Talia’s face heated. She reached for the door. Damn hotel left her nowhere to run.
“You know you have options, don’t you?” Spencer’s tone was friendly and helpful, but Talia still didn’t feel she could quite trust him. She couldn’t trust anyone.
“What do you mean?”
Spencer cocked his head. “I wondered if you knew. Adam’s got a file on you.”
The word file bothered her, as if she were a specimen, a case under examination. But Adam had been aboveboard with his curiosity and questions. She’d shown him personally what she could do. She’d revealed her connection to Shadowman. Even the images of herself. Any good researcher would take detailed notes, and the notes would be kept in a file. So she pushed the bothersome term away.
“Yeah, tests on your DNA, et cetera.”
Talia felt the blood drain out of her face. She hadn’t consented to that.
“But it’s the video surveillance Adam has on your apartment that would bug the hell out of me.”
Now she felt ill.
“You don’t believe me?” Spencer’s eyes glittered as he took another drag. “You sleep in a T-shirt, panties, and nothing else. And by the end of the night the sheets are all twisted up at the end of the bed so that your pretty bottom—”
“Shut up.”
“At least you believe me now. Things around here are never what they seem.” He stamped out the cigarette on the concrete at his feet.
“Take you, for example,” Spencer continued, the volume of his voice rising as she moved away from him. “You look human and act human, but you’re not.”
She squeezed her arms tighter around herself. He obviously had something to say. And, all things considered, she’d rather know.
“As the SPCI liaison, I’m supposed to be privy to everything that goes on here. I gather Adam has been as secretive with you as he’s been with me.”
Talia’s eyes prickled. Adam was sick. Twisted. He’d lived with a monster so long that he’d become one himself.
“You don’t have to stay here. You have alternatives through SPCI. First of all, you’re not alone. There are others out there like you, housed at alternative facilities. We don’t have the frills that Segue does, and the furniture is seriously outdated, but at least you know how things stand. Your rights will be protected. Your privacy protected. It’s not the best life, but it’s an honest one.”
Honest. What a joke. She couldn’t trust anyone.
“You say the word, and you’re out of here. No confrontations. Just an easy transport to the SPCI compound.” Spencer waved his hands like a magician before the poof.
Talia’s mind worked furiously. She could get out on her own. Give herself a head start. But not Arizona or Vegas. Find a little place out in the middle of nowhere, away from the flow of people. She was sick of people.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Nah. You’ve already made up your mind. You’ll take the hard way.”
Spencer strode toward her and stopped at her side. Too close. “Adam’s right about one thing. A wraith war is coming. There is nowhere on this planet that will be safe for long. Keep that in mind.”
He yanked open the door to the interior and left her alone with the night.
TEN
“WE want the California.” Gillian held out her hand. “The salon is waiting for us, and Talia has asked to come along. So I am afraid the Diablo won’t do. We need a four-seater.”
The trio of women stood in Adam’s office. Talia stayed back and let the other women do the talking. She’d had a long, sleepless night of deliberating, but her choice was made. First step, a lift to town.
“There are six very nice cars in the Segue lot—what makes you think I’ll lend you one of mine?” Adam’s tone angled up with incredulity.
Gillian didn’t back down. “Our shared joy of a luxury vehicle.”
His gaze darted to Patty, who grinned in agreement with Gillian.
Talia watched the byplay with resentful interest. She didn’t know what the California was, but the request clearly irritated him, which gave her less satisfaction than it should. She just wanted to get out of there. Being in the same room with Adam made her skin tight, her nerves edgy.
Adam’s gaze finally hit Talia and rested there, as if he were considering something. Studying her, again. She struggled to keep her expression impassive. The Segue credit card was in her pocket, and she intended to charge everything she needed. Her escape from Adam Thorne’s specimen lab would be wholly paid for by him.
“Fine,” Adam said. “But keep the speed down. If you get in an accident, our good doctor won’t be able to help you because she’ll be busted up, too. And I’ll be too busy cursing you to call for other medical intervention.”
Gillian bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, yeah. The key, please.”
He opened a slim desk drawer to the right of his main work area, under his view screen of Jacob. Probably the same screen that had afforded him an unobstructed view of her apartment, of her bedroom. As if she were Jacob, a monster to be studied.
How could she have been so stupid?
“Are you okay?” Adam’s gaze was heavy on her face, searching. He couldn’t possibly care.
Talia fought to keep her emotions under control, her bile down. She nodded with a fake smile. Salon! Fun! As if she’d ever let anyone touch her, repeatedly, for any length of time.
Gillian snatched the key out of his hand, drawing Adam’s attention. The ache in Talia’s guts diminished slightly. She wouldn’t feel better until Segue was far behind her.
“Our appointment is in twenty minutes. We better get going.” Gillian skipped to the door like a teenager. Talia followed, with Patty bringing up the rear.
“Wait,” Adam said. “It takes thirty-five to get there.”
“Not anymore,” Gillian sang, waving the key in the air and pushing out his office door.
They bypassed the parking lot off the Segue loading dock and entered an immaculate garage. Four shining cars gleamed, diagonally situated, each a luxury vehicle, though Talia would have been hard-pressed to name any one. A black sedan, slightly old-world in its shape, but modernized in its aerodynamic lines, was parked farthest from the door. Next to it, a hulking SUV with dark windows and shiny chrome. Adjacent, two sports cars vied for attention, one black, shaped low, mean, and angular. The other was bold red, modern muscle tempered with sleek restraint. A silver stallion reared on the grille under a yellow insignia.
“The Ferrari,” Gillian directed. She ran on tiptoes over to the red car and ran a hand along its hood. When she opened the door, she sighed in exaggerated ecstasy. “Thank you, Talia!”
Talia brought her head up in confusion as she slipped behind the passenger seat into a narrow rear bucket.
“We owe this to you.” Gillian’s eyebrows lifted up-up in suggestion, a smirk curling one side of her mouth. Then she gripped the wheel with melodramatic sexual pleasure.
Patty and Gillian strapped themselves in. Talia followed suit, though she was so squished she doubted the seat belt would do anything.
“I don’t get it,” Talia said. Did everyone know that Adam had kissed her? Had everyone been watching? Or had he left some visible mark on her where he’d touched? The bitter truth was, she could still feel the heat of his hands on her back and butt, and other places she’d briefly hoped he’d reach.
Gillian turned the key, revved the engine, and purred suggestively.
The car felt like Adam. Power, beauty, and no fuss. Smelled like him, too, under the honey dusk of the black leather.