Chapter 25
When Fairchild came to, she was lying face down on the hard concrete surface of the terrace, a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes.
It was impossible to tell exactly how long she’d been out, but apparently it was long enough for someone to cuff her wrists behind her back.
She strained with all her might, but the heavy steel bracelets refused to budge.
A similar pair of shackles with a slightly longer chain had been fixed around her ankles.
“Sit her up.”
Gloved hands clutched her by the hair, jerking her into an upright, kneeling position. A dozen big bodyguards were standing around her, some in suits, others in tactical gear. One of them was holding her transponder pendant. The air suddenly felt terribly cold.
As for Slayn, he was still standing exactly where Fairchild had left him when the taser had zapped her unconscious. There was no sign of a wound where her knife had slashed him. Not even a damn scratch.
And yet… the man did not seem entirely well.
He was standing perfectly still, as motionless as a wax dummy, his mouth still fixed in the same smarmy grin he had flashed just before Fairchild had attacked him.
He didn’t even seem to be breathing. The only movement was the dance of golden candlelight across his features, coming from the two candles that were still burning on the dinner table beside him.
“Over here, pet.”
Fairchild turned her head in the direction of the voice, and there was a second Slayn, dressed identically to the first in a satin robe. The difference was, this Slayn seemed to be alive. And he had the woman with him. Inga.
With a smile, the real Slayn strode forward until he was standing next to his double.
He gently swished his fingers across the double’s face.
For a moment, the features came apart in a puff of sand, just as they had done for Fairchild’s knife.
Then they swirled back together again, repairing the temporarily mangled visage.
“What do you think?” Slayn said. “Impressive, no? It’s something new my R&D department cooked up. This is actually the first time we’ve tested it in the field.”
“I’m honored,” Fairchild said bitterly.
She was disappointed in herself for being duped, but the illusion was indiscernible. If it had been a standard holographic projection, the glow would have given it away, but this… this was something else entirely.
Nearby, one of the bodyguards pressed his fingers to the earpiece he was wearing. He turned to Slayn.
“Sir, Blue Team has the third one in custody.”
“Good,” said Slayn. “That’s the last of them.”
Fairchild’s heart sank. They were talking about her guys. Her three guys. Slayn’s men had captured her teammates too. But how?
“Stand her up.”
More hands yanked Fairchild to her feet.
She was tempted to fight, but she held back.
For one thing, she was outnumbered. For another, she was bound hand and foot.
And for a third, the prongs of the taser that had stunned her were still embedded in the back of her neck.
One quick trigger pull, and she’d be riding the lightning a second time. Better to play along, for now.
Slayn stepped in front of her and placed a finger under her chin. The gesture was slightly absurd, considering she was taller than him, even with her shoes off. She was tempted to bite that finger, but she didn’t.
Not yet.
“Don’t look so sad,” Slayn cooed affectionately. “It wasn’t your fault you got caught. Not really. Your mission to assassinate me most likely would have succeeded, had it not been for Inga. She’s the one who ID’d you.”
Fairchild tried to conceal her surprise, but she shifted her eyes to the woman, who was now standing just behind Slayn, gloating.
“What’s the matter, Fairchild? Don’t you recognize your old teammate?”
For a moment, Fairchild didn’t know what the woman was talking about. She’d never seen Inga before in her life. Not until two nights ago at the restaurant. Then Inga’s face split into a big, toothy grin, and Fairchild’s heart jolted.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” said Slayn. “Inga Rooker, known to her former colleagues in the Guild as ‘Rook.’”
Fairchild stared in disbelief. The hair was different now, chopped short and bleached blonde, and the bone structure had been completely rearranged, but the smile was still the same. Fairchild would recognize that smile anywhere.
“But… I saw you die.”
“Did you?” Rook asked. “Think back, Fairchild. What did you actually see?”
Fairchild thought back. She saw Rook face down in the snow, her white thermal suit riddled with red holes. Face down.
Slayn chuckled. “I’d been trying for years to get an honest-to-God Merc on my payroll—the ultimate weapon—but your kind are so damned loyal to your Guild.
Then, out of the blue, I received an offer from Rook.
I suppose you could call it a job application.
Naturally, I suspected it was a ruse, so I devised a little loyalty test.”
“The thermal plant,” Fairchild murmured.
“That’s right! My, you are a smart one, aren’t you? That whole situation at the thermal plant was arranged as a test to see if Rook was serious about changing employers. I had to see if she was willing to betray her own teammates. She was.”
Fairchild felt her shock giving way to hot rage.
“Why?” she asked, glaring at Rook again. “Why did you do it?”
“Luxury,” the woman answered. “Why else? With Victor, I can enjoy a lifestyle beyond anything the Guild could offer.”
“But you and Bryce were—”
“Lovers?” Rook scoffed. “Please. Love is horribly overrated.” She pressed her body into Slayn’s. “Besides, Victor is much better in bed.” She smiled again. “Remember the explosion? I was the one who pushed the button.”
Fairchild’s rage burned hotter, brighter.
“You killed them,” she snarled. “You killed Bryce and Dane.”
“That’s right. And I would have killed you too, if you hadn’t been so quick on your damned feet.”
“Serendipity,” Slayn said. “Because now you’re here with me. Now I own two lovely Mercs to do my bidding. Five, if we count your comrades on this ill-fated mission.”
Fairchild’s face was burning now.
“If you think I’m going to work for a piece of shit like you, you’re out of your mind.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have any choice in the matter,” Slayn said, smiling. “You see, I’ve got different plans for you, my new pet…”
He stooped and picked something up from the ground.
It was a knife. The same one Fairchild had tried to attack him with.
It must have fallen from her hand when she got zapped.
Slayn hooked a finger inside the top of Fairchild’s red dress and pulled the stretchy fabric away from her skin.
Then he slit the dress down the front with the knife, exposing her naked front to the candlelight.
The bodyguards holding her arms snickered softly.
“Oh yes,” Slayn said, handing the knife to Rook. “You’ll do nicely. Very nicely indeed.”
He placed both hands on Fairchild’s chest and squeezed, massaging her exposed breasts with his fingers. If her own hands had not been bound behind her back, she would have shoved him away. As it was, she just had to take it.
“Not too big, not too small,” he said. “Just how I like them.”
Slayn lowered his face to her chest and kissed her. He wrapped his lips around one of her nipples and started to suckle, until the flesh began to stiffen from the suction. Revulsion rose in the back of Fairchild’s throat until she could taste it.
Rook glowered hatefully, as if what Slayn was doing was somehow Fairchild’s fault.
He released her nipple and licked his lips. Then he slid one hand down the front of her body until his fingers were between her legs. He stroked her gently, separating her folds. Then he pushed the tip of his middle finger inside.
“This little cunt is going to make me a fortune,” he said.
Fairchild didn’t know what he meant by that. She didn’t want to know. She was too busy biting back the rising tide of her disgust as Slayn pushed his finger deeper and deeper inside, stroking the tender flesh of her front wall.
When she felt the first small tingle of unwanted pleasure, she decided she’d had enough.
She clenched hard, bearing down with the full force of her inner muscles.
There was a muffled pop as something broke inside her.
Slayn screamed in pain, a high-pitched wail.
He tried to pull away, but Fairchild wasn’t about to let him off that easily.
There was a second pop as his knuckle dislocated. Tears began pouring down his face.
“Help!” he shrieked. “Heeelp!”
It was Rook who put a stop to it, hitting Fairchild with a hard right cross. The lights went out again.