I drank deeply, the cool, sweet liquid flowing down my throat. Never had anything tasted so wondrous.
“That’s enough,” he said and tugged the straw from my mouth. “Sleep now.”
A direct order. His tone left no room for argument. Usually I didn’t respond well to that type of “do what I say or suffer the consequences” command. This time, however, I was too tired to argue.
I closed my eyes. The last thought to drift through my mind was, I’ll instruct that man on how best to speak to me tomorrow.
“Wake up.”
The strong, determined voice prodded at me relentlessly.
“Wake up.”
A callused hand shook me, working in sync with the voice. Evil. They were both evil and deserved to die a horrible death.
“Wake up, sweetie.”
I attempted to roll over and bury my head in my pillow, but my sore, tired limbs resisted. That caught my attention in a way nothing else could have. I jerked at my arm. Nothing. I kicked out my leg. Nothing. Panic rushed through me, and I struggled to open my eyes.
“That’s my girl,” the man said, relief heavy in his tone.
Stark white light pounded into the room, its unwelcome fists leaving nothing untouched. Too bright, I thought, squinting, still struggling. But slowly, very slowly, my eyes adjusted. My gaze locked on the glowing restraints that bound me, on the plain white T-shirt I wore and the white silk sheet that covered my lower half. Then I narrowed my gaze on my uninvited guest. Michael Black. My boss. My adopted father.
The panic dissipated completely, leaving me weak, and I settled back into the auto-adjust mattress, my spine stiff with anger.
Every line of Michael’s weathered face was etched with concern, from his piercing hazel eyes to his broad, unsmiling mouth. His graying hair, usually styled perfectly, fell in disarray around his temples, and his expensive suit possessed more wrinkles than a Genesi.
“Why am I banded?” I asked, my vocal cords hoarse. Bands were stronger than handcuffs and could not be removed without severing an appendage. They bonded to alien skin, locking the prisoner in place.
“You were thrashing uncontrollably, which kept opening your wounds.”
“Unband me. Now.” I gave the order, making sure there were no emotions in my tone. I would not show weakness. Not to this man who seemed to have no weaknesses himself. But Michael knew me better than anyone, and he knew I didn’t like the feeling of helplessness. I never had. Besides, I doubted I had the strength to move upon threat of death, so the bonds were unnecessary.
He did as I requested, pressing an ID button and causing the lasers to unwind from my skin. He settled back into the plush azure chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I said, surprised that I meant it. Except for a sense of weakness, fragility, and the dull ache in my side, I remained mostly unscathed. “Thirsty, though. Will you get me some sugar water?”
A cup was perched on the nightstand, and he handed it to me. I downed the cool, sweet contents and closed my eyes in surrender. Sugar acts as a revitalizing agent for my kind. Though there aren’t many Rakas left, the ones that are here are probably responsible for consuming three-fourths of the earth’s annual sugar crop.
“That copper really worked you over,” he said.
“It always does.” I scanned the room. Thick crimson and navy carpet adorned the floor, and several imperial gold floor lamps climbed toward the arched ceiling. There were three open windows, the holographic shade turned off. The walls boasted bronze stucco and ornately carved, gilded mirrors. Obviously, this was not a hospital. Even my coverlet shouted wealth. Soft emerald velvet and white silk sheets surrounded my skin in a delicious cocoon.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“My house.”
That told me nothing. The man owned thirteen estates all over the world. “Which one?”
“New Mexico. Closest one to New Dallas.”
“You redecorated since I was last here.”
He nodded.
I arched a brow. “Would you care to tell me why I’m here instead of a hospital?” There were special hospitals specifically designed for agents like me: paid killers, as well as alien. I’d been a patient numerous times.
“One, you were delirious and I didn’t want anyone to hear the things that you were saying. You were moaning and groaning about your failure with EenLi. I want everyone to think you let him go on purpose. Two, I didn’t want your name on record as having received gunshot wounds. And three, I didn’t want anyone else brought in on this case.”
Though I was glad, I sighed deeply. I would have liked him to be able to sit back and simply bask in my success, no interference required. “Playing my protector again, Michael?”
He shrugged, but glanced away. “Actually,my boss thinks this situation works out for the best. EenLi used to work as an agent, and he—”
“What?” I blinked. Surely I had misheard.
“EenLi used to work as an agent. For me, specifically.”
I tried not to gape. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
He shrugged again, the action stiffer, more clipped. “He was supposed to be an in-and-out job. I tell you what you need to know, and that was something you didn’t need to know.”
“A target’s training is a need to know. He probably knew he was being watched the entire time.”
“I doubt that,” he said. “He was an okay agent. Good at finding people, which is why we kept him on, but not much else. He was too emotional, had too many vices. I guess that’s why he decided to make more money selling slaves. End of story.”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment. “So why is your boss glad he escaped?”
“The government now wants to know where those portals are, and they think EenLi will lead the way.” Michael leaned back in his chair, watching me. “They’ve decided they don’t want him dead until they know.”
“I followed him for weeks. He never revealed a single portal’s location.”
“Orders are orders. He lives until he divulges how he’s planet-traveling.”
What if EenLi never gave the information they wanted? Did that mean the murdering criminal would get to live a long, happy life? I didn’t voice my questions, though. Michael knew how I felt about law breakers. My gaze traveled the length of my T-shirt-and-sheet-clad body. I looked thinner. “How long have I been here?”
“Thirteen days, six hours, forty-eight minutes.” He propped his expensive Italian loafers on the cherry wood nightstand. “I had everything you needed brought here.”
“Even a doctor?” That would have totally defeated the purpose of keeping me here, out of the government’s watchful eye.
“No,” he said hesitantly.
I arched a brow. “Who patched me up?”
“Lucius Adaire.”
“That tells me nothing. Who is he?”
“A man. A human.”
My curiosity grew about this Lucius Adaire, and I studied Michael. Just the mention of this mystery man had caused the easy line of his posture to stiffen and a glimpse of uneasiness to enter his eyes.
Michael had seen the worst life had to offer—he’d even caused some of it—so he rarely became uneasy. Why now?
“Tell me about him,” I prompted.
“In a minute,” he said. He picked a piece of invisible lint off of his pants. “You remember anything else about that night in the warehouse?”
The job came first, always. I didn’t try to keep the conversation on my mysterious doctor. I centered my thoughts and replayed every minute I’d spent in that warehouse through my head. Then I leveled my gaze at Michael. “EenLi said a portal was going to open in a day. That day has already passed, of course, but that means the portals aren’t always open, that he can only send his cattle, as he calls them, through on certain days.”