me, so I’ve got a better idea of how it feels to be shoved aside than you do, probably. How do you think it’ll reflecton me if I fail to domyjob here, which is to keep an eye on your client for my employer, leading up to the trial?”
It hadn’t been her original mandate, but Tamara had already received the communication from Raymond Alexander’s office that her return to Olympus was going to be necessarily delayed, that he knew she’d be fine there for a few more days, that he needed her eyes on his brother to keep everything looking as legal and aboveboard as possible. She’d been expecting, even hoping for this development, but it just showed how adept her employer was at lying right to her face.Bring you home, working on a cure,indeed. Bastard.
Tamara straightened her shoulders. “I’m going back to my room now, but I’ll be standing outside the warden’s office first thing in the morning, watching those bots on patrol, and if Mr. Alexander is anything other than alive and whole, there’ll be hell to pay here.”
“I don’t believe you.” Oh, but he wanted to; Tamara could see it in the way his hands relaxed a little, the wavering tension in his shoulders.
“You don’t have to. You’ll find out soon enough, without me doing anything toproveit to you.” Tamara huffed and shook her head. “Goodnight, Mr. Gyllenny.”
“Goodnight …”
“Ms. Carson. Tamara Carson.”
Chapter nine
Kyle was getting tired of headaches. He didn’t even remember how he’d gotten his current one, but it had a sharper edge to it than the last one he remembered having, the one that had stuck around after his mod deactivation. This pain was a sharp, heated ache that radiated out from the back of his skull, like he’d been hit in the head too hard. When had he been hit in the head? The last thing he remembered was …
Fighting, a shin kick to the face, dodging, the swift crack of iron against his thigh, falling, and finally a pair of dark eyes in a solemn, considering face, just before he—
Was hit upside the head, apparently. Kyle tried to shift his shoulders and couldn’t quite repress the groan the movement induced.
“Hey there. Hang on.” A steady hand pressed briefly to his forehead, soft and warm, before retreating a little bit. “Start by opening your eyes before you try to go anywhere.”
Kyle wasn’t sure why he obeyed—it wasn’t like he had any reason to trust whoever this was—but he complied, slowly opening his eyes. The way his head hurt, he expected the light of this place, however dim it was, to stab at him like a stiletto to the brain, but instead, he saw a callused palm hovering over his eyes, shielding him from the glow. He blinked, and the pain retreated a little more.
“Good,” the voice said encouragingly. “Do you think you could keep down some water?”
“Wha …” Kyle’s voice petered out, and he tried to clear his throat but couldn’t.
“Yeah, let’s try some water.” The edge of a cup pressed to his lips, and again, instead of fighting, Kyle opened his mouth and swallowed the lukewarm, metal-sour water. It helped despite its awful taste, and when he tried to speak again, he met with more success.
“Why … this?” Because Kyle just didn’t know. He couldn’t think. The fog was back, battling the dull red ache for control of his mind, and if he thought he could trust this person, he’d just fall back asleep, but he couldn’t.
“Why am I doing this?” the voice asked. Kyle managed a little nod. “I think I hit you a little too hard,” the man said on a sigh. “Or they just didn’t fill you in very well. I’m your contact, Kyle.”
“My contact …”
“Yes, your contact. Your help on the inside, the one who’s here to make sureyou’restill here by the time your trial is called. Don’t you remember? Weren’t you told this?”
All Kyle felt was confused. “Maybe? I don’t … how do I know?”
The shielding hand disappeared, but Kyle was accustomed enough to the light now that it didn’t hurt any more without the protection. There were only two glow strips set deep into the metal walls, not enough to fully illuminate the little alcove wherehe was lying. It was a crowded place, every nook and cranny filled with robotics or rough cloth or strange little tools.
It took a moment for Kyle to realize his head was being cradled on a soft nest of filaments and fibers, and that he was wearing a pair of rough, unfamiliar pants and nothing else. “What happened to my …”
“Clothes? I sold them. Bargained them, really, in exchange for you, so try not to be too upset about losing them.”
“I don’t care about that, I just …” Kyle turned to look at his odd kidnapper, or benefactor, depending on how he was starting to think about things. He couldn’t see him very well, backlit as the man was. “I need to sit up.” He needed to feel more in control even if it was just an illusion and lying flat on his back wasn’t going to give him that.
“Sure, wait a moment.” Strong fingers slid behind his neck, another hand grasped his shoulders, and a second later, Kyle was sitting up so easily it almost didn’t hurt at all. The water sloshed unpleasantly in his empty stomach, but he swallowed hard and kept it down.
“Good,” the man said encouragingly. He started to let go, but Kyle listed to the side, and then those fingers anchored in to stay. “Or better, at least,” the man amended, and Kyle finally fully opened his eyes and got a good look.
The guy was … familiar but not what Kyle had been expecting. He didn’t have a grand sense of presence or remarkably distinguishing features. He was thin, with high cheekbones and a tense, somber mouth that quirked up a little when Kyle focused on him. His skin was brown and his eyes black, and his straight, dark hair glistened in the light in a way that seemed odd to Kyle. He wore the same institutional gray that Kyle knew all the prisoners there wore, and it should have made him seem cold, but his hands were warm and still supporting Kyle, and the grip relaxed him despite himself.
